Today started like any other workday. I punched the snooze button on my phone, read my email, checked my favourite comic strips, threw on some clothes, grabbed my handbag and headed out the door.
Alas, it only went downhill from there. By the time I got to my car, my back was hurting so much that I could barely move. I hobbled back into the house and lay down, back muscles screaming at the top of their lungs. I called my boss and told her I was going to be late. I hollered for Joe to come help me. He put some icy hot on my back, brought me some Gatorade and Tylenol (because he thinks every back spasm is due to dehydration).
After a couple of hours, it let up enough that I was able to fall asleep a little bit, but not enough for me to go to work. I was able to get in to see the doctor, and after she ruled out shingles (huh?), prescribed muscle relaxers and pain medicine and ice and said I can go back to work on Monday.
So I’m laying in bed watching World War II documentaries between sleeping bouts. Not how I wanted to spend my week.