It all happened very quickly.
One moment I was alright.
I had been to a spin class (something of a regular occurrence at the moment, as I try to maintain the part of my identity that desperately wants to call herself a cyclist, but accepts that I am distinctly fair weather and, given the recent conditions...)
I was in agony.
Tears welled up. I thought I might collapse. It was a short, sharp shock.
I hobbled to meet the friend I had been looking forward to seeing all day. We shared delicious Moroccan food and an exquisite infusion of mint tea. Whilst we sat I managed to forget what had happened.
And then, having paid our bill, and discussed our onward travel plans, I tried to get up. Only to be reminded.
For 24 hours I could do nothing except surrender. Every movement was affected. Every movement required mindful adjustment. I was, quite literally, and physically, brought to my knees. I was reminded of my limitations. My back, like every other part of me, requires and deserves TLC. I have not been sufficiently kind to it.
There are very few people I would trust to touch my back when it's inflamed. Bruno is one such individual. His talents are innumerable, and his skills immense. He has been helping me look after myself for a little while now and I trust him completely. Sometimes, the best thing we can do is place ourselves in the hands of something greater than ourselves. And, given my symptoms, this time that person was Bruno.