It’s been a long time since I threw my back out.
In fact, it’s been since the day I was to work undercover (or, let’s just say “covertly” for that situation, without announcing myself: “I’m here to film you harming animals so that the state can tell us there are no laws to protect these animals and we can push for better laws and inside I truly despise you, Animal Abuser!”) early in 2007 with a colleague to document some abuse in [State Redacted].
Ultimately my PETA colleague had to document without me after picking up the equipment at my home … I was still on the floor and embarrassed some hours after the fact (read: injury). Wow. Long time.
Here’s to careful lifting with one’s legs, eh?
What was overly apparently this past Saturday morning was that not only was the individual I had helping me in his own world (and very angry that I was asking for him to lower his voice in a donor’s home and just “please wait a minute” because my back was killing me and I needed to rest), but so was the person we were moving things for. She was also oblivious. She’s also no longer going to be involved in OutJustice. Something is very wrong with telling someone with an injured back they are “acting like a girl” both from a feminist and a queer perspective. No thank you.
That morning I’d mentioned my injuries in the past (has happened twice – add Saturday and it’s three times) and told them I agitated it that morning moving some things on my own (i.e. “hey folks, I need to be ultra careful”), but it was brand new news when it went out-out.
Alas. Don’t expect people to care or to even be paying attention to you, folks, but DO care and DO pay attention to others. Don’t be either of these individuals.
And special thanks to Mr. B. who came and helped me up and back to my office. I hope to return the favor to him some day and I really hope that he isn’t in any pain at all but just really needed that extra sponsor of his walk-a-thon or something.
P.S. Please donate dollars and nothing else requiring dollies. Thanks.