Bitchslapped by... cytochrome P450?

This is pretty much how it went down:

Body: Hey, um, you know how you always made fun of people who sit around swallowing muscle relaxants all day long for "incapacitating pain"? How about you walk a mile in their shoes sometime.

Brain: Thanks but I'm not interested. Those people are just slackers. They're not trying hard enough.

Body: Oh yeah? I'll show you. You're not the boss of me!!

So, I've been bitchslapped by my musculoskeletal system.

Not only did I throw out my back and neck carrying a hanger 2 weeks ago, but the spasms haven't even had the courtesy to stay in the same spot. They keep moving and shifting all over the fucking place. I couldn't tell if physical therapy was making it worse so my doc ordered me to be a zombie for the week and prescribed muscle relaxants and now I have a fucking half-hour window to write this blog post before I liquify into a drooling heap under the computer.

Real quick recap from the past few days:

Awesome family event this past weekend that I somehow managed to drive to despite the inability to swivel and negotiate in traffic. When I finally arrived, I managed to avoid sharing how much things were hurting AND losing my shit when a jumping spider lept onto my plate.

And the Asplenia family luncheon.

At night while sleeping, I only need to rouse myself awake to turn over, as that is an action that requires holding my own skull to rotate it since my neck muscles are on strike. Good times.

Facebook underscores how you never REALLY know how someone is doing because although I'm posting interesting links like a boss, I refuse to mention my woes.

There's some speculation that all this might be a side effect of some antibiotics as Cipro has been associated with muscle tightness and even tendon rupture. My doc: "It all has to do with the cytochrome P450 mechanism of metabolism in the liver, you remember that right?" Uh, sure.

Anyway, thanks for the sneak preview, universe. It's very motivating to take good care of myself.

In other news, this is why I like MR: I drove to his apartment and then circled the block 4 times looking for a spot I could park the car in without swiveling my neck and even then, I couldn't get close enough to the curb and was in tears by the time I made it into the building. He offered to repark my car, you guys. It was the first thing out of his mouth, that offer of help, and even though I didn't need to take him up on it, it was the thought that counted. That old cliche really is true.