Everything is Pain: Coconut White Russian
And so, surprisingly, I was lying naked on the floor of the shower stall unable to move and calling for help. It is safe for you to assume that this was not a part of my usual morning routine and, therefore, a fine reason for me to panic. In fact, this was in no way part of any routine I kept, a fact that made the situation all the more alarming.
The shower had started as normal. Get the water hot, shampoo, rinse, conditioner, scrub face and body wash as conditioner sits, ponder life's uncertainties while singing the Avril Lavigne song that's been stuck in my head since I heard it at my dentist's office three days ago, rinse conditioner, and towel dry. Same old.
Then I turned around to wet my face and from the middle of my back shot a blinding pain that felt like a small charge had detonated on either side of my spine sending, rather than shrapnel, long twisting wires throughout my body. I then fell to the floor alarmed and quite disoriented.
After some time, I have no idea how much, I came back to my senses. Still in pain. So much pain. But more aware of it now. Time to account:
Toes wiggling? Yes, there they are. Wiggling. So not spontaneously paralyzed.
No blood. So, you know, yayness there.
Paranormal explanation? Not likely, but we'll file it under "maybe" for the time being until evidence suggests otherwise.
Occam's razor, however, concludes that my back has gone out.
So in the shower, hot water still pouring, I realize I cannot move.
One of my few life's rules is to never, ever become a cliche and so it was with terrible irony that I came to realize that I had fallen and I could not get up. Fuck you, Life Alert Emergency Services.
Eventually, after more screaming than I've ever done The Husband found me. He wrapped me in a towel, helped me get dressed, called my doctor and made me an appointment where I was diagnosed as having had a severe muscle spasm. I would be prescribed vicodin and ibuprofen in startling dosages, a lifetime supply of cyclobenzaprine, and three rounds of tauredon injections.
So, yes, this is where I have been the last few days. My apologies for the absence.
However, I have a nifty cocktail for you. A coconut (read: vegan) White Russian. Frankly, this cocktail doesn't get enough love anymore and I sort of get why. Too much cream makes the drink a bit of a gut bomb. Swapping in coconut milk doesn't just make it lighter, but it simply tastes better. The coconut and coffee meld well together and make for a more exciting drink. I know some may stammer and prevaricate about reasons this is cocktail heresy, but, frankly, fuck the traditionalists on this one.
You can grab the recipe over at Simply Recipes, but here's the basic lowdown: equal parts coffee liqueur and vodka (or rum, or whiskey if you so prefer) over ice and then an eyeballed pour of coconut milk. Use enough until it's just right for you. The end.
I have a few more musings about this cocktail that you can read here. Enjoy.
Now! Back to fixing my back.