Phew. I'm feeling much better today. Well, I'm feeling crappy and humiliated, but MUCH BETTER. You know that saying about how when God closes a door, he opens a window? Well it's often like that in my life. Except more like, when one tragedy is averted, crushing embarrassment often steps in to take its place. Gosh, it's good to be me. Or not. But it's really the only life I know, so what the hell. Oh, did you want more information? I'm SO HAPPY you asked! Far be it from me to withhold details! Which, you know, might be a useful skill to develop if I want to limit some of these situations...
I have been meaning to give an update on the further adventures with the chiroquactor, and other things kept getting in the way. Plus, I think I was a little bit embarrassed to admit that... well... hang on; I'm getting ahead of myself. My neck is ALL BETTER. It moves everwhere it used to move, and it doesn't hurt. Ditto for my shoulder. So it's safe to say that the earnest little man with his sandals and dress socks and pogo stick in his pocket is on to SOMETHING. No, I don't think I would've improved on my own, as I waited quite a while after the accident to see him, in the first place....
Only, I haven't been to San Francisco in a very long time, and I'm pretty sure I didn't leave my heart there. There was this one VERY steep hill where I became momentarily convinced the car was going to go muffler over windshield and we were all going to die... I MAY have left a small piece of my stomach around there. But that's the only anatomy I possibly misplaced in the Bay Area. Nope, my version is "I shovelled my sanity away." And the story--as it so often does--starts with my typical opener: Hi, I'm a moron! The thing is, I've been making incredible progress in cleaning up around here....
My bed is calling me. It says "Sweet nothingness awaits you here! Come drool on my pillows and know bliss!" I'm slightly disturbed that it's talking to me, but as long as it says nothing about cookies, I'm down with the overall message. Cookies. I baked five different kinds of cookies for eight different teachers. Figure half a dozen of each kind for each teacher. That's... five times eight times six is... TOO MANY FREAKING COOKIES. Honestly, I have the biggest sweet tooth around, and after a solid day and a half of rotating cookies sheets in and out of the oven and preparing gift baskets I...
It's been nearly two weeks since I totalled our beloved Sylvia, and by most accounts the memory is fading on schedule. I haven't had a nightmare about the collision for three whole nights in a row! Monkey has stopped having nightmares and has sprouted fresh, pink baby-smooth skin to replace the scabby bits that dotted his forehead. Chickadee's scar is hard to see unless the light is just right, and the bruising has disappeared entirely. All is well! Right? Right! Well, mostly! The thing is, my neck and back will get a little bit better and then get worse again. Or I'll have a day where I...
Hello! And, also, OW! I'd like to introduce you to my new band, Revenge of the Spirochetes. It plays extraordinarily sucky music which more or less makes you want to lay down and die, but SUCH A CATCHY NAME. I am unconcerned about the details! Everybody grab a tamborine! Also, if you would like to come over here and maybe find my heating pad and perhaps hit me over the head really hard so as to render me unconscious, that would be fabulous. Thanks. Did you know that spirochetes (pronounced: bacteria) such as Borrelia burgdorferi (pronounced: evil bacteria that cause Lyme disease) are not,...
We are all clear on the fact that on the great spectrum of mental health, I do lean just a bit to the side with the padded room. The voices in my head tell me that it's rather endearing, so shut up. Normally I am able to keep myself well-regulated with medication and copious amounts of chocolate, but even so, sometimes things get away from me. For example: I am the queen of psychosomatic illnesses. Many people think psychosomatic means FAKE, when it fact it means ABSOLUTELY REAL PHYSICAL SYMPTOMS BROUGHT ON OR AGGRAVATED BY YOUR LEVEL OF CRAZY. I suffer from migraines. I struggle with...
If I call to get my lab results, by all means, take my name and number so that someone can call me back. DO NOT then call me back in ten minutes to cheerily chirp that the doctor will call me back tomorrow to discuss the tests. Between that phone call and the next one I can come up with over a dozen scenarios involving great tragedy and that's without even TRYING. Sheesh.
Gimme the news! I've got a... BAD CASE of realizing that the medical industry may be just a tad out of control even as I rely on them for my very sanity! (Damn, that doesn't rhyme or anything.) [But it does remind me to share this helpful parenting hint: If you have a child who gets really terrified when she has to have a shot, just pull her close, don't allow her to look at the nurse, and start belting out "THE BEAR WENT OVER THE MOUNTAIN, THE BEAR WENT OVER THE MOUNTAIN, THE BEAR WENT OVER THE MOOOUUUUUNTAAAAAAIN! TO GET A FLU SHOT AND NOT EVEN CRY BECAUSE HE DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE BECAUSE HIS...
