Thank You Thursday salutes...the seniors at my Senior Citizens Center. Many having grown up in a world of little money and WWII rationing, means they understand that gifts from the heart are the best. Whether using donated yarn to hand craft items for those who are ill/in a nursing home, to sharing jigsaw puzzles with other groups so everyone saves a little money, they are inspiring. They set the bar pretty high...and I'm grateful.
Wednesday, September 23, 2015
The good news: turns out I didn't pinch a nerve in my back, therefore the "promise" of a cortisone shot to the back didn't happen. (Insert squeal of relief here!). Nope, it turns out that the sad truth is:
I am NOT Superwoman.
No, more like Super Stupid and paying for it.
Short version: a little over 3 weeks ago I was carrying to the trash a box of books too-heavy-for-a-vertically-challenged-woman. (Don't start yelling: these books were ancient in the smelly/unreadable way). I went to put them on top of the garbage can outside....and failed miserably.
The only thing funny about this story was my finally breaking down Friday and going to the doctor. What had been a "circle" of pain in my back was slowly shrinking but there was a nagging spot that was driving me nuts! Haven't slept well, or in a bed, for 3 weeks....and I fear becoming addicted to ice packs and the heating pad.
Doc is an old fashion kind of doctor: he knows what's good for you because HE went to medical school and doesn't care what you read because you probably misinterpreted it. He's one of Hubby's archery customers and took me on, I think, as a favor to Hubby for good archery discounts. Hey, he was forewarned that while I'm an excellent caregiver, I am a lousy patient...because I have no patience with being under the weather. I bet we spend half of my rare appointments with Doc raving about how great and fascinating Hubby is, as I nod in hopes of escaping without a test I don't want or need.
Poor Doc, he doesn't know what to do with me because I listen carefully, ask questions and try not to smile when he looks at me the way a parent does when viewing their wayward child. My defense is this: it's MY body, I've lived with it for 57 years and I understand all of it's quirks. Like the one where a little bit of medicine goes a L-O-N-G way. After 2 years, I think he's getting use to my "educated stubbornness". Which is why this last visit was funny.
I began with, "I did something stupid. I know better, but when you work alone, you do what you have to do. I lifted a box that was too heavy and now I'm paying for it."
He illustrated me lifting a box, supporting it from the bottom. I shook my head and replied it had handles, like a box fruit is shipped in. He looked befuddled. Doc is about 6'3" and I'm guessing he doesn't remember what the world looks like from down here at 5'1". So I stood up, showing him how I carried the box, noting the fact that most women have no good core strength once they get to a certain level...and how I pushed past that level in spite of it all. Lifting the box almost to head level so I could leave it on top of an outside garbage can (the large kind on wheels) was further complicated by the amount of thrust I used. Which might've worked if I hadn't hit the lip of the can and the box bounced back.
I am still wondering, "Why didn't I just let the damn box fall to the ground? It's trash."
But no, Not Superwoman tried to snatch it back up and over again, only to be rewarded by the bulk of the weight shifting to my left arm as the box began to slip down my forearm...leaving cute little purples bruises where it bit down along the way. Still, Super Stupid refused to let go, lunging once more and accomplishing her mission. Which is what brought me to the Doc's office, pretty much against my will. I think it was the sleep deprivation.
Doc listened, nodded and told me I probably didn't pinch a nerve. (I knew that...had already told him I didn't have any of the symptoms, which I rattled off as he looked surprised). After hopping up on the exam table, I helped him locate the spot which felt like someone's knuckle was trying to work it's way up and out of my body. To my credit, I didn't yell the first word which came to mind when he found the spot. He then proceeded to push on that spot and rotate my left arm in positions I'd never even thought about. Diagnosis? Tendonitis in the muscle under my shoulder blade. Cure? Exactly what I'd been doing (ice, heat, Advil for pain).
"So you're telling me to keep doing what I've already been doing, then add the healing power of Ma Nature and Father Time?"
He nodded and grinned. Then he pulled out his iPhone to show me an illustration, which he couldn't find, leaving him to use the old fashion flip chart behind me on the shelf. I admit it. I think he told me the name of the muscle but my brain was too busy screaming, "No shot in the back! No shot in the back!" That made me super polite when he started telling me about a conversation he'd had with Hubby earlier in the week. And I did get him to call in my prescription refills, so I don't have to go back for a while.
My goal is to get to the point of sleeping in bed again as soon as possible: the recliner and couch have offered a better angle for slumber, but Hubby and Bou the Dog are looking at me as if I'm anti-social. Hubby told Bou to go look for me yesterday and the dog automatically went to the recliner, where the heating pad lives.
It's tough to admit that your Kryptonite is having good intentions, which are stronger than your back. But this will make me think twice before doing something when the little voice in my brain is whispering, "I don't think so. Maybe you ought to re-think this."
That little voice is called Common Sense. Listen to it. It might keep you from losing sleep...or having to pantomime an injury to someone taller than you.
Thursday, September 17, 2015
Thank You Thursday salutes comedian Jeff Dunham. Honestly, there’s just too much anger and unhappiness in the world some days. Jeff provides welcome relief, if only for a moment. Besides, who knew ventriloquism could be so cool? See for yourself…he has a new special on tonight on NBC at 8 p.m. eastern time
I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to see Walter duet with Brad Paisley. Wonder who’s going to take on guest, UFC Champion Chuck Liddell?
Monday, September 14, 2015
Most of the summer we've gone with little to no rain. Suddenly we get a week's worth and all things which blossom suddenly think it's spring!
The Gardenia is filled with blossoms....and this Moth thinks he's a Bee.
And the mushrooms! A corner of our yard looks like a mushroom field.
First comes little domes.
Which begin to fan out.
Until they look like this.
I almost expect to see little fairies sitting underneath them.
Have a good week!
Thursday, September 10, 2015
Thank You Thursday salutes my Dad. Today marks the 20th year of his passing and I still can't get my head wrapped around that. Just 58 years old when diagnosed with cancer, he died at 63. Way too soon.
But he lives on in me. Sure, I inherited his sinus woes, but I also got his hair color and his sense of humor. The sense of humor alone has saved me more times than I can count. The other night, as Hubby and I flipped through t.v. channels, we stopped on an old cop comedy, "Barney Miller". My Dad loved it and we watched it together. No one seemed to enjoy it like we did. So we watched it, Hubby and I, laughing at the corny comedy that also addressed social concerns with subtle "ah-ha" moments.
When I think of Dad, I'll always think of laughter. One of my seniors once told me about attending a funeral in an old country church. The pastor, trying to reassure the family that their loved one was no longer on this earth but in heaven, chose the following explanation. Pointing to the casket he said, "The shell is here, but the nut is gone." My senior said she was shaking so hard trying not to burst out laughing that everyone thought she was wracked with grief.
I have a feeling that Dad and I would've had the same reaction.
Here's a past post about Dad, complete with photos. Thanks Dad...for everything.
Thursday, September 3, 2015
Thank You Thursday salutes Kleenex. That’s right. They’re my constant companion during allergy season and right now, with 2 of us having the head cold from hell, they’re a must have. Did you know Kimberly-Clark invented them in WWI as a substitute for cotton? There was a cotton shortage in 1914, so a substitute was needed for surgical bandages. Kimberly-Clark invented a cotton-like wadding called Cellucotton. After the war it was spun-off as a glamor product: to remove cold-cream. Women soon began writing the company to complain that their husbands were blowing their noses in the “cold cream handkerchiefs.
About the same time a Chicago inventor came up with the pop-up tissue box. Once the two products were wed as an easily accessible way of containing sneezes….my hero product was born.
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
Dear Stupid People:
Yes, I'm talking to the idiot and his wife who came into Hubby's Shop and coughed/sneezed all over him for an hour or two last week. Thanks to your ignorance in not comprehending those with germs should stay home, away from others, Hubby has the head cold from hell, which has marched into his chest. At the very least, you could've covered your mouths or used a tissue instead of your sleeves. Hubby is not easily grossed out. But his description of your oozing colds was not pretty. And now he's down for the count, unable to even get in a few hours of peaceful sleep. As Hubby is self employed, not only is he miserable, he's had to choose how to work without spreading your germs on to others. This means him sneaking into the Shop when it's suppose to be closed to avoid contacting people. I've done my best to get him well quickly, but this is one helluva cold germ and it is fighting back.
Today, it attacked me.
I might as well be self employed since I'm the Director and the entire staff where I work. I'm now virtually locked in my office because this morning when I arrived at work, I soon realized this isn't my seasonal allergies kicking in. It's YOUR stupid cold. So as if the pinched nerve in my neck in't bad enough, now I've been enlisted in the Snot Races on the day I'm suppose to cook for my seniors. Most was prepared yesterday, using gloves, but now I'll have to let them do the actual cooking, which is a giant No-No. Of course they know how to cook, they're in their 70s...but it's my job, has been my job to do this each Tuesday for 22 years. When they leave today, so will I...and then my groups for the next 3 days will be locked out because there is currently no one available to keep my Center open.
I hope you're feeling better, Mr. & Mrs. Inconsiderate With Low IQ. But if I ever find out who you are, I will douse you in Lysol disinfectant, then ban you from our property. I only hope you don't have children.
Your bad judgement didn't just effect you. It was a ripple in a pond of illness that didn't have to be spread...but now it has.