Tag Archives: health

When I’m Injured

So, I am injured. I think it’s a stress fracture. In my head. Okay, that’s not true. It’s in my foot. My running foot. Well, I actually run with two feet. That is to say, both of my feet. Needless to say, I am going crazy. It’s not fun. I love to run. It makes me happy. And while I am living, I aim to maximize my happiness.

Injuries are like happiness assassins. They’re like “oh, you like to run? Yeah, well, take that!” POW! BOOF! SPLAT!

And then I’m injured.

And no, I am still young. Don’t you dare.

And no, I don’t do too much. That’s plain ol’ poppycock.

Right now, I am running in my mind. It’s soooo nice in here.

Shit.

Jessica says that I should lay on the bed, on my back, and rotate my legs and arms so it “feels” like I’m running.

I told her to stuff it.

Because, you know, we love each other.

A sampling of that love:

Facebook back and forth

Happy running, idiots.

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Critter Bugs in the Bed

I don’t sleep well without the Critter Bug. I’ve gotten used to her bunchy face blankets that encroach upon my territory, my sleep number. I’ve gotten used to her body blocking Scooby from nuzzling me to death in my sleep. I’ve gotten used to her manic sleep talking, or “night terrors,” that leave me only mildly annoyed and mostly intrigued by their inherent craziness. I’ve gotten used to retrieving her coffee and Trader Joe’s O’s in the morning, while she sits up in bed with both of our pillows cushioning her back. Generally, I’ve just gotten used to her presence. And when she’s not there, I don’t like it.

Jessica, no more overnight shifts for you. I mean it.

Does anyone want a peanut?

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My Histamines vs. Your Anti-Histamines – I Win

The Hydroxyzine didn’t help. But how could I expect it to? A drug that was first introduced when Dwight D. Eisenhower was president is not the drug for me. It may be for the child that has an itchy nose, or the old man that has a scratch in his throat. But not for me. I am, if you remember, the 0.1%. Which is to say that my histamines beat your anti-histamines. Or, until they come up with a drug so advanced and experimental and wildly dangerous but has shown some extraordinary results in 1 of 1 million patients – until then, I will remain itchy and likely to dip my head into ice baths.

Take That Silly Anti-Histamine Weakling!

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Where’s My Dr. House?

The doctors threw the drugs my way by the truckload, at this point frustrated by the lack of progress and the itch in their patient that just kept going, kept persisting. Sadly, the prednisone didn’t help. Nor did the Doxapin or Xyzal or any such combination of anti-histamine, anti-itch, anti- the fire that consumes the patient’s innards.

So they throw their drugs and their prognoses to no avail, wondering if these issues speak to some “underlying problem.”

What that is, we’re trying to figure out. But, in the end, Dr. Sokol is great and all, but frankly, where is my Dr. House?

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