I’d forgive you for thinking that I was 80 years old because hot dang, I pulled my back out this week. For the past two days I’ve worn my pyjamas (but what’s new) and sobbed on my couch with a heat pack up against my back and some pain killers for good measure. Nothing makes you feel more sorry for yourself than a back injury. And such is my life….
The good news, because let’s all focus on the positives here, is that my dear mother bear is a physio **crowd goes wild**. The not so fab news is due to reconstructive surgery on her wrists she is no longer in practice, so the extent of my treatment has been a few instructions via text message and a quick lesson in FaceTime so I could show her just how miserable and sad I looked on my couch with no one at home to feel sorry for me.
She obliged. Aren’t mums the best!