Well peeps - it's been a fun week in Crazy Town, that's for sure. I have spent the past 48 hours in the hospital helping my poor mother recouperate from a very bad break-up. She and her gallbladder, Gil, decided to part ways this past week. Theirs was a classic love story - but it ended as so many of these tales do - with Gil turning rotten out of no where. See, Mom and Gil had been getting along really well for about 71 years or so...give or take the gestational period...not sure when in utero that sucker forms...but I digress. They had really been getting along peacefully until one day a few weeks ago, when he started acting up. Typical bad boyfriend stuff - heartache, upset stomach, sleepless nights. But she just chalked it up to bad sushi, you know, tried to look past how he was about to betray her. So, he calmed himself down for a while and then pulled the same BS about a week later. Stupid SOB - same act, different day. But once again, she tried to look past the pain and blamed Gil's misbehavior on any munber of things. And he settled back down. But this past week - he just behaved SO badly, caused so much pain and agony, that his complete betrayal was evident to everyone - even Mom. So - she kicked him out. She is doing really well - although it really sucks that we can't suck down some ice cream or "Bad News Pie" to help her recover from this one. We need to find other coping strategies. So far, we have been watching alot of tv, I have been knitting, showing her my knitting and forcing her to make all sorts of nice comments about how much better my knitting is getting. It's working out well for me.
In all seriousness - it was some nasty business. Who knew the gallbladder could cause CHEST PAIN??? Oh yes it can Peeps...in the patient and in the people taking care of the patient! But here's what I'm forced to reflect on- she, like so many of us, had had these symptoms for about 3 - 4 weeks and kept on self-medicating and diagnosing. And almost self-diagnosed herself into a big, fat mess. And I can't be mad at her for that because I do the EXACT same thing ALL OF THE TIME!!! I ignore aches and pains until they become unbearable and then and only then will I go - kicking and screaming to the doctor. Case in point:
Many of you know that I "ran" a 5K about 3 weeks ago. I put "ran" in quotes because I trained really long and hard and started out with the best of intentions - but about 10 strides in - LITERALLY 10 strides in, I landed on my right leg and WHAMMMOOOO - OUCHIE OUCHIE OUCHIE - as my good friend Junie B. Jones would say, I landed and the pain that shot through my right hip was BAD - like bad, bad. Like I had to stop running and every time I started again - I hurt worse. So, I walked it...and forced PC to walk the rest of it with me. And in typical boy fashion - PC's advice was shake it off, relax, ice it, take Advil - you will be ok. And to be honest - by the end of the race, I was really craving some pancakes, so instead of going back to Mac and JoJo's to ice that puppy up - I convinced Sookie and Co., to go to IHOP for breakfast. And then we went back and instead of icing up the hip, I showered, yelled at the kids for being messy, cleaned up after the messy kids, did some outlet shopping and resumed normal life. Fast forward 3 weeks -I am now dragging right leg behind me like wounded animal and WORST of all - cannot BEAR to wear high heels as they hurt. So what do I do??? I wear CFM shoes to Leenie's wedding last weekend - walk all over the damn place in them., REFUSE to take them off even though Leenie has provided everyone with FLIP FLOPS and ONLY agree to take them off at the END of the night when I have already danced the night away. Why? Why did I do such a ridiculous thing?
Cause if my body doesn't look as great as I want it to - I will be DAMNED if my feet don't.
Um - have I mentioned how I wore a long dress and nobody could even really see my sexy "come hither" stilettoes???
So - now the leg is dragging behind me and I am cranky. And I am slightly worried that it might turn green and fall off. So, PC convinces me it's time to give up the ghost and actually go to the doctor. He does this by pointing out all of the lovely high heels, carefully labeled and lovingly arranged in clear shoe boxes in my, I mean our closet. He says "They will be so lonely for you if you stop wearing them. What will they do without you?"
He always knows just what to say. So - I go this past Wednesday. Guess what??? Guess what I did to myself???
I broke my GD hip!!!!
Busy Momma has a STRESS FRACTURE to her right hip!!!
Now - even though it was only 9am - I was headed home, yelling at PC over the phone that "See - see hotshot? That's what happens when you make me go to the doctor? I get a broken hip! Are you happy now???" and telling him to pour me a glass of restorative wine, when my other line rang. It was my dad telling me that my mom was in process of breaking up with Gil. Ahhhh - are you kidding me????
So, here I am - with a broken hip, limping my way through the parking lot of the emergency room to take care of my mother. Seriously - it was like a scene out of a sitcom. One Gimp trying to take care of another. I haven't even had time to fill my perscription - I am just loading up on Advil, dragging my dead leg behind me and going about my business as if nothing is wrong. All while yelling at mom for ignoring the warning signs of the breakup of Gil for weeks.
Hello Pot, it's Kettle - you're black.
Why do we do this? Is this a woman thing? A Mommy thing or just a stupid person thing? What do you think?
Ok - well I'd love to stay and chat - but I have to shower and get going. I'm headed out to a fundraiser in HIGH HEELS to dance the night away. I am thinking that a mixture of wine and more Advil might numb up the dead leg enough for me to teeter on my sexiest black heels.....
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