Seems I managed to tear my rotator cuff in my right shoulder. That actually happened a while back. Years ago. But I followed my doctor's orders (When asked how to get rid of the pain caused by reached upwards and backwards, he said, "Don't do that.") until early in March when a bad case of bursitis set it. Seems my little bout of actually working for a living for the last six months (Basically 12-16 hours a day, seven days a week) finally caught up with me. The new orders from the doctor? "Rest." And he gave me the pills to enforce it.
Plus I got to apply cold packs twice a day for 15 minutes. Which left the shoulder area numb. Which made it the perfect feeding site for a half-dozen bed bugs that invaded the premises. Which led to a visit from the fine folks who murder the little bugs for a fee. A BIG fee. But one I paid happily. My mother always used to say, "Don't let the bed bugs bite!" Trust me, she was right.
The visit by the critter-killers resulted in my room looking worse than usual. It ACTUALLY looked like a tornado had struck, rather than just a place where piles of stuff collected dust and no reasonable person would suspect somebody actually slept there. My bed was rent asunder and had to be put back together again, with the covers over both the mattress and bedspring. I was still in my drugged-out blissful/pouting stage, so Patrick came over and repaired the damage and finished the work I paid the exterminators so handsomely to perform. I also got a new frame for the bed, the former wooden one finally being consigned to the scrap heap it should have gone to 3o years ago.
The new metal frame was actually worth the money. I had been missing one of the legs on the bed for about the last two decades, that corner of the bed being held up by computer books (including my Delphi 1.0 manuals). All that time, I've had about a ten degree lean downwards and to the door-side on the bed. When people say they slid out of bed and got going in the morning, they're probably being figurative. Not me. That LITERALLY has been happening to me for most of my adult life. Over the bed-bug-proof cover (aka The Tomb) for the mattress, I put a waterproof latex-like cover, then a hypo-allergenic cover and then a cotton cover. It was about then that I felt a little safe from the predations of a what I long thought was a figment of my mother's imagination. I've stopped reacting to every little sensation that happens as if it is a return of the boogie monsters. Just recently.
Even still, the cluster of 15 bites on my shoulder and upper arm have now almost healed. Almost. I've gone through two tubes of hydro-cortizone and the bumps, once as high as a finger, have retreated to scabbed-over pockmarks. It looks like a bad case of acne. Or so I've been told.
Tuesday, I get the final set of x-rays and ultrasounds to determine whether I will be having surgery or whether I will just be sucking it up. As recently as last week, I was hell-bent on getting some carving done. Now, I'm not so sure. I've off the goof pills as of last Saturday and down to using Advil to handle it all. Course, I've been limiting myself to a couple of three-hour sessions on the computer a day as I continue to try and finish the Project From Hell. There's light at the end of that tunnel. Or so I hope.
So, that's basically why I've been away from this, a pleasure I can't allow myself when computer time is so limited. So limited in fact, I can't even get into the tale of the raccoon that's using my brother's boat stored away in my garage as a latrine. Peeeee ewwwweeeeee!
Please Mommy, can it be 2011 real soon?
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