Hi faithful Mrsupole readers - Croney here from Crone and Bear It.
I have been invited to guest blog and rant and rave about my own crap so here goes! This may take awhile so please stay with me. Let me vent about how it feels to be injured beyond belief at the tender age of %$...dammit what's wrong with my numbers keypad...injured at the tender age of &^...how odd, I can't seem to get my tender age across to you. Oh well. Trust me I'm too young to be this hurt and it was only a short (short my a$$) 6 months ago when I fell on ice, dislocated my shoulder and broke my back. Bummer. Hurt like bloody hell. As those of you (all 7 now) who follow me know I have been in constant physical therapy -- first for the shoulder which has mostly healed now (except I hurt it tonight moving furniture but that's another story) -- and then 3 months after my accident the doctor who had been treating me for back spasms "discovered" I had also broken my back. Damn quack - and he had me on high doses of Percocet and Valium all that time -- (d*ckwad) oops excuse my language. Mrsupole has explained to you what happens to your digestive system when you take pain pills -- it's called constipation and I can attest to the fact that the extra dosage of Valium makes it worse. It's not fun to be stopped up for a week and then try and pass a watermelon out your derriere. I seriously considered requesting a shovel from Devoted Spouse and asking him to dig but that was just crossing that spousal line - so I finally gave birth to Rhino poop and cried like a baby. I think I lost about 5 pounds that night alone and I can't imagine how high our sewer bill and water bill will be next month.
Now I'm in physical therapy for the damage done to my back which includes a right hip and leg which won't work correctly. I limp like I'm 90 and have the strength of a 4-month old baby - no I take that back; a 4 month old baby could whip my a$$ in a race any day of the week. The therapists put me through torture twice a week; exercise and deep tissue massage and stretching into positions a person shouldn't go - ever -- not even the Karma Sutra should allow this contortionist crap. I was given a cane which I returned; it will be a cold day in Hades before I give in to a cane. No, I will walk normally again if it kills me and if it does, I'm taking one of the therapists out with me I swear. Now I understand why people climb clock towers and become snipers.
Pain is my constant companion. It hurts in the morning when I get up and must spend 30 minutes on several icepacks for the inflammation. Sitting on icepacks angers me, makes me cold and as they start to melt I have to pee. Then I must bathe, dress, and off to physical therapy where these bat rastards take turns stretching my damaged tendons, ligaments, and muscles like I'm some kind of silly putty. It hurts so much I want to slap them and have been known to grab someone's arm hair and pull when he hits a sore spot too deeply. He tells me to "breathe out the pain." Yeah, let me bite your gluteous maximus and we'll see who's breathing out the pain, big boy.
One of my torturers, Agador Spartacus (he resembles Hank Azaria in Birdcage) can't weigh 150 pounds soaking wet but he's strong and flexible and just for that reason alone I hate him. I also hate him because he gets up at 4:45 in the morning to work out before coming to work - he's just always bouncing around Mr. Flexible - show-off ---break your back and we'll talk, sweetie.
Most days I get the ministrations of Chunky Monkey who resembles a younger version of James Belushi. He's very strong and gives me difficult work-outs and always causes me to go home and grab the icepacks. By the time he's done with me I'm usually an inch shorter and listing to port a bit. He gives me home exercises to do (oh joy) and always, at least, bless his heart, tells me if it hurts to stop.
Today I saw Nurse Ratched - another PT there. I arrived late, and had spilled my breakfast of cottage cheese and tomato juice all over me so I looked homeless and stunk, plus I was having hot flashes and sweating like a pig and I just wanted her to suffer as I was suffering. You see, she never says "stop if you hurt", she says, "give me ten more" -- freaking drill sergeant witch. Plus she's thin. I hate her. It is totally unfair to have people pummel and prod you when none of them have walked a mile in your shoes (oh wait crap, I can't walk a block in my shoes). Crap, crap, crap.
Did I mention all of them are young? Crap, crap, crap. This morning one of the assistants was wearing a sling for an elbow injury. Welcome to my world, sweetie, not much fun is it? Wait till you try and go to the bathroom, or take a shower, or put your clothes on. Oh the indignity of it all. Crap, crap and more crap.
I feel better now. Thank you Mrsupole for allowing me to post my crap. This works better than therapy and there's no co-pay.