I’VE got one. You can’t see it, there is no outward sign of it.

It looks normal and everyone tells me they know how to sort it out.

“What is she on about now?” I hear you cry.

It’s a bad back – I’ve got one, and it’s killing me.

My back’s been playing me up and now it’s “gone”.

Funny saying that, isn’t it? “Gone”.

But that’s what everyone says. “Oh, has your back ‘gone’?” they ask as you squirm in your seat trying to find a comfortable angle.

You smile and nod, as you sit there resembling the leaning Tower of Pisa.

Before my back “went” I did have sympathy for back sufferers – but not a lot.

I’d look on with compassion when husband-Al was walking like a crab because of his sciatica.

I’d nod knowingly when he’d carry a cushion everywhere so he could drive or even sit. “Oh dear,” I’d sigh.

What I should have been saying is, “you poor love, don’t you drive or work. Let me massage you, rub anti-inflammatory cream in, apply heat pads for you.” That’s what I should have said – but I didn’t. Part of me felt, “it can’t be that bad” – oh yes, it can.

Husband-Al went to chiropractors, physios and osteopaths. He tried everything – exercise, rest, heat, cold, baths, showers, back supports and neck collars.

His backwas x-rayed and an operation on his spine was suggested. Scary. Nothing worked.

He still inched his way along looking like the crab from Finding Nemo. He could still only stand or lie – even his cushion was now proving futile.

“Oh dear,” I’d say, head cocked to one side, trying to assume an understanding pose.

Amazingly, everyone has a suggestion for a bad back. Some sounded hopeful while others slightly odd.

Drinking the water cabbage has been boiled in – but only when it’s cold – was one of the stranger remedies. But poor back-suffering husband-Al tried them all – to no avail.

Then, a friend of ours suggested a cranial osteopath who had helped her.

Husband-Al crawled the miles to see him. The osteopath looked at Husband-Al’s crooked back, laid him on his couch, hardly touched him and said it would take three sessions to put him right. What?

Madness. Husband-Al had been through countless sessions with numerous experts with no improvement, so three? No way.

Oh yes. On the third session Husband-Al said he felt as if everything just “dropped” into place and he stood up straight and walked out like a sergeant major. Amazing.

So, when my back “went” we headed straight over to said osteopath.

He looked at my back, then laid me on his couch, once again hardly touching me.

Then, at the end of the session, he told me it would be a complete waste of my money seeing him as it would take too many sessions to even calm my brain down, let alone relax my back.

Oh dear.

So, I struggle on. Hooking my hand into my vest top just to take the weight off my shoulder. Leaning so far back onmy chair at work that I almost crash backwards.

Standing in the shower for hours with the hot water hitting my back until it runs cold.

Mmmm.

And, husband-Al massages special muscle ointment in my back, doesn’t allow me to carry anything heavy and makes me lay down and rest when I get in. All the things I should have done for him when he was suffering – and didn’t.

But he does it, not just because he loves me, but because he knows how I’m feeling.

The only good thing to come out of me having this bad back is that now I’ll know how he is feeling if his back ever “goes” again.

This time I’ll knowwhat to do – and it won’t be to sigh and say “oh dear” – and I definitely won’t be suggesting he drinks cold cabbage water. It tastes foul – I know, I tried it.