I know, I know. That title may come off as a bit extreme and even perhaps misleading because we all know that its far more likely that not pooping would be a more probable cause of death. But recent events have led me to believe that all those famous folks who are reported to have died on the toilet were probably not simply victims of bad hearts or poorly timed drug overdoses. Nay, they were most likely victims of poorly aligned vertebrae. Anecdotal evidence only holds so much credence, but seriously, it is possible to put your back out while using the toilet. And when that happens, you may just want to die right there on the commode like the rockstar you are.
The human body normally has 33 vertebrae. I say “normally” because there are folks with extra vertebrae because mother nature is a bit of a prankster. After all, it’s the vertebrae that make a back hurt so who wouldn’t want to have more of them? I’m sure that is what she’s thinking when she doles out the extras. Anyhoodle, if you have a bad back you likely have 33 vertebrae that like to get cranky at any given time. And if you have a back like mine, you would be nodding your head right now if it didn’t hurt so much to move any of those dang things.
Actually, I don’t have a bad back because my vertebrae are naughty. What I do have are knotty muscles. The muscles in my back are so bad they deserve jail time. And compared to them, my vertebrae are softies. It’s like the proverbial school bullies beating up the kindergartners for their lunch money.
My back muscles flex and those vertebrae just roll over like the wimps they are. I can put my back out checking my blindspot, getting the ketchup out of the fridge, smiling at someone across Starbucks. My back muscles are such assholes.
Back when I was a veritable spring chicken of 45 and saw my doctor for my annual physical, she told me that I needed to start doing yoga. Because “at my age, flexibility gets very important.” I listened to her. Really. For the amount of time it took to exchange my hospital gown for my street clothes. But then I kept right on with my inflexible, knotty ways. Bad habits, folks. They are harder to break than a warm Big Hunk bar.
I’ve learned a few tricks since I finally took my doctor’s advice. My dog, first thing she does when she gets up is a Downward Dog stretch. I can’t do that because of said back issues. That and I have to void my bladder like whoa. A Downward Dog would lead to a disaster. But post-peeing and before I attempt to wipe, I make sure to do some gentle stretches. It’s hard to admit this, but I have put my vertebrae out of alignment more than once by simply trying to practice good hygiene. No amount of Charmin softness can soften that blow, let me tell you.
Doctor, examining my curlicued back: And how did you do this to yourself?
Me, crying into my sleeve: I was wiping my butt.
All these unfortunate events serve to prove that I would not survive being shipwrecked on a deserted island. First off, I can’t swim well enough to get to the side of the pool, let alone swim across an ocean. And if I did somehow manage to get swept onto the beach, I’d never survive having to eat creepy-crawly bugs and such things. But what would probably kill me the quickest was the need to poop. Because I’m sure I’d be so worried about a wild beast sneaking up to kill me that I’d forget to adequately stretch out before digging my little latrine. Then I’d put my back out and die right there, like the knotty fool I am.
For me and other suffers of back pain, pooping may kill. Take precautions, people, especially if you’re a rockstar.