Follow-up

My initial impression of the Dr. who worked on my feet was good, not just good, I was impressed by his apparent expertise in all things plantar fasciitis. I was wrong.

Went for my follow-up appointment today and our conversation went like this.

Dr.: So how did everything go after the proceedure.

Me: Um, I was in excruciating pain and I had to borrow crutches to even get around.

Dr.: Thanks for that feedback. I hadn't really thought of that before. Maybe I should send crutches home with my future patients.

Me: (Slightly sarcastic)Or maybe a pain pill would be nice.

Dr.: (In astonishment) I didn't send you home with a prescription for Vicodin?

Me: Um, NO!

Dr.: Huh, I must of forgot. Sorry!

Me: Sorry?!? How about I punch you in the face really hard, kick you between the pockets a few times and then send you home without any pain pills? I think that would be the fair thing to do. And how about you just give me that prescription now and I can use it the next time I have an Ass-hat for a Dr.

Everyday, All Day

I hate family guy. I know, I know, to some of you that almost seems blasphemous. I agree it is funny, really funny, but I feel like I need to be washed down with bleach in a scalding hot shower after I watch it.

However, I love this clip and it pretty much sums up my life.

I Believe. . .

. . . in Karma, the law of moral causation or in other words if you do doo-doo to other people, doo-doo will be done unto you. The reason why I put the majority of my extra weight on from the waist up is because I made fun of one of my Jr. High teachers for looking like a chicken, tiny legs, big bulbous belly. Karma does not just include doo-doo though. Generous people never go without. Kindness comes back too.

. . . Heavenly Father has a sense of humor when it comes to my life. Example #1, when I said, "It would be nice to move someplace warm." Example #2, when I said, "I cannot, CANNOT, have another baby right now." Example #3, have you met my son Monkey Boy? Talk about Karmic retribution. Example #4, I grew up in a farming town, got out, and vowed never to move back. If you know where I live now, you are snickering a bit to yourself.

. . . all crawling babies when left on their own for more than 1 split second will find an outlet and try to suck on it.

. . . dads are incapable of dressing their children in matching clothing, even if all the child's clothes are hung in the closet in matching outfits. My hubby now puts ridiculous clothes on the kids just to see my reaction.

. . . little boys are born with a "need" to pee on things and a repertoire of sound effects ranging from car engines, and gun fire to dinosaur roars.

. . . complainers get more of what they complain about. If you don't have enough money, if your job sucks, if you don't have any friends, complain about it, focus on it and you will be sure to get more of the same. Focus your energy on solving the problem rather than complaining about it. You will get better results and the people around you won't want to duct tape your mouth shut.

. . . Along the same lines, negativity breeds negativity. All it takes is one bad apple in the bushel, tired colloquialism, but true. One negative person begets another, begets a whole festering mess of unhappy nasty people. When poop happens do not pay it forward. Retaliation does not make it better. Also, beware of nasty people in righteous clothing. "Wherefore, by their fruits, ye shall know them."

. . . you should never "diet." Love your lard butt! Life is too short to give up Doritos, ice cream, butter, pizza, brownies. I'm not saying to live in unhealthy processed bliss, but rather try and eat your veggies, exercise, eat an entire bag of Doritos occasionally and love yourself. I don't want to pass on weight consciousness and self loathing to my daughter.

Mom's Cortisone Shot According to DQ

Here she is, my little Drama Queen.

Click here to view this video

Holy Sugar Honey Iced Tea!!!!

*This post contains some language that may be inappropriate for some readers

Sometimes I am stupid. I have been running on sore feet for months now. In my twisted thinking, the pain was worth the tingly, giddy high I get from running.

Our insurance year is coming to an end and since we had met the out-of-pocket and everything would be covered until the end of June, I finally decided to go get things checked out. Plantar Fasciitis was the verdict. Sleeping with night splints and cortisone shots was the agreed upon treatment.

Yesterday I went in for my cortisone shots. Holy Hell-a-mighty!!!!!!! He warned me that they hurt. In fact he said, "These are extremely painful" multiple times and he gave me a prescription for Valium I was to take 1 hour prior to the procedure. Here was my thought process on this: "Surely they can't be that bad. Valium? Really? I am tough. I am not afraid of needles. I can totally do this. Valium? Don't need it, but I bet it will give me a nice legitimate high. I better fill that prescription."

I took the Valium. It did nothing!!!!!!! I was so disappointed. I got a little light headed on the drive over and that was it.

The whole fam went to the office with me, since I was supposed to be unable to drive. Hubby and the boys waited in the waiting room, but DQ insisted on going in with me. She was fascinated by the whole thing. She asked everyone questions and informed them when there was blood that needed wiped up. I have a video of her version, but for some reason it won't load. I'll post it later.

This is my version: Holy Shit, Hell, Damn, Dumb Bastard, Son of a Bitch!!!!!! Big Dude, who I originally thought would be unnecessary, was definitely needed to hold my leg down. I saw the needle and I thought, "Are you effing kidding me?"

This is not the actual needle. I stole this picture off someone's blog. The Dr. did say he used a 22 gauge spinal needle, which is what this is a picture of.

Dr.: "Going to feel a pinch now." The room starts to spin, I start my Lamaze breathing, and Big Dude lets out a "Wo!" I guess I was stronger than he expected. The suckiest part was that the pain was not constant. Sharp, then dull, then nothing, then nerve shock through my entire body. It hurt so bad I screamed like the stupid girls on TV giving birth. No lie.

The Dr. dug around, dug around, dug around some more and then said, "I am sorry, but I can't get it at this angle. I am going to have go again in a different spot." It is a good thing Big Guy was holding my leg, or I would have successfully kicked the Dr. in the teeth. I swear it took 5 minutes to do the first foot.

The second went much smoother, but I still screamed. After it was all over, nurses walking by kept poking their heads in to see who was making all the ruckus. They would say things like, "Ha Ha, What are you doing to her, Dr. Are you killing her or something?" "Wow, you sure can scream." Even the girl who checked me out commented on the noise. I was mortified.

Today, I can't even walk on the foot he jabbed twice. All in all. . . I am never getting a cortisone shot again, and when my body tells me to stop running I will listen.

Lov-e-ly Summer Infusions

I'm not gonna lie. I love iced tea in the summer and I am not opposed to drinking it caffeine free. Luzianne is the bestest. The problem is I like Sweet Tea, the Southern version, where you make a simple syrup first and then add the tea bags. I sometimes used Splenda instead of sugar. My hubby would come home, pour himself a big glass, take a sip, and then shoot me a nasty stink eye. He's not a fan of artificial sweeteners. Either way, sugar or Splenda, not so good for the new healthier, less processed version of myself anyway.



So I have started experimenting. I have found some lovely substitutes for the necessary ice cold summer beverage. I have been filling my tea jar with water and adding slices of lemon and mint or lemon and cucumber or lemon and cucumber and mint. When we got a coconut in our bountiful basket, I added a bit of the coconut water. I think Coconut water and lime might be tasty. It's been fun to experiment. Yummmmmm. So far all of the concoctions have been oh so refreshing and they make me feel all healthy and stuff. Yee-Ha!

Whizzer

This morning as I sat on the couch feeding Angel Baby, I heard Monkey boy's shuffle run to the bathroom, the smack of the toilet seat being lifted, and the splat of urine hitting the rim of the toilet, the wall, the floor, hitting anything but the water. There was an occasional tinkle as the urine passed from the wall to the floor at his feet, but mostly just a splat sound. "That's it! I am buying a urinal," I think to myself.

I have tried everything I can think of to get this kid to pee in the toilet. At first I thought, I'll just make him sit. He peed over the seat and hit the wall opposite him. Then I thought I would teach him to aim it himself. I threw some cheerios in the toilet and told him to take aim. He peed all over his hand and the wall behind the toilet. I bought a potty seat with a guard, he peed over the guard. My bathroom smells like an outhouse. Even the cleaner I use now registers as pee in my mind.

I checked on-line. You can get a urinal for less than $100. There is room for one next to the toilet in the kid's bathroom. Don't be surprised if the next time you visit, my bathroom has a new fixture.