Thomas W.P. Slatin

Last night I built a camp fire out of old papers and junk mail that accumulated over the past month. Figuring that I had a sizable fire going (it got bigger with the addition of a little gasoline and fryer oil), I figured that I no longer needed the use of my flashlight.

The trouble with building a campfire or doing any activity in the winter is that a thick blanket of snow will hide things such as holes or trip hazards. Last night I fell victim to one such trip hazard.  A stick which I did not see tripped me as I walked to a safe viewing distance of my fire. Unfortunately behind my house is a steep embankment of which I was immediately given an impromptu head-over-heels tour of.

Once I reached the bottom (in record time) I stood up and took the stairs back to the top. Wearing only jeans and a sweatshirt, I was cold and my back was killing me. I went back inside, took two Tylenol gelcaps and sat in my chair. My back was just killing me at this point.

Forgetting all about the campfire, I walked up the stairs to my house and headed straight for the medicine cabinet for the Tylenol.  Angie, concerned, asked me what had happened and if I was okay.  Apparently, I still had some snow and smaller twigs still attached to my sweatshirt.  I explained that I took quite a fall down in the back yard.  She suggested calling an ambulance, or at least, taking a trip to the hospital.

Ambulances are large noisy vehicles with lots of flashing lights that carry paramedics.  They should only be called in extreme situations.  Situations where it’s literally a matter of life and death, or in situations where it might end up being a matter of life and death.  If I am still able to walk crawl around on all fours, I don’t yet need an ambulance.

Trying my best not to become part of America’s Pussification, I pretended to be okay and tried to take the dog for a walk with a leash.  It didn’t last very long and after the dog pulled at the leash for several minutes, I was back inside, this time laying face-down on the bed screaming in pain.

I still refused to go to the hospital.  I’ve been told that I’m stubborn.  I am.  Angie rubbed my back for awhile, to the point that I could sit up, without too much pain.  It still hurt, just not as much (okay, I wasn’t crying anymore by this point).  I managed to crawl to the car.  Angie again suggested I at least drive myself to the hospital.  In her efforts, I must admit that she only wants the best for me, and she wants me to be around forever.  So, I headed towards the hospital, but on the way, passed a Dunkin’ Donuts.

Suddenly the aroma of fresh donuts and coffee seemed a much easier and economical remedy to my medical situation.  I turned the car around and drove straight for the drive-through.  I would have crawled into the store, but I didn’t want them to think I was doing something suspicious have my video camera with me.

I ordered the biggest hot chocolate available, paid with my credit card, and drove back home.  Crawling over snow and ice isn’t my idea of a good time, and it’s much more difficult when you’re trying to carry a hot beverage with you at the same time.

By the way, props to Dunkin’ Donuts for the perfect remedy to back pain — Milky Way hot chocolate!