Well, it’s been a week or so since I last regaled you with my semi-organized thoughts and it’s been quite a week. Mostly ups, glad to report, but some downs, including one big one which is the reason I say weak.
We’ll start with the ups; celebrated my mum’s birthday with a lovely meal at my brother’s house seeing his exceptionally cute kids, Rowan and Remy. We had crab cakes, fresh corn and asparagus and a lovely carrot cake. Since mum and dad were a bit late, Marc and I had time to discuss things, including things from the past that he remembers and I don’t. I honestly don’t. Maybe I’m repressing these memories but it doesn’t feel like it. Would it?
The Friday before that C and I played hookey – the weather was extraordinarily nice – and went for the afternoon on a lovely drive in the Shenandoah National Park. Would you like pictures?
The big down is my darmed (damned) heel and foot (left). After the shot of cortisone from the doctor I really expected it would be all better and that I could go back to the gym toute de suite. Alas. It got a little better and then got worse. So today I went to the doctor and said “it’s worse.” (Well, what else, right?) He pokes and prods and stuff and decides it’s both bursitis and tendonitis. Yippee.
He has me get up on his exam table and prepare for another cortisone jab. Whee – relief is on the way! Alas. He trots back into the room with the golden news that he’s run out of cortisone. But he wants me to have physical therapy and it’s not killer so I’m to go to the physio and if it’s not better after two weeks of it, he’ll have me back in for a jab. So, not so bad. Alas.
As I’m coming down off the exam table, I go to step on the little step stool provided for the purpose. I put my left foot on it, but the ball of the foot, and the heel of the foot descends, stretching my achilles tendon. It fucking hurt. It hurt so bad. It felt like my tendon was being replaced by a cold river of pain flowing in waves down the back of my leg. I let out a rude word, see the previous sentence, and nearly passed out. OMG it was the worst pain I’ve felt in ages. Maybe ever. Except for a dry socket. I felt nauseated for about five minutes and really wanted to pass out.
Respect your tendons. Apparently all I’ve done is over-stretch it. If you rupture it, it’s comparable to being shot in the heel, and it doesn’t get better.
In any event, after assuring himself (me not so much) that I was ambulatory I was sent on my way. Walking to the car was not pleasant, getting into it was not pleasant, going to lunch was not pleasant, and walking from my car to my desk had me whimpering. (It didn’t help that it was 95 F and humid, and there I am limping along which is actually more tiring and sweat inducing than walking properly. Or so it seemed.)
It’s a little better now; I iced it well when I hobbled home and will do again just before bed.
A related down is that Pat Savage (the handsome kind sergeant at work) is back from his holiday to London and was eager to meet up with me to teach me how to use the frightening-looking type free weights at work. And not only because of that, or the fact that I keep gaining weight, but I miss the gym. Not at all only because of the EC, but because I miss the simplicity and honesty of the place, the leveling atmosphere, the community. Yes, it disrupted my evenings, and yes I would be a bit sore in the aftermath (nothing like this pain I’m in now though) but it was good, it was a good thing and I enjoyed it. And for the next three weeks at least I can’t go.
Or can I – I could go do upper body exercises, swim (ugh) and/or use my portable pedal thingy to work with my arms for (light) cardio. Who knows?
Edit / Update: It feels a lot better today (8/12 or 12/8 depending on where you live).
A small down: I hear a rattle or squeak from the driver’s side front of the car. 😦
So, AngloAm, you’ve been mentioning this new obsession
Yes, and he’s not going to be to everyone’s taste but he is to mine. He’s the creator of FuckedCompany.com which chronicled the end of the dot com boom (and is really missed). He’s a talented entrepreneur, a great drummer (hard rock), has a killer sense of humor, great eyes, a devastating smile, and is all around a great guy. He’s known to many as ‘pud’ but his real name is Philip Kaplan and yes, he gracious gave me permission to highlight him.
Here he is and any comments about his resemblance to a certain rabbi will be received ironically. Click on him and he’ll grow like magic before your very eyes.