Who told my body it turned 50?

OK, yeah, I had the big five-oh a month ago. No big party really – there were some things I wanted to do that I didn’t do.

So I carry on with my life. The Little Treasure (my daughter) is moving back out next weekend, which is a beautiful thing. About 2 weeks ago, I started to wake up with a pain in my hip, but I took Aleve and was rid of it.

In a couple days, it was Aleve twice a day.

By the weekend, the Aleve wasn’t cutting it. Went to the doctor – well, this looks like bursitis. Better give you a steroid shot in your ass.

Pain went away for about three days, and then came back just as bad. I’m looking things up and still trying to work. A lot of programming is about being motionless, so that was working against me.

Then I’m hit last Monday with the worst, most searing pain I could imagine, and I’ve been shot AND stabbed. I can’t stand, I can’t sit, I can’t move without real, unignorable, razor-blade pain in my ass, which is because I have a hemorrhoid. Oh, hurray.

For me at least, this is the most humiliating and least tolerable experience I could imagine. I go buy Preparation H (which does nothing), and it’s like every eye in the store is on me. Putting it in place also involves an act which I’m pretty much not into. I spend four days during which I’m in worse and worse pain, and of course the Little Treasure, on hearing of this, minimizes her time here, because she has better things to do than to take care of me.

Last Thursday I finally get to the doctor again, and of course every single person in the office is female. She takes a look and yeah, it’s a hemorrhoid alright. I’ll prescribe you a topical to kill the pain, but you may need surgery on this.

Great.

Even better: the dumb ass assigns me a suppository. I’m ready to throw myself out a window. I try to work with this, I try taking these ‘sits’ baths, I can BARELY program. LT shows up finally and I tell her, “Look – you’re either going help out, or pack your fucking bags,” which actually encouraged her to help out.

On Friday I just say to myself, “Look – you’ve got to drop everything and take care of yourself.” I take a long bath, put one of those dam pills in place, and go to bed early, telling the LT to make sure she feeds and walks the dogs.

In my sleep that night, the ‘rhoid bursts. I wake up not-in-pain for the first time in weeks. Took a while to figure out what happened, but I was so relieved I didn’t care. Spent the day just goofing off and actually healed. Got some work done around the place on Sunday, making the LT and her idiot boyfriend do some actual work while I watched them from the new tractor.

Now I’m sitting here with a hand cloth in the back of my underwear, and although this did nothing for the pain in my hip, I could frankly care because as Nietzsche said, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” and this made me pretty frigging strong.

Well, that’s where I’ve been, my droogies. Sorry this post is kind of a gross-out. At least there was no woman here to go through it with me

SD

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4 thoughts on “Who told my body it turned 50?

  1. ouch!! I hope you get to feeling better. I have sciatic issues myself and they are not fun!!!
    I think the girl could have at least taken care of you and been more sympathetic. I’m she was not.
    Hope you’re back to feeling better! and happy (belated) birthday!

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