No, that’s not me, but it might as well be.
You see Monday I went to my church fully intending to volunteer at our newest Food Pantry. When I arrived I was told that all they needed was someone to lift the heavy bags of groceries and stack them on the shelves. Well, gee, I can’t lift anything over about 5 pounds (at least I’m not supposed to) – so they didn’t need me at the Food Pantry, I thought I could hang around and help sign people in, or pray for someone, but nope they weren’t interested.
Instead I was sent to the sanctuary to stuff the chairbacks with the little comment cards and pens. Okay. I don’t mind what I do as long as I’m serving. At the time it seemed a simple task and a calming one as I was the only person (most of the time) in the sanctuary so I had time to think, pray, hum, sing a little and just enjoy serving. What I didn’t realize was I was killing my back and leg muscles by bending, twisting, and the constant up and down motions between the seats. I managed to get an entire section done – I don’t know how many chairs – I’m going to guess around 200 maybe? Took me a couple of hours, but when I was done, every chair back had envelopes, two different types of cards, and working pens and they were all nicely arranged. I was happy with my job, said my goodbyes and went home.
By last night I was hunched over and could hardly walk. I was on a combination of icepacks and heat and I ended up taking several Valium and 2 Percocet before bed. Yikes. What had I done?
Tuesday morning I hobbled into the Torture Chamber of Horrors and saw the look of extreme displeasure on the face of my Physical Therapist. I had to explain to her that I just sort of overdid the volunteer thing. After doing my exercises, she worked me over good, pulling, pushing, twisting, contorting and pressing on sore spots till I was exhausted. I fell asleep on the table while having an anodyne treatment. But I walked out of there better than I walked in.
Unfortunately Queen Physical Therapist pretty much put me on house arrest for the next month. There isn’t going to be any volunteering – I’m lucky she’s allowing me to attend upcoming classes at church in September. So I guess I’ll have more time to study, craft, and relax with the occasional outing to Target thrown in for good measure. But no more bending or twisting or lifting. I now know what to call her – Officer Sam. I had Agador Spartacus first, then Chunky Monkey, now I have the able ministrations of Officer Sam to get me back in shape. And we only have 7 more visits under insurance in which to accomplish this task.
At least she didn’t cuff me…