The Pain Game

Sometimes I wonder if it's a test. The Lady Upstairs trying to score how we can handle it all. We've all heard of the thresholds. To me it would seem that pain is pain. How one woman delivers a 9 pound baby compared to another, and how we all react to a simple paper cut should be relative. But I understand, the psyche is a difficult thing to conquer. There is a disorder where you are unable to feel pain...seems a wee bit creepy to me. Scary in fact. I'm the first to tell you that I know absolutely nothing about science, biology, etc. I think with my super basic knowledge that we have pain because the nerve endings blah blah blah are punctured, flattened, bruised blah blah blah, something of that sort? When I try to explain that I have an Aunt who has chronic pain in her feet because the nerve endings are dead, there is inevitably some nerd who tells me that's impossible because nerve endings blah blah blah. All I know is that this left knee of mine is right annoying. I started physiotherapy today, almost a month to the day after the big fall. I had accupuncture about 10 years ago when I turned an ankle into mush, I can deal with it. What killed today was when my little asian doctor, knee high to a grasshopper went to town on the tendons on the inner side of my knee. The man was going at it with the vigor in which Rachael Ray might show us how to knead dough to make a perfectly smooth pie crust. I grabbed the massage table with a force so tight I could have been demonstrating how best to use C-clamps on the work tables at Home Depot. I'm over it now. He tries to tell me in his best broken English, the kind where one word is to suffice a full sentence, that I will feel much better tomorrow. Let's hope. To the Lady Upstairs however who I am still certain is assimilating mid-term exams to when we break our first bone, or have fillings in our teeth done, and pop-quizzes to cuticles bit too deep or stubbing of toes, when is the bell to recess?

Toodles

Philistine Prophecies

I learned a new word today. It's philistine. With a ph. Never heard of it in my life. In fact, my first thought was that it had some connection to philosphy, but alas, nope. I'm not very good with big words. From memory only, way back when I was a pre-teen and had a super duper smart best friend, I knew that the longest word in the dictionary was antidisestablishmentarianism. I think it means something like not wanting to go to war. Who knows. I currently have another super duper smart friend that even knows the official word for those stain resistant over-the-couch-arm-thingers. Help me out here Nan. As for the title of my little note du jour, I thought of a poster that my longest friend Stephanie had hung in her room for ages. Might still have, it's a big ole' creeply looking tree with the book title Celestine Prophecies staring down at you. Interesting I thought. Anyhoo, back to my conclusion. I truly think that philistine describes me. Perhaps not fully, but certainly partial. It's meaning is along the lines of not being adept to learning anything new, being particularly interested in culture or what have you. In my eyes, being equal to having no passion. I'm such a 'coaster' (not a drink holder), I am boring, I do nothing exciting or vastly risk-taking, nothing even remotely mildly amusing to converse about. I'm giving myself a complex. I don't even know the correct definition of that word, I should carry a Webster's in my murse. So, that's that I've decided. A new word today to add the the repertoire of Kevin. Y'all should have seen my brain spin the day someone told me I was facetious. Had to run back to my dorm room and figure that one out.

Toodles

Just Between You and I

Have sweeter words ever been spoken? How about 'This cannot leave these four walls'. Another personal favourite, 'You can't tell anyone'. Then there are of course the flirty little tidbits like 'Did you hear?', 'You are never going to believe this', and one of my ultimate quiver of the lip moments 'If you repeat this, I am going to be in so much shit'. We all know it, I"m a gossip whore, I am an expert at listening in, taking it all and storing it in that quadrant of my brain that is fairly useless, has it's own rolodex of index cards capturing and filing in order of Juiciness, Date Sensitive, Personally Detrimental, Judgemental and of course, how can we forget, To Be Used as Revenge. On the most part I have done well with getting away with having it all in memory, letting little slip out and if so, it's harmless and turns out to be a horrid bore to most involved. I guess I have a certain smile or laid back esthetic about myself that allows people to open up, and trust me. It's true, I am pretty darn loyal. Don't cross me though, y'all know I don't forgive. I am however humane, have boundaries set at Kevin pace, and seriously, who doesn't like to know naughty little snipits about the people around you, friend or foe. If we dig deep to the reason one thrives on gossip, someone who might have spent oodles of cash and years studying psychological thinking might say that it makes us happier to see others suffering, sad, or in turmoil. I am not saying that it's untrue. Humans love to talk about others, we know when to detract attention from ourselves, and we are experts at saying we will, but damn well know we won't keep a secret. Working in a call centre environment, being raised in a religous household and coming from a familiy where active women well outnumber the men I can likely say this has been a wee bit of a potion suitable for a path that has ultimately led me to where I am now in regards to this subject. It's not a potent dash, however one just slight enough to make me thrive for the next whisper of 'You have to pinky swear this stays between us'!

Toodles

Addiction

Are there any positive ones? I suppose one could brainstorm and try to present soemthing, however anything in excess that is classified as a word as horrid as an 'addiction' would have a hard time convincing me otherwise. We think instantly and primarily of drugs and or alcohol of course. Urges so strong, hypnotically calling the names of their disciples, entrapping them to the point where normal productive safe lives are compromised to beyond comprehension. I am intrigued by the show Intervention on A&E, mostly because it makes me feel better about myself as my addiction to food can't be compared to a heroin junkie or drunk driver who's side effects are so drastic, immediately apparent and in so many ways life impeding. The effects of my love affair with food will show one day with a massive heart attack, gets in the way a couple of times a year when I am uncomfortable in an airplane seat, and give me the occasional but liveable joint pain. I however am able to still maintain a job, a normal social life and remain cognitive. It just can't be shook. My attempts are futile, and when tried so short lived. I am back to at least 1 diet coke a day, and Ronchie Ronnie and myself have once again become long lost friends caught up at his place like I am supposed to attend daily service at a place of worship. Unlike smokers who I can't imagine enjoy the smell that they carry of cigarette smoke and I am convinced is almost more of a social 'habit' than anything, I assure you that I don't care to see the unenthused faces of the drive-thru employees daily through the golden arches. In some ways I do relate to the tweeked out druggies looking for the next needle before the high fades, or the stumbling drinker numbing the pain with another drop, it sucks.

Toodles