My Neck, My Back, My Neck and My Back

Let me tell you about a situation that happened to me a few weeks ago. I set up a golf outing with a good friend of mine, who had a hole-in-one on his previous golf outing. Believe it or not this friend of mine was reluctant to play, but because I nagged him for 4 days straight I think he felt obligated. Let’s face it; he did just have a hole-in-one, wouldn’t you be motivated to play? Come to think about it, I started to question his manhood for a second, but because his handicap is an 8 and mine is somewhere around astronomical I thought better of it.

So here’s the situation, the tee time is at 2pm. My intentions are to show up about 1pm to warm-up, and as we all know intentions are not always reality. I end up running behind and only have about 20 minutes to warm up. I get a small bucket of balls and rush to the range. Upon arrival to the range I begin to stretch when I notice I can’t stand up straight or swing my club. “My Neck, My Back, My Neck and My Back!!”. The intense pain and agony of a back strain has just taken place. I know exactly what it is because the same thing happened to me last year due to a lack of stretching, and now it happening to me because I am stretching (go figure).

Back to my infamous golfing partner, he shows up, I inform him of the situation and without saying a word he turns around walks to his car, finishes his sandwich then drives away. As he left the parking lot he hung his hand out the window and flipped me the bird. I would have offset him by throwing my clubs through his windshield but do to the excruciating pain I could not move my arms without wetting my pants. Following my friend’s malice and lack of compassion an older gentleman approached me. He is in his late 70’s and hunched over worse than I am. You would think an old endearing man would provide a little bit of comfort and understanding. If you thought that you’re dead wrong! The old man walked up, took my range balls, laughed at me, and muttered under his breath “My balls now”. Are you freaking kidding me?! What in the world is going on? I thought older golfers were suppose to be supportive and caring for the game, but unfortunately I guess old men only care one thing; dirty old range balls!

To make matters worse, in the distance I see a business client of mine approaching me from out of my peripheral. Ordinarily this would not be a big deal, but because I am smoking a cigarette it could be a potential disaster. You see, the business that I am in caters directly to individuals with respiratory problems attributed to smoking. This guy that is approaching me is the director for my largest account and calls all the shots. He started this company because his mother, who was a smoker, died from complications of emphysema. So I think you can see the potential disaster about to take place. The thing that really stinks is that I am not really a smoker. The only time I smoke is when I am either golfing or playing cards. Well, on second thought maybe I am a smoker because I am normally doing one or the other on a regular basis. Anyway back to the story.

So I ditch the cigarette and swallow the smoke hoping that he does not catch on. It’s too late; in mid conversation my infamous golfing partner returns to the scene and throws a pack of cigarettes from his car window in my general direction, and says, “You left these at my house during our poker game last week”. His only other comment throughout this whole ordeal was, “what do you think your clients would do if they knew you smoked?”. The client looks at me in disgust and walks away. Once again, if I could have lifted my arms I would have thrown my clubs through my buddy’s windshield!

Finally I get in my car, and on my way home I call my doctor to see if she could see me ASAP. They tell me to come in right-away. It takes me about thirty minutes to arrive at my doctor’s office and the entire time I can feel my back just getting tighter. I arrive at the office, which is located in a strip mall. It has your standard grocery store, pizza place, movie rental chain, and my doctor’s office. It takes everything I have to get out of my car and once I am out of the car I have about fifty feet to my doctor’s office door. The problem that I am having is my back has tightened up so much that it’s hard to walk. I am standing there leaning up against the trunk of my car for about twenty minutes when I finally ask a lady who is walking into the grocery store for some help. Well apparently she thinks I am having a heart attack and dials 911 on her cell phone. Lost for words, I just stand there with my mouth open looking at the front entrance to my doctor’s office. The older lady then tells me that back pain is the first sign of a heart attack. I learned later that her source was a television show called “House”. Imagine my dismay when I hear the sirens approaching in the distance. By the time the ambulance and fire truck arrive I have about twenty onlookers surrounding me. Finally my doctor came running out of her office and saved me any more humiliation by letting the paramedics know that I am her patients and that I have just hurt my back.

It has been two weeks since the incident and my back is almost 100%. I guess the moral of story is, do not hurt your back on the golf course, do not rely on anybody to help you when it happens, and do not get caught smoking by your number one account. In case you were wondering my infamous golfing partner still does not understand his wrong doings and the number one client has not returned my calls. This has increased my smoking habit from only smoking when I play golf or cards to include smoking when my number client does not answer the phone.

James A.

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