After my mind-bending yoga class on Friday, I felt great.
On Saturday I had one of the best days of this year to date. Calm, relaxing, cozy. I still felt great.
Sunday was pretty and glorious and light. Until 3 pm through bedtime, when I gradually couldn’t turn my head or lift anything.
By bedtime I was in too much pain to sleep. That has only ever happened to me before as my body was opening for childbirth.
I spent the night awake, worrying on problems, using ice and heat and Arnica and Tylonol an then wine. At 7:01, when his alarm would have ordinarily gone off, I called The Love and begged him to come get me. I wanted a doctor.
I guess I have a sprained neck. This is much like spraining an ankle that swells, only it’s the neck. The suspected cause is a yoga pose that had my feet up high in the air, where I accidentally rolled all the way over backwards. Funny at the time, notsomuch right now. It’s swollen, pressing on my vocal chords and throat. I have shooting pains down my arms to the back of my hands that come and go. Unlike a crick, where you can’t turn your head because misplaced vertebrae won’t allow it, I can turn my head. Not without pain and gasping though, so I”m pretty much staying still.
Vicodin, huge Ibuprophen, and a muscle relaxer who’s name escapes me. I never take this much pain medicine. My childbirths were natural. I rarely get sick, I rarely get hurt. This is odd territory for me.
The dreams are incredible. I have come up with two new tart recipes that may be fantastic. I have created a Fried Chicken Pie that might be too weird. I flew over pine trees, swam through an ocean with a manatee into a shaded a swamp for warm winter waters. I have heard voices wafting in out of my sleeping room, some real, some imagined. I tried to worry but it wouldn’t work, until it did and I let the doses lapse in order to be lucid for an hour to Check In. The spasms are going to cut this short but not before I get some eggs.
I’ve got today with Room To Be Down and then I must Get Back To Work, ready or not here I come.
I wish I hadn’t slept through Solstice.