This is being posted with the aid of several painkillers and two walking sticks. It seems I have a slightly crushed sciatic nerve which is slightly giving me enough pain to crawl in corners and whimper. I can lay on one side, but not sit, am standing to do this, until I can get to an x-ray pain killers are my friend. Pain is a thousand burning pins from bum to thigh to calf to bottom of foot. I keep telling myself people in bondage land are paying money for what I am getting free, it doesn't help. You don't yell when in this pain, you only have enough energy to snivel, whimper & other small noises.
My fault for trying to be wonderwoman and ignoring all signs of systems failure.
My final tip, no matter how big the serviette, if you're eating toast in bed, on your side, you'll get crumbs.
Today I am going to shower if it kills me. Small animals are eyeing me off as a desirable residence.
Thanks for all the thoughts. Wish I could share the pain with you, bugger sharing you can have it all.
5 comments:
Yesterday I woke up dying. I had awful nausea in the gut. It just got worse. So I stood up, and all my energy was gone. I made it to the dunny and crouched there waiting to spew. Nothing came. But then there was a message from the other end, so I reversed things and straight away had an almighty shit!
It exploded - like it was gong to blast me to the moon!
I was cold, yet perspiring all over. I knew I was in trouble. Big trouble. I started worrying about the dogs, I thought of them dying of thirst indoors, so I got myself to the front door and opened it. Then I even thought of calling an ambulance, but imagined the whole street watching me get loaded inside. Yes well I'd rather die. So I rang my daughter instead, telling her I wasn't well and to be sure to come on Saturday as arranged (thinking she might find a body). But she came straight away with some stuff to flush me out. And it's working.
I'm sorry for all this, but it's just to confirm that I'm vain. Yes, and would die for it.
Crikey, youse sheilas have no idea what real pain and suffering is.
During the last proper fair dinkum war, I carried Simpson's donkey up to him through crocodile and leech infested waters (yep, the AWB was already in existence way back then) with five of me legs shot off and three of my arms in a sling.
(Yeah, exactly! Do my feets of courage crack it for a mention when they trot out the "Homer, Bart, Lisa, Marge, his Wife, the Cook, the Thief and his Donkey" story to unsuspecting school kiddies around ANZAC day!! Ungrateful ignorant bastards! Too much bloody meeja studies and macrame and not enough bloody Windshuttle!)
Did anyone hear me moaning and groaning about a slightly crushed triadic nerve or a vesuvian alimentary canal when I was laying down 25 miles of railway track a day on the Burma railway with half my cranium shot away and stuck back on by Weary Dunlop with a bit of hayband and some bits'n'pieces from a Malvern Star bicycle repair kit.
Then if that wasn't enough pain to bear (but never to complain about, as was the way of us chaps in the Colonel Cholmondeley Light Foot and even Lighter Fingers Brigade) I spent most evenings suffering horrendous morning sickness, which was only relieved when I gave birth to quintuplets.
Again do kiddies hear about that in Sunday School?! No, of course not, your mainstream Christian Churches want to keep their monopoly on yer Immaculate Conception miracles. Up them I sat, and anyway they'll be laughing on the other side of their Shroud of Turin soon. I've had a bit of a nibble from the Lord Chief Accountant at Hillsong which could just have legs.
Ah yes, yer legs. As the patron saint of the Douglas Bader Mein-hoof used to stump the countryside saying, "Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em."
(Ooh beaut! Birdy num-nums! Here comes Nurse Ratchett with the little white pills and the size 8 knitting needles for me anchorpuncture.)
Disclaimer:- No brain cells were harmed, harvested or destroyed in the making of this comment.
Thanks Link, but it's too late for my non-existant cartilege.
As for rh and His excellency, all I can say is, I haven't got a navel, beat that! Talk about world's greatest chunderer and greatest slaughterer of history.
By the way, you upper crust crusher the pills are making the toe better.
Ah .. the solution is simple .. just "toe' the line.. and all will be well (or so we are told)
One of life's mysteries, Davo, is why you don't hurt the other toes, just the one that hurts.
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