I’ve never really liked changing tires on my car.
But, there comes a time when I have to so, every year. During spring, the old winter tires have to come off and be replaced with the summer tires. And the other way around in autumn. To say that I wish I’d lived in a different country where I didn’t have to undergo all this hassle, is an understatement.
Especially because one time I had to help out my father change the tires. Now, as with most old men, he’s stubborn and beleives that he knows best. Of course. Everyone else simply don’t understand or aren’t either mentally or physically adept to do things ‘his way’. Oh, the wonders of aging wisdom. Or stubbornness. So, we start hauling out the summer tires and jack the car up. For some odd reason, and to this very day I cannot fathom why, the handle in which the jack was supposed to be placed, wasn’t located at two spots on either side, one in the front and one in the back, like what’s regular.
Instead, there was only one handle, and it was in the middle between the front tires and the rear tires.
So it meant that as you jacked the car up, it would actually not reman in place, as would have been what you expected.
Instead, it was tilting back and forth, and I was outright worried about placing on the new wheels. The car was just balancing on that tiny jack and one slight pull or push would probably mean that the car tilted too much in one direction and thus could land on either my arm, my fingers, or my toes.
Now, that tilted motion reminded me of a horrific fate that a woman with Fibromyalga sustained while helping out her old father moving car tires.
She probably used way more force than what she should have and threw her back out. The result was excruciating and relentless pain. Having had fibromyalgia for seven years already, she of course knew what pain was, but this was the worst kind of pain she’d had yet.
In fact, it got so bad she couldn’t shower for more than a couple of times. All the bending and twisting that comes with taking a shower was more than what her poor body could handle. She’d worn only two pairs of trousers over 10 days because of all the hassle and pain that came with putting on a new pair of jeans.
But worst, and most humiliating of all…
…she couldn’t properly use the restroom.
Ie., she couldn’t wipe her own butt. Too much pain. Too much twisting. And, with no one to take care of her, you can only imagine the foul stench, the lack of hygiene and yes, the utter and complete humiliation that came with having this horrible disease.
Something for you to chew on the next time you’re about to display your brute strength.
Now, just for the record, I don’t think this woman was actively and overtly trying to demonstrate how ‘strong’ or ‘durable’ she was. In fact, I think that those thoughts didn’t cross her mind at all. She was just concerned with helping out her old pa’ shifting the tyres on his car and in the process, she injured her back.
Now, you could argue that ‘she should have known better’ and that she should’ve let some other close relative help her father, but maybe there weren’t any other person to help?
Maybe she actually was the only one that was qualified to help her old man haul the tyres?
We don’t know.
Then only thing we know is that this strenuous effort led to her not being able to cleanse her own Arsch-Loch, which is kind of important.
Especially when living on your own (she was a widow, if I recall correctly).
‘Aight, ‘nuff said.
Anyway, whether you have joint pain or not, and are able to cleanse your own derrière properly, CBD oil will always be there for you, in case you need something that has helped so many other people combat their pain issues.
Just a little food for thought.