I woke up this morning to pain. Pain rolled over and gazed into my eyes and whispered, “Hey, baby.”
“Jesus Christ,” I whimpered, “What did you do to me?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Pain chuckled. “Now get up and make me some goddamn French toast.”
Let’s try this again.
I kept waking up throughout the night wondering what was hurting, was it me or the bedside table or the dog?, and then I’d fall back into a fitful sleep in which ghosts were trying to steal my blueberries. Bloooberries, each one would cry, wafting toward me with their ghostly hands outstretched, and I would throw them out the church doors and scream, Enjoy some fucking blueberries in hell!
When I finally woke up, my first thought was what was with all the ghosts and the blueberries? And my second was holy crap what is wrong with me?
It seems that I have a muscle spasm in every muscle in my neck and upper back. And shoulders. The pain is radiating down my arms, and up into my head, and down my spine. My god, how it hurts. I can’t turn my head in any direction or pick up anything or breathe.
Because experience has taught me that Sarno is wise and wonderful, or at least on the right path in such matters, my first thought was, who am I mad at? Or, um, what do I not want to do? I don’t want to read more Star Wars books, came to mind, and I am mad at George Lucas and want to kill kill kill him, but you all know that already. I expressed my rage! There’s nothing pent up in here! So what else? I went to the dentist yesterday, and although I had a cavity filled, it was not altogether unpleasant. Sadly, I now anticipate with great joy the peace and mental freedom I will experience while my teeth are being drilled. I was a little pissed at my dentist for the way he was manhandling my mouth as if there weren’t a face attached to it. You know when dentists lean their hands up against your nose and eyes while they’re working? Or when they continue to pull at your upper lip way past the point when it could reasonably help them see what they’re doing? Yeah. So there was that.
You know what else hurts? Sneezing. Coughing. And moving. And reading books. (And typing.) And lifting Henry, but of course I have to do that. I’ve tried ice, which hurts, and heat, which hurts as well. I’ve tried gentle stretches, which cause the kind of breathtaking pain that just has to be productive, but afterward everything remains the same. When my husband comes home, I will try beer.