I wasn't due for a booster shot for another 2 or 3 years (I've already started to forget the date, such is my talent. No really, I completely spaced that Valentine's Day is tomorrow about 20 minutes after ordering my mom's flowers. It's not that I forget things - yey calendar reminders - it's just that dates are not my thing, it seems. I know your birthday is sometime in February, or March, or July...and maybe have the date written down somewhere...but if I call or email you ON THE DAY OF, most likely it was serendipity unless I put a calendar reminder to call/email ON THE DAY. This is the long-winded way of saying I'm sorry if I've missed your birthday this year, I guess. Heh. Where was I? Booster shots!) but apparently the last one was prior to PANDEMIC WHOOPING COUGH or whatever increase in worry there is this year, and my doctor disliked the idea of my catching Pertussis.
I too am anti-coughing my lungs out if at all possible, so unlike my avoidance of the flu shot - because I did come out and say, "No, thank you," when they offered, I told them to make it quick and not make me cry too much and just give me TDAP jab on Monday morning.
Insert your favorite curse phrase here. That tiny little not-even-a-sting? Barely noticed in the middle of jibby-jabbing with the nurse? Holy unsuspected boomerang smack, Batman! I was jolted awake at 3AM Tuesday morning when I rolled onto that shoulder. And then! Because it was so freaking sore! I couldn't use my arm to help me roll back off! I lay there flopping and crying and cursing and generally wondering why I am so good at jolting myself awake in the middle of the night. This is not a talent I need to cultivate.
It wasn't until after 10 AM that the 2nd dose of Advil finally kicked in enough for me to get dressed. And it wore off promptly as I got to work. I had a floppy dead arm because ANY MOVEMENT incited such awesome gobs of pain that yeah, I could even taste it.
The worst, of course, was involuntary or automatic gestures. You know, like when you shrug your shoulders? Or, as I found out, and now you will too, apparently, when I find that $3K in a 26 tabbed spreadsheet, along with the my "Yes!" cry of victory, I raise my arms in a Rocky Balboa Philadelphia Steps accomplishment. This time though? My cry of victory became a very loud dog-getting-hit-by-a-car whimper, and my left arm only came up a little past a shrug. The pain was excruciating.
Yes, I know I am a wuss.
I'm just setting the scene here though because after days of no knitting and jolting myself awake and did I mention no knitting? This morning I got up and started my daily routine and noticed that the pain in my left arm is now about equal to the constant one I feel in my right shoulder (since my bike accident of over 5 years ago - that date thing again) and realized I could totally handle the stinging ache because now, finally, it was at a level I was used to.
Let me rephrase that: The pain, if it so chose, could stop diminishing if it wanted/needed to because we'd reached my "normal."
This thought actually mad me happy for the first few minutes of realization. You know, before I started wondering what the hell is wrong with me? Why being in constant pain is something I consider normal. And if that is the case? Just how crazypants bad was this soreness (and my aforementioned wuss-ocity) if, with twinges aches and stiffness and lowered mobility, I'm considering myself "all better now?"
People, I am not even 40 yet. I am so not going to age gracefully. I hope they perfect the portable morphine drip when the time comes, that's all I'm saying.
