This poem portrays everyday life in the
face of aging through the long-standing experience of chronic back pain. From
its onset in youth, through the struggles during a teaching career, to the
present, the poem traces a personal history of living alongside pain. It
reveals a life of coexistence with physical limitation, where acceptance of
decline is balanced with the will to keep moving, and where quiet moments of
peace emerge within that reality.
“My Back Pain Ached”
A harmful consequence of walking on two
legs—
even the smallest movement weighs heavily
on the lower back.
It first began when I was in my second year
of high school.
I took a jump shot in basketball.
The moment I landed, my back gave way.
A sharp pain shot through my right side.
That was the beginning of my acute back
strain.
Since then, it returned about once a year.
After becoming a teacher,
a herniated disc followed me.
I was forced to take two months off work.
I went to chiropractic treatment.
Avoiding hospitalization, I recovered at
home.
After returning, I brought a simple bed
into the classroom.
In the afternoons, I taught while lying
down.
Those months, I was supported by my
students.
Even after recovering, I could not stay
still.
I was never the type to sit in the staff
room.
There were classes, and coaching youth
sports as well.
Perhaps because I threw myself into
everything, the hernia returned.
In winter, I became absorbed in curling.
When I won the regional championship, I
left the hernia behind.
In the end, I accepted it as a chronic
condition.
Then came sciatica, uninvited.
Numbness ran from my right hip down my leg.
Still, I could move without much trouble.
And then came the truly troublesome one—
lumbar spinal stenosis.
A narrowing of the spinal canal, where
nerves and the spinal cord pass.
There is no natural cure.
The cause: age-related degeneration of the
discs.
Rehabilitation at an orthopedic clinic had
no effect.
I was prescribed painkillers and muscle
relaxants.
At an osteopathic clinic, I underwent
electrical therapy and stretching.
I went once a week for two years,
then quit, as no further improvement could
be expected.
Three years have passed since then.
I still had back pain several times a year,
but now it is mild.
My natural flexibility helped.
Stretching exercises continued since youth
also helped.
Swinging a wooden sword strengthened my
core.
Outdoor work brings stiffness, but the pain
soon subsides.
Climbing hills on a city bike, which I
started last summer, also helped.
The heel pain I had for two years
disappeared.
The muscles of my hips and legs tightened
despite my age.
Perhaps as a combined effect, I endured
long bus journeys across the region.
Fifteen years of a desk-bound life have
passed.
The back pain I once thought incurable is
now calm.
At my age, avoiding strain is best—
and yet, I still test my limits with a wry
smile.
I live peacefully, enjoying drinks and my
wife’s cooking.
This condition of mine will not say goodbye—
so for now, I will ask severe pain to stay
away a little longer.
Written on April 20, 2026.
Back pain had long been a chronic
condition that forced me to lie down whenever it flared up. It feels almost
mysterious that it has now settled.