Sidelined

It's pretty hard to call myself a blogger given that I haven't blogged in about 3 weeks. But it's not without good -- but painful -- reason. Somehow, I've done something to my shoulder. Well, if you ask the physical therapist, I've done something to my neck, but it's my shoulder that's bearing the brunt of the pain.

Sitting at a desk all day, working on the computer has been killer on my wherever-it-is injury. So by the time I get home, the last thing I want to do is sit down at the computer longer -- hence my long absence from the blogosphere.

I wish I had talk-to-type software because I've written plenty of blog posts in my head. Maybe I'll get them written soon.

The whole pain in the whatever started in April. I went to the chiropractor and her massage therapist and got some decent relief. But when it came back just a few weeks later my boss, who is a physical therapist, suggested that if I wanted to get more permanent relief, I should see a physical therapist.

First I had to go to my doctor, who ordered an x-ray of my shoulder. When that came back fine, she write me the PT order. I've been seeing the PT for about 3 weeks. I'll admit that the physical therapy is making progress....S-L-O-O-O-O-W progress. I'm not in debilitating pain anymore, which is good. But discomfort and I becoming too comfortable with each other.

My arm feels heavy as it hangs at my side, like the rubber bands of muscle are stretching long out of the socket. The PT fixed me up with some tape that helps tremendously. You know, the kind the Olympic volleyball players wear. Except my tape is white and flesh-colored and the only Olympic event I'm worthy to compete in is Olympic whining. Anyway, it seems like I've just traded the crazy pain for another problem. Now instead of just my shoulder hurting, the inside of my whole right arm all the way down to the tip of my thumb just lapses into numbness without much coaxing.

I have been faithfully doing my PT exercises, often in the car because that's where I spend much of my time. So if you drive by and see a plump woman who looks like she has tortocollis driving a minivan, try not to stare. It's just me, working on the neck stretches. Or if you see me and I appear to be serving an imaginary tray of imaginary drinks, I've not lost my marbles. I'm just doing some casual cervical neck flossing.

Of course I've near convinced myself that somewhere in my neckish/shoulderish region there is some tumor crushing my nerves. But in all reality, what Mike says is probably true: You turn 42 and things start going out on you.

Do-it-yourself mammograms

(Hey Mike -- this pic's for you!)

Since a few of you asked about it and since it's 3:23 and I have been awake for almost 2 hours (stupid tooth), I thought I'd tell the story about my DIY mammogram.

Of course, the experience didn't yield any actual pictures -- thank the Lord for that! But it did provide me with a story that I've gotten quite a bit of mileage out of.

It was a little over 12 years ago. I was working in the media relations department of a pharmaceutical company. Which means I spent 50% of my time writing responses to hypothetical questions, routing those responses to no less than a dozen people for approval, then filing the approved responses -- the actual paper copies -- into a drawer in case some reporter some day might ask the hypothetical question. About 40% of my time was spent arguing with attorneys who insisted on crazy stuff like including footnotes in a press release. The final bit of time was devoted to worrying about whether being quoted in the newspaper was going to get me a package from the Unabomber, who was still on the loose.

Anyhoo -- one day I was sitting in my small khaki cubicle working on something urgent, I'm sure. I was about 7 months pregnant with Annie and was belly up to the front of my desk. I needed something from the back of the desk, paper clips maybe. Now, I'm pretty short -- 5'2", which means that a.) reaching the back of my desk was a challenge for my short little arms and 2.) that a soon-to-be 10+ pound baby in a 5'2" frame meant that I had a ginormous belly.

So, back to the paper clips. I leaned forward to reach the clips, unaware that the pen drawer at the front of my desk was slightly open (you see where this is going, right?). As I leaned forward, my breasts fell into the drawer. The momentum of my body and the enormity of my belly combined to shove the drawer closed -- right on my boobal appendages! YOWZA!

As if that's not bad enough, a week or so later, I did it to myself again! So, my Officer Buckle safety tip of the day is always double check that your pen drawer is closed before reaching for something on the back of the desk.

My more recent experiences with DIY mammograms have been courtesy of Robbie, who comes in my bed almost every night. Robbie is like a heat-seeking missle. He has to be shoved right up against you, which sounds all sweet and cuddly, but which can be downright painful if you sleep on your side and have generous ta-tas that sort of flop onto the mattress.

Because what happens is that while you are sleeping, the boy smashed up against you will decide to switch positions, raising himself up slightly, then flopping down hard on your boob that just happens to be in the way, smashing it between his ribcage (or shoulder or butt) and the mattress and stretching/pulling the nipplage just enough to make you involuntary shriek. Trust me, it's not a nice way to wake up.

I'm hoping the drawer incident and the bedtime smash have prepared me well for the discomfort of a real mammogram. Guess I'll find out on Tuesday!

I survived the pumpkin patch...barely.

I chaperoned Robbie's class trip to the pumpkin patch on Tuesday. I was worried about being freezing, so in preparation for the trip I bought new gloves and pulled out my snow boots. In hindsight, I should have bought Depends and scheduled a post-patch appointment with a massage therapist or chiropractor -- or both.

The day turned out to be pretty nice. A little chilly, but the bright sun kept us warm enough. We -- 17 kindergarteners, 2 teachers and about 5 parents -- breezed our way through the "easy" corn maze. Unchallenged, we opted to try the "intermediate" maze. I headed up the group and let each kid have a turn at deciding which path we should choose. I didn't bother to tell the rest of the adults that my husband might argue that putting me in charge of directions might be criminally negligent. But the kids were making the decisions, anyway, so I figured we'd be ok and we were, although somehow, even though we entered the "intermediate" maze, we came out at the "hard" maze. Guess we were just overachievers.

From there, it was on to the haystack and the inflatables, where the kids jumped up and off and on, wearing themselves out to their little hearts content. Not much learning going on, but a great activity for kindergarteners nonetheless.

It was at the second inflatable -- the caterpillar -- that my initial injury occured. Inside the caterpillar was a slide. To go down the slide, you had to be able to climb up the slide, which was tough for several little girls who were creating a back up. Now, why I decided I would go in and hoist those girls up and over is not quite clear to me. In hindsight, I should've said "if you can't climb up, you can't slide down." But really, who would say that to adorable kindergarten girls with little orange and black ribbons in their hair and winter coats in 100 shades of pink?

So I crawled in through the caterpillar's mouth -- a lovely sight from the rear, I'm sure, made my way to the slide and started lifting, pushing and tossing those cuties to the top of the slide. On about the 5th and final girl, I felt something snap in the muscle between my left shoulder and my neck. Game over. Got to get out of here now.

Of course, any sane woman would have turned around and gone out the entrance. But not me...no, I had to try the slide. I'm praying that video does not exist that shows what looks like the caterpillar having a seizure as I struggled to climb the slide, heaving and rolling the sides of the inflatable as I tried to force my not so slender self over. Finally, I tumbled down the slide and landed in the soft mud at the end of the caterpillar's butt.

It was almost time for the hayride and the pumpkin picking. After a short detour to watch a T-rex chomp and spit out a few pumpkins (which was pretty cool, I have to admit), we loaded on to the hay wagon. The trip out to the pumpkin patch was short and enjoyable.

The trip back, however, had me wishing that I'd gone to the bathroom before we left and adding "call the chiropractor" to my to do list. Let's just say the shock-less ride in a tractor over enormous ruts on a path around multiple fields made my bladder loose and my already aching shoulder tight.

I'm happy to report that the repercussions on my bladder were short-lived and unnoticeable. My shoulder however is still leaving me wincing in pain and as of this morning has made my left arm somewhat numb.

Would I do it again? If it means spending time with my little guy, you betcha. As long as I can spend time with the massage therapist right after.