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The Bloody Curve Ball Keeps Hitting Me.
The joys Of getting older.
When we are in Spain, my beloved husband Roy and I have a routine of going out to a local bar for breakfast on a Friday morning.
Freshly made coffee, “Tostada y Tomate”, a simple Spanish breakfast, toasted bread with grated tomato, oil, and a little salt.
A chat with neighbours and friends. A relaxed half an hour away from daily life.
This particular Friday, when it was time to leave, I couldn’t get up from the chair. My back was locked solid and movement was excruciating.
Tears filled my eyes, and heat filled my face as I struggled to move. My husband helped me to stand, but I was bent at the waist.
It was a further struggle to make the short walk home, usually taking 7 minutes, but this day it took 35 minutes.
Pain relief and rest were the key, plus a muscle relaxant said my physiotherapist, who would not work on me until I could walk on my own, and upright.
Ok then, we have the technology in our medicine cabinet. Sadly this isn’t the first time it's happened. Two previous spinal operations don’t help matters!
Off to bed.
What we didn’t have was a way to get me from the bedroom to the bathroom.
