Spoiler alert: if you haven’t seen X-Men: Days of Future Past or Lost, I am going to ruin one small part of each. Go make popcorn and watch them. Then come back.
Parker and I have been dog sitting all week, and I am beyond exhausted which means I can see shreds of my sanity ripped up in small little pieces around the room. They’re barely there, but they exist. So far the most important lesson I learned was tonight. “If a dog starts dry heaving, do not lift the dog OVER your computer to put it on the hardwood floors to avoid getting any on the comforter.” I have found the fastest way to get me off of the computer.
Dog sitting is weird, because I’m only used to our dog. There have been lots of bizarre Twitter updates on my behalf, because sometimes I only process things 145-160 characters at a time. I also don’t worry about perfection or offending people (most of the time) with Twitter which makes me love it more than other social media outlets. As a fellow Tweeter once wrote, “Twitter is better than Facebook for a break-down, because my mom doesn’t know what Twitter is.”
Here are some excerpts (oldest on the bottom right):
(By the way, that misplaced comma about barking dogs bothers me, but I hate to correct the tweet now that it’s out there. There’s no edit, so I’d have to delete it and completely re-write. I just wanted you to know I know.)
Yes, they’re less cute when they’re vomiting and barking galore.
I have been having ongoing back problems, which is quite literally, a pain. I was supposed to go see a physical therapist, but they quoted me the wrong price. I had taken the morning off work to go to physical therapy, but I was so tired after the debacle that turned into not going, that I fell asleep on the couch. Like Lindsay from Arrested Development, I took something akin to a pain-addled, exhausted, angry nap. Then I had to go back to work, so tomorrow I will spend the entirety of my day off looking for more doctors and physical therapists to take away my money while my health continues to deteriorate.
On the bright side, I’m pretty sure that I got most of the puke off of my computer from earlier this evening!
This week has been battling my health concerns. When I found out I had to go to physical therapy last week, my initial reaction was not positive. I left my appointment, went to the store, and burst into tears. I called my mom at her work, blubbering in the over-the-counter pharmaceutical aisle while I searched for something to take twice a day per my doctor’s orders that I haven’t already pretty much developed an immunity (a tall order). Since I have chronic pain issues throughout my life and this is a new development, it’s not like physical therapy can cure me.
I felt convinced that while physical therapy might benefit me temporarily, that a far worse fate awaited me.
I blame Professor X for this.
We saw X-Men: Days of Future Past, or as I like to call X-Men: Probably Present, a few weeks ago. It was not the best X-Men film I’ve ever seen (the second one and Origins take the cake on that), but it was a good way to spend a couple of hours. Charles Xavier, having suffered a blow to his spine, combats his constant physical pain coupled with the emotional upheaval from his severed friendship with Magneto, i.e. Erik Lensherr. Professor X takes medication made for him by Hank, aka Beast, which enables him to walk and at the same time dulls his super powers.
Which means ever since I saw the film, I keep thinking, “If Prof X can walk, surely there’s something I can take or do to make this go away with minimal difficulty.” Additionally, since I found out I need to go to physical therapy, I assume just like Prof X ended up bald and in a wheel chair, so is my fate.
It’s weird how completely irrational thoughts feel rational in light of desperation, pain, and insomnia. Professor X gives me hope, but then again, I am not a superhero. The never ending frustration of doctors and financial burden is causing me major disillusion.
Another pop culture example that came to mind is John Locke from Lost. He ends up in a wheelchair after an accident, but due to unusual circumstances, overcomes his disability and rises from it like a phoenix from the ashes.
I was so ready to go to physical therapy and tell my trainer “don’t tell me what I can’t do.”
The greatest drug of all is the changed title to a parody one of my friends sang at karaoke a long time ago. The original song is “The Greatest Love of All” by Bette Midler. In this instance, the greatest drug of all, barring love and for me, the elusive SLEEP, is whatever Beast gives to Charles Xavier in that X-Men movie. I want that drug, because I have no superpowers to override, only fail powers which are pretty hefty.
Right now it is 2am, and I am afraid of falling asleep and having the dog who barfed earlier do it again all over the bed and wake up covered in vomit. I also can’t fall asleep because pain and Parker is snoring. I think I need a special, fake being that I can suffocate in the middle of the night when I’m too frustrated with my husband’s snoring and my own body’s mismanagement to sleep.
I think the rage has passed, and I’m safe? I did just learn that my caps lock technically works, but no longer lights up to signify that it is on. Sigh. I’ll just throw that onto the pile of things to do later.
Given my currently broken body status, how much shenanigans could I get into? I can’t even really lift my laptop right now.
I leave you with an important message regarding the last Batman film by Christopher Nolan.
Me to Til: “Working out has its benefits, as does anything we do to better ourselves…although now I’m thinking of Batman when his back is broken in that fucking cave/prison thing beneath the earth. What the fuck was that? I mean, his back was broken. He should’ve been paralyzed, but he’s Batman fucking Bruce Wayne and shit, so it doesn’t work that way.”