So, just in case I wasn’t entirely sure, this week the universe sat me down and showed me just how old I actually am. And let me tell you, contrary to popular belief, it is not 32.
Well actually, in Earth years, I am 32 but apparently in body and universe years I’m somewhere in the high 90s – if not older. If you’re wondering how I know this, let me tell you (as if you were worried I wouldn’t).
As you know, I went to Nashville last weekend with some girlfriends. We saw it all, including a round at the legendary Bluebird Café and an elongated stop at Santa’s Pub (aka a trailer) where they only serve beer and the karaoke singers bring their own harmonicas and belong on The Voice. I did my college self proud. I partied until my heart was content and my liver was knocking on heaven’s door. So as I struggled through the airport Sunday morning, 1.5 lbs of pralines in tow (don’t ask), I was as happy to be home as I was that I had survived, incident and injury free.
I was lying on the couch happily reunited with all my boys a couple hours later when I started dozing off. Dozing off turned into a two hour pass out which usually, for most people, ends up being a pretty uneventful thing. But, of course, not for me. When I woke up I was initially fine, but then I went to stand up and immediately I knew something was off. Something in my hip was not right. WHICH MADE NO SENSE. Who naps and injures themselves?!??! As the day carried on, it progressively got worse until I was eventually hobbling around the house. All I could think was how fucking absurd this situation was. I went to Nashville and was able to function as a normal human on gallons of whiskey and queso but I couldn’t come home take a fucking nap and survive without fucking up my hip? AM I HUMAN?
Anyway, Monday was mortifying because at this point I could hardly walk at all and yet I went to work still optimistic. I kept thinking it would it would just go back to normal because…well…again, I took a nap??? But it didn’t. The last thing I wanted to do was go to a doctor because they make me nervous and I’m one of those annoying “let your body naturally heal itself” types but on Tuesday when things weren’t any better and actually worse, I had to suck it up. Not having any idea who I’d go see, I took a shot in the dark and made an apppointment with a chiropractor. Now, this was going to be my first visit to a chiropractor ever so not only was I crippled, I was anxiously terrified – but you know what they say, dire times call for dire measures.
So that afternoon I go to this chiropractor which is literally four buildings down from my office – it takes me 6 times longer than it should but I get there. It’s tiny, smells a little like an antique basement and immediately I’m having a hot flash (after-baby side effect). I fill out the paperwork which of course also makes me nervous – am I the only one who has no idea how literally to take those fucking questionnaires? What symptoms or conditions are you currently experiencing? Like, actually right now – like persistent cough as in right now???? How many drinks do you have a week? Like, actually a week – like, this week or last week???? SHOULD I ACTUALLY SAY I TOOK A NAP AND WOKE UP WITH A BUSTED HIP?! Luckily for me, half way through my paper work this woman came in, sat a chair over from me and decided to tell me her life story and her medical history. She really helped ease the nerves with distraction. By the time it was my turn to see the doc, I knew how old her kids were, how long she’d been seeing this chiropractor, her hobbies and the work she was going to get done at her dentist appointment later that afternoon.
So, then I go in and see the doctor. He was an older man with a soft southern draw (HOW APPROPRIATE) and he was very concerned about my hip. “So, Megan, it looks like you took a nap and woke up with some pain? Tell me more about that.” SWEET FUCKING JESUS. Well, doctor, it appears I’m old as fuck and my body is decaying as we speak.
“Yeah, I’m not sure if I slept wrong or what but I can’t really walk…or stand….or function obviously…”
Do you ever hear the things that come out of your mouth and wish you could just shovel them right back in like you never existed? This was 100% one of those interactions. BUT he handled the awkwardness well and did his (painful) doctor magic. He dug, prodded, cracked and poked until I could no longer feel anything but pain. The verdict was in: an inflamed bursa sac. I was prescribed ice and rest.
Today, though I’m covered in new bruises, is the first day I feel like I’m ALMOST passing as normal. And thank Jesus because, per my post yesterday, Matty couldn’t care less about my injuries – in all honestly I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if someone had told me my toddler was actually using some supernatural power to suck energy out of my body by way of my hip joint. I’d probably just be like, ‘oh okay, well that explains a lot’….
Can you tell my brain is fried, eh?
HAHAHAHA – well, I bet now you can.
Have a great weekend. Stay alive. Be careful with those naps. And those hips (they don’t lie).