Schrödinger's Back

My mom and I made plans, through this week, to bail on all the usual Mother's Day brunches and shopping opportunities, and just want to do our own thing, go where the wind takes us.  I haven't canceled this plan yet, but I have asked for one five-minute indulgence before we get properly on our way:  my mom gives good back rubs, and I am in much need.

A little while ago, upstairs getting dressed to go over to her house (and I look pretty cute - AND am wearing a pair of her earrings I used to just dream of and adore when I was a little girl), I noticed a little pain in my upper back.  It's been bugging me here and there - that meaty spot between the shoulder blade and spine, but buggings don't get in the way of life, and with a back like mine, that's just how it goes.

Then I picked up my purse and water and the gift bag and tissue to go downstairs and put together the little fun things I got for mom.  And as my right leg took just the very first step on my stairs, the few pounds of weight from the handbag (admittedly large, and admittedly laden with not just my usual stuff but also my tablet) apparently did a little magic on that meaty bit, and I found myself frozen on that first step, unable to breathe, wishing I could so I could scream, and realizing the pain was so intense and so acute that I was actually fighting down the rather burning urge to actually throw up.

Good times.

I made it down the stairs, and decided, okay, it's my upper back, I can walk, this isn't going to do anything to our day.  Made my way to the couch, where I now sit with a couple NSAIDs working their way around and two good firm pillows at my back (they're *always* on this duty; some day, I want a new - shallower - couch).  Talking with mom a few minutes ago, I heard Goss in the kitchen messing with the gift bag, and stood up.

Mistake.

I damn near lost my ability to breathe, and probably ruined her mood to boot.  Happy Mother's Day ... erm.

So here I am, letting the analgesic do its thing, giving it half an hour or so before I try to move again, and entirely unaware whether I'll be able to do so competently when the time comes.

Whatever happens, my plan is to enjoy a day with my mom.  Aieee - I can do this thing ...



Still.  Hard not to hope the cat's actually alive.