I Didn't Fall But I Can't Get Up

I alluded to this in an earlier post, but I injured my back about a month ago. Though it didn't start hurting until a week after the fact, I think it's the fault of the trampolining. To say I feel betrayed by something I love so much, that I've loved my entire life, is an understatement. I am, of course, talking about the trampoline.

On the Wednesday or Thursday after I trampolined on the Sunday, the middle of my back started hurting. I have frequent lower back problems so I was surprised to have the middle start hurting. This was also a different sort of pain, less achey, and more throbbing. Every time I took a step it hurt. Which is inconvenient if, you know, you are used to taking many steps.

After a week of it hurting, several days of working from home, and a lot of moving as little as possible, I finally went to the doctor. She said it was a spasm and not anything more severe and prescribed me lidocaine patches and a high dose of ibuprofen. Almost a month later it isn't painful but now more occasionally achey. By the time I get home most nights I go straight for the heating pad. This is what 30 looks like, people.

This really isn't meant to complain, but to provide background on the following list. Things I Have Learned About Having a Hurt Back:

• If you whimper, people will move away from you.
• If you walk bent over like a hunchback, people will move away from you.
• If you wince or moan every time you move your bag, people will move away from you.
• If you moan every time the metro hits a bump or brakes harshly, people will move away from you.
• If you can't handle the patch on your back any longer and take it off while walking down the street, people will move away from you.
• If you look healthy on the outside, people won't offer you a seat on the metro no matter how longingly you look at their seat.
• If you want a use for those frozen potatoes and green beans you keep putting off trying, they work well as an ice pack.

• If you buy two really big bags of groceries, and have to walk a mile with them, you will cry when you get home.
• If you don't want to spend any money at Target, walk around folded in half until you can't take it anymore.
• If you fall asleep on a heating pad, you will wake up thinking you're on fire.
• If you have to empty the dishwasher, get something off a high shelf, do laundry, pick up more than two books, or vacuum, you will use your back muscles and it will hurt.

Some Potpourri. (With neither fleeting expletives nor momentary nudity.)

It's been another stressful week with not a lot of energy to expend outside of work. So here is a mixed bag of the week's thoughts, going-ons, mishaps, etc.

• I've found the secret to not using one's credit card: Accidentally cut up a non-expired one when you meant to cut up an expired one.

• If being 28 and painting polka dots on my fingernails is wrong, I don't want to be right.

• Wearing yoga shorts under my skirts while commuting has completely changed my life. I no longer have to fight to keep my skirt from flying up every time I walk on an escalator, pass a moving metro train, walk on a windy day, pass a bus, etc.

• It's nice when a stranger or a friend tells you that you look good. But it's really, really nice when your doctor, who's treating you for anxiety and other things, tells you that you look good. (One day I'll write about my anxiety issues and how I'm dealing with them, I'm just not quite there yet.)

• I still really, really don't like baseball. At all. But I do love good seats, good friends, good food, and good giant-headed mascots. Which is why I attended my second game of the season this year, Nats. vs. Rays.

• In a Supreme Court decision today, they ruled that the FCC can't fine ABC and Fox for "fleeting expletives and momentary nudity." This is now my new favorite phrase. In the history of the world.
• I really do love Jon Stewart and "The Daily Show." I've been watching for 10 years but I got out of the habit for a few months. But now I'm back watching again and I just love it. That's all.

Bonnie Goes to the Dentist

About two weeks ago, I went to the dentist for the first time in…a long time. As in, an embarrassingly long time. As in, there's a very good chance my age had the word "teen" in it the last time I went. Now, before you start judging or gasping, let me lay out a few facts:

1. This visit only uncovered one cavity. 
2. I brush at least twice a day, recently started flossing, occasionally use mouthwash, and use white strips once or twice a year. 
3. I had braces for 3 ½ years and visited an orthodontist every month. That's enough dental visits to last most people three lifetimes. 
4. I had traumatic experiences as a child at my dentist, who I nicknamed Doctor Devil. Seriously, I don't think I ever left this woman's office without crying.

However, my goal this year was to be an Adult and make my way to all the doctors I put off. So I did. And funny things happened.

First, we'll begin with the sweet receptionist, who asked me if I was referred to them by "my husband or a friend." This, to me, is funny, because "husband" has never been a word ever associated with me. (Unless being used in the sentence "never going to find a.") And I froze. And had an awkwardly long pause while I thought.

In my head: "Oh thank goodness, I already have a husband. That's one thing I can cross of the list. Do you by chance have his number?"
Out loud: "No, a coworker referred me."

Now I'll never know if I already have a husband out there. Or what she was thinking while waiting for my answer.

Next, it was time for the cleaning. It was a small room and a small chair and my legs barely fit in it. I then proceeded to gag and drool my way through the 200 X-rays the hygienist took. Surely with all the technology we have nowadays there has to be a better way to do these X-rays? Or, at the least, create a wireless remote so she didn't have to step over my feet and out the door to turn the machine off and on?

However, I'll forgive the wonderful hygienist because, in yet another example of what an epically small world this is, she was a UNC graduate AND from my hometown! And if you know my hometown, you know that no one is from there. When I said the town's name she just laughed and said she didn't believe me. She lived in the actual city whereas I'm from a rural community outside it.

After the cleaning, and general fun times with the hygienist, it was time to see the dentist. First, he looked at my X rays.

Him: "Have you ever been punched in the face or been in an accident?"

Insert another awkward pause while I try to remember if I have ever been punched in the face or in an accident.

Out loud: "No, I haven't."
In my head: "Oh my god, what is he going to do? Is this some sort of Dentist Fight Club?"

Another awkward pause.

Him: "Because you have very large sinuses."

Out loud: "Oh, ok."
In my head: "Whew, it's just large sinuses. Wait, WTF! Are sinuses supposed to be large? What does this mean!?"

But then I was distracted by the next sentence: "You have a cavity. We can fill it now or later."

In my head: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Him: "Judging by the look of terror on your face, you weren't expecting me to say we could do it now."

Apparently I do have a terrible poker face like one of my friend's always claims. But in the ultimate Adult Move, I opted to have the cavity filled then. And because of my look of terror, the dentist was extra gentle and kept asking me if I was alright. A far cry from Doctor Devil.

So I had the cavity filled and then was on my merry way. (Well, merry-ish as he referred me to an oral surgeon to have my two wisdom teeth removed. But I'm going to have to work up significantly more Adult Courage before I make that appointment.)

And thus ends the tale of how I survived the dentist. This time.

Day 164: I only wish it could have been Doctor Who

After more than 10 years of poor vision, I finally went to an eye doctor by myself. In a mall.

I should be disturbed by the fact that I got my eyes checked a mere three floors above where I would later purchase Taco Bell. (And a drink that would later leak in my purse, onto my jeans, perilously close to "she peed her pants" territory.)

But I digress. Having been to plenty of eye appointments over the years, I wasn't that weary of it being in a mall. Besides, lots of things are in malls now. And, I knew if he were to say, squeeze my eye, or spit on a contact before giving it to me, that would be a sign to take the free pair and run.

I did however firmly mark "no," I am not interested in laser eye surgery, on the form. No eye doctor located beside "Perfumania" will be taking me into a back room to cut up my eyes.