Nutcase 101

Last night I played poker for the first time in two months and I kicked ass. Right up until the bubble. The bubble in poker terms is the person who is out right before the money is paid out for various places of finishing.

It stings when you’re the bubble because you came sooooooo close to getting paid for your skill but you were just a tad not good enough, lucky enough, pretty enough (okay, I was pretty enough because I was the only girl. And I did use my cleavage to my advantage), etc.

Yep, if you haven’t figured it out, I “bubbled” last night. I was the one that was thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis close to coming home with moola. Now, I did get a prize for the evening: beating out most of the guys and ladies in the game, satisfaction that I still have my poker chops, and REALLY bad backache.

Fun times. Next time though, I won’t bubble. I’ll go back to my usual habit of taking home the dough.

Note: There was no drinking involved in the following incident. I am this clumsy sober.

Last night I was trying to be cute and silly for my husband. Yes, immaturity got the best of me.

NBC was playing pieces of the gold and silver Olympic winning floor exercises of the Womens Gymnastics All Around competition for the billionth time on the TV. It was 2 am and we were about to go to bed. Anytime I’m up after midnight I tend to get incredibly silly. Everything is funny. I giggle uncontrollably and I tend to make rather poor decisions.

Back to the gymnastics.

B and I are in the bedroom watching these lovely limber ladies and I getting up to turn off the light. So, I turn to B and say, “Let me show you how I pirouette!” And, I’m able to successfully spin on one foot and spot myself without getting dizzy. Then I try a second one.

Now, please refer back to the graphic on a previous post to get the gist of what occurs next.

I end up catching my foot under my leg and my left hip hits the corner of the bed. The part of my body that make ground contact is the wonderful part of my ass called the coccyx or your tailbone. And, for those of you (which I suspect is the majority) have never injured this part of your body, it hurts a gajillion times worse than when you stub your toe, slam a door on it and then roll over that same toe with a steam roller.

B sees me disappear in that space between the dresser and the bed and I’m laying on the floor crying in pain but laughing so hard because I find it hilarious that I hurt my ass, the biggest part of my body with enough cushion a stunt man could make safe landing on it. And also, I’m weird, I laugh when I’m in pain. As cliche as it reads, laughter is the best medicine.

Now, as far as my ass truly being broken, who knows. All the web information leads to the point that all you can do is not agrivate the injury and to sit on a doughnut pillow. And, that is what I am doing right now as I give you, my lovelies, a blow-by-blow account of my ass injuries.

*On a mildly serious note: I hope I didn’t do any more damage to my back. No more pirouettes for me.*

It’s a term used often in our household when we’re sad and we just don’t know how to express our feelings. Right now, I’m a very sad monkey because my grandmother is sick and there is nothing I can do but hope that treatments work.

Okay, this last epidural (the actual procedure)…SUCKED!  Migraine city, in which I’ve just recovered.

But, recover I did.  I had enough energy to run up and down a flight of stairs six times today. Going up and down th stairs was for work since people are not on the same floor and it takes about five minutes to get an elevator – hell, it’s one flight.  I haven’t RUN up and down stairs in forever.  And, I wanted to.  Insane!

Without pain killers.  I’m in love with these injections. I think. I hope. Please let them work.

I look in the mirror and I truly look at myself, who I am and what I’ve become, I have a hard time moving past the flesh. The flesh that has been stretched to extremes and lays limp now in odd places. The stretch marks, reminding me of who I was and will never forget, a badge of courage and of shame. Spider veins, those are the hinderer. Yes, they’ll be gone soon but looking down at the ugly random patterns that decorate me shows me what I did to myself, how I let myself balloon out of control. Control that I still don’t really have and grasp to hold on to when I feel myself overcoming my issues.

When I’m in the presence of food, there are times that I have the strength to say no but often times, I’m weak willed and give in so quickly that I don’t realize what I’ve done. I like to think of myself as a true fan of quality food and know to put healthy, vital foods into my body but I a bag of cheetos or package of twinkies, soaked in hydrogenated fats will be grabbed by hand, enter my mouth and be digested with a pit of regret filling my body.

Food and my body are so intertwined. I can’t separate them in my head, my heart, or even in that back conscious place of reason.

This is my battle of when. It’s an everyday occurrence that I have to face head on and will never escape. Because the only escape I know of is one of surrender.

Would happen to you. You’ve all read me whining about my back. Today, we’re trying a new solution of epidural injections into the spine. Yes, you read that right. I am getting an epidural and NOT pushing out a kid. I like to think of it as practice for the big day when I actually need the epidural for something other than pain relief. Thinking of this injection, in that manner, allows me to negate the idea that this is going to occur and that I’m quite nervous about the whole procedure. I’m not even getting a pre-injection valium. BLEH.

Thankfully, I have the ever wonderful B there to hold my hand and keep me calm. And, he’ll be there for the next two rounds of injections as well. Yes, there will be three epidurals in my body before I even think of having a kid. Fun times people. Fun times.

This week was a rough one in the Nutcase household. With me having put my back out on Saturday, waking up Sunday not even being able to walk up right. If I had longer arms, my knuckles would’ve been dragging the ground as I stumbled around the apartment only to move from couch to bed, bed to couch. Poor B tried to help to the best of his ability but he somehow had contracted some sort of shit that decided to take up residence in his chest, hacking and coughing were his two best friends.

Monday got worse for the both of us. Thankfully, I was able to get into to see the doctor first thing in the morning but poor B had to help me shimmy to the car and get me in there without me screaming like a banshee and the whole complex think that he was killing me. I don’t think I’ve ever been on a car ride where I felt every single damn bump in the road and it was the equivalent of being thrown off of a ten story building. Got to the doctor in one piece and she was FINALLY able to refer me to the needle doc that will be giving me, hopefully, permanent relief via a really long needle. I am excited and scared. And, Hil, I haven’t forgotten your recommendations.

Tuesday, I was able to go back to work. And, I have to say that my coworkers are awesome. They’ve seen me hobble, not be able to walk, etc., and they were willing to help me as needed. They ROCK! (They are not reading this because they don’t know it exists but I’m putting it out there.)

The rest of the week was uneventful in the back realm but Mr. B was still progressing down the slippery slope of cold and into full blown bronchitis. Thursday he finally went to the doctor. FINALLY! Got his lovely diagnosis and five different prescriptions because he didn’t just get bronchitis, no, he had to go for full blown acute bronchitis. At least he doesn’t do getting sick half-assed.

Now, we’re here at home recuperating (but going to an Astros preseason game – which they won!) and just chilling. B is on the mend and breathing normally. No more sounding like a car that won’t start. And, me, I can sit up straight and give you guys more than a few lines of information. Feels great.

I’m alive. I know this because of the amount of pain that I’m in. Right now, nothing can cause it to go away. I’ll be back. Soon. When I can sit up longer than five seconds.

A car.

Windows rolled up.

An “Excuse me.”

Windows rolled down.

I’m not going to draw a diagram.