Like both of my parents, and like many tall people in general, I have what I believe is known in the technical parlance as “a bad back.”

This can manifest itself as anything from slight lower-back stiffness or a twinge when I move a certain way, to continuous wrenching pain and near-immobility which is alleviated neither by painkillers nor by the usual method of lying on my side to take the pressure off my spine.

I was in college the first time I threw my back out so badly that I sought medical attention. I suspect a combination of hunching at desks all through the day and hunching over textbooks on my bed at night led to the episode, which left me a shambling, pain-wracked mess who had to carry pillows to classes so that I could prop myself up more comfortably on the hard wooden seats. The physiotherapist I saw couldn’t do much more than recommend ibuprofen and regular gentle back exercises, so I gritted my teeth and toted around my pillows until my spine sorted itself out.

I didn’t experience anything that bad again until precisely a year ago in Japan, when a 13-hour flight and several evenings of sitting uncomfortably at low tables on the floor set me up for my worst back episode ever.

I had spent a day wandering around Shinjuku by myself while Jeremy was teaching a workshop for Web Directions East. I trawled through department store food halls, bought some books at Kinokuniya, ate a bento lunch in the park and spent the late afternoon strolling around Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden, enjoying the autumnal leaves and tranquility of the huge park in the center of the city.

Walking is good for your back, but I clearly overdid it that day because by the time I met up with Jeremy again that evening, I found it unbearably uncomfortable to stand for any length of time, and sitting down wasn’t much better. Since Jeremy and I were both exhausted and jetlagged anyway, we went back to the hotel and collapsed in bed at about 9 PM, after deciding that if we woke up at the crack of dawn (which we were very likely to do), we’d try to get to Tsukiji Fish Market.

Unfortunately, when we did wake up at the crack of dawn, I could barely move. Sitting, standing, lying down, moving, not moving—it all triggered the same excruciating back spasms. I was distraught, not just because I was in agony, but because we were in Japan for the first time, our time in Tokyo was limited, and I couldn’t bear the thought of wasting a precious day holed up in bed in a teeny-tiny hotel room while the whole thrilling city lay waiting outside.

I was in a quandary. Should I stay in bed and try to keep the pressure off my lower back to prevent the problem from worsening, or would it be better to get up and attempt to walk off the paralyzing muscle tightness? In the end, my determination to not lose a day of sightseeing won out, so I laboriously got dressed and had Jeremy put my socks and shoes on for me (I couldn’t bend over to reach my feet), and then he pulled me up from the bed and we shuffled off to the subway station.

The subway was fairly quiet at that time of morning, but I alone remained standing among all the empty seats because I knew that even if I did manage to plop myself down into one of the low chairs, I probably wouldn’t be able to get up again. And once we reached the stop for the market, we spent a good deal of time shambling around in the rain looking for the entrance, while I stifled groans and began to seriously doubt that I had made the right decision about leaving the hotel.

When we finally made it inside, it didn’t take long for me to realize that, yes, I had made the right decision. If anyplace is going to distract you from physical discomfort, then Tsukiji Fish Market is, not least because if you don’t pay careful attention to what’s going on around you, you’re likely to get creamed by the little motorized carts that go whizzing around the place. Tsukiji is great for sensory overload, and after an hour or so of wandering up and down the overwhelming aisles of the market, I felt immeasurably better; my back muscles loosened up, my mind settled, and I was able not only to sit and enjoy a fresh sushi breakfast, but to stand up again afterwards and walk out under my own power—something I didn’t think would be possible a few hours earlier. Tsukiji saved me.

In the intervening year, my back has behaved relatively well—until this week, of course. Since Tuesday night when I started to feel sick, I’ve done nothing but sit at the computer, slump on the couch, or lie in bed. I haven’t left the house in days, so I’ve gotten absolutely no exercise, and my back is reminding me that this is A Bad Thing. Last night I started feeling that familiar stiffness and pain that just won’t go away no matter what position I sit or lie in, and when I woke up at the crack of dawn this morning and hobbled to the bathroom for some ibuprofen, I was reminded of waking up that awful morning in Shinjuku, wondering what I had done to deserve such misery and what I could do to make it stop.

Unfortunately, this time around I don’t have Tsukiji Fish Market to distract me—but it’s not all bad. I think the Cold From Hell is finally running its course, so I don’t feel quite so much like the living dead anymore. The painkillers seem to be doing their thing, so I can sit here and type this in relative comfort. And, best of all, it’s gorgeously sunny out, so I plan to get dressed properly for the first time in days, shuffle down to Unithai with Jeremy and fill up on a big bowl of spicy noodles—a balm for the body and soul.