I’ve always considered myself to be fairly strong for a girl. (It’s one of the reasons I’m an okay bowler – I have upper body strength plus pretty good hand-eye coordination left over from the years I played baseball.) But in light of recent events, I’m going to have to revisit that idea.
This week, I got the keys to my new apartment in Germany. I went up to Dortmund by train, as usual, only with a whole lot more stuff than I usually carry since I needed the necessities like a pan, plate, cup, silverware, and of course, books to study off of and clothes to wear. And all that stuff apparently really did me in, as I woke up very early Thursday morning in a lot of pain. My back was really hurting, so much that I couldn’t breathe whenever a new wave of pain hit me. My involuntarily crying out finally woke B. up next to me and we spent the next forty-five minutes trying to get me comfortable, but nothing helped. So then I called my GP (well, the GP on duty, as it was still so early) and she called us into the night health center at one of the local hospitals. An hour later, the GP determined it was nothing serious (first throwing around terms like pulmonary embolism and thrombosis, thanks for scaring me!) and he sent me on my way with some painkillers and the assurance that the pain would pass of its own accord.
For which I am very grateful. Life is so much better with painkillers, as 4AM this morning testified, when the old dose stopped working and I pretty much cried for half an hour straight until the new dose did its job. Right now I’m feeling okay, except when people try to make me laugh. Laughter might be the best medicine, but it’s hell on your back. Just so you know.