sashinka | observation orientated, with a twist of lime | a blog

So, my weekend.

Great evening Friday, went over to D's and met lovely people, two of whom live about three doors away and are Excel-people. I like to be among my people. Late, fun night but eventually I had to come home.

Shabbes morning, however, I woke up and couldn't move. Not at all related to the previous evening's fun, I'm sure. I've had back problems before, and about ten years ago I "slipped my disc" and was off work for about six weeks. But now I do pilates and Alexander Technique, have the odd cranio-sacral osteopath session, and do a fair amount of exercise. Odds are, I should be OK. But clearly, I have a weakness.

What was scary, on Saturday, was that I really couldn't walk. I couldn't put my foot down on the floor without being in serious, searing pain. Luckily I am replete with drugs (although they are mostly out of date) but what usually happens is, I only think about taking them when I'm (a) in serious pain, and/or (b) have already taken something and my brain is slightly addled. So I can never remember the difference between co-proxomol and arthrotec, and which you should or shouldn't take with ibuprofen or paracetomol. And I didn't have any voltarol, which is good, apparently.

I took 5mg of valium (as a muscle relaxant, and which I keep only for emergencies such as this), and I called my GP, to find out which was the most sensible other painkiller stuff to take. No answer, they don't work Saturdays, apparently, had a number for an out of hours service. So I called NHS direct who took everything apart from my inside leg measurement, and then told me to take two nurofen as they couldn't discuss the prescribed drugs with me. Eventually, an out-of-hours doctor called me and told me what to take. Which I've now forgotten, again, as by then I was pretty high/floaty on the valium.

I had nine people coming round for lunch, and it was too late to cancel it, as everyone was in shul. And also, I'd made all the lunch. My good friend R - who is, frankly, a saint - came over and set the table and finished off making the salads etc. In fact, she made better salad than I would have. Everyone came over, and by then the drugs had kicked in and I was feeling more mobile, and I partly lay on the floor, and partly sat down, and I was feeling better. My friends did everything and cleared up, and left pretty early, and I lay in a straight line again, which is always good.

It seemed to be a 12-hour thing, because by the evening I was pretty mobile again, and met a friend for coffee and a movie (The Prestige, which I commend to you all) but it was scary.

Scary because nothing happened. I didn't bend down, or do something awkward. I just woke up, immobile, and so immobile I couldn't get to my drugs. What have I learned? Keep the drugs by my bed.