Saturday, January 15, 2011

Runner Out Of Commission...Enter At Your Own Risk

I love it when I spend four hours of my Saturday morning in urgent care and leave, knowing no more than I did when I got there, but with drugs. Can you hear the irritation in my keystrokes? My knee has really been bothering me and it is getting worse, so I went to the urgent care today. I sat in the waiting room for a grand total of three and a half hours, and in the pharmacy for fifteen minutes, I saw a doctor, a nurse and an x-ray technician all in fifteen minutes. I left with an unclear diagnoses of "It could be's", crutches, a knee brace (I cannot wear because it has a hard support that smashes right up against the part of my knee that hurts), drugs, instructions to not put weight on it for at least a week, NO RUNNING until my family doctor releases me and here is the clincher...a note for a week off of work. Is there such thing for a mother of four boys? Going to an office to work would be more R&R than staying home, but even then, are you kidding me? How in the frick am I going to stay completely off of my leg, rest it, elevate it and ice it for twenty minutes every hour for a week and still have a house left standing when I can stand? I am not in a good mood. I don't like, "I don't know what's wrong with you, it could be this, this, this or possibly this, I don't read x-rays so we will have to wait for the radiology report, but here take these drugs and if the pain doesn't go away then we will do an MRI and maybe fix the reason you are having the pain to begin with instead of just drugging you out of your mind, either way, the longer I prolong your misery the more I get paid. The more you come back to me because I hooked you on narcotics instead of fixing the problem. Or the more you come back to me so I can do one test a visit for the next six months until I finally decide to send you to someone who knows what the heck they are doing. Either way it looks good for me and not so good for you." So, normally when I am this irritated I lace up and run, what do I do now? I have no cinnamon bears or sour patch kids to bite the heads off of. Really it is therapeutic. I did bite JC's head off, chewed it up and spit it out. He's not as therapeutic as candy, he bites back, plus he doesn't taste nearly as good. I have no Oreos, no chocolate donuts, no diet Pepsi. Ya'll might want to pray that I can run again real, real soon, for my family's sake. This is not looking good. Going to take a nap now. Over and out.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Many View Rare Full Moon

A summary of yesterday...

Burned my hand when I grabbed the wrong end of my flat iron.

Squirted onion juice into my eye.

Almost choked on a fried potato...TWICE.

Took JC's truck to get gas and ran out of gas before I made it to the gas station.

Smashed JC's head with the trunk of my car when he brought me the gas can.

Sent JC and two boys to the ranch to fix and electrical switch but realized, as I was cooking dinner, that I forgot to send the rent check with them. Stopped in the middle of cooking to drive out to the ranch with the rent.

Microwave in the shop at the ranch almost burned down the shop. Microwave thrown away and new electrical boxes hindsight, given the days track record, playing with electricity was probably not a good idea, but everyone survived, probably because I was not helping.

Two plugged toilets by my fifth son, his name is "not me". Two unplugged toilets by yours truely.

One new thermostat...WooHoo! We have heat!

So ready for a run...

Now the run went like this...

Less than a block away I flicked a piece of crushed granite into the back of my shoe. "Ouch!" was the word I should have used, but didn't My running briefs are crawling in the worst way. About a half a mile in, I had to pee. Yes mom, I went before I left the house. For normal people this would be no problem, just hold it. I am not a normal person, I am a mom, who gave birth to 4 large melon headed babies who for nine months used my bladder as a punching bag. I start evaluate my options. I can go home and call it a night, but I really need this run. I could see if I can find an open gate and bathroom at the school coming up, but the custodians would probably have me arrested. I could drop in, unannounced at a friends house, but she is not a close friend. She is the little sister of a close friend. A friend still the same, but she is probably having family night, or worse than that getting kids ready for bed. That would be real nice, Hi K! Just dropping in unannounced. Can you take your kids out of the tub because I need to use your toilet. Or I can hold long as I can. Dang this murph! It took me long enough to evaluate my options that the only option I had left was to hold it. We had passed the point of no return, we had passed the school and we had passed K's street. About a half a mile later I have to re-evaluate the situation. I am now doing a cross between the pee pee dance and a run. I can just let it happen, I am sure I would not be the first runner who peed their pants and I know I wouldn't be the last, but ewwww and brrr. Or I can find a bush, but I have never been good at squatty potty. I find some hedges, not the best cover but I am out of time. Turn off my head lamp duck in behind them, no cars coming, drop 'em, adjust all headphone wires coming from the pocket in the back of my pants, squat...nothing. Stage fright or cold shock what ever, it wasn't happening, at least not fast enough. Then finally just as the awww factor hits so does the traffic. I am dying. I am behind the bush totally squatting down as far as I can go ducking my head, praying for invisibility beneath my glow stick adorned, reflective white shirt with my reflective orange wrist band and praying no one is paying attention to the iridescent full moon setting in the hedges. Ange tries to block as much of me as she can with her fake, "just doing a little stretch" poses but I can't help but think that she is drawing more attention our direction. We are cracking up. On the road again. Twenty yards ahead, perfect cover to hide an entire football team. Make a mental note of that spot just incase there is a "next time". About a mile later a plain white wrapper blows me off the road. Geesh buddy slow down! Unless you are investigating all the calls for indecent exposure on the next road north, then keep on going. I'm innocent, you can't prove a thing. I feel sorry for the person who would have to pick me out of that line up. Pretty sure my briefs are on backwards at this point.

Now Ange has issues. For a backwoods Indiana girl she just doesn't have enough...backwoods Indiana in her. She can't spit to save her life, she has serious mucous gag reflex issues (read: girlfriend can't hock a lugi)and she can't oakie blow. So when her nose starts to run, she HAS to blow something. She had no tissues, I had tissues, but when I was laughing and trying to pee at the same time, I am pretty sure I dropped them. I can see her mentally going over her options...shirt tail, nope too much to blow this time, sock...nope too much time lost already, glove...yep glove. She is quite funny, because she is worried about if it will gross me out too much. I laugh, Hmm...option one you blow your nose in your glove. Option two, you gag and barf on my shoes. I think I will have to go with door number one.

We managed to finish our run with out anymore trouble. Felt great to stretch, shower and go to bed...where looking back, it seems I should have never left.