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Posts Tagged ‘cracked rib?’

I added one mile on my bike ride tonight since my last ride. And I added one mile per hour, too (mostly because I was doing more downhills). I went through one loop of Amherst’s new, 6 million dollar, double-roundabout, perhaps the most puzzling road construction I’ve ever lived through. WTF, Amherst, WTF?

photo from Daily Hampshire Gazette 8-1-12

not my car, but about the size of any car that should be expected to fit in the mini-lanes of our new roundabout

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I keep singing this in my head. From my kids’ iPod, but a song which she got from her Dad.

How good is this song? So Good. So Blue.

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FINALLY got on my bike on Friday. My heavy(ish) commuter bike and spun around the block 3 miles. UGH. I could really feel it yesterday. But that’s a little unfair. I also went for a hike the day before (“low trail,” easy) and I did about a million loads of laundry and cleaned and washed dishes and did grocery shopping like mad and washed my kitchen floor (which probably hadn’t been done since the last Ice Age) ON MY HANDS AND KNEES (like a good German daughter). It took about 3 passes all over the floor (not really thorough in spite of it) and I think that was the real culprit to the extreme bright muscular pain all along my R ribcage, front and sides and back. That’s all of the serratus—anterior, posterior, superior, inferior; intercostals; pecs (maj and min) and some of the SITTS group and especially the latissumus dorsi. UGH again.

image by Keith Gunderson

This is a beautiful drawing, the likes of which are rarely seen. Why do I think so? Because one doesn’t usually get an attempt at dimensionality like this, with the body out of the standard anatomical planes (see below). As if we, too, are without dimension and as if function and form aren’t intricately married. I love the cutaway so you can see the muscles and bones together. So beautiful.

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I can’t tell you how many posts I’ve been starting and abandoning lately. My mind is full of gunk. Because I’m not doing yoga. For I don’t know how many weeks. And because I haven’t been doing anything even mildly cardio (until yesterday). And because I have 2 teenage daughters and both are back in high school and that means I am tied to their schedules (not to mention their attitudes).

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We did have our last beach day of summer last Monday. Crane Beach. It was SO BEAUTIFUL. The water was cold (supposedly 65 degrees, but I’m thinking two degrees or more chillier). Gorgeous day, no ER visit on the way home, Gott sei Dank! I swam; I walked and walked and walked up the beach in one direction and down the beach in the other. I swam some more. I did a crawl stroke! I can’t tell you how exciting that is because, well I guess I just did. I even ran about 30 paces up the sand. Twice.

But the pain is still intense sometimes. I still use my pink KT wrap tape. I still use ibuprofin around the clock. I still take salt baths. I still use ice packs. I still massage with any and all sorts of camphorous liniments from the Chinese grocery.

white monkey holding peach balm, a family favorite

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Yesterday I did a quickie, 7-mile bike (ROAD BIKE, HALLELUJAH!). It hurt like hell last night, but today I feel stronger. Just a couple of hours ago, I lifted a kayak and an old wooden bed frame and hauled them down to the curb for quick sale. I’m tired from school starting and all of the emotions that go with it, but starting to think that soon I will be back to my old self and able to do yoga, maybe even this week. Maybe I can scrub out the tub too!!! It’s the small things, my pets.

Is this my most boring post ever? It’s not very fun being self-absorbed.

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I have about 5 different kinds of liniments from the Chinese grocery on my nightstand and I love every one of them. The little glass jars. The camphor and mint smells. The picture of the old Chinese man and the picture of the tiger.

I have no idea what this stuff is, but I love the name: WONG TO YICK

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When I went to pick up my farm share yesterday morning, a friend looked at my fuscia hair and asked (I paraphrase) you are on a new wild streak? To which I said, oh, no, not new. It’s been going on for quite a while.

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I’ve been drafting posts. Drafting, drafting. Deleting. Saving. Ignoring. Bored, boring.

Before I can post today’s post, I have to go back a few weeks and fill you in on my life. You think keeping up with your own life is hard? this is what it takes to keep up with mine. Some of these details were filled in in this post and this post. I’m scattershot. I’m restless. I have no confidence in myself as a blogger any more. This is why

[Wednesday, August 15]: I re-injured my rib last Thursday morning [August 9], leaning over from the driver’s seat to the floor of the passenger side, putting pressure on the arm rest with my lower front -side ribs. OUCH!

It didn’t hurt terribly until Saturday [Aug 11] but with the help of rather constant ibuprofin, salt baths, and ice, I managed to do most of whatever I needed to do.

Tuesday [Aug 14], we went to pick up Violet at her friend’s house, only 40 minutes from the beach, so we thought, why not hit Crane for a couple of hours? I was fine at the beach, fine in the 60 degree water, sort of able to fall backwards and do an itty-bitty back frog- stroke and an itty-bitty breast stroke (no real backstroke or crawl, though reaching my right arm overhead on land seems quite comfortable).

Just as we were packing up, I did something to the right side. Something horrible. Something startling and painful, deep-in-the-gut, take-your-breath-away painful. Each of my hands started to go numb and my head got light and fuzzy. I thought I was going to throw up or pass out or both.

We skipped dinner and grabbed Violet from her friend’s. I complained and freaked. I alternated between not feeling any pain to being filled with crazy fear. I inhibited, I om shanti‘ed, I centered myself, I thought my best Alexander thinking.

I decided I needed to go to the ER.

We went to Emerson Hospital on Rte 2, right outside of Concord and near Walden Pond. How can you go wrong with a hospital named after Ralph Waldo? I must be the luckiest busted-rib girl in Massachusetts. That and the doctor was good-lookin’. But there were no female doctors, so eff that.

Though taping or binding ribs in cases of fracture is no longer recommended, I fortunately ran into my PT friend this week [Aug 16] and she said she will put some of that kinesio tape (like the OLYMPIANS!!!) on me tomorrow night. Not in fuscia to match my hair, but hey, I’ll take skin tone if it means I can start moving more….please please please let me bike and hike and yoga soon.

Here’s a photo recap of last Thursday’s Gogol trip:

common sight on I-91 and/or I-89 in VT

Me and secret kid in back seat (note fuschia hair, hint hint kinesio tape designers)

Gogol show was rain delayed and by the time they played, there was only an hour and a quarter before they were kicked off stage, 10 pm curfew!!!! CRAPPY and not a great show. No encore. I was in the front “row” most of the time, grabbing my side lest someone should slam into me. I found 2 women at the show who had read one of my older Gogol posts but I did not find The Wanderlust Queen.

Next morning, we ate at one of the coolest restaurants in Burlington. Look what was in a couple of the tables upstairs:

Yeah. I know you don’t believe it. You know how I feel about rocks.

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FIN

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You have no idea how I’ve puttered around on this blog today, writing and rewriting meaningless posts about my busted rib, my pain, our travels, kinesio tape, my fuschia hair color, the ER at Emerson Hospital. The soundtrack to Moonrise Kingdom, the rainy Gogol show in VT last Thursday night, the wonders of the Alexander Technique when applied to physical pain, the movie Hannah and Her Sisters which I saw last night at the Amherst Cinema and on and on. You can hardly believe I’m real, right?

I am becoming squeamish about using the word fuck. I know it’s hard to believe. I think I heard Eugene Hutz use the word unjustifiably one too many times. I should not like to overuse the word. Can one fuck too much? No. Can one say fuck too much? Yes. I was going to title this blog post a fucking strange [poem] or something like that. Now I link almost everything onto Facebook and I am ever-more prudish about my language. But I would not overuse the word fuck, would I? I can be trusted. I will earn my use of the word; I will be fuck-worthy, I will not be fucking abusive.

This piece is odd and not so good and I wonder why I am bothering to post it. Fuck it, I guess you get the odd with the good, the good with the bad, the even with the off.

The Aquarium of Menopause

I am a membrane
I am a drum
the pink jellyfish
behind thick glass
the first thing you see at the aquarium

I am turned inside out
and overripe
asexual, a hermaphrodite
no need to spawn
in warm currents

I am pale froth
where my feet touched down
I will be sucked into a funnel
reversing course

Still, I miss the skin
that smoothed in my mouth,
your tautness at my lips

I am not this body
I am not this mind
resolutely bloodless

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I think I have one.

A fact about me: I’ve never broken a bone in my body. I don’t think anything is broken, but I also don’t think it’s simple bruising.

I am right-handed and it’s my right side, but this (sitting, typing) isn’t bothering me at all. It’s more the cumulative overdoing. I think I can blog.

Happened Thursday and has gotten progressively more painful and limiting. But maybe it’s more painful because I still went to yoga class Thursday evening. I couldn’t do much cobra, but I did everything else. Friday, I can’t remember much of what I did.

Annie has been sick and awake in the middle of the night needing all sorts of things, so that doesn’t help. Two nights in-a-row so far. I’ve still been fighting off a weird virus myself, on-again, off-again. A mild cough, pathetic actually, it’s so small.

Ibuprofin and aspirin and ice packs. When I feel better, I do a lot. I hate to be too lazy. Okay, I used to hate to be lazy but that was before I started my blog.

Now will try to soak in those good Dead Sea salts I buy cheap from a company in Oregon. I have been buying my massage oils and essential oils and Dead Sea salts from them for over 20 years. I can’t say I’m crazy about their website, but I can say I’m crazy about their selection and prices.

I don’t have any birch oil, but birch oil is good for aches and pains. Now you know.

Here is a skeleton for you. 

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