Pain Killer

There are some days that are just harder than others.  My leg really hurts today.  I took some ibuprofen.  I went on a walk, trying to s-t-r-e-t-c-h it out.  It hurts. Is this what it’s like to have a wooden leg?  I can do kettlebells or jump rope.  I can’t run.  It’s killing me.

Sigh. Not literally.  Sorry for the dramatics.  How do people live with this kind of pain?  Some days it’s better, some days it’s worse. I put heat on it.  I get impromptu massages from Jonathon.  I will go to the chiropractor tomorrow, but I’d really hoped it would heal itself up by now.  It’s been almost 2 weeks.  It’s making me grumpy.  I don’t want this to be a “thorn in my side”.  I need to get better.  I want to run and do everyday tasks like walking up the stairs without gimping along.

We take so much for granted.  I don’t like feeling injury-prone.  Is this what getting older is all about?  Me no likey! What’s next, orthopedic shoes?!  A walker?  I would stamp my foot but I can’t even hop on one foot, let alone stomp one.

I suppose I should be grateful.  I can still walk, even though I sort of roll from side to side.  It’s reminiscent of a pregnancy waddle.  I still have all 5 senses.  My internal organs are intact.  I can write checks with the best of them.  I even sign them.  My sense of humor remains, though somewhat strained.

Ruby:  “Mom, let’s race up the stairs!”

Me:  “Uh…you go ahead.”

But what’s it like having a handicap that’s not obvious?  I think it’s just as bad having a broken heart or chip on your shoulder.  It’s hard to function in regular society.  Get around that person and you figure out pretty quickly something is very wrong.  They may not need medical attention but they need something, pronto, like a supernatural gobsmack.  All you want to do is get away from them.

I’m battling a bad attitude at this point.  Prayers and good vibrations gladly accepted.  I apologize if you come in contact with me today and I seem a bit snippy.  It’s not you; it’s me.  Truly.


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