Tongue-In-Cheek … Foot-In-Mouth

Sciatica, for the luckily uninfected, is a tender stabbing pain which originates in the middle of your left butt cheek and travels down all the way to China.  For those of you who are fortunate enough to have NEVER experienced searing sciatica soreness, I can best characterize it here by telling you to go get yourself a good sturdy sledgehammer, hand it over to a BIG burly lumberjack, and while it rests comfortably in his lap, have him run you over with a piece of heavy farm equipment.

Sadistic sciatic has the nasty habit of producing pain all the time.  BUT it notoriously hurts the most when you lie down, which means sleeping goes out the bedroom window, because every time you start to enter into sandman land, you’re rudely awakened by what feels to be a bayonet being jabbed into the center of your buttocks.  The impaling pain and accompanying screams last about 7-searing-seconds, it stops, you start to doze off, when—STAB—another bayonet to the bull’s eye of your butt.

And when you suffer sciatica, you will spend HUGE gobs of your life screaming “ouch” and flopping around like a stranded perch as you try to position your body in bed in a position which will produce the least amount of throbbing agony.   That was me last night: wildly flailing my arms and legs to the point that if you subscribed to the Peeping Tom method for observing your neighbors, you would have swore I was attempting to sleep on top of a bed of hot coals covered in fire ants wearing tiny asbestos suits.
Unfortunately, I was not alone in the bed; my wife was with me.  And as a result of my Bruce Lee-like martial arts movements, I managed to gently wake her by kicking her in the side of the head.   This did not amuse her.  But what really annoyed her—actually gave her the willies—was after she picked herself off of the floor, she looked over at me and saw me lying on my back with arms and legs sticking straight up into the air (a position which only produced minor excruciating pain.)   According to police report she was not quite sure if I was doing my best impersonation of a dead cockroach or if I was posing for “Ballerina Quarterly,” both of which kind of freaked her out.

CONVERSATION

Police Officer: “Mrs. Drury?”

Mrs. Drury: “Yes, Officer?”

Police Officer: “The coroner’s preliminary autopsy findings have determined that your husband either ate Raid or suffered a stoke attempting a tricky Plié.

Mrs. Drury: “Whatever: just get him out of here.  He’s creeping me out.”

Police Officer: “Okay, but can I keep his tutu?  It’s so pink and frilly.”

Mrs. Drury: “Get out, and take the tutu, too.”

So anyway, my dead bug position only worked for so long until the pain became overbearing.   So, l gave up, inchwormed my way out of bed, hobbled downstairs, plopped myself on to the sofa, stretched out my sciatica infected left leg, turned on the television set, and began channel surfing.  I landed on cable network FOX “fair and balanced” News.  Not only is FOX “fair and balanced,” it also contains the hottest news anchor babes owning the BIGGEST pair of brains on the boob tube.  Don’t get me wrong: I watch FOX “fair and balanced” News for the fine journalism.   And that’s my Megan Kelly (FOX news babe journalist) headline story and I’m sticking to it.

But, anyway, FOX was airing a news story about the rising crime rate in England.  The news reporter reported that English police officers (“Bobbies”) don’t carry guns, and that this might be a contributing factor to this rising holdup hobby.  D’UH!  Look, it doesn’t take a genius like Left-Wing Anti American vice-presidential candidate Joe Biden, who during a recent 2008 campaign rally, using his very unnoticeable hair-plugged hare-brain, told a man in a wheelchair to stand up, to figure out that an UNARMED Bobbie would have a difficult time apprehending an ARMED criminal, unless, of course, the Bobbie spoke to the criminal using a stern no-kidding tone.

EXAMPLE

Bobbie: “Hey, you, yes you, the guy wearing the ski mask and carrying the AK-47!  Where did you get that purse?  You found it?  What about the old lady hanging onto it?  You found it first?  Finder’s Keepers Losers Weepers?  Look, give the purse back to her now, and I mean right now!  Do you want a time out, mister?  Do you?  I’m not kidding around here.  Not only I will make you sit with your face facing the wall so you can think about what you did, I will tell your mother.  Now, I’m going to count to three and you had better release that purse…one…two…three.  Okay, that’s better.  Now, turn around and put your hands behind your back.  Oh, wait.  What are you holding in your other hand?  A pair of what?  SCISSORS!  Have you been running with those scissors!   You have!   That’s it! Get your butt in that time out chair!   And I’m calling your mother right now!  Stealing senior citizens social security checks is one thing, but running with scissors is a very different thing and I won’t stand for it!

Anyway, nine seconds before I had to get up and get ready for work, my sciatic soreness stopped.   My leg felt great; I felt like a zombie. Sciatica has such a nerve.

Copyright © 2008 Bill Drury.  All Rights Reserved.