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Just Sit Right Back…

…and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful riiiiiiiiiiiiiip…

It started from this lovely dog, and ended with a trip… 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.



Having This Bitch Is A Bitch

By the time you read this I will probably be un-funkified, but right now, today, I’m totally funked.

I have fibromyalgia, or as I like to *affectionately* call it:


Fibro is this weird – disease? syndrome? alien invasion? – that affects the neuro pathways of the sympathetic nervous system.

Which is a fancy way of saying my mother-lovin’ nervous system is waaaaaaay out of whack, and is reacting accordingly by firing on all eight cylinders at once.

All. The. Time.

And, me being me, I have the worst case of it my doctor has ever seen.

Of course I do.

There are medications for it, but I’m unable to tolerate any of them.  So, I suffer..a LOT…and take regular pain meds when I can’t stand it.

Today, and for the last few days, I’ve been unable to stand it.

Even my friggin’ hair hurts.

My wrists, ankles, shoulders and elbows ache.  My ankles lock up on me when I walk.  

My rib joints are inflamed and painful, and my sternum feels like someone performed CPR on me for several hours…non-stop.

Breathing is a constant internal argument:

ME #1 – You HAVE to breathe.

ME#2 – I know that but it hurts every time I do.

ME#1 – Yes, well tough shit.  Try NOT breathing and see how that works for you.

ME#2 – Screw you.

I’m nauseous (from the pain) and listless…not just tired, mind you, but literally lethargic.

Even as I type this I’m fighting a very strong urge to lie down and go to sleep.

Right here.  Right now.

And it’s only 8:00 in the morning…I’ve been up about an hour.

What was my point?

Oh yes, I have no point.

I often have no point.  It’s part of my *charm*.

I’m just whining.

I’ll stop now.