Frequent Parentheses Abuse Ahoy
This is ridiculous.
One thing this blog is not about (in addition to raising children or how much the weather irritates me) is about the daily ups and downs of life. Perhaps I just don't think I'm that unique. Bear with me while I write something out.
When I was a kid, my parents called me a hypochondriac. Medically speaking, TW tells me, this is inaccurate. I am excellent at worrying. In third grade, I worried so much about school and the MAG that I would throw up. It's important to note that I didn't "make" myself throw up in any physical sense. My stomach would just ache and nausea came along for the ride.
Not much has changed in 25 years. Yesterday, I was told that I likely had a torn meniscus in my right knee. It seems inevitable that I will have arthroscopic surgery to fix it. I wouldn't mind trying alternative medicine, but I want this thing fixed and fixed now. I'll say this right up front: I know, in the grand scheme of things, it's not a real big deal. But yesterday was also the third time I've been to a doctor's office in the last 10 years. I'm not used to this stuff.
It's 4:21 a.m. and I've been sitting (notice how I avoided having to choose between laying and lying (the correct choice is lying)) here in bed for an hour, gradually getting more awake. For a while, I was scared to rotate sides in the bed, lest I anger the knee. Then it took me 5 minutes to go downstairs and let the dog out. It doesn't hurt that much. I'm just that scared.
Scared of getting fat again. That's part of it. For years, I've eaten as I see fit in order to burn off extra calories. I'd been planning some changes in life, including yoga for my daily exercise. Those plans are now accelerated.
Scared of getting old. I'd planned on being done with running for quite some time because I didn't want to become that guy. The guy I work with who has no cartilage left in either of his knees. Running is fantastic for your cardiovascular system. It's also terrible for your joints.
Scared of pain. It honestly couldn't hurt any more than it's hurt the past 10 days. It really is like somebody is occasionally jabbing the knee with a sharp knife. I have a reasonably strong pain threshold. But now I'm scared that every time I move my knee is going to create that searing pain.
It will get better. And it's not that big a deal. I'm just freaked out. Intellectually, I know those things. But it's 4:42 a.m. and the dog has her head lying (ha! see what I did there?) across my neck. I'll get past the self-pity shortly and onto inspiring blogs about filling our bathtub with blueberries. Maine wild blueberries really are quite awesome. I'm not there yet, but I will be Schortly. Until then, thanks for the happy thoughts and comments. And if somebody could please gently mock me a bit, that would great.
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| Pre-freaking out about school. |
When I was a kid, my parents called me a hypochondriac. Medically speaking, TW tells me, this is inaccurate. I am excellent at worrying. In third grade, I worried so much about school and the MAG that I would throw up. It's important to note that I didn't "make" myself throw up in any physical sense. My stomach would just ache and nausea came along for the ride.
Not much has changed in 25 years. Yesterday, I was told that I likely had a torn meniscus in my right knee. It seems inevitable that I will have arthroscopic surgery to fix it. I wouldn't mind trying alternative medicine, but I want this thing fixed and fixed now. I'll say this right up front: I know, in the grand scheme of things, it's not a real big deal. But yesterday was also the third time I've been to a doctor's office in the last 10 years. I'm not used to this stuff.
It's 4:21 a.m. and I've been sitting (notice how I avoided having to choose between laying and lying (the correct choice is lying)) here in bed for an hour, gradually getting more awake. For a while, I was scared to rotate sides in the bed, lest I anger the knee. Then it took me 5 minutes to go downstairs and let the dog out. It doesn't hurt that much. I'm just that scared.
 |
| A little chocolate always makes me feel better. |
Scared of getting fat again. That's part of it. For years, I've eaten as I see fit in order to burn off extra calories. I'd been planning some changes in life, including yoga for my daily exercise. Those plans are now accelerated.
Scared of getting old. I'd planned on being done with running for quite some time because I didn't want to become that guy. The guy I work with who has no cartilage left in either of his knees. Running is fantastic for your cardiovascular system. It's also terrible for your joints.
Scared of pain. It honestly couldn't hurt any more than it's hurt the past 10 days. It really is like somebody is occasionally jabbing the knee with a sharp knife. I have a reasonably strong pain threshold. But now I'm scared that every time I move my knee is going to create that searing pain.
It will get better. And it's not that big a deal. I'm just freaked out. Intellectually, I know those things. But it's 4:42 a.m. and the dog has her head lying (ha! see what I did there?) across my neck. I'll get past the self-pity shortly and onto inspiring blogs about filling our bathtub with blueberries. Maine wild blueberries really are quite awesome. I'm not there yet, but I will be Schortly. Until then, thanks for the happy thoughts and comments. And if somebody could please gently mock me a bit, that would great.
I've already used "wee knee" on this topic. That's all I've got, alas.
ReplyDeleteGet better?
Oh! My nephew and I get sick like that! We call it Colin Sarah Syndrome. Too Much Excitement makes us throw up. That can either be in the form of fun excitement or stress. As an added freaky bonus, I seem to get it when he has it. My stomach was all angry the other morning and later my sister emailed me: "Colin's got CSS today."
ReplyDeleteIt served me well as a dating indicator. I'd throw up once and know it was time to break up (again, as you said, not purposely throwing up, just too much stress - I despise throwing up). I did not throw up when I dated Brennan ERGO he was the man for me.
Don't panic yet: Consider biking and especially swimming -- even deep-water aerobics class -- as cardiovascular alternatives while you heal, and as cross-training when you're fully mobile. And take heart: After quitting running at 29, with arthritis in the ankles, I picked up the routine again last summer at age 53.63 -- albeit at a much slower pace. Now that I'm eating more healthily (pounding the zone with fruits and vegetables) and running every other day instead of daily -- mostly on tracks and dirt roads, bare minimum on pavement -- and stretching a lot afterwards, I'm (knock on wood)getting my endorphins pretty much pain free. So rehab gently and drink a shot of Screech (rum from Newfoundland) before bed.
ReplyDeleteSchortly. Ha ha. 48-5-5.
ReplyDeleteYou're lucky you've only been in a doctor's office three times in 10 years. I'll send you an FB message that will make you feel much, much better about yourself. Hang in there! Virtual hug!
Hey - I am that guy.
ReplyDeleteIf you're going to tell bathtub stories you might as well talk about the infamous bathtub fire of '90.
ReplyDelete