I think the worst, really, no kidding, what is for me the worst is happening.

Yesterday I fell. Twice. The first time was in the morning. I got up from the breakfast table to go over to Miss Rose's and suddenly I was on the floor.

Okay, I told myself, You just lost your balance. Yeah, there's a lot of back pain today, maybe if you rest awhile it'll go away and you'll be fine. So I took a Celabrex, which one of my clients gave me ( yes, I know you aren't supposed to take other people's medicines and Celabrex is now supposed to be worse for you then say, herion, but extreme pain + no insurance can corrode through such common sense in a hurry)....

Anyway, it worked, or it seemed to. The Hub called my two clients I was supposed to see in the morning because I was afraid I was going to start crying. I fell asleep on the sofa for most of the morning. Then I put some stuff on ebay and went over to Island Girl's house, thinking everything was fine and back to normal.

I had no problems over there. On the way home, I stopped at Target to get some hamburger rolls and potato chips ( their Market Pantry brand is REALLY cheap and good!) and in the snack aisle I suddenly got a sharp, flaming pain in my lower back and both legs just crumbled under me as if they weren't there at all.

They were useless. They just gave up.

And then I did start crying.

An elderly couple came up and gave me a quick sympathetic look ( many people would just assume I was on the floor because I was drunk or high or screwed up in some way of my own doing) but they seemed to know exactly what had happened.

"Legs done give out on ya, huh?" the gentleman asked gently.

"I'll go get a cart." his wife said, and for a minute, I thought they meant to load me up into it and take me up to customer service ( "This customer needs assistance!")

But, no, it was as if she was going to do for me exactly what I would have done if I could have done it for myself. She knew that if they steadied the cart I could pull myself up on it and might be able to use it as a walker to get out of the store. And that is what they helped me to do, firmly telling by-passers and and aggrivated looking store manager what I told them: that everything was fine, this happens to me sometimes and usually goes away. Only they said it in the firm, clear voice that I didn't have and let everybody assume that I was their daughter and so they knew what was going on.

"Is it a disk problem?" the fellow asked me.

"I'm not exactly sure." I said.

"Hmm. Got to be something pressin on a nerve somewhere. I seen you fall. With me, three years ago, it was a disk. They just flatten right out on you when ya get old ya know? Helluva thing! And that's what was goin' on - it would press on a nerve someplace and then that leg was good for nothin'. I had ta have surgery - I didn't wanna do it, but now I'm glad I did. Ya want me to call anybody for you?"

"It's okay. It's clearing up already."

"Well, we'll make sure you get to your car okay." the lady said and when she saw the sign on the side of it she looked at me and said gravely, "Oh, Honey, you are in the wrong line of work."

"It's starting to look that way." I replied.

Then I got in the car and cried some more. Then I drove home.

And now here I am. Scared witless.