No Mosquitos Here

The sun’s rays have been out most of the day; fighting for recognition against those cold winter blasts. I luckily haven’t needed to face the recent affronts of a January day in the Midwest. Even I know that I really can’t complain about this chilly weather since I have a zip code for Chicagoland, but mutterings of discontent are totally logical.

The surgeon was pleased yesterday with the appearances of my incisions. I had multiple folks ooohhhhhing and aaahhhing my back while I lay face first in a pillow. I’m so glad everyone was so impressed. Meanwhile, I’m alive down here. They all were chatting away, somehow forgetting my presence.

My neurostimulator was examined and modified. I felt like a discarded bionic woman, too out of shape to fit the mold. The adjustments could only go so far. I can’t fly or run at amazing speeds. I’m lucky to stroll to the end of the driveway whenever the temperature finally rises to a more suitable temperature. I now can lift five pounds. You can clap or something to provide me with some sort of positive reinforcement. . My arms can reach out slightly as long as the slow movements don’t go above the height of my shoulders.  With my snappy neurostimulator, my legs and groin can zap any mosquitoes away, thus the lack of these pesky busters anywhere in the Midwest. Thank you, thank you. I prefer shallow breathing because anything too deep sends sharp pain throughout this cute, round body.

It’s hard to get up in the mornings. I’m generally pretty comfy deep in the sheets. I’m not a rocket scientist, but I do know it is going to hurt like heck if I even roll over, let alone get in a vertical position. There’s nothing pressing on the calendar. (That means no doctor appointments are scheduled for that day, a pretty miraculous experience for this household.) I’ll ask you honest folk out there. If there is nothing that has to be done, it will hurt enough to make my chin hair curl, and everything was going just fine in my sleep, why in the tarnation should I get up. No thanks; I’ll just lay here and not hurt anyone.

But the guilt horns soon spike me, so I grit my teeth and do a robotic rumba into the bathroom determined to beat the day. I’ve done pretty well thanks to the worried glances of my dear hubby. The incision pain will gradually erode away, but it plans on staying here until bunnies are hopping around hiding eggs. I’ll get to lift ten pounds in another five weeks. I expect the Chicago Tribune will dedicate a special section in my honor.

So things are things. There’s discomfort and scrunches in my current life. But I have a cute little dog and a cute little husband who work together to keep a smile on my lips and more importantly, a smile in my heart. The new tingles tickle my nerves in my legs as they strive to capture my attention so I can forget about other issues.

God Uses My Chronic Pain to Prove that Life is Good:

            -  This nuerostimulater reduces many of the ouches. Life is good.