Anatomy Lessons

Oh, what a wonderful education I am getting these days.  Mainly regarding my anatomy  Started on January 24th when I first realized I have a pelvis.  I mean, I always knew, intellectually, that a pelvis was a part of my bone structure.  But, I never really gave it any thought.  Nor did I appreciate that sweet, pain-free bone structure!  Stop whatever you are doing right now (well, I guess you are reading my blog right now) and think about your pelvis--give it some love--appreciate it for its service--promise it that you will never break it!  Too late for me but maybe I can save you!  On a good note, mine continues to heal (pain = healing).  Fewer jabbing pains in my nether regions these days.  And, no more pain pills.  Which means no prune juice necessary (pain pills = constipation).  

OK, enough about my pelvis--let's move on to another part of my anatomy which made itself known last week.  How many of you are familiar with your rhomboid muscle (Becky Bechtel--I am sure you know this muscle)?  For those who don't know--it is located in your upper back, just below your shoulder blade.  For the most part, this muscle sits there quietly, day in and day out, doing its job without much fuss.  That is, until you make it angry!  Last week I made one of mine very angry!  Furious, actually.  And, oh boy, have I paid the price for doing so!  So, how did I anger this typically benign muscle, you must be asking.  To tell the truth, not entirely certain.  But, I have a feeling that the improper height of the walker I had been using for over a week, making me walk somewhat like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, had something to do with the temper tantrum that muscle threw!  I just know that one morning I awoke with horrific jabbing pain on the left side of my upper back.  Prompting me to ask myself (to quote Dorothy Parker--the queen of quotes), "What fresh hell is this?" Then for two nights in a row, that muscle decided to spasm.  It felt like someone was jabbing me with a cattle prod!  At least, what I imagine that might feel like--never having been actually jabbed with a cattle prod previously (and I hope never will be).  One of the worst pains of my life--up to and including child birth!  The good news was that this new misery shifted my attention away from my pelvis.  Bob, after a couple of days of watching my deteriorating condition, happened to notice how my shoulders were hunching up with each step I took with the walker.  SLOW PAINFUL STEPS, accompanied by moaning and other expressions of pain.  Being the engineer, he quickly determined that the walker was too tall for me (which makes sense in retrospect seeing as how he was the last one to use this walker).  He made a downward adjustment and immediately I could tell the difference.  Much easier to hoist myself upward with each step in order put as little pressure as possible on the side of the broken pelvis.  Plus, I used the new back condition to justify having a masseuse come to my house with her massage chair and give me a 90-minute massage.  Paid handsomely for that one in more ways than one.  First, her fee.  Then, the next morning, with every muscle in my back, neck, and arms screaming with the pain of soreness!  She was pretty aggressive with that massage.  A week later now, I am considering having her come back.  Will ask her to go a little more gently this go-around.

As of yesterday, tho, I am feeling like perhaps I have turned a corner.  The back pain has all but subsided--just the shadow of the pain now.  Walking is easier--Getting up and down is easier.  Getting out of bed a tad better.  I am looking forward to not using the walker--I can't sneak up on Bob anymore. . .step, clatter clatter; step, clatter clatter!  Need to buy a cane.

Let's talk about cooking.  Bob can't cook.  Not just won't--CAN'T!  I learned this early on when he said he was making his specialty for dinner one night--something he had invented before I became his chief cook and bottle washer.  This dish (which I have since dubbed "Hobo Goulash) consists of a pound of hamburger, one chopped onion, one chopped green pepper, a jar of sliced mushrooms, drained,  a packet of dry gravy mix, some water, salt and pepper.  All of which he puts in a pot at the same time.  I suggested (in an effort to introduce some flavor into this awful-sounding concoction) that he add a chopped jalapeño pepper.  Which he did and later said it ruined the dish.  At his son's, (Tim, the real chef) suggestion, he ate this glop over mashed potatoes.  Needless to say, I did not partake of this culinary delight.  He has not offered to make it again.  So, for better or worse where my healing is concerned, I am able to put together some meals for us.  Very basic but a tad tastier than Hobo Goulash.  I yearn for the day when I can just stroll into the kitchen and cook whatever my heart desires!  Once in a while, we supplement with takeout.  The $100 worth of coupons for the Cheeky Monkey Bar and Grill (just down the road) that Melissa gave us for Christmas have helped a lot!  That place has an outdoor smoker that runs almost 24/7 and produces, among other things, the very best pulled pork sandwich ever.  So, the truth is--we are in no way starving.  The scales, which I occasionally use, prove that fact!

Several people have asked me just what do I do all day.  Nothing really productive (other than the meals), that's for sure.  I have read four books--started my 5th last night.  I color occasionally--a very relaxing activity.  To torture myself, I look at cookbooks and cooking magazines.  Facebook can be very entertaining, as well as Words With Friends.  Phone calls are always good.  To tell the truth, I am going stir crazy!!  Luckily, the weather has been pretty awful since this all started so the desire to go outside is tempered somewhat.     

So. this, my dear readers, ends another exciting chapter in the account of Nancy's Broken Pelvis.  Not as much fun as a travel blog--for me or you.  But thank you for joining the journey with me.  Take care of yourselves--stay strong and active!  Love you all!