It was a plan. It was a brilliant plan.
If only it had worked.
No computer on my lap.
Ice on my leg (pulled muscle. Don't ask.)
Heating pad on my back (Don't ask)
Moist heat on my bruised side (Don't ask)
Hot hot hot baths 3x a day
Muscle relaxers as needed
That was the plan.
This was my view.A Queen's gotta do what a Queen's gotta do.
And all went well Friday night and Saturday. I iced, I heated, I iced, I heated. I bubbled. And bubbled some more. The swelling went down. Yippee! I learned to trust the nice little pain pills and got through Sunday morning feeling better. Until I got up.
I'm so glad I have a sense of humor.
My leg is swollen again (don't ask).
Since you asked.....it was a TaeBo kick that went the wrong way. The doctor said three weeks ago just before the right abdominal contusion and bruised rib occurred (don't ask), "You may now proceed cautiously to your regular exercise routine. Come back in a month." Billy Blanks (my hero) and I had a very nice reunion, that is, until he said, "Watch the extension of your leg as your throw that kick." I'd never watched the extension of anything much less my leg in all the years I've been doing this SAME video tape and waving a friendly wave to the SAME people year after year who never waved back even though I've been so nice to them all this time and enjoying their little weight loss routine but never once had I watched the extension of my leg. I was curious. And more than a little over-ambitious, excited to be doing my regular routine again even if it had to be cautiously and so....I watched what I was supposed to watch but while I was watching what I was supposed to watch I extended just a little too far and Homer heard the scream all the way down in the dungeon where he'd been holed up dusting the peace globe vault all morning.
HOMMMMEEERRRR!!Billy did not tell me that watching and extending would cause injury to the inside of the OTHER leg. I wasn't watching THAT one! Apparently, I should have been. He needs to be clearer with his instructions. Who knew you could kick backwards with your right leg and hurt the left one? Who knew???!
So, for the past three weeks I've been gingerly walking on the pulled upper thigh muscle that has become a huge pain in the Queen's behind. I am sooo sick of it. I am used to walking 4 miles a day at breakneck speed and 1-2-3 punching with Mr. Blanks. Well, before all the marathon injuries occurred that I've been blessed with in the last three months. (Don't ask) Not walking is driving me nuts.
And I need to heal this body and fast.
Hence, the plan.
Laid. Meticulously. Brilliantly. Purposely. No blogging. No stress. No work. Nada. Until.....Sunday morning. The plants need watering. Outside downstairs. All my hard work and they are going to die because I watched the extension of my leg. So I went outside for fifteen minutes while my coffee brewed to do the deed. I hosed. I watered. I walked back up the hill. Ouch.
Pineapple. I think I'll have some with my coffee.
I cannot get the lid off the pineapple can. The tab breaks. The can opener will not open the can.
No pineapple for Queenie.
No problem. Cheese fajita! I think I'll make a cheese fajita in the frying pan. Olive oil....I pull the tab on the new bottle. It breaks off. I cannot get the bottle open. I love olive oil. It is calling to me and my fajitas.
No olive oiled breakfast fajitas for Queenie.
By this time, it is nearing lunchtime and I am hungry.
I poured raspberry vinagrette and alfalfa sprouts on top. Went back to bed. Exhausted. Propped up the leg with the ice and started to eat my lunch. What??! What's this?
I tasted something gritty in the greens....like they needed washing again.
The whole plate was like that! I must have been in a hurry when I made this salad for sure.
I poured it in the trash.
No lunch for Queenie.
I slammed the kitchen cabinet door and the glass breaker alarm went off in the castle. Guess how long it took me to walk back to the panel and shut it off? Exactly too long. Ring! Ring! "This is your security company. There's been a window breakage in your house."
Why am I single? Where is my boyfriend at a time like this? And whose gonna love a multi-injurious monarch with iced thighs anyway?
I can't believe I said that.
This is where a sense of humor comes in handy. For some reason when I got up to throw the salad away, my head started hurting suddenly like a migraine and I got nauseous. I.kid.you.not. I had to call the pharmacist about mixing medications. He said fine. Whatever, Queenie. We're tired of you calling us.
I went back to bed with all my paraphernalia. Picture this. I have an ice pack on my left leg, a heating pad on my back, a hot towel on my hurting head, and a bowl of now cold chicken noodle soup perched on my right leg.
With no spoon.
I looked down at myself and burst into laughter.
Did I mention that the ice bag dumped the wicked cold cubes on my blogjammies when I tried to get up? It was a sight. But at least I was having a good hair day.
I go to la-la land sleep and nearly get rid of the headache. I dream that I am writing half-finished blog posts that Blogger published over and over and over and people were emailing to ask why I never finished the story.
Because, people, I'm a little busy here!
Just as I finally got to a good sleep and feeling better, the phone rings.
It is my mother.
She wants to know if I'm resting. "Ohh?? Did I wake you??"
I tell her about the pineapple, the olive oil, and the salad greens. Before I even get to the greens she is laughing hysterically.
I was not amused.
"Well," she said, "I started to bring you some food but I got sidetracked washing the backside of the house." She's washing the HOUSE?? At a time like this??? I am eating cold chicken noodle soup out of a can and she is washing the HOUSE??!
But back to the plan.
The headache limped into a dull ache and I made an executive decision. It is now Sunday evening. Under no circumstances, no way no how am I getting out of this bed until morning except to answer the door when the food delivery comes and it had better not be cold and there'd better be a spoon somewhere.
I hate that dog.