Howdy, all. It's been a while. My absence here is partly a result of the fact that I've been off to the races in various other domains--including the guiding of my son, now 19, through the first year and a half of life as a music performance major at Ole Miss. I've sometimes joked that I'm the only father in America who, when his son announced, "I want to make my living as a trombone player," shouted, "Yes!" Because he's one of the few gifted with enough talent to do that. A few days ago he told me that his teacher had assigned him Joseph Alessi's "Bluebells of Scotland" as his spring performance piece--a virtuoso piece more suited to a grad student.
But enough about family.
I hope you've had a good year, whoever reads these words. I was having an excellent year in almost every respect until early November, when a foolish resolve to use a lawn rake to reach up and clean the front gutters of my house laid ruin to several of my cervical discs. I've been in some form of pain ever since and have been forced not just to stay home for Christmas but to take medical leave from my professor's job at least until early march. MRI this coming Monday, a specialist on Janury 21. All residual youthful arrogance I carried as a result of being an aging distance runner in decent shape has been shattered.
The silver lining in all this--and there's not much--is that I'm beginning to recognize just how hard life is, or can be, for many people. Perhaps that's how it is for you who are reading this. Perhaps you have a story to share, one that finds ways of talking about the pain you've suffered. Or perhaps your way of dealing with pain is NOT to talk about it. And that, too, is a valid approach. Except for my MBH email around Thanksgiving where I spoke of my disc struggles, I've said nothing about this on social media, because my way just isn't to talk about stuff, outside the circle of family and close friends.
Anyway, clubhouse, that's where things are for me on Christmas Eve. May you have a joyous season. Drop a dollar in that Salvation Army bucket when you get a chance. Somebody always has it worse than you, and they can use a helping hand.
Last Edited by kudzurunner on Dec 24, 2025 10:36 AM
I am sorry to hear about your injury. One big thing that I have learned about getting older (I will be 71 in January) is that even though I am in excellent health and pretty good condtion, injuries simply take longer to recover from. This has caused me to become very cautious. Not to the point of taking zero risks, but not pushing the envelope too hard. I suspect that your recent episode will provide you with an education in this department.
I hope you recover soon and are back to your usual self - just a little wiser for the wear. ---------- Tom Halchak Blue Moon Harmonicas
Compromised discs play merry hell with your life. I tried everything from Acupuncture to Zen meditation and after a long struggle had an operation that helped for a decade or so. Everyone will have their own 'back' story, and you won't be short of advice from well-meaning friends and strangers. No matter if you find the cure for cancer, save the world from aliens or win the Nobel prize, the first question people will have is, " How's yer back?". I wish you pain -free days and a return to normality, and while I'm at it, a Happy New Year!
I feel for you, brother. I had a number of years of really debilitating back problems that plunged me at various points into towering rages, deep fear and intense depression - sometimes all 3 at once.
For what it's worth I'm now 100% again, and here are my two main takeaways from the whole experience:
1) Sometimes the universe sits your ass DOWN and often it seems, in retrospect, that it perhaps needed to happen. I was avoiding facing a number of things that suddenly became impossible to avoid now that I was no longer able to distract myself with busyness the way I'd been.
Being stuck in bed staring at the ceiling for the better part of a year wound up being one of the best things that ever happened to me, spiritually, though I had to kinda go through a hell of resistance before I was able to see it that way.
2) You absolutely CAN HEAL. Back issues are not a lifetime sentence, nor do they mean you'll be on meds forever or permanently enfeebled, though people in the medical profession may tell you so (as they did me). They know NOTHING of what you are capable of.
If you are willing to be shown the way, you will be. Stay open. Listen to your inner guidance. Show yourself love and try if possible not to direct impatience and frustration and judgement at yourself and your body. However, if you do feel those things welling up inside you, express them, and then forgive yourself. It's normal.
You'll get to the other side of this and you'll be stronger and wiser.
Blessings to you, Professor, with gratitude for all you do. -Chris
40 years ago a chiropractor diagnosed me with a chronic back problem that he warned would put me out of action within a few years unless I signed up for an ongoing course of treatment with him. It was beyond my means so I didn’t. I did indeed have a few problems from time to time. Losing weight, getting off the grog, become an endurance athlete and undertaking the required training for that, pilates, etc all seemed to help. For a while I had regular massage to prevent the muscle tightness and spasms which would put me out of action. About 12 years ago I gave up the road bike on advice from an osteopath after looking at my MRI results. GPs, physios, osteopaths, all started talking about surgical options. One GP said to me that I should start thinking about surgery but it would be really good if I could put it off for a decade or so. He said the problem was that the surgery would fix my problem for a while but it would need doing again within 20 years. If I could put it off for another 10 years, I would probably die before it would need doing again. That still amuses me. Better to die than go through that in my mid 70s apparently. Anyway, I gave up the bike and a lot of the gym work. Had a scare about 6 months ago, brought on by carrying some too-heavy loads too far and too often and inducing that dreaded muscle tension in the shoulders that leads to the pinched nerves. I have a Sonny Jr Avenger in my life, and it is a nice amp but not good as a handbag. There have been several occasions where carrying an amp has induced an episode.
Years ago I had to travel 90 minutes by bus every day to commute. I had a regular driver, whom I would sometimes see at the local bar near my home. He told me that one day in Vietnam he had been sitting on an APC which hit a mine. He was thrown from the vehicle and sent back to Australia with a broken back. The prognosis was not good. He was offered surgery which he was told had a 50% chance of leaving him permanently unable to walk. He declined the option. After a long recovery he returned to a fairly normal life but told me his job as a driver was not ideal. Too much sitting. Now, this may have been a rationalisation but he told me that when his back really troubled him his most preferred medication was half a dozen beers. Personally I find Valium has been brilliant for me but doctors are very reluctant to offer it, especially if I suggest it. So I have tried Pete’s idea of a few beers and that does seem to help quite well, but as I’ve grown older I find the side effects less tolerable.
Thanks everybody. I really appreciate these posts. SuperBee, I hadn't realized that that "dreaded muscle tension in the shoulders" could actually help generate pinched nerves--I'd thought bulges and herniations were mostly to blame--but you've got me thinking. Truth is, I'm paying the price for my life as a scholar and writer, an occupation that of necessity has me sitting at desks and staring down at books and screens for long periods of time.
The MRI disclosed NO herniation, just three bulging discs (C4, C5, C6) with some "severe bilaterial foraminal narrowing" in one of them. I'm seeing the back specialist one week from tomorrow and will speak with him about that. On January 1, meanwhile, the pain suddenly lifted and I was able to walk for a mile and a half with no pain. I had a fine week or so before the pain slowly returned--but not as bad as it was. So right now I'm in that in-between state that typifies so much of life. You want to think, "Finally! I'm arcing upward, ever so gently, on a flight path that will see me 100% recovered in [TBA weeks]." Buddhism calls this attachment: we get attached to a concept, and that's the root of suffering.
Here's what I'll remember from these past two weeks: how it felt to be out walking on New Year's morning, a sunny, pleasant day, pain-free for the moment--an incredible gift, given the previous two months--when a song, broadcast over the park's little sound system, came wafting through the trees. The voice was womanly, soulful; the harmonies were bluesy, uncanny; and the repeated phrase "I'm almost there" spoke what was inside me--sudden unexpected rays of hope on the road to recovery. TBH, my heart opened and my eyes filled. It was a healing moment that has stuck with me.
I pulled out my smartphone and googled "I'm almost there song" and found it. The Princess and the Frog! Of all things. But I'm man enough to say that the happy blues, the blues of persistence and self-realization, caught me bigtime that morning, and I played the damn song half a dozen times through my air pods as I marched onward, inspired. Here's the song. (The song & its uncanny harmonies are of course the work of Randy Newman.)
I ain't there yet. But I'm headed in the right direction.
---------- "Harmonicas are for nothing but to inspire" --Kudzu Waldo Emerson
Last Edited by kudzurunner on Jan 13, 2026 4:06 AM
