Yesterday was one of those days where it was a fight just to get out the door. Two, very mobile, stubborn willed, strong minded children were like octopuses to try to dress, and beasts to try to calm. Our third, and first baby, a furry impediment under foot, afraid we were going to leave him behind on our planned jaunt to the park. And then, cue the pain.
I’ve been battling a sharp stabby pain in my shoulder blade for over a month now. It locks up on me, and I spend three days wearing a rice sock on my shoulder. The last time it struck, it was so bad I nearly passed out from the pain. I remember it struck in the middle of the night, I ran up the stairs after going to fetch the sock, and telling Beldoe to call an ambulance, I was blacking out. Needless to say, this time it was even worse.
So bad that we cut our Father’s Day supper short, took the icecream that came with Sneaky’s supper to go, and spent nearly 6 straight hours in the ER. With a white knife pain through my back/chest.
Now, let me back up and say this. Despite that this has never happened to me before, it honestly probably should have. Cuz, see, I’ve got Scoliosis. A 40 degree S curve. What’s that? Scary as fuck on an xray, that’s what. I have a hate relationship with tank tops. I spent three years of my adolescence hanging out in an orthopedic surgeons office. And had a year of horrible back pain. But then, like magic (read: miracle) it went away. Literally. Never hurt me again. And because I had no pain, and stopped growing, and the prospect of spending 6 mos recovering from spinal surgery wasn’t exactly something I would elect to do for cosmetic reasons, I kept it.
My Nike designed back, as Beldoe calls it. To match my Nike feet (cuz those are oddly shaped too, except for no real good reason in this isntance!) And actually, despite the 40 degrees diagnosis (that’s medical jargon for, “Shit you need surgery stat!”) it actually really never affected me much. I mean, I just don’t look in that rear view mirrors in H & M dressing rooms. (Who am I kidding, I don’t have time to go to H & M dressing rooms these days anyway! LOL!) I wear shirts, not tank tops. And I thank the lucky stars that I still had my 1994 x-rays when it came epidural time during both my labours, and that said epidural WORKED (miraclex2!) and that I wasn’t paralyzed for life (miraclex3).
But pregnancy, and aging hasn’t been kind to me. Sciatica when I was pregnant with Sneaky was blamed on the darned 40 degree curve. And then came the bouts of Torticollis. Made worse by trying to put Sneaky and his bucket seat back in the car (quickly learned this was going to be a task strictly for Beldoe). I thought this issue back and forth with the back was Torticollis. Until yesterday.
I was blacking out on the drive to the ER. And then suffered through the waiting lines at the ER. Yeah, public health care is rad. 6 hr ER wait times, not so much. Beldoe spent the start of his official 4th Father’s Day walking two VERY cranky children around an ER parking lot. Meekly needed milk, and a nap, and Sneaky just wanted to be anywhere but waiting for Momma to feel better soon.
I emerged with some Tylenol 3 and anti inflammatories and strict orders to get physio stat. Cuz, that thing that is making me pass out from pain, is a trapezius spasm. Which I swear, makes it sound a whole lot less painful than it is. This thing is an uber bitch. And blame, of course, goes straight to the S curve.
If this is a prelude to aging, I don’t want any part of it. Heh. I had to cancel a photoshoot today. I missed Father’s Day dinner with the kidlets. And I’m currently doped up on codeine. Which really sucks. I hate feeling so mentally sluggish. And pretty sure Beldoe didn’t end up with the Father’s Day he deserved, reprieve from the kids, a relaxing supper out, and time with me that wasn’t spent fetching a heated rice sock and hearing me curse (in a bad way! LOL!)
So yup. Father’s day. The only thing was it did take my mind of this being the 3rd father’s day without my Dad. I really miss him. Every day. But on days like this, even more. I miss that snarky, sarcastic wit of his. The sound of his laugh. Talking about our dogs. Or me telling him about the grandkids. Three years out now, I know it doesn’t get easier than this. It’s always going to hurt like this. A dull, gaping hole where my father used to be. And thinking about how when I was first diagnosed with Scoliosis, I broke down crying about them injecting dye in my spine (for some kind of MRI or spinal imaging thing they were doing at the time) and threat of surgery, and he had a VCR and TV set hooked up in my bedroom by nightfall.
To all the dad’s out there. Happy Father’s day. Hoping you all had the greatest day! (And without any of the woes we went through over here! LOL!)