Based on the busy statuses on the Facebook on Saturday, it seemed like a busy weekend for sports fans everywhere.
And, I guess now would be a great time to tell you that if you’ve come here looking for some insightful or profound sporting commentary, you’ve come to the wrong place. About the only thing I could say about sporting events is that its typically a good place to get a hot-dog. Besides that, I know nothing about sports or teams except for what I read on the Facebook or what I hear in the news about the WV Mountaineers (who by the way are going to the Gator Bowl!)
What I was referring to up there in that title happens to be nothing more than the stupid heel-spur that I’ve been dealing with for the past few days.
Not that I have ever been guilty of self-diagnosis, because clearly, I know nothing about medical diagnosis except what I get from my friend, Google. However, I had to deal with a stupid heel spur a few years back and believed with all of my heart that I was cured because it has not hurt for many years. In fact, it was pretty much hurting all the time so after a few unsuccessful cortisone shots, the foot Doctor gave (prescribed?) me some of sort of plantar fasciitis foot splint thing to wear to bed each night. Talk about a romantic addition to the bedroom, just look at this monster.
Sadly, the only thing I remember about the heel spur boot is that McDaddy just about booted me out of the bed because I kicked him one or two hundred times in my sleep. It never alleviated any pain, it was just a pain in the butt to put on. Back in the day, it took me more time to strap on the boot and attach the proper orthodontic apparatuses in my mouth than it did to sleep.
After dealing with the stupid heel spur over the weekend though, don’t think I’m above digging the thing out from under our bed and wearing it right to bed. That is if I can get the bazillion layers of dust off of it.
Fun times, y’all. The party’s at my place!
It sucks to get old. Or so I hear. (When I can hear that is!)
And, you’d be mistaken if you thought it was me who hobbled around for three days last week complaining that I could barely move my leg because for some reason it felt as if it weighed a ton because I rarely complain.
And since I never complain, it certainly wasn’t me who complained about the difficulty I am having mounting and dismounting the passenger seat of McDaddy’s big honkin truck which come to think of it, is more than likely the probable cause of said leg pain.
Oh, and I would NEVER, hear me, never, mention the words “I bet its a tumor” when referring to a source of unknown pain like the pain in my leg because that would be silly.
So, seriously, I never do that!
Even though there is a special tube of ear cream in the bathroom, I’m not the one who has to use a dab of that magical ear cream once a week to fend off dry skin that drives me to the point of insanity. A point where I have moments where the itch in my ear could cause me to poke a hole in my ear with a q-tip or a fingernail or whatever other pointy object I can find because that would be just straight-up gross and probably very dangerous, right?
Yes, I thought so!
Because I am only 35 years old (for four more days!) I never have ‘unknown out of nowhere pain’ that makes me wonder what in the heck is going on in this body of mine. But, if you see parts falling off, could you please let me know because between the heel-spur, the aching leg and the stupid dry skin in my ear, chances are I won’t be able to move fast enough to see it or be able to hear it!
Thanks so much!
I guess that’s enough of me not complaining for one day!
Head over to MckMama‘s place for more Not Me! Monday posts!