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  • Felice Cohen

I’m always rushin’. Until I’m not.

Raise your hand if you like setting goals and creating To Do lists. Now keep it up if you like projects completed, dishes washed, emails answered, errands run, bed made, magazines read, fridge stocked, mail opened, sorted and filed. Hand still up? Good. Now imagine you’re zipping along, accomplishing tasks when bam! Your back goes out. And you’re stopped cold, your To Dos instantly forgotten.


A taxi delivered me a few blocks away to Dr. Davidowitz, who literally (and figuratively) picked me up when I had my last episode two years ago. I was praying for a repeat.


But something strange emerges each time I go through this. Just when I’ve eased into my new role of, “I’ll get to it, when I get to it,” and accept my new speed, the pain dissipates slightly and soon I can tie my sneakers without passing out, walk twenty blocks without wincing or sit at the computer for five minutes straight. That’s when I imagine returning to the real world, going back to work, getting back on my bike. And even though a pain-free existence is weeks away, that possibility of starting again, of having new goals, gives me a boost. And I promise myself that once I’m healed, I’ll slow down and stop rushin’. But I never do. That is until the next time my back goes out.

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