Laughter is the Best Medicine...because the Painkillers Sure Aren't Working

If I wrote this post two days ago, I would have entitled it "Going Back to The Well" because the topic is similar to my previous post and is another funny story involving water and my backside (is it scary that this is a theme in my life?).  However, today I'm writing it because I need to laugh.  After six months of rehabbing my back and doing everything possible to get better, I did something stupid and re-injured myself and now walk like an 80 year man.  So, in order to avoid either crying, cussing, screaming, or breaking "stuff" at work, I'm conducting an independent scientific analysis on laughter being the best medicine.  Right now painkillers are NOT working!  Hopefully, this story does the trick.

In 2003, I was a 33 year old Jr. High Director at a church.  This ministry entailed teaching, mentoring, and spending time with jr. highers, which means teaching was a rarity, mentoring only occurred if I could catch them and spending time with them involved acting like a kid, even if I wasn't in the mood.

My "small group" consisted of several sixth grade boys.  There probably isn't much explanation necessary, is there?  Sixth grade boys...it almost silences an entire village.  Just like in the movie The Village, they are "the things of which we do not speak."  You know they are out there, and they are dangerous creatures.

One afternoon, our small group was in one of the families' pool.  Being that I weighed the same as two of them combined, I was an easy target to pull into wrestling matches or to take on the role of "sea monster" or some other crazy creature.  I was The Hulk for one of our youth events, so maybe I was channeling The Hulk that day?

Several of the boys were floating in an inflatable boat and being the good "monster" that I was, I flipped the boat over.  During one of the boy's ascension to the surface of the water, his hand blindly found a crevice commonly referred to as the place that "the good Lord split ya."  Unfortunate for me I was the victim of the blind reach.  I'm sure it was unfortunate for him too, unless he harbored dreams of the Proctology profession.

This is where we can explain a little about involuntary responses.  Some physiological responses require a thoughtful and measured decision to act; this is definitely not one of those thoughtfully measured actions.  I learned that the gluteus maximus and the surrounding muscle groups forcefully contract without examining a flow chart to see if this is the correct choice.  The major problem with this is that the hand of the boy had not left it's unfortunate destination and now his fingers were clamped in my apparently very strong "grip."

He wiggled, which yes, created more involuntary responses.  He wiggled, I clamped...repeat this 4 or 5 times before he extracted himself from his disconcerting situation.  His new found freedom also included another beneficiary and this allowed my buns of steel workout to cease and desist.

In the aftermath, we both discovered an amazing fact.  While his hand and my backside may have experienced the immediate trauma, our eyes apparently were affected also.  They developed something akin to magnetic repulsion...you know, that thing that happens when you try to connect the wrong sides of magnets...they actually push away rather than attract.  For several months, if we tried to look each other in the eye, we'd look away in shame.  And that, as they (whoever they are) say was "Awkward!!"  I'm not sure if I feel better for writing this yet, but maybe you'll get a little medicine today in the form of laughter.  I'll promise I'll join you if my pain decreases!