Let us rejoice in singing “I BU PRO FEN!  I BU PRO FEN!……..”

After an incredibly stressful week beginning with attempting to paint the ceiling, then scrubbing the moldy porch ceiling with Michael to make sure the pressure washing would be satisfactory for the painters, moving almost every piece of furniture (not to even MENTION all the other crap inside of and surrounding it) inside and outside of the house, and moving heavy potted plants out of the way, and then back to where they belong, my body decided that it was time for a break.

So my back gave out on Friday morning (I’m such a Wreggie wanna -be). The sharp, excruciating pains did not cease not matter what yoga stretches I tried. I had 5 (yes FIVE) massages scheduled for that day, and after having spent thousands of dollars on the ceilings this week, I needed to replenish the kitty with a couple of hundred anyway.

My first massage was at a home where the client actually has his own table, so no lugging (phew!) I was still walking funny, and he, despite his 80+ years noticed (shit!) and said something. I tried to make light of it, but I knew I was in trouble. Fortunately, my 11 o’clock canceled, so I had time to get home to meet the guy who will restore my great grandfather’s oak roll-top desk (to the tune of around a grand). I had a minute or two to remove all the crap from it before shoving a bit of grub into the gullet.

But before he arrived, I remembered the Ibuprofen that I had left over from my surgeries in late ‘07. Okay, the drugs are expired but I popped and 800 milligramer and I was feelin’ finer. Not 100% but maybe I’d be able to make it through the day without having to have Michael take over. Sing along now, “I BU PRO FEN!…..”

The guy took the desk, I vacuumed and washed the floor where it had been for years (it’s too heavy to move when I’m cleaning) and I took off to do two massages at a beach hotel. It was unpleasant carrying my table and a bag full of sheets, towels and massage oils. So after the first session, I popped a 200 grammer. The pain was still pretty severe, but I made it through the next one. I was not able to carry my table and bag back to the car, though and had to hobble to the car and drive it as close as possible to the stuff. I then took one item at a time.

My last stop was at a home where there are steep steps up to the main house. I popped another pill and made it up with little trouble. The rest of the day was okay, no lifting or carrying involved, but the remnnants of pain remained.

Today I cut the grass, weed whacked, grocery shopped and moved a bunch more crap around and out. Sing along now, “I BU PRO FEN!…”

I was never a beliver in drugs before the surgeries, but I am now a total convert. Bring ‘em on! I don’t have time to be down. I can rest when I’m dead!

This entry was posted on Saturday, May 23rd, 2009 at 7:06 pm and is filed under St. Croix, Terry Talk. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.