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Awkward position

September 1, 2003

I was hunkered down in the easy chair trying not to think about my throbbing back.

I was hunkered down in the easy chair trying not to think about my throbbing back.

My wife, Kerri, and the girls had gone to spend the weekend with grandma and my city girl sister had come to visit from Dallas. Her cat was sick and the Dallas vets were not getting it well at a rapid enough rate to make her happy, so she came over for the weekend with a sick critter in her arms.

The Lamesa Rodeo was due to start in about three hours and I was resting a bit before she and I left. As is usually the case, the phone rang just as I was about to doze off. It was a new voice on the phone, a pig owner from a town about an hour away. Seems his gilt was having a hard time delivering and he needed some help.

The fun begins

Off we went, me with an aching back and my sister with a million questions about what was about to happen. How do you explain hog delivery to someone? I just told her to save her questions until after we were finished.

We arrived at the hog farm to the largest collective group of people I have ever witnessed in my life. This "large" is in reference to the size of the people, not the number present. There must have been 20 people there and they were all more than 6'3", even the women.

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Large scene

I looked down at the poor gilt and it was like I heard her say, "Boy, am I glad you're here! Have you seen the size of the forearms of those people?"

I went to work swiftly delivering piglets. My back was sprung from a run-in with a cow and every moment of tugging on those babies was agony. Just as I was about to remove the last piggy, the gilt stood up suddenly and I twisted my back even worse.

My sweet sister came to my side and informed the crowd of my previous encounter with a cow. They seemed genuinely concerned and made a phone call to Inga. When I asked who Inga was, one of them said, "Oh, she's my wife and the greatest message therapist in West Texas."

I was instructed that I could not leave until she arrived and rubbed away all my problems. I was lying on the concrete floor having a back spasm when Inga came ambling through the door. She was more than 6' tall, and probably weighed 250 pounds. I could see a smirk rising at the corner of my sister's mouth as this woman told me to take off my shirt and roll over on my stomach.

The amazing Inga

Here I was, half naked, lying on a concrete floor, covered with flies that normally frequent a pig barn, surrounded by giant people and my smirking sister, about to be rubbed by a giant woman named Inga.

The woman grabbed me and started twisting me like a pretzel, all the time telling me what she was doing and what was wrong with my back. Every once in awhile, I caught a glimpse of my sister. She had moved from a smirk to a giggle.

I really wasn't paying any attention to what she was saying until I heard her say, "You are going to have to unbutton and unzip your britches."

My sister moved from a giggle to a quiet laugh that was muffled by the hand over her mouth.

Did I hear you right?

"No … really … I'm better," I mumbled

"You have pulled a muscle that runs down to your buttocks, and we'll have to stimulate the muscle in order to relieve your pain."

"No … really … I'm better."

"I insist. We will have accomplished nothing if we don't finish the entire process," her tone left me feeling like I did when my mother got on to me for something bad I had done.

Without further ado, I unbuttoned and unzipped. It was then I discovered that the muscle that runs down to my buttocks was actually my left buttock. I am not sure what the purpose was, but it felt like she was trying to pull it off my body as she bent my left leg backwards until it almost touched the back of my head.

My sister's muffled laugh had progressed to hysteria as we drove home. I have to admit, I did feel much better. My sister just kept laughing and saying something about how scrawny I must have appeared to all those giants with my shirt off and Inga rubbing my buttock. All in a day's work.

All in a day's work


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