Nuts and bolts of middle agedom

Tags

doctors, emergency room, postaday2013, writing

Today my hubby and I spent the day at the emergency room, not for me, for him, his back has been hurting him since Tuesday and this morning, he just couldn’t take it any more. He had never been formally diagnosed with anything related to back pain before so when his legs was feeling numb we got a little concerned so being Sunday off to the E.R we went.

He is fine, the good doctor diagnosed a herniated disc in his lower back which is aggravating his sciatic nerve, the one that runs down the lower back, through the buttocks and the legs. Unfortunately herniated discs can’t be rushed into repairing themselves so the pain will need to be managed for the next month or so, but we feel better knowing that it is something that will get better.

That is why I call it the nuts and bolts of aging, they are all getting rusted. Last year or was it two years ago, I can’t remember, I had my fun with a herniated disc in my neck and that affected my left shoulder all the way down to my left hand with numbness, weakness and pain. Now it’s my husband’s turn.

At one point we were both laying in the bed together because I was feeling tired and my back was bothering me from my own health issues so we looked like two decrepit, achy patients waiting for help. The nurses got a kick out of us and they oohed upon learning that we were approaching the 23 year mark of our marriage.

We finally got home and my hubby despite having his back all achy and pained told me to sit down and eat ice cream while he made dinner; sausage, peppers and onions. I only helped a little, I chopped the peppers. He felt that I had done too much and that I didn’t look good. So he took care of me as he always does. He is a good egg, my hubby is.

Smell you later

Humans have very strong scent memory. Tell us about a smell that transports you.

I remember so clearly, without any trouble, following my grandfather in the early evenings towards the back of our family's property, with the two dogs, Prince and Winnie, to stand next to him while he made a fire to burn all the excess papers and other burn able garbage, it was always mostly papers and the scent was very distinctive, not at all unpleasant. I would describe it as a clean burning smell, my nose is very keen to that smell, almost as if my nose is searching for it, or perhaps it's my heart searching for it because when I do stumble over that scent, I am transported so strongly back to that moment in time. It is almost visceral, the word in French is bouleversant. I welcome it because there are times that the link between my grandparents who passed when I was around fourteen feels so very tenuous and I miss them so this memory strengthened by a scent is quite precious .