Wednesday, November 10, 2010

An Incognito Rock Star with a Sprained Derriere

You know that old Billy Joel song We Didn't Start the Fire? Sometimes my life is like that--one long rapid-fire series of events. But hey, I'm never bored.

When Sugar and I arrived home from two weeks in Indiana around tenish on Friday the 29th, we lugged our stuff upstairs, had a glass of wine, and collapsed into bed. Saturday morning, we had to fit our house tour and all the errands into a compressed time slot, because we were invited to a killer Halloween party in Greenwood,  ninety minutes away.

This was a Guitar Hero party, and we were supposed to go dressed as rock stars. All we could pull off was Sugar in his (typical) Jimmy Buffett weekend attire, accessorized with a captain's hat and shoulder parrot, and me in big sunglasses. I told our hostess I was incognito, and could be any rock star she wanted me to be. (For some reason, people kept calling me Tennille.)

The party was a blast--so much fun, good food, good company--but we stayed well past the pumpkin carriage's schedule, and spent the night in a local hotel instead of making the ninety-minute drive home.

We arrived back in Greenville on Sunday just in time to prepare for friends and family coming to our house for a cookout. When our loved ones left around tenish, we finished the laundry and repacked, as Sugar was leaving on a jet plane at 5:00 the next morning, and I was headed home to North Carolina to "handle" my father who was being obstinate about a gall bladder operation he needs. This, of course turned out to be a fool's errand, as Daddy is completely unmanageable, but I got in some quality family time.

I spent half the week with Mamma and Daddy, then went to Raleigh to "handle" another crisis involving my offspring. This leg of the trip was marginally more successful, and again, I got quality family time--always precious.

Then, when I arrived home on Friday last, I did a very stupid thing. I do not travel light. I have a large suitcase, which is always packed with everything I might conceivably need. (I'm nothing if not prepared.) As Sugar wasn't home yet, I carried this monster in my left hand, with my laptop and mammoth purse on my right shoulder, up the stairs. This arrangement required me to rest the suitcase on my left hip as I lugged it up the steps.

It wasn't until Saturday, when the lower back pain started, that the full consequences of my stupidity started revealing themselves. At a friend's house for dinner Saturday night, I had to keep moving from chair to chair to floor to standing trying to keep the pain at bay.

By three a.m. Sunday--mere hours before Sugar and I were scheduled to head BACK to Indiana--the pain in my left derriere was so intense I was nauseous. I nudged Sugar. "I hurt so bad I'm about to throw up," I said.

The love of my life mumbled, "Just relax. We'll go to the ER in the morning."

"Why do I have to wait?" I wailed.

"They aren't open now."

"It's the ER--THEY DON'T CLOSE." The louder wail woke not only Sugar, but likely the neighbors, and set several dogs to barking.

Sugar was up, dressed, and had me in the car within mere moments.

The doctor gave me a shot of something that allowed me to ride ten and a half hours in the car to Indiana, and five prescriptions. But, since the shot wore off, I can't sit. I can lie in any position that doesn't put pressure on my left derriere at all, or kneel at the desk and answer quick emails.

All of this to explain my absence from Jazzercise, Twitter, Facebook, my blog, and most human interaction for the last week and a half. I'm also over-medicated, so anything I do say should be taken with a large grain of salt.

Peace, out...


P.S. About the house... Your know that saying about how you can't go home? Sometimes it's true. When Sugar and I walked into the house we loved, the one that holds so many memories, we realized immediately the answer to what had mystified us a few years earlier: why did it take so long to sell such a great house?

Since we left, we've lived in new construction, and have grown accustomed to an open floor plan, nine-foot ceilings, modern baths, and windows that work properly. We're spoiled, yes. We stepped into the foyer of our previous home, and immediately felt claustrophobic.

The good news is, we can quit pining for what we thought we missed, and even if we never embrace certain aspects of subdivision living, we can fully embrace our new home and get on with life. This is a good thing, as we have a full one.


Anonymous said...

I am so sorry about your pain. So when you do get back to Jazz, you don't want any butt routines where Casey sayd "squeeze" LOL I am thinking you will will need to ask her to take out the Spice Girls ball routine before you come back. I just do my own thing as always. Feel better.


Bob Strother said...

Sorry about your condition. Now, if you could just hang onto a few of those prescriptions until we get together again... No, seriously, take what you need--but, if you have any left over...what is it they say: A dollop of wine makes the medicine go down (and round and round). BTW, the pain never showed in your face.

Susan M. Boyer said...

Bob, that was due to the wine and the most excellent company. :) I will save any leftover meds, naturally.

Thanks, Betty. I will have no part of any ball routine for a while. I have to kneel to type--can't sit at all, much less sit balancing on a ball.

Barbara said...

I'm so sorry you're in pain. You'll do anything to get out of Jazzercize won't you?

Are you back yet? You need to see my Massage Therapist, asap. He's the only reason I got through my major back pain last January. And Susan, next time, leave the suitcase at the foot of the stairs until help arrives!

BTW, I saw the pix from the Halloween party and asked, "Did Susan & Jim come as The Captain and Tenille?" You can blame your hubby's captain's cap.

Susan M. Boyer said...

Ha! Yes, Barbara, I would do ALMOST anything to get out of exercise of ALMOST any kind. (Just kidding, QOP.)

But not this... yes, I need the name of your massage therapist. Right now I;m still in Indiana, and the ladies here at the hotel have hooked me up for a massage at 5:30 today, and a chiropractor appointment tomorrow.

Yeah, I think the hat did it, though the parrot didn't help. :)

Valerie said...

Finally getting around to reading the non-emergency emails/blogs. (I was in Florida helping out my parents.)

Hope you're better by now. Back pain is miserable!

And I understand about the house. I've always wanted an older home, but finally realized it would have to be new construction made to look like an older home. Transom windows and graceful front porches are no trade-off for working heat/air, good plumbing, working windows, and open floor plans.