This is going to be a non-post.
You've been warned.
First of all, I'm apologizing to all of my
one two three readers. I have several interesting things to share with you, but I'm going to be a tease and not share any of them today.
I am going through a bit of a rough patch with my inoperable arm again. Unfortunately, that means I'm on pain meds (again) today. I don't want to ruin a few good topics with drugged up writing so I'm going to postpone those topics for a day or two. I hope you will understand and be patient. I'm hoping to have a clear head for writing again by tomorrow.
I am drugged up as I write this so please don't judge too harshly.
I strongly suggest you avoid assholes running stop signs, by the way.
Because I feel I owe you an explanation ….
The Torturer and I have been working very hard to strengthen my arm so I can get more use out of it. Things have been going well and I have been making improvements although my progress tends to be at a snail's pace.
All that hard work resulted in another flare up of inflammation in my shoulder/arm. That is why I was on pain meds the other day when I wrote the tee-shirt post. The pain continued and increased through the weekend. My doc saw me yesterday and used a FIFTEEN FOOT long needle to inject me with a concoction of drugs to calm my arm down.
He also quoted my blog back to me and has now nicknamed me Perky. As in, the one with perky boobs.
Embarrassment is having your orthopedic surgeon quote your own blog
at to you.
Extreme embarrassment is having your orthopedic surgeon nickname you Perky because of your (very) perky boobs.
[I love him anyway. He found me curled up in a ball in excruciating pain during the worst point in my life and has helped me tremendously … even if he does read 24 and then tease me unmercifully about it.]
The drugs the doc injects into my shoulder carry risks, but I'm so fucked up it doesn't matter. That's one of the good things of being a train wreck I suppose. My arm can't get more messed up than it already is.
My doc refuses to call me a train wreck. He calls
me my arm his "project." My train wreck-ness is a career challenge for him.
Fifteen foot long needles are never a good experience when they go through your shoulder. Trust me, I've had billions – I know. I left his office and went to PT where The Torturer was very gentle and kind. You know things are really bad when The Torturer is gentle and kind.
In a few days I will feel better and my arm will be having a party in relief. In the meantime, it hurts like hell to the extreme and I will be popping class one narcotics as needed.
In fact, I need another dose –
immediately right now.
I've learned to accept the fact that setbacks are a part of the process.
Three steps forward, two steps back … it is the story of my recovery.
© Twenty Four At Heart