My first instinct was to hit the ground writhing and screaming. Not very effective, since Orion was the only one home at the time. He would just stared at me, then hopped up on the sofa for a nap, unimpressed.
I chose instead to gently stretch and grit my teeth, then start popping iburoprofin.
When the first wave of pain subsided, I entered "back spasms" into my favorite search engine to see if there was anything else I should be doing. Back spasms: Stretch, iburoprofin, heat. Done that. But what's this? I clicked on several other links about back pain. Blown discs; fractured vertebrae; kidney disease; heart attack; a large tumor, malignant and inoperable, might be pressing against my spinal column.
Tumor? Malignant? My God, the links were worse than "Readers' Digest" articles that I amused myself with on pilgrimages to the ancestors' homes. Before I began to write my last will and testament in my journal, I logged off and took calcium and magnesium, then called a friend who'd trained as an EMT. Her response: stretch, iburoprofin, heat.
After a few days of rest, all but a few twinges under and between my shoulder blades have subsided. I used an herbal heating pad, one filled with grains and peppermint and lavender. Two minutes in the microwave equals two hours of relief. Two hours of relief escorts me into a good night's sleep, and after a solid seven or eight hours, I can handle just about anything.
The whole incident left me with two questions: why the need for drama, and if I do my spiritual practice, and get enough exercise, why, then, does my body react to the daily stresses in such a violent manner? Is there something that I'm not dealing with that needs my attention?
Or, could it just be a glitch in this imperfectly formed world, and perhaps I should just take a square of Trader Joe's 72% and lie on my heating pad until it goes away? Yeah, sounds like a plan to me.