... sitting and waiting. We have bottled water and non-perishable food. The sparkly Halloween cat and the scarecrow have been uprooted and moved inside, the lawn furniture is in the shed. I'm doing as much laundry as possible. And I'm using the heat pack on my back as much as possible because if the microwave goes out, it'll be useless.
Oh right, did I mention I have arthritis in my back? That's right, I said ARTHRITIS. I'm not even old enough to get a mammogram yet and I have arthritis. I found that out a little over a week ago, after the back pain got so bad I went to the doctor and they had X-rays done.
"Am I even old enough to have that?" I asked the nurse on the phone.
"Everybody's body develops differently, dear," she said.
Hey, thanks.
Possible factors: the scoliosis I've had more or less since puberty -- I was seeing a specialist about it for a while, but the curve was so mild they opted not to do anything -- and the genetic predisposition toward arthritis I apparently had but didn't know about. Until Dad said, "Oh yeah, I have it in my knees. And my mother had it in her shoulders."
Because that's what happens every single time something medically weird comes up. My parents say "Oh yeah, every third cousin for five generations had that, didn't we tell you?" I could find out next week I have the gene for spontaneous combustion and they'll say "Oh yeah, your Great-Aunt So-and-so spontaneously combusted in 1976, didn't we tell you?"
Yes, I know you're reading this. Take a joke. Nyah.
Anyway, I've been seeing a chiropractor and doing stretching exercises, plus the heat pack and meds if necessary, and it's been OK aside from the occasional twinge. It's as though periodically my back likes to nudge me and say, "Hey man, guess what! You've still got arthritis!"
I'll be joining AARP next, I guess. And eating more early-bird dinners. And changing my blog's name to "Angry Old Mom."
Anyway. My bum back and I are awaiting the storm. Just windy now. It would be really really nice if no one got hurt, and the power stayed on, and the trees stayed up, and Halloween wasn't postponed for the second year in a row. And if we could actually stay in the house this time instead of fleeing. But it's early yet.
Oh right, did I mention I have arthritis in my back? That's right, I said ARTHRITIS. I'm not even old enough to get a mammogram yet and I have arthritis. I found that out a little over a week ago, after the back pain got so bad I went to the doctor and they had X-rays done.
"Am I even old enough to have that?" I asked the nurse on the phone.
"Everybody's body develops differently, dear," she said.
Hey, thanks.
Possible factors: the scoliosis I've had more or less since puberty -- I was seeing a specialist about it for a while, but the curve was so mild they opted not to do anything -- and the genetic predisposition toward arthritis I apparently had but didn't know about. Until Dad said, "Oh yeah, I have it in my knees. And my mother had it in her shoulders."
Because that's what happens every single time something medically weird comes up. My parents say "Oh yeah, every third cousin for five generations had that, didn't we tell you?" I could find out next week I have the gene for spontaneous combustion and they'll say "Oh yeah, your Great-Aunt So-and-so spontaneously combusted in 1976, didn't we tell you?"
Yes, I know you're reading this. Take a joke. Nyah.
Anyway, I've been seeing a chiropractor and doing stretching exercises, plus the heat pack and meds if necessary, and it's been OK aside from the occasional twinge. It's as though periodically my back likes to nudge me and say, "Hey man, guess what! You've still got arthritis!"
I'll be joining AARP next, I guess. And eating more early-bird dinners. And changing my blog's name to "Angry Old Mom."
Anyway. My bum back and I are awaiting the storm. Just windy now. It would be really really nice if no one got hurt, and the power stayed on, and the trees stayed up, and Halloween wasn't postponed for the second year in a row. And if we could actually stay in the house this time instead of fleeing. But it's early yet.
THIS IS NO TIME TO PANIC!!! Right. I am so happy Peter is in bed so I can obsess openly. omg.
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