The Wilderness Years

“When you are trying to climb out of a low period, it sometimes hangs on tight enough to strangle you.”

–Chris Salewicz, from the biography Redemption Song: The Ballad Of Joe Strummer.

Last Tuesday, as I was walking downstairs to get ready for work, my back gave out. It simply seized up and wouldn’t let go, forcing me to crawl around the house on all fours, like I was taking part in some surreal situation comedy. (Remember that episode of Mad About You where Jamie spent the entire episode on the floor with horrible back pain?). I eventually managed to somehow feed the cat, roll myself into the shower, and then pull the phone off the wall to call into work sick. After that, I spent the rest of my time until Lynn arrived home, clutching the bed covers and trying not to scream aloud. No matter what position I took up, it was uncomfortable. So I wound up tossing and turning every five seconds.

Somehow, Lynn managed to get me to an immediate care center in record time, which was pretty amazing considering I could barely walk. The pain ran from my lower right back, down my right buttock, and was exploding like a keg of dynamite in my right calf. At the clinic, I had to lean over with my head almost in my lap to get any comfort. By the time they called my name, I was sweating and nauseous from the pain. The doctor poked and prodded me for two minutes and bent my right leg forwards and back. Back hurt the worst. A few seconds later, he wrote out three prescriptions. Prednisone for the swelling, Tramadol for the pain, and Diazepam for the muscle spasms. I took doses of each one the minute I gimped into the house from the garage. By 11 p.m. that night, I was finally able to stretch out flat without any pain.

Needless to say, this ordeal just added extra weight to all the anxiety I’d been having since the armed robbery at the store in January. Now here I was, stuck in a job I didn’t like, with my hours cut, and taking sick days which pretty amount to only 60% of my regular pay. That’s how my company does it. They’ll give you all the sick time in the world, but at a fraction of the cost. It’s meant to discourage the abuse of benefits, but what if you’re like me and have an honest to goodness excuse for being laid up. I’ve been lugging cases of booze at the store for fifteen years. My back was going to go out on me sooner or later. This was one of those things that I felt nagging at me for weeks before it happened, but it was so low grade I didn’t even think about it until I hit the floor. Now I know better.

Obviously, I took Tuesday and Wednesday of last week off (Monday had been my regular day off anyway). I dressed for work on Thursday and made it in, but my right leg was still stiff and I was still sporting an obvious limp. My boss sent me home to rest up some more. Because, once I made it back on Friday, I was met with a full liquor order in the stockroom that had been sitting there waiting for me since Wednesday, despite the fact I had express orders not to lift anything over twenty pounds until I felt better. Nobody had even touched the order. They left it for me to deal with. I did as much as I could until my back screamed in protest. Thankfully, I had the weekend off to recuperate. I went back to work yesterday, but spent the entire shift on my feet, so I was pretty stiff by the time I arrived back home. I’ve weaned myself off of everything but regular Ibuprofen, so now I’m mostly just placing blankets on the floor and stretching my back out that way. So far, it’s working out okay. I’m a little achy in places, but there’s no real pain to speak of.

One of the reasons I haven’t taken the rest of the meds is that both the Diazepam and the Tramadol are sometimes used to treat anxiety disorders. I noticed that while taking them both, I was the most relaxed I had been since before the robbery. I actually started liking the feeling, despite the fact that taking both drugs together would make me nod out for an hour at a whack. But I was mellow, and hadn’t felt that way in a long time. I’d settle in with Chris Salewicz’ Joe Strummer biography and read until my vision got blurry. Then I’d just let the book drop and nod off. This was all I would do for days and I was proud of it. But the financial devastation that the week would eventually bring was never far off in my mind. Now that I’m almost finished with the book, I’m almost sad my downtime is over and I want to hold onto a few doses just in case. I feel like I’m just starting to understand Joe and his music in a way I never had before. I guess drugs will do that, and I think Joe would’ve been proud.

It’s funny…My half-brother turned me onto The Clash sometime around 1980 or ’81 when he played the LONDON CALLING album for me. I never really got the politics or fashion of the whole British punk scene, but there was always something in Joe’s voice that connected with me. It was a primal reaction that touched something deep down. To this day, I could care less about the causes Joe championed. They mean nothing to me. As a kid growing up in Amesbury, MA, I had no use for what was going on in London. But Salewicz’ book paints Joe as a reluctant voice for a generation. His version of Joe is more politically aware than savvy. He read things, then parroted them out, whether or not he had all his facts in place. And when he and Mick Jones parted ways, thereby gutting The Clash, Joe was left all alone in the wilderness, just another lost soul trying to find his place in the world. Joe spent the better part of a decade in the wilderness. By the time he found his way out and figured out which path was right for him, he had a heart attack and died at age fifty. But he did find his way out. There’s no denying that. It’s just tragic he didn’t find his way sooner.

I know right now I’m in that same wilderness, and I know I’m not the only one out there trying to change gears midway through the game. At some point, there will be some sort of sign and I will be told to move on. It just doesn’t feel that way right now. Over the last day or two, I’ve been listening to the last album Joe did with the Mescaleros and feeling the promise and hope in his voice, even though he wasn’t around to hear the final mix himself. It is only because of that I’m able to look myself in the mirror right now and like what I see. I’d really like to think the future is unwritten. I really want to believe that. I hope Joe was right…