I usually just post every other day, but I’ve been feeling pretty talkative lately. My TV was shipped off to the manufacturer’s to be repaired last Thursday. I have no idea when I’ll be getting it back, but I already miss it. Really, really, really badly.
Anyway, I had my usual monthly chiropractic visit yesterday. Doc noted that my spine was in pretty good shape this month, and it didn’t crack as it usually did. Especially my neck. My neck is a major sore point for me as I often don’t hold proper posture while using my computer or watching TV. It’s a major thing when it doesn’t sound like someone is cracking all dozen or so of their knuckle joints. Like, a really good, major thing.
Now, I still get some sore points when turning my head. I don’t think that particular vertebra in my neck is going to go down without a fight, but I have been standing straighter, sitting taller, and resting more comfortably on my feet. Or is it standing taller and sitting straighter?
If you’ve ever had a spinal injury or deformity that requires the regular use of a chiropractor, you probably will know what I mean when I say, last year I was a totally different person because of the sheer agony of simply moving. I tried to take up running again, only to get stopped by poor running posture resulting in shin splints from hell. Little vortexs of whirling muscle pain appeared on my calves and shins and said, “Hay there, heard you were trying to do some running. WELL, YOUR BACK SAYS YOU’RE NOT AND CALLED US IN.”
By the way, just to give you an idea of the kind of scope one incident can have. That car accident I was in- it was 18 years ago. I was tiny. I flew through the air, stopped only by the seat belt. It’s affected my life pretty thoroughly from high school sports to having to quit a convention early due to shooting nerve pain.
Anyway, yes. Yesterday, I had the chiropractor, and afterward I took my mother to the drug store to pick up her medicines, being, you know, elderly and all (and she would probably slap me if she saw that) and to pick up some heirloom tomatoes. Well, when we got back home, it wasn’t more than 20 minutes later that she opened up her bottle of thyroid pills and spilled them all into a floor vent. After rearranging things to try to get my fat ham hand down the vent, a futile exercise with with the vacuum and a piece of cheese cloth, my clever albeit ineffective try with the little grabber hand from my electronics repair kit, and a ladle, I resorted to the classic gum-on-a-stick routine, only it was more like duct-tape-on-a-ladle.
Duct tape. Duct tape really does fix everything.
About an hour later, I huffily handed her all 32 pills and complained about the crick in my neck, because, oh yeah, I had to look down the vent with my neck corkscrewed up against the couch, because the couch was too damn heavy to move.
It was about then I went “FML,” and poured myself a bowl of cereal.