…and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful riiiiiiiiiiiiiip…
It started from this lovely dog, and ended with a trip…..to the doctor. (and now you’re humming the theme from ‘Gilligan’s Island’ and later today you’ll still be humming it and wondering why…and you’re welcome)
You see, in the one corner on a retractable leash of 16 feet, was my beloved GSD.
In the other, an armadillo. A live armadillo. Y’all there was a live armadillo in Texas. No, really, I can confirm.
The chaos when said dog sets her formidable sights and muscle onto retrieving the creature…excuse me…the live creature without warning the person holding the leash resulted in a resounding rip/tear as the leash/dog combo went from dead run to all stop. And, no, it wasn’t the leash or its braking mechanism that was the source of the tearing. It was my shoulder. Specifically, the subscapularis tendon and muscle.
I think Einstein created a formula for just such an event:
Force of Dog X Mass of Dog + Acceleration of Dog in Pursuit of Prey = HOLYMOTHEROFALLTHATISHOLYFUCKFUCKFUCK!!!!!PAIN!!!!!!!
Or something like that, it’s all very scientific.
I waited a couple of days, but when I realized my right arm was absolutely zero use I decided I might oughta see the doc. She manipulated my arm, making me cry and see stars at the same time….and I’m pretty sure I grabbed her leg and squeezed reaaallllly hard…before saying I needed an MRI and it was probably a rotator cuff tear.
The MRI confirmed it’s a tear.
Next week I see a surgeon, because of course I am one of those who will have to have surgery. Of course it’s a complete and utter tear, none of this partial tear shit for me, nope, when I tear something I go all the way.
There’ll be surgery and rehab and lots of whining on my part.
It’s a good thing that…my Mate is a mighty (sailin’) man, a Skipper brave and sure….
You’re welcome, again.
You know how we all kid when we’re talking about how before someone was born they missed the brain train, or looks train, or whatever?
Don’t read me in that tone, you know we’ve all done it.
Well, I took the W train where ‘W’ means weird.
Not that I’m weird.
Okay, I may be just a bit weird.
Alright, a LOT weird.
But, my body..my body is weird in so many ways.
Like the time everyone in the family got pink eye, except me. I got cellulitis and the ophthalmologist treating me was so excited (giddy, actually) to see it he dragged out the huge book of “Eye Diseases: Things That Look Horrid and Can Kill” (I may have made up that title) to excitedly tell me that he’d heard of this in school, but never thought he’d see it. It being the bacteria marching through my eye and headed to my brain (it stopped before the brain, thank God, or I’d be posting this from the hereafter).
Or the time I got strep throat, tested positive for it, and my tonsils had been gone for over 40 years. Or when I got mono, from one of my grandchildren, or when I got mumps twice, or when my skin turned green as a Martian and one side of my neck (lymph gland) looked like I’d swallowed a softball and it was lodged there, and NO ONE knew what was wrong with me..never figured it out, and no it wasn’t hepatitis.
Or the time I stopped breathing because the doctor gave me a shot of penicillin. I was three, and sick, and that’s how sick three year olds were treated in the Stone Age. That lead to a lifelong theory that I was deathly allergic to penicillin, until I did the penicillin challenge test, and yay! I’m not allergic to penicillin, but when I take it I get all puke-y, so I really didn’t gain anything.
I told the allergy doc about my weird body when I went to see her for my pineapple allergy.
Hmm…wassat? You’ve never heard of a person being allergic to pineapples?
Neither had I, or she, until I ate pineapple one day – after years of enjoying this delicious fruit without incident – and immediately found breathing terribly difficult as my throat closed.
It wasn’t the first time it had happened, but it was the first time that pineapple was the only thing I’d eaten, so it was the first time I realized that I was allergic to pineapple and not the preservatives in trail mix. You see, a few weeks before this I’d eaten a trail mix with dried fruit and nuts. It had pineapple in it and shortly after eating it my hands doubled in size and my arms, hands, neck, and face were covered in hives.
That was fun.
No, no it wasn’t, but I blamed the preservatives and swore off anything dried.
After the last episode I went to the allergy doctor and told her about the pineapple reaction.
She stared at me for at least a full minute before saying, “I’ve been doing this for over 15 years, and I’ve never heard of that.”
Of course she hadn’t, but then she hadn’t known me back then.
Rather than have me test the pineapple theory, to be sure I had the allergy, she gave me an Epi-Pen to carry around.
Because, PINEAPPLE and ninja PINEAPPLE are out there, people.