Life lessons from a squished disc

Gene Mage

“It’s kind of like an ice cream sandwich,” my Physical Therapist explained. “When you squish down one side, the ice cream wants to squeeze out the other side.” I gazed thoughtfully at the prop skeleton equipped with plastic vertebrae, rubber nerves, and red gel cartilage discs. I had never really thought of my back as a frozen confection, unless you consider a couple of cold nights with kid’s ski club last winter. Now came the hard part, figuring out what to do with the information.

Do any of you have back problems? A herniated disc sure changes your perspective on life. Someone asked me yesterday how I was doing. “I’m great as long as I don’t drive, sit, stand, or move in between any of those positions,” I replied. He thought it was funny. I was being truthful.

Then came the girdle. The proper medical term is a “corset”. I honestly think that I got one of William Shatner’s. I’ll bet my therapist bought it on e-Bay, in the “Hollywood Memorabilia” category. Some scientist figured out that if you place elastic and metal bars in the right configuration you can get someone’s stomach back into the position it ought to have occupied in the first place. Maybe I should have just given up ice cream sandwiches.

So I cannot drive, sit, or stand. What can I do? I can hang like a bat. I feel like Grandpa from the television series, “The Munsters,” strapped into my gravity inversion table. Hanging there, in the dark, new senses began emerging. Neglected faculties begin compensating for the commonplace. Without seeing anything, I can tell that chicken wings are ready to come out of the broiler. I am reading the “car shopper” magazine upside down with blood pulsing through my temples. My brain has not received this much pure oxygen since a scuba diving trip in Jamaica back in the seventies. Creative juices are flowing. Complex phenomena are suddenly simple. The mysteries of the universe unravel before me, at least until my feet begin to get sore from the pressure of being locked into the anti-gravity boots. With a gentle motion of my arms I rotate back into a supine position, disc pressure relieved, ready for fifteen minutes of pain-free bliss.

On Sunday, my wife decided it was time for me to get back into church. My son was playing drums, so I girded myself for action so I could be there in the audience cheering him on. A shower, application of the corset, an anti-inflammatory drug, a muscle-relaxant, and a high-octane pain pill all kick into gear. I feel pretty good. I am ready to head for the house of worship.

Sitting there in the pew, opiates coursing through my well oxygenate blood stream, I am struck with a burst of inspiration. Leaning ever so slightly towards my son, I suggest, “Why don’t we let people sign my corset? Do you have a sharpie?” He replied, without missing a beat, “No, Dad. I would appreciate it if you would not think about things like that.” But I cannot help it. Like the cartilage gel that squeezed out between my vertebrae, the ideas are getting forced up into my brain. “How about we just sign it, ‘Bill Shatner’, and see if we can get anybody to believe that we really got it from Captain Kirk?” , I offer as an alternative. “No, Dad. That would be stupid,” my son reminds me. “Maybe you should have stayed home and rested in your bat cave.”

What about you? Has the universe applied some pressure to your life? See what squeezes out on the other side. Maybe a new idea will emerge. Perhaps you will find a new perspective on life. Well, I have to go now. I have to do 250 pelvic tilts to try and get my disc back into position. Too bad life won’t let me hang around like this forever.

For more ideas on becoming “Free to Lead” from Leadership Development Author and Speaker Gene C. Mage, visit www.makingitwork.com.