It's not all about you, Geoff.
And in here's got fuck all nothing whatsoever to do with you. So, there's the door, stay on the other side of it.
I find I can sling a bag of cement over my shoulder sometimes with no effect and then zap when turning the door knob which will leave me dibilitated for days.
I find the only cure is to get moving get doing and the body kicks in with it's own pain killer.
Trouble is you have to stop and then thats when you pay the price.
Last week I couldn't walk more than a hundred yards without seizing up leaving me stranded in the middle of a road. I kept doing it and now I can walk to the pub. Still in pain but at least I am moving
That's the problem, soon as I stop, sit down, lay, just stand still, I'm bollocksed. So, fed up with it I walked up the ossie, took me about an hour doing the Sandy shuffle. Me poor Ma hasn't had a visitor all week. Last time I seen her she was at death's door, so I thought fuck it, sick or not I'm going in.
I swear that woman has more lives in her than Felix. She's sat up, with a cup of tea, reading a mag. She asked for me phone and spent the next half hour calling family and mates, then lashed me out. So, she's on the mend, then. Meself.... oh well, can't win em all.