Over the summer, I ventured to Baltimore to visit Tracey and Angela (and their husbands and kids and dogs and shit). The whole weekend, I kept making fun of myself because I had managed to have a neck spasm during sex. “Christ, I’m old,” I would say and then slowly drink tequila while trying to not move my head.
Last night, I was having some restless sleep. The husband reported having to wake me up at one point due to some nightmare noises I was making. I don’t remember having any bad dreams, but I do remember making some kind of sudden movement and then being in an enormous amount of pain. I don’t know if I had a neck spasm and then jerked awake or if I was thrashing in a nightmare and then pulled something. In any case…ow. I’m now so old that I injure myself sleeping.
It took me a minute to figure out what was going on, but when I finally woke up enough, I tried to get up which was a bad, bad idea. I managed to roll out of bed and to the bathroom to take some Tylenol but the rest of the night was restless to say the least.
I was worried that I had done something worse, like pinched a nerve or bulged a disk or something, but this morning after I had been moving around for a minute, the pain felt kind of normal for a spasm. And I guess the fact that I’m able to walk and kinda function is a good sign.
But when we were in the car, I went to look down at my thermos, the thermos that I had painstakingly filled with my coffee that I groaned through making this morning only to realize that the damn thing wasn’t in the car. “I forgot my coffee!” I whined. “Why don’t you cry about it?” said the husband.
So I did.