Monday, March 9, 2009

Soap is Deadly

Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!

I hurt myself.

I hurt my back.....again. (feel sorry for me now.)

I'm almost (almost) embarrassed to tell you that I hurt my back while showering.

Yes, showering.

Lathering, to be precise. Apparently, I was reaching for that "hard to reach" place, and pulled my back out of whack. I crumbled to the floor, wet, soapy, and with a strange new tick. I avoided drowning, (See? All those years of swim lessons at the Y sure did pay off.) but managed to get an earful of water. I floundered on the floor for a while, before Mr. Hummingbird heard my pleas for help. (Later, I find out that he actually heard the "thud" but just ignored it since he just figured that I was doing something "weird".<----his words, not mine.)

He helps me up, dragging me to my bed. (he cops a feel while I'm down. Typical.) I lay there, whining. He gets me some leftover Vicodin, (if you're a cop, or are married to one, I wanna change my answer to "Tylenol") and leaves me to rest. Three hours later, I manage to get myself dressed. Two hours after that, I manage to get myself off the bed. I eat a small snack, take more "tylenol" and go back to bed. I'm hoping that the muscle will work itself out by the morning.

In the morning, I'm as stiff as pre-pubescent boy. I can't do anything. And I let everyone know exactly how I feel. I call my doctor, and make an appointment to see him later in the day. In the meantime, I alternate between putting heat on my back, and then putting ice on it. (I'm not sure which one is supposed to work, so I cover all my bases.) I slept the rest of the day away, up until my appointment.

I manage to get myself to my doctor's office. I do as I'm told, reaching, stretching, grunting. Dr. Asshat (remember him?) tells me that I JUST pulled a muscle, and will be fine in a few days. He gives me a handful of muscle relaxers and more pain killers. If it doesn't get better in a week, I'm supposed to return to see him. I call Tyrese, and give him the bad (good?) news. He asks me to call him back the next day, and give him an update. I return home, and make myself comfortable.


Sleep. Drool. Eat. Sleep.


This is my life for the next three days. I feel the exact same that I felt on the first day.
I'm sick of lying around.
I'm sick of daytime t.v.
I'm sick of smelling myself.


I decide to visit a chiropractor.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

So glad to see you back! I've been checking for a new post every day, as I'm sure many people were. Just know, you were missed! Also, in case you're interested, tomorrow is my first date with my new personal trainer. Although the handsome black man in the Y's ad for personal trainers looks something like I imagine Tyrese, my own personal trainer is a perky blonde girl named Melissa. The old "bait and switch!" I'll be thinking of your misadventures while I'm sweating with Melissa!

webmom30 said...

Oh, be careful of those cute perky trainers. They smile but kill you silently. It's just to confuse you into not hurting them.
:)

Bitchilla The Hun said...

Glad to see I'm not the only clutzy one. See my post from yesterday: http://bitchillathehun.blogspot.com/2009/03/it-could-only-happen-to-me.html

But I'm sorry you hurt your back. That just sucks!