My Neck and my Back

So yesterday after chatting online with Stephanie (of Not the Oxygen) about the definition of Ambien sex (don't ask . . . or do, I'd love to explain it :-), I realized that I was still sitting in my jammies and it was 2:30pm. I had ran out of blogs to catch up on and the only thing I accomplished that day was walking my dog around the block and eating breakfast while watching my holiday guilty pleasure . . . A Diva's Christmas Carol. (In my defense, it was my day off) I decided then and there that I was going to be an adult and exercise my dog outside in the freezing, bitter cold and then drive downtown to the Clay Studio where I take my pottery class and pick up the last of my amateur creations (since the semester is officially over).

So whilst putting on my favorite (and only) Phillies zip-up sweater, I noticed a pain in the upper left corner of my back. The pain was sharp, but small and I attempted to shimmy it away, thinking that it was just a cramp (I have back problems). I managed to get the sweater on, shrugged up and down a few times and then attempted to put on my pants and the pain shot through my back again, this time going all the way through to my breast plate. It felt like a 1 second heart attack. 'Okay, ooww?' I said, in my White girl voice. Exercising the dog is definitely out. I decided that I would just drive to the clay place and when I took a step, I almost fell on the floor from the excruciating pain emanating from my shoulder, upper left corner of my back, neck and chest. "Aaaaaagghhhhh!" I screamed and limp-hobbled Igore style to the couch, where I laid paralyzed with my pants down around my ankles. "Oookay, no clay studio" I said in my head. My dog walked over to me confused and I didn't even have the strength to shoo him away. I was in that much pain. Thank god he didn't use my helpless state as an opportunity to sniff my crotch or anything because the way I was sprawled out, he would have had a field day.

After some self-coaching, crying and a whole lot of praying, I managed to hoist my legs up onto the couch, felt around for my phone (because it hurt to look around or move my neck) and called my "man-friend" who was at work. There was really nothing he could do (even though he was letting on like he was going to hurry to my side . . . "Ohmygod are you okay? I'll see if I can get there. (Pause) But, um . . . you going to be okay, though because . . . I, uh . . . I got a lot of stuff to do here." Yeah, thanks babe!). Soooo, I laid there (and eventually fell asleep) in that same position for 2 and a half hours. When I woke up, I realized that my whole upper body was still in excruciating pain. My poor dog was still looking at me, whimpering to be let out to pee. Even though every movement I made was painful, I managed to let him out.

Come to think of it, my neighbors probably thought I was involved in some hardcore sex because the only thing that came out of my mouth for almost 4 hours was "Ooooh, ah, ah, ah aaaaaggghhh, oh god, oh god, ooooh" And when I finally got the door open, a sexy, breathy "Yesss." Finally, the man-friend came home, took my pants from around my ankles and gave me a back rub with some alcohol. He cooked dinner and propped me up so that I could eat. In the meantime, my mom (who I talked to earlier) called to ask about my status (for the 150th time). "Still in a lot of pain," I moaned and let out a belch. "That felt good," I said.

"Wait a minute, Arnetta. Did you eat something with a lot of seasoning or spices in it lately?"

"Yeah, and?"

"You have gas!"

Eh-squeeze-me? Gas?! Gas was what made me feel like I was having a heart attack/stroke/seizure/epileptic fit? Don't old people suffer from that? (Sobering moment). Wow. Immediately the man-friend ran out to Rite-Aid and picked up some Rolaids and Gas-X. I spent the rest of the night belching and farting because I'm such a f#&@ing lady. I really thought I was going to die. The pain was that bad. The worst part of the night? When I was sobbing on my man-friend's shoulders, stuttering out "I don't . . .I don't know what's wrong with me-e-e!"

Aahh, yes . . . good times!

(Come to think of it, I could have used this for a TMI Thursday post. It happened on a Thursday. What's up Lilu? Is Friday too late? . . . Ah, maybe next time, lol.)