Literally.

I was blissfully enjoying my morning routine, preparing to get the baby to go to the sitter’s, so I could head back to work when IT happened.

What is IT? IT is my sock feet slipping on faux hardwood stars and my landing squarely on the lip of the next step on my back and sliding down the remaining couple of steps. Cue pain, shock, sweat, cold – did I mention pain? This was on Tuesday, my first day back to work after 5 days off (long weekend included).

“Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.” ― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Source: Goodreads).

So right you are J.K.! So right…

The doctor at the ER put me off work for the next 2 days. So here I am, back to work on a Friday and eternally grateful that tomorrow is Saturday. The doctor prescribed me muscle relaxants and anti-inflammatories. I didn’t think the relaxants were really doing anything until today. You see, I can’t take them while working because they cause drowsiness (they knock me out). I need to work, ergo no relaxants. The anti-inflammatories do very little for pain I have learned (the hard way). Even sitting at my desk I can feel every bump and bruise caused by my fall. I’m always overweight, so I imagine my fall wouldn’t have hit so hard had I not had the extra baggage on me.

I had even packed my gym bag for that day, hopeful that I would get to work out on the weights at my work gym. My husband took one look at the bag after my spill and said, “you won’t be needing that for a while.” Fuck.

He not only took great care of me, he also had to call into work and miss his shift to take me to the hospital. This was sweet, and bad. We need the money, he doesn’t get paid for missing work. I do.

Sometimes I feel like I’m fighting a demon inside. It has an insatiable hunger. It wants to feel everything, eat everything, it needs everything. It’s not me.

Imagine Dragons – Demons