I take a break, grab a bottle of water, and sit down. Then I stand up.... and then it all gets a little fuzzy. Blinding, searing pain down my back, and I drop to my knees. Tears are in my eyes. I think to myself in a panic, "Jesus - I can't stand up. I can't move." Eventually, I crawl (slowly) into the study and make an aborted attempt to get on my couch that results in looking like a giant, crying man humping a piece of furtniture. Hey, I was suffering, no reason you should make it unscathed. That image is for you, special. I crawl over to my phone, collapse onto the floor gasping for air, and call Mrs. TK. at work. I'm in so much pain I can't even make the easy "I've fallen and I can't get up!" joke.
Mrs. TK rushes home and using some sort of She-Hulk-like strength, gets me standing again helps me upstairs. Considering I outweigh her by a minimum of 80 pounds and stand 11 inches taller, that's pretty damn impressive. I spend the rest of the day in bed, basically gasping in pain every time I twitch. It took me ten minutes to walk to and from the bathroom. Finally, at 4:00AM this morning, conditions have not only not improved, they've worsened to the point where I'm simply lying there twitching, wracked in pain, babbling "fuck, fuck, fuck!!" over and over. So, as was most likely inevitable, we go to the Emergency Room.
I have to admit, this was one of the better ER visits I've had. As you can perhaps guess from posts such as these, I've had my fair share of ER experiences, so I feel I'm qualified to expound on that. The people were polite and even friendly, the service was relatively fast. They gave me two shots for the pain within 45 minutes of being there, which were absolutely lovely. Eventually I had an MRI and... drumroll... I appear to have some disc problems. Of the bulging/tearing variety. Which is not good. So now I gotta meet with my regular doc and discuss the next steps. That should be interesting, since I've been trying to persuade to my doc for months that there's something wrong and he just keeps telling me to take Advil and rest a lot. Thanks, doc. No, really, that was super helpful, dickface. Irregahdless, those options range from physical therapy, up to and possibly including surgical repair.
Anyway, the parents are in NYC visiting my sister - a trip I was supposed to join them on before I decided to method act my way into the lead in My Left Foot. Their trip has been wonderful, and hopefully I'm back and mobile when they get back in a week. I already feel better, but that might be the Percocet talking.
It bears mentioning that despite being at work both yesterday and today, Mrs. TK has once again proven herself a rockstar by caring for me, bringing me things and generally being superwife. In addition, in the midst of all my baby-like whining, Animal Control raided a house a couple of towns over and found between 70 and 90 dogs and puppies locked in a basement, covered in their own feces, malnourished and generally in bad shape. Read about it here or here (warning - pictures may cause terminal sadness) if you're brave. They brought 11 of them to her hospital where she's spent the last two days shaving them down, cleaning them up, fixing their ouchies and then crawling into their cages to snuggle with them and make them feel better. Have I mentioned the
How was your day?
*excellent point, Kelsi
Update: I just realized what a bummer this post was, so to make up for it, a picture of happy dogs should help.