<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYowza, what a past couple of weeks this has been. In the course of packing, hauling, storing, hauling, digging a septic tank, clearing a couple loads of brush and building lofts and benches in the shed, my back had had enough. I pinched my sciatic nerve and suddenly the world changed: I couldn\u2019t sit, sleep, stand or walk without shooting pain. I went to the chiro (Stupid!) six times, and that just ended up making it worse. I didn\u2019t sleep for three nights before I finally decided it was time to see a medical doctor.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n –Journal entry: Thursday; July, 12th, 2018; 6:20 pm. In my camper, Cochise.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019m afraid we\u2019re going to have to take a trip to the woodshed. There\u2019s a lot of work to be done!<\/em> Those were the words that woke me each morning as the month of June was drawing to a close. Unless I wanted to incur the additional cost of another month\u2019s storage rent, at $130 and some change, I had to put some lofts, work tables, a closet and as many shelves as would fit into the shed \u2013 which a contractor had built because my back wasn\u2019t up to standing walls, hanging siding and putting up rafters and metal roofing panels. But it was just a shell. I reckoned I could flesh out the guts and finish the interior. That turned out to be not one of my better decisions, however. And, as a wiser, old boss would often tell me: Life is about the decisions we make.<\/em> He was right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n With the 20\/20 vision of hindsight, I should have<\/em> realized it would have been wiser to take the financial hit rather than a physical one. But with the blurred vision of too much Teutonic ancestry, I just put my head down and bolted forward like a rushing Hun. It often worked in the past, so why not? What I should have<\/em> realized was that if it pained me as much as it did loading several 4\u2019x8\u2019 sheets of plywood and half-score pieces of 2\u201dx4\u201d lumber into my utility trailer, how would it feel humping these sheets up into the rafters and bending and lifting and squatting and kneeling and grunting and cursing to finish the shed and fill it with boxes of books, scads of camping gear, wardrobes of clothing, crates of tools, and all the other flotsam and jetsam of my life\u2019s wanton voyage that I was unable to separate myself from when I \u201cdematerialized\u201d in preparation for living in a camper? But, I never gave it a thought… Silly me, eh?<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was able to set up the shed and empty the\nstorage space, however, through brutish determination and a continuous\ncrescendo of grunts and blasphemy bathed in cheap barley pop and legal\nbotanicals – and much to the chagrin of my dog Rambeaux, who seemed to think I\nwas doing this all for her, for some reason. I\u2019m not sure why I thought that.\nMust have been the cheap barley pop and legal botanicals, but I digress…<\/p>\n\n\n\n Proud as I was of pushing through and punching out the job, I nevertheless felt the need for a little bit of the ol\u2019 R&R. I was inclined to recline, so I scampered into the camper and went horizontal. I got stuck. When my lower back muscles finally got some rest they decided to get a little recuperative respite as well. So, they did what overtaxed muscles do on overaged bodies. They went into contraction. Damn lower back muscles. Damn contraction. Damn, damn, damndamn.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Nightfall cast its dark blanket upon the land, and I felt the gripping omnipresence of being completely alone. In the woods. On a mountain. 10 miles from the Village, with no cell phone service. I tried not to worry. I failed. Quite miserably. If only Rambeaux was Lassie I could have sent her off to get help from Timmy, but she didn\u2019t understand my urgent requests: \u201cGet help, Rambeaux. Get help!\u201d<\/em> She just looked at me with that goofy expression on her face, ears up like a bat\u2019s and wagging her tail as if it was the backside baton of a maestro leading Beethoven\u2019s Ninth Symphony. Crazy mutt. Gotta love dogs. I do. Not the little yip-yap critters with the Napoleon complex who can\u2019t shut up without risking their existence, irritating and conflagrating the most noble of personages. I can\u2019t stand those micro-canine excuses for rodentia with the chatter-hammer yammerboxes. But again, I fear I may digress…<\/p>\n\n\n\n Back to the Darkside. I bid you welcome. Never in my life had I experienced that depth of fear. I didn\u2019t necessarily think I was going to die, but I realized the cold, stark reality that that<\/em> shit could happen. I wouldn\u2019t be able to help myself, and I was the only self that was there, except for the dog, but…<\/p>\n\n\n\n I settled in. Lying on the mattress complex\nthat came with the camper: an oversized, worn-out futon and a piece of memory\nfoam. Not what you want for a bad lower lumbar. No sleep. Ditto the next two\ndays.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Fortunately, I had electricity. Alternating\ncurrent (aka AC), not that direct current (aka DC) that Thomas Edison was all\nabout. Good thing Tesla won that binary decision, that algorithm. (Not talking\nabout the car manufacturer, but the Italian fellow who was Edison\u2019s\ncontemporary. Quite the scrappers, those two. I say Google it. They would tell\nyou the same.) <\/p>\n\n\n\n With electricity, I had a working laptop that allowed me to lie in the weeds and try to seek comfort through watching movies. So, I did that. Westerns, war flicks, historical documentaries on William and Clarke\u2019s Corps of Discovery<\/em> – all that stuff. Slowly, the nasty little muscles of the lower lumbar decided it was time to lighten up. I f\u2019ing agreed. It took a little more time than I had budgeted for such unforeseen events. But, more\u2019s the pity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n My mind drifted. I miss that. Occasionally, however, it would drift bad. I had fears. We all do. Deal with it.<\/em> I tried. Lost. Imagined myself passed. Alone. In a camper on a mountainside. Way up, near Wyoming. No one knows. The dog wonders who will fetch food and water. By the time the neighbors alert the sheriff\u2019s department \u2013 which will be in spring, when the neighbors return \u2013 my body will be a decomposing corpse in a dried puddle of my own excrement. And what of Rambeaux (my dog)? What will she do? Actually, I don\u2019t really want to know. Hopefully survive. <\/p>\n\n\n\n But, that didn\u2019t happen. (As Mark Twain said, \u201cWorrying is like paying a debt you don\u2019t owe.\u201d<\/em> He was right.) I was flat on my back looking up in my camper, wondering WTF was going on. Several days passed…<\/p>\n\n\n\n When I felt able, I clambered into BroBo\n(the Bronze Bomber \u2013 my Nissan Pathfinder) and headed down the mountain. The\ngood doctor checked me out, confirmed the sciatica and (most importantly) gave\nme some muscle relaxers. I didn\u2019t want any opioid pain blockers, so I got\nsomething milder. I really just wanted the muscle relaxers. They mellow the\nspasms. Damn spasms. They\u2019re the worst. I can deal with pain. Just not in electrical\nspurts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I return to the camper, but little comfort.\nThe bedding is too soft, even with the medication. I don\u2019t sleep. That sucks.\nAfter a few days more, I\u2019m able to get up and head down into Fort Collins to\nbuy a cheap twin-size mattress and buck it up into the camper before dark.\nJolly good! I get rest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then, I get stupid. As soon as I feel straight,\nI do what I feel needs to be done, and maybe a little bit more. I take the\ntrash to the compactor at Basecamp, get water at the community spigot, check my\nmail and my favorite fishing hole \u2013 catching the same stupid rainbow that I\neventually named Phil (or Filthy Phil, when I couldn\u2019t catch him) and generally\nacted normal. Again, not one of my better decisions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A few days later I was back in spasm-land,\nand had to measure my steps. I made an appointment with the Doc in hopes of\ngetting better meds. He started me on the weak, but I was ready for something a\nlittle stronger \u2013 especially for the spasms, which were not getting better. I\nstruggled into BroBo and busted down the mountain. I made the 10 miles to Red\nFeather before pulling over at West Lake prior to heading down the hill. F\u2019ing\nspasms were getting a little out of hand. I had to get out of the truck. Then I\ngot stuck. Again. This time vertical. But no better. Quite worse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I bothered around walking in the parking\nlot, looking to find the key to loosening my lower back. No luck with that.\nDamn. I tried getting into the vehicle but couldn\u2019t find comfort from the\nspasms. Damndamn. I milled around and the situation felt worse. <\/p>\n\n\n\n A sheriff\u2019s truck was perched across the road,\nletting visitors know that there is law in this town. The Village. I whistled\nand hailed them, and they responded. The County guys called the Village guys,\nand soon there was the big-box ambulance from the local fire department. These dudes\nwere cool. But, they couldn\u2019t really help me. I needed some medication. I ended\nup with more than I wanted. Happens here. In \u2018Murica. Ya.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A different colored big-box ambulance was soon rambling up the highway from Fort Collins. Oh well, glad I have insurance. I get gurneyed and loaded into the back of the box. Then I got loaded some more. The ride down the mountain was bumpy at best, especially laid up on your back with spasms. After some unholy screams one of the EMTs asked if I wanted something for the pain. Why not, I figured? I don\u2019t really like this pain right now. He started to stick a little needle type thing into my arm when I asked him what it was. He said it was Fentanyl. I thought, \u201cGreat! Now I\u2019ll be a junkie.\u201d<\/em> But, that didn\u2019t happen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was looked at and x-rayed in the ER, and\nthe good doctor told me that in addition to sciatica I had a little rheumatoid\narthritis in my lower back. He gave me a shot of steroids or something, wrote a\nscrip for heavy duty muscle relaxers and non-opioid pain relievers, then sent\nme on my merry way. I straggled out after paying what I could, and it was at\nthat moment I realized I was a long way from home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u00a0\u00a0 Fortune blew kind winds. I knew an Indian princess in Fort Collins and she consented to take me back up to Red Feather and BroBo (one of the local EMTs took Rambeaux back to my camper. Gotta love the local EMTs!). I waddled back to Cochise<\/em> (this camper) and lay upon the mattress after knocking down some Flexeril (muscle relaxers). Again, I got stuck. This time, in a good way. Or so it felt. A dazed and confused moment of concern and happiness all rolled into one. I could feel my lower lumbar unburdening itself, as I had done to live this way: In a camper. In the woods. Way up near Wyoming. Nine thousand feet. No phone. All alone. Yaboy! \u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n And when you are alone \u2013 truly alone \u2013 you close your eyes and quiet yourself, and seek the greater presence about you, the presence you feel come down upon you like a warm, liquid blanket. Then you hold tight. Breathe.<\/em> In through your nose. Slowly.<\/em> Out through your mouth. Clear your lungs. Now, you open your eyes and speak. You speak to the presence. The only thing there. And, as Mark Twain said: \u201cYou cannot pray a lie.\u201d <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Quite frankly, I put my faith in a greater\npower that I can only imagine, more than anything I have ever seen. But, I\nain\u2019t done lookin\u2019 yet…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u201cYowza, what a past couple of weeks this has been. In the course of packing, hauling, storing, hauling, digging a septic tank, clearing a couple loads of brush and building lofts and benches in the shed, my back had had enough. I pinched my sciatic nerve and suddenly the world changed: I couldn\u2019t sit, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":9,"featured_media":1473,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[240],"tags":[127,126,86,85,123],"class_list":["post-1471","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-rocky-mountain-rubber-tramp","tag-dog","tag-rambeaux","tag-rocky-mountains","tag-rubber-tramp","tag-sciatica"],"yoast_head":"\n