Why did the chicken cross the road?

Well, in this case, the chicken would be ME. And the only reason I'm crossing the road tomorrow is that I have to go to work. And to a post-op doctor's appointment. And I'm certainly not chirping about it. In fact, I'm "bawking" at the prospect.

I really don't like to drive -- and that's on a good day. Tomorrow, I'll be setting foot -- more accurately, minivan -- on roads that have been described as bumpy, slick, ice ridden, rutted, dangerous. I wouldn't know myself; I haven't left the house since before noon on Saturday.

"Go slowly," everyone keeps saying. I have a 40-minute commute, so do I plan for 90 minutes tomorrow? I'd rather work from home and save myself an hour and a half on the round trip. But I really need to get back to the office. I haven't been there since December 16, the day before my surgery. There are things I need to check on and people I need to see and a frame of mind I need to get back into. Sigh.

Of course that neck surgery is another thing that is nagging me about the whole driving thing. What if I get into an accident? I envision little titanium nails popping out of my vertebrae and my spine wobbling like a Slinky. Realistically none of that will happen, the accident or a Slinky spine scenario.

Mike offered to drive me to work and if it weren't for the mid-of-the-day post-op appointment, I'd let him. Besides, there are plenty of people who have been out there, driving to and from work and surviving just fine. I know (I think) I can do it. I just don't want to.

I hope by this time tomorrow, I'll be laughing at myself for being so nervous to drive somewhere. Or maybe my nerves will be shot from the experience, which would of course make me a...wait for it...fried chicken.

Thinking out loud

My back hurts.
My front sags.

My iron is low.
My blood pressure is high.

I cough when I laugh
and pee when I cough.

My saddle bags hurt.
(I didn't even know I had saddlebags until they started hurting.)

I have weight to spare and
I run out of breath.

I wake when I sleep
and want to sleep when I'm awake.

I take twice as many medications
as I have children.

I've lost control
and gained 50 pounds.

Something has got to change.

I don't want to join a group, find a partner, write down what I eat, bribe myself to reach some arbitrary goal. I don't want to talk about it, pray about it, think about it. I want to ignore it. But it won't let me. Because every day when I get up,

My back hurts.
My front sags...

Sick and tired

I am sick and tired...of snow...that I have to drive in.

That is all.