I woke up this morning after an uncommonly refreshing sleep, turned on the Weather Channel, and vigorously circled my shoulders to work out the kinks.
I got an immediate twinge between my shoulder blades, and no amount of stretching or popping would relieve it. As the day went on, the twinge turned into a dull spreading pain; I could isolate it by tilting my head straight back, as though I were looking up at the sky.
My motivation to do any work, or move around much at all, dried up. After a normal productive morning, I spent most of the afternoon almost motionless in my office chair, reading online and doing some light grading. Brisk walks to the library to pick up a book, or to the parking lot to check the mileage on my car so I could renew the registration online -- little errand breaks that normally I would welcome -- I skipped.
When I got home, after a delicious dinner, I went to the front room and sat in an upholstered chair. Leaning my head back was painful at first -- a few seconds of ow, oh, eeyahh -- but once I got in that position, I had no desire to move at all. I believe I could have fallen asleep in that exact position.
The relief of motionlessness convinced me that I could skip my usual half-hour workout. I went straight to the showers. Now I'm sitting on the couch with a microwave heat bag spread across my upper back, helping Cady Gray with a list of rooms in the house and typing slowly.
I don't experience pain or discomfort often, and it always surprises me how pervasive it becomes while it lasts. I feel vaguely chilled, almost like I were coming down with the flu; the hot shower felt like heaven. I feel worn out, as if I could collapse into sleep at any second. The first effect comes from the radiating effect of the pain; the second from the lethargy of motionlessness. But they combine to make me feel not so great, even when the pain's not present.
It's such a minor thing, but it has such a cumulative affect on my mood and on what I can talk myself into doing. Check in with me tomorrow to see whether I've bounced back -- or possibly sunk deeper.