Friday, September 12, 2014

Maybe Good News

Electronic medical records are amazing!

I had my MRI at 7:30 am and, by the time I remembered that I could access my study results online, it had already been posted.

Technology, you guys.

I can barely work a band-aid so let's all take this breaking news with a grain of salt but I read through the report and then I texted it to my mom and my sister for their professional interpretation and I am fairly certain that it's good news.

Or, more accurately: that the news could be way worse.

The findings point to something (I would explain it except that I haven't WebMDd it yet) but, judging from Meg's (nonchalant, if one can react nonchalantly via text message) reaction to it, it's way less of a something than I had been afraid of.

Which is great news.

Except my still feels very off. And now I'm concerned that I am a complete wimp.

Sundays are for

I may or may not have another first date on Sunday afternoon which, okay, is perfectly fine but also: ALREADY? I swear that I'm still exhausted from last Sunday's date and I swear that I'm not just being dramatic.

I haven't heard from last Sunday's doctor gentleman and I am not particularly worried about it. Which either means that I wasn't that into him or that I'm being, like, incredibly chill and otherwise like a Modern Single Woman Who Dates Many Men. Or maybe realistic. Maybe I'm just being realistic.

It honestly wasn't that I didn't like him but more that it was pretty obvious that he doesn't often see the outside of the hospital where he's finishing up his residency. I plan to give him a minute before I proclaim that he has truly awful taste, delete his number from my phone and burn the clothes* I wore on our date. But not many minutes.

What I won't do is give up on doctors entirely. When I went to the hospital for my MRI this morning looking like I had just rolled out of bed because I had just rolled out of bed, I had a front row seat for the parade of attractive men in scrubs and lab coats.

It's a good look.   

*I wore my favorite skinny jeans and those will be spared.  

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

All of the pain

I'm sitting here at my desk with a tennis ball shoved between my shoulder blade and the back of my chair and it hurts so bad and it hurts so good.

I got a massage on Saturday morning and I was in such bad shape that the massage therapist never got past my back. She strongly recommended that I see her again this week and, seeing as how I'm rolling out knots with a tennis ball at work, I think she might be on to something.

Because the knee injury isn't enough!

I really need to get back to taking yoga.

I really need to get back to normal.

Especially since, here I am: writing about my injuries again. At the risk of turning this into my personal injury blog. Is there such things as personal injury blogs? Are you as bored as I am? That's what I thought. I'm sorry. I'm only writing about my ibuprofen regimen because it's running my life.

But if we're looking for a bright side, the timing of my body essentially falling apart has been very convenient. I can't take more than a few miles on the treadmill and soccer and hockey are out of the question so I can place my focus on my newest sport: eHarmonizing. I get very behind as it is, so managing this online dating thing (I swear it's a huge time suck) is a good filler until I can do things I actually like.

No, one semi-decent date wasn't enough to turn my opinion on this whole thing. Not it all.

Although: tackling that date was the only pain (in the ass) that I've managed to overcome lately.

Monday, September 08, 2014

I survived

And it wasn't that bad. 

I feel like I don't have much to say about the whole thing. My hair looked really good. He seems like a genuinely kind person who has spent the last few years of his life completely invested in his residency. He also did not murder me or attempt to murder me. So: let's call it a success.

Thank you for the cheerleading, boys and girls. I don't think it's a stretch to say that I wouldn't have made it this far if it wasn't for all of you. It's really nice to have people in your corner. 

Saturday, September 06, 2014


You guys.

I need your help.

How does one go about a date?

[Details for Kari and the curious. Where: TBD, for a drink or something of the like. I have "dinner plans," also known as an escape plan, a few hours later. When: 5ish. With: doctor, 35, soccer fan.]

Because I seem to have one on Sunday.

Friday, September 05, 2014

The saga continues

The groundhog saw his shadow. I repeat: the groundhog saw his shadow.

Translation: two more weeks in my knee brace.

And an MRI order and directions to ice my knee, like, all the time.

I am very much over this.

Thursday, September 04, 2014

A Happy Medium

I kicked and screamed my way into eHarmonizing. There is no denying that.

For the first week, I winced every time I got an email (far, far too many emails) and I held my breath every time I logged in. At some point, my fear and horror wore off enough that I could do the dance (and by dance I mean answering so many lame questions so many times over) without breaking into hives. It got easier. I came to terms with the fact that I gave these suckers three of membership money, so I might as well give it a try.

Earlier this week, I found myself wondering when I would hear back from any one of the random dudes who make their way to my inbox. Worrying if I replied too fast or at the wrong time of the day. Fretting about if I wouldn't hear from them. Worrying about saying the wrong thing. Caring.


That's what I decided yesterday. (While listening to Taylor Swift, OBVIOUSLY) That this brief stint where I found myself actually caring was complete nonsense.

Fuck these dudes. I mean that in the nicest possible way. F 'em.

That isn't to say that they'll never be someone I give two shits about but, right here and right now: no. My postal carrier is more important to me and I don't even know my postal carrier's name or gender or what time he/she delivers my mail.

Here's what these random dudes and their actions or their lack of actions or general thoughts on me mean at this point: nothing.

If I can't make that my default mode of thinking, I can't do this. I like to be liked. I really, really do. But I cannot let myself care if a dude who is essentially a screen name thinks I'm cute/witty/adorable/meek/charming/interesting/fun/feminine/independent/blonde enough for him. If I do that, this game is going to eat me alive.

So that's where I'm at with this whole online dating experiment. I haven't progressed far enough that I'm meeting anyone. And I'm trying to figure out the happy medium between disinterest and caring too much.

Wednesday, September 03, 2014

A note from the knee department

"You walk like someone who has been walking around in a knee brace for three weeks," my mother told me over the weekend.

I am someone who has been walking around in a knee brace for three weeks.

And I am feeling it. All over.

If you've ever been injured, you probably know this feeling. You sprain your ankle and so you limp and because you limp your hip is tight and because your hip is tight you sit crooked at your desk and because you're sitting crooked at your desk, your shoulder is sore.

I tore a tendon in my knee and so I'm wearing a knee brace and because I'm wearing a knee brace my ribs all feel like they're broken and there are knots under my shoulder blade and my hair is really flat.

I'm sure that it's all related.

I am nervous about my follow-up appointment tomorrow. My knee? Maybe I'm being dramatic and/or overly cautious but I'm really convinced that nothing is really all that much better. When I'm out of my brace (and sometimes even when I'm wearing it) my knee feels as loose and as unstable as it did in the few weeks after I initially injured it.

I hope that I'm wrong. I hope my doctor does her assessment and pats me on my head and sends me off into the wide world of sports.

When I hurt myself, seven weeks ago tonight, I knew that I was injured. These last three weeks of healing and relative inactivity: totally expected it. But I didn't even consider that there would be anything beyond this.

I signed myself up for fall soccer. It starts on Sunday.

I signed myself up for winter hockey. We started last night.

It is what it is. Healing is going to take as long as it's going to take.

But if this injury is ongoing it's going to be a major inconvenience. And not just to me.
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