Demon, Get Out of My Spine!

I’m writing this while I’m in the foulest of moods. I’m stricken with stabbing pains in my lower back, so much so that I’ve been rendered mostly immobile since yesterday afternoon. The occurrence of this was so freakish and ironic. Despite all the chances to acquire this by walking and slipping on ice within the past few days, it didn’t happen that way. Instead, it happened in the gym. Between the track and treadmill, I did 7.7 km of running activity, and then decided to do some core training: with special focus and intent to ‘strengthen my back’. The stupid bench that I sat on wasn’t secured properly. The wild scene that resulted was me losing balance, twisting sharply, and abruptly flipping backwards onto the floor. I think that the effort in trying to correct myself in “mid-flight” did more harm to me than the actual damned fall itself. So now, I’m stuck at home, using ice compresses, and gobbling up Ibuprofin and anti-inflammatory pills like they were Halloween candy. I went to the office at work today to attend to a duty there briefly; even that brief visit there became too excruciating, and it feels like I’m drained from anymore activity for the rest of today. So, I’m retreating into writing: to do something that forces me to sit still, and to drain myself of this negativity, which hopefully will result in also easing some tension in my strained back muscles.

Speaking of Halloween candy, if I’m getting trick-or-treaters coming by tomorrow knocking periodically, I’ll definitely be in no comfortable shape even to get up and off the chesterfield to answer the door if the pain keeps on persisting, like the way it is now, on through to tomorrow. If I did dress up, the only option I feel like I have now is to be Quasimodo.

Before my lucidity becomes too compromised by pain, or by the junk I’m using to stop it, I thought it would be fitting to share what is really scary to me about this Halloween. It’s the realization about how aged I’m feeling, and how old I’m probably starting to appear. It started when I peered through the TV listings this weekend, and noticed that The Exorcist was playing on one of the movie channels, along with the other scary movies for this season. I remember that this was the first horror movie that I ever saw as a kid, and because I was a kid, and perhaps because all this crazy possession business was happening in a kid, this movies was the one that freaked me out the most for a long time, so I researched it a bit. I looked back at the casting through IMDb, and noted the stats in the biography of Max Von Sydow, the actor who played the character of the frail, old priest, Father Merrin. It turns out that Von Sydow was only in his mid-forties when he was cast as the old priest . . . around to the same friggin’ age I am now. Jesus Christ! When did this bullshit start happening? I know that life expectancy was a bit shorter in the early seventies (when this film was made), but regarding people in their forties as old is ridiculous. Maybe I’m over-reacting, and this is just a revelation of either the brilliant acting skill of Von Sydow to play a character who looked thirty years older than he actually was, or a glimpse of just how badly Von Sydow was a victim to pre-mature aging (even worse than I am), if he didn’t use that much make-up for the role. Whether it's the one case or the other, it's still disheartening to know that I'm at that age where I could probably appear as, or play, the role of an aged senior so convincingly as well.

I’m trying hard not to be a victim of my age number. In fact, I must admit that the reason I went back to the gym (before this miserable outcome happened) was that I was (re)inspired by another guy, around my age, who’s a movie star. Daniel Craig is at it again, playing James Bond, Agent 007, in the upcoming movie Skyfall. It is coming to cinemas here soon, and I can’t wait to see it on big screen. Daniel Craig was the guy who served as a fitness model for me, and got me directing myself into getting into fitness mode, at a time when I thought I was doing more decaying than thriving health-wise. If Daniel Craig played the old priest in The Exorcist, he would have made that demon his bitch within a minute. Once I recover though, I have to make it a point to not be so zealous in trying to get back into Bond-form.

I feel like I need yet another role model, this time for the sake of my learning objectives and personal standards of productivity and efficiency. The meds and muscle relaxants are kicking in now; maybe I’ll have a vision as to who that might be, in a dream as I drift. . .off to . . .sleee. . .zzzzzzzz.