Archive for March 9th, 2010

Mah auntie is phat, yo.

March 9, 2010

My BFF 4eva, Cookie, made me smile this morning. She knows what a rough time I’m having, and emailed me a pimped picture of Snort:

I’m considering giving up the teething necklaces in favour of bling just like this, thanks to her.

Shh. Now you know her real name. Pinky swear you won’t tell…

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Called the osteo.

March 9, 2010

Called Osteo this morning to say, ‘What the fuck, my bitch? You have snizzled my back-joint-jizzle, fo SHO, and I be worried and sad and scared.’

She then said, ‘No doubt, blood. I fucked you up, you get me?”

No, she didn’t. What she did say is that you ‘go through layers’ (uh, okay), and that she thinks she has pushed my body too far, too fast. She said she made some massive adjustments, and in that respect has actually taken away some of my body’s stability because it is unsure how to react to the big changes.

She apologized, said it should continue to improve over the week, and that I should ring her again later today or tomorrow to update her. She said this is normal, and her fault. She said I have not gone backwards. She said the work she had done was simply too much for my body – ‘too much, too soon.’

Holding fast to that faith and hope, dosing myself up with Arnica and as much rest as possible.

Thanking all of you for your ongoing support.

TMD was in tears this morning. I think she felt absolutely terrible about leaving me today, when even in bed I am so uncomfortable I find myself muttering, ‘Ow, ow, ow, ow’ like it’s my new mantra. Last night we talked about nannies – something we are not comfortable with emotionally (or financially). This morning we talked about her mom.

TMD wants us to just hurry and order a new couch from IKEA, the one my work has. Cheap and cheerful, not the most comfortable. I don’t know. I think we should go test some out, but she burst into tears and said, ‘You can’t even walk two steps out of the car, Existere! How are you supposed to walk around a superstore and try out couches? This is such a vicious cycle.’  She also pointed out that it will take at least 6 weeks for a new non-IKEA couch.

(Why the couch talk? My fat pregnant self destroyed the couch from all the months of couch rest! Sitting on our couch hurts everyone’s back, so you can imagine it’s not doing me any good.)

TMD also said we need to call up the local pool and see about me going there to swim every Sunday morning. (During disabled hour, so I can use the fucking hoist to get in and out of the pool. Sigh.) I am a good good good good champion swimmer, though of course so unfit that after three strokes I would probably require medical assistance. I do know I need to work on my core muscles and getting pre-pregnancy fitness levels back, and swimming has been recommended by my physio and my osteo.

I guess the good news there is that I bought a brand new Speedo suit before I lost all my weight before, and actually never wore the suit because the weight came off so well. So if I can find that suit and it somehow is the right size, bonus.

TMD wants to be proactive and sort this all out. Me, though? I just feel like I can’t even answer the phone (sorry, Megs, I will listen to your message soon) and want to live alone in the bedroom and be a hermit. Last night I washed down some mega painkillers with wine, and for about an hour was feeling pretty good. No, no, I’m not going all self-destructive. It was actually only 600mg of Ibuprofen and two small glasses of wine.

(But it was nice.)

I suppose my osteo had a level of confidence in my body, and in how quickly my pelvis seemed to be getting ‘fixed.’ I should take it as a compliment, I suppose, that her eager hands and mind have completely fucked me up to the point where I have been constantly sweating from pain, crying, and fearing the worst.

I let her have it. Told her how much I’d been crying, how worried I’d been. She clearly felt fucking terrible. I’m not out to have wars with people; I think she is a very, very good osteo (not that I’ve ever seen another one, but, y’know, she was really helping before this massive setback). I also have my period, and my pelvis is always about 10,000 times worse while the bloodgates are open (and during my luteal phase, too).

Buffy the Vampire Slayer has cramps that tell her when vampire are coming? I have an unstable pelvis that tells me when my period is comig! It’s like my superpower.

I am trying to be all jazzy and upbeat in this entry. Is it fooling you?