I seem to have perfected the art of inflicting bodily harm on myself without realizing it, for no good reason, and often with no good story to tell after the fact.
This Monday I did something to my back. I don't know what. As far as I could tell I was sitting at my desk at work, got up to leave for the day, and found myself walking to the bus doing a hell of an impression of Kevin Spacey in The Usual Suspects. The pain felt like a pulled muscle, except that it went from the arch of my foot up to my hip, focused mostly behind my knee. It felt like a pinched nerve except there was no burning or numbness. Just pain. Lots of pain.
After a day and a half of hobbling around (and increased grouchiness) I gave in and called the doctor. Four hours, an x-ray and ultrasound later, it turns out I have/had a pinched nerve. Part of me was hoping for something more dramatic, but I think it's just because I've been watching too many reruns of House lately. I was sent home with a worksheet of stretches and some muscle relaxants and Vicodin.
Two Vicodin quickly erased the pain and E helped make sure that I got upstairs to bed without falling into a puddle on the floor. The next morning the horrible pain was gone, leaving me with that dull ache of over-taxed muscles. And a bit of a hangover. I worked from home and took more meds before sleep.
Today I am happy to report that I feel pretty much back to my ol'self. No more pain, no more gimpyness. My lower back is still letting me know that it's there, but not in a painful way. I feel kinda silly that I didn't hop myself up on Advil Monday night when this started since painkillers are all that seems to have been needed to fix this. But with all the plane travel lately and such I couldn't help but think of B and his blood clot. I didn't want to take a chance.
