An awful pain in the backside

Nope it's not a plug for Maxi's new award and nope, it's not a complaint about an Irish broadcaster/phone company/other blogger/state of the world :-P. It is however a post about me. I'm very very sore.



It's not something I've ever spent too much time thinking about, my bum. While I'm careful to protect my lower back and avoid strain as much as the next person, my posterior has just been there to sit on or get smacked occasionally followed by "Jaysis Doyle, you're so bony!" Its role in my general movement has never been something I've contemplated, all those hours studying anatomy in school wasted on me.

I won't be sitting on it today. Not for a while.



I spent an energy-less day in bed yesterday without the ability to do anything. Days like that are frustrating, knowing how much email was piling up, knowing of computer stuff I had to do, Christmas decorations to take down and things I wanted to do. My sleeping patterns are all over the place these days too which isn't helping. Come 11pm though and I'm feeling better, I get up, dress the bed, tidy the room a bit and bring the two half full mugs of coffee downstairs.

Big mistake.

Coming down the all wooden, no carpet stairs, mug in each hand, my legs gave way and I sat down. Heavily. On my sacrum.



In other words: I fell on my arse.

The crash was loud. The coffee flew everywhere. Clothes dripping, walls dripping, stairs sodden I immediately shouted in pain, stood up and ran for the bathroom. Don't ask me why, I think with the fright of it it was the first place that came to mind.

"Are you all right, Darragh?" was dad's first shout, him having gone to bed only a few minutes before. "What's wrong with you, son?" my mother wanted to know. They headed for the stairs, his bedroom upstairs, her's down. "What the hell happened?" they both wanted to know, no doubt looking at the devastation.

I couldn't talk. I was in agony. "I need painkillers", I said, "lots of painkillers." She brought them down to me and headed back to the kitchen. I took four.

I walked very stiffly back to where she was. I'm not sure if it was the pain of the fall or the embarrassment or knowing that my father was cleaning my mess on the stairs in his boxers that was worse. "What happened?" she asked again, "Are you okay?"

"I fell on the stairs," I say, winning first prize in the most obvious statement of 2009 award. "Did you hurt your back?" she wanted to know, "Do you want me to rub it?"

For a brief millisecond, for the time it took for my brain to process what my ears were hearing, the little boy in me, the one who had run to mammy with grazed knees, sore elbows, bruised forehead and ego, the one who believed she could kiss it better and that the Disney plasters really were magic almost said yes. Reality kicked in.

"It's, erm, not my back." She looked confused. "It's my bum. I fell on my bum."

I'm not sure which of us started laughing first. Loud, boisterous laughs, reactions to the fright of mere minutes before. Dad walked in "So what's wrong, then? Why are you walking like that?"

"He... he fell. On his arse." she managed to say amid the snorts. Though concerned, what else could she do? Dad had either less humour or was more tired. I was walking, talking and didn't seem to need a doctor. In his books I was fine and he headed back to bed. She fussed around me for the next few minutes, prescribing deep heat, a hot water bottle and sweet tea. She's great like that.

I tried to walk the pain out of it. I couldn't. I couldn't bend, I couldn't twist and there was no way I'd get back up stairs. In the end I just threw myself on the couch. Remember Del Boy falling? That was me.

I've passed the last few hours in considerable discomfort. Nothing's broken, I didn't damage my coccyx which I know from personal experience is a lot worse but I can barely move that part of me. Horizontal to vertical is almost impossible.

I fell going up stairs as well, just because I would, but once I got to me leaba, sleep soon came. I'm typing here this morning from my bed, every movement a reminder, every strain triggering pain. it's a bruised bottom and a bruised ego and even more bed time for me. Bummer.

All I can think of is this song: