Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: MONDAY, April 24, 1995 TAG: 9504250017
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A-5 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: MONTY S. LEITCH
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
Back in my back.
Upper right quadrant. Scapula. Shoulder girdle.
I grit my teeth to turn my head. I sleep flat as a pancake, nestled on ice packs. I complain a lot. To those who ask after my welfare and to those, like yourselves, who don't really care.
Even if you don't remember my two painful months late last summer, I do. Not a memory I cherish.
Back then, I told my minister that I'd been doing nothing but moaning and griping for weeks. Weeks and weeks. He said, "That's why we have the Book of Job."
Miserable comforter, he.
As culprit in this bursitis bout, I suspect the riding lawnmower, which I've now wrestled around the yard twice, each time constantly twisting over my right shoulder to make sure the belt was still engaged, the blades still rotating, the tires still inflated and following the edge of the last-cut track.
I'm a meticulous mower.
The yard looks great.
My back hurts a lot.
Also, there's this problem with my new contact lenses. While I'm mowing, dust and pollen get under them so bad that I cry myself blind. I didn't drive into the side of the house the first time I mowed this year, but I could have.
The second time I mowed, I took massive doses of antihistamine and wore big plastic safety goggles over my sunglasses. I didn't cry nearly so much, but after I'd mowed I slept for nearly three hours. And still had funny-looking creases on my cheeks (from the goggles) when I woke up.
Outside, my sleek black car is yellow, powdered with pollen. The windshield is caked and streaked. Attempts to clean it fail.
Ah, spring.
Ah, sweet mysteries of life.
Ah, choo.
Of course, I could owe my bursitis to the computer instead of to the lawnmower. Constantly twisting over my right shoulder to read the copy from which I'm typing, the notes I've made, the view from my office window. Working long hours indoors because I sneeze and wheeze and weep outdoors.
Poor computer posture accounted for my last bursitis bout. At least, that's what the doctor told me. "Get up and move around more often," he said.
He also mentioned "old age."
I went home and rearranged my desks. Put the computer against a different wall. Moved the lamps. Adjusted the chair. Invested in a "wrist rest" and a footrest and, for a couple of weeks at least, assiduously got up and moved around more often.
You see what it got me?
Bursitis.
Just on the other side.
I'm not going to call the doctor this time. I can diagnose age on my own.
I'm not going to rearrange the furniture again, either. Bursitis under one shoulder blade feels about the same as bursitis under the other.
And do you know what? Sneezing is a good deal more traumatic when your back's already sore.
Monty S. Leitch is a Roanoke Times & World-News columnist.
by CNB