i wish that i could reconfigure my create page to have the title bar appear at the bottom of the screen. i get hung up trying to come up with titles before i write. i usually go through three or four before i remember that there's a bit of murphy's law in coming up with a great title; inevitably it won't have anything to do with what you end up writing.

anyone that keeps up with the chelsea piers women's division two basketball season, might note that i have not played in a couple weeks. the same would go for the urban soccer mens sunday open division. i'd say that i wasn't one to make too much of an injury, but it isn't true. i usually remind those closest to me (repeatedly) about the various (and numerous) injuries that i sustain in my day to day activities. maybe i do this as much to remind them as to remind myself, because regardless of how much i hurt, i don't think much of "rest" as a diagnosis for anything but sick. so as it happenes, ten or more weeks ago, during a soccer game, i'd just come down from beating this guy (i don't much like) on a header and then slide kicking the ball back down towards his end of the field and i really hurt my back, like can't bend over and tie your shoes for a week and every time you cough you want to die, hurt. so i did the sensible thing and sat out both basketball and soccer for a week, which as it turns out, my doctor says wasn't long enough.

those closest to me, and anyone within earshot of me drunk the night of my brother's wedding, knows that lately i've been feeling really old. and this latest diagnosis of "rest" isn't helping matters. i don't know what it is. there's something about this word "wife". when i say, "i'm his wife", i'm suddenly exhausted. i'm also now an "aunt", which i'm beginning to think might even be worse. but those are just words, and what really scares me about the "rest" is that this injury could plague me through the rest of my life. i'm at the pharmacy picking my my anti-inflamatorys and muscle relaxers, having flashes of myself running over to my grandmother as she's unloading a gallon of milk from the groceries saying, "let me get that for you, it's too heavy." i don't know what i would do, if i couldn't play basketball or soccer or if i couldn't run when i felt like running. i've been resting and it does feels better, but that could be because of the medicine or the lack of strain. i'm seriously afraid that i could go back out on the field next sunday and come off saying, "oh my aching back." i could be saying that in a year from now.

could this be that recognition of mortality that my parent's were always telling me about? they've been right about so many things, it's sort of annoying. and the worst part is that there is no sure fire way of knowing if i'm better or knowing the moment it's 100% that i'm in the clear. i'm going to have to just go back out there, and if i'm still hurt, i'm going to have to continue with the regiment of "rest", and i'm so darn restless right now i could scream. my heart feels like it's going to explode, i'm so frustrated, and nothing is all i can do about it.


1 comment:

orangemanmike said...

Just wait till you also add "my son" or "my daughter" to your daily vocabulary - that was much weirder for me than "my wife".