Throwing stuff at the internet to see what sticks
Saturday, April 25, 2009 Injured List
Let me just start by saying that I am not facing any kind of major health issue. But I always assumed that if I did, I'd be the kind of person who amazed everyone by defeating it with sheer force of will and determination. If I got cancer, I'd not just survive it, but beat it, because why just be a cancer survivor when you can be a cancer-basher? If I got a stroke, I'd do speech therapy until I made Ryan Seacrest sound like Dick Clark. If I were in a paralyzing car accident, I'd spend every waking hour going along between those parallel rails. And if nobody would give me a ride, I'd walk there.
I really should have known better, because I've been trying -- poorly -- to deal with the minor health crisis of having a party ball where a six-pack is supposed to be for the past couple of decades. But now I have finally proved to myself, on a conscious level, how wrong I was.
As I alluded to in my last entry, I took a fall a while ago. I was at the Science Museum with Trash and M. Edium, and I was running back to the car to get something. We'd parked some distance away, so I thought I'd try to take a shortcut back to the car. This shortcut involved a short embankment of barely-thawed mud at a forty-five degree angle. I thought I could make it, if I kept my feet moving fast enough, but there was no traction there whatsoever. You know how when people fall, you say they hit the ground? Well, the ground hit me. Harder than anything has ever hit me in my life. And yes, I have been in car accidents. I popped back up, thinking I'd be okay in a minute, but I felt like I'd been slapped all along my left side with a shipping container. The first clue that something more lasting than a bruise might have occurred came when I tried to pick up M. Edium inside the museum and discovered I could only pick up one side of him.
For the most part, I was fine the next morning, except for some lingering stiffness in my shoulder, and the kind of one-sided ass cramping you get if you spent the previous evening bowling with the wrong hand, and even that last bit faded quickly. And then between one thing and another, I never went to the doctor with it until it was time for my annual physical in mid March and I mentioned it then. My family practice doctor gave me a referral to a physical therapist the following week, and I went to the appointment, where the physical therapist watched me try to move my arm in ways it doesn't want to move any more, taught me some exercises to do, and gave me a little folder of handouts so I would remember them. The end.
Seriously, that's it. I haven't opened that folder since I came home with it six weeks ago.
I know I really should crack this thing open again, but it always seems like there's something more important to do. Work, recaps, M. Edium, Trash, housework, reading, napping, staring out the window, all of these things take precedence.
I don't know why I'm avoiding it so much. Trash has been after me to get to it, of course. It's just that there's no deadline. And frankly, it's easy to forget. I don't even feel anything most of the time, unless I'm either putting on my jacket to leave, rolling over in bed, drying off after my shower, or rock climbing. And I never go rock climbing. Obviously none of those other times are ideal opportunities to get started on an arm workout.
But I know I have to make time for this project. The longer I put it off, the less I'll be able to put off the reality of the likelihood that I'll one day be admitting defeat by something that's actually serious.
But then, maybe living with it is the real victory. In which case, I am undefeated. posted by M. Giant 9:45 PM 3 comments
I left a nagging injury (not really harmful; just kind of a drag) for way too long, and when I finally got it fixed, I realized how much it had been poisoning my whole view of life, making me kind of a miserable jerk, actually, without even knowing it.
My husband slipped and fell in that same parking lot. I suspect something sinister at work here. Or something clumsy.
I once sprained my ankle playing mini golf. And I wasn't even drinking! Stupid/embarrassing injuries plague me. And yet I can go sledding off a roof in a boat and walk away with no problems.