Friday, May 7, 2010

Tales of a hypercondriac

Wednesday morning I woke up and I couldn't move. Literally, couldn't move. I was paralysed. Well, actually, no, I couldn't move my neck. But I did wake up James in a panic exclaiming "James, I can't move!"

He turned to me and asked me to wiggle my fingers. At this point, I knew I'd been acting like a drama queen. But it was so scary. So once I explained more conservatively I COULD move, just not my neck, he helped me sit up and assess the situation.

"You must have slept funny"

Slept funny? How can I wake up paralysed from funny sleep? Something was wrong, really wrong. I rang my boss and told him I couldn't move and probably wouldn't make my shift in 6hours, just a heads up.

I started to call my mum to ask weather I go to the chiropractor, or just straight to the ER. James suggested I wait a little and see if I start to feel better before I call my mother and send her into a panic.

Clearly James had no idea how serious this situation was, I was paralysed. Well, I couldn't move my neck. To one side.

To keep my boy happy looking after his crippled girlfriend, we ordered pizza from bed (I love and watched a horror movie.

By the end of our Keanu Reeves treat, I was getting bored and figured I'd give getting dressed a go. Did that, so decided I'd go into work after all.

Two hours later, my neck was fine.

I still think we should have called the ambulance. I mean, I do pay $60 per annum for membership.

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