November 22, 2011 by agooddaytoyou
I do things in my sleep.
I mean, I talk and walk and interact when I sleep, so when I woke up on Sunday morning with my second toe in pain, I classed it as an “sleep walking injury” and tried to ignore it. It felt like if you bent it one way too much by trying to crack it.
I enjoyed a lovely Sunday adventure with only a tiwinge here and there. We had an amazing lunch which involved two kilos of Mussels being consumed, YUM, I LOVE SEAFOOD.
It was mid afternoon, when we were walking around looking for petrol (as my car ran out of fuel) that it needed to start hobbling. So, we opted for a taxi to get us to a petrol station and then back to the car. This is a big deal because I don’t like paying for taxis.
Fast forward to Monday and that pain was now throbbing it’s way to and from work.
“crap” I thought, I had dinner plans with the family, and I would have to suck it up or do something about it. Family dinner was also in public, at a new restaurant. URGH. I do NOT feel comfortable sharing or showing any “weaknesses” to my family. Don’t misinterpret what I’m saying, my family are lovely, but they are dramatic. My family is nurturing and concerned for my welfare, but I always take it that they smell a wounded tiger and react in a mix of “walk on eggshells: and a really over protective way. I’ve been over protected from a lot growing up, so, I don’t’ like it.
Today, I felt like a wounded tiger, but I was in luck, or so I initially thought… My dad was also in the same situation.
Back story: He’d hurt his bicep a few months ago (ripped the tendon off the bone). We pleaded with him to rest it and get it looked after, he’s response, “I’m fine”. The result, he now has irreparable damage and would need surgery for it to get better. And yet, he still won’t do anything about it. Idiot.
Tonight his shoulder was playing up, which meant everyone had to know. The owner at the restaurant where we were eating dinner had to be told, my mum and sister had to endure the recap of his day, just like you are now for me :).
Even other patrons were informed, who dad befriended… Because everyone has to love him… (RANT)
Ahem, any who.
It’s like my family like things to complain about so they have something to talk about. (urgh, I am soo my father’s child, I’m over analysing arn’t I?!)
I like to think that I’m self-aware. I know how others perceive me, if I care for their opinion or not.
But listening to my dad last night, I realise that I’m just like my father. Stubborn, blunt and selfish. This post is a reflection of that, isn’t it?
Any who, So, back to dinner…
I grinned my way through and got home with no one the wiser. Last night resulted in 3 hours sleep and leaving for work at 5.45am.
If you ask someone in person if they are ok, the answer you’ll get 90% of the time is “I’m fine”. I guess that’s because at some point social etiquette requested that if you don’t say you’re not ok, then you must be fine. But, it seems to me that these days, we’re more comfortable about over sharing our thoughts with strangers on Social Media Accounts then we are in person with people who care about us.
So, that’s what I told myself, I’m fine. I’m not hurt…
This Morning, I had enough of whining to myself and FINALLY booked myself in at a medical centre.
KAK on in the background and finding myself feeling tense and short of breath. I don’t like seeing doctors, it’s never good news. And what’s with making an appointment for 9.00am if you’re not going to see me until 10.15am? urgh.
The doctor finally calls me in, (Is that an Irish accent? yes, thank you very much) He takes a poke and prod, and asks a few questions. He hmm’s and aaaahhh’s in a uncomftable and arousing way (damn that accent, and those deep blue eyes… and tight jeans) He then tells me to go to the next room for a blood test.
A BLOOD TEST? (deflate) I HATE NEEDLES!
No Water or breakfast means it was hard for the nurse to take my blood… after two times, and me nearly fainting from fear, she extracted what she wanted, the vampire.
I go back for the blood test results on Thursday, but he’s leaning towards me having “the rich man’s, or King’s disease” (Gout).
Apparently, my body isn’t processing the acid from all the fresh seafood I’ve been eating (for my health kick diet) as well as alcohol (I don’t drink that often) and being obese. 😦
So, I type this post with a few holes in my arms, a useless foot for driving a manual, and a nervous shake on the my right leg.
To find the silver ling, it’s prompted a more drastic (not dramatic) call to get my health in order, and that if you’re not actually “fine” you should suck it up and find out why, even if it’s uncomftable to do so.
What a Happy Tuesday… now, GET gOUT of here and we’ll talk next week. (see what I did there? amazing)