This weekend started par for the course. Worked on Friday. Worked sucked on Friday. Such is the nature of things. Why even mention it?
Saturday was heading in the same direction. Around 8:30, I was with a patient discussing how her hand almost came off, when I was helping re-adjust the pillow behind her when I felt something clench in my upper back. Pain and suffering ensued. I tried to shrug it off as just a muscle cramp and went about my work. An hour later, I couldn't even turn my head.
The charge nurse sent me down to the ER where I got the once-over by various staff. It was decided I had "thoracic strain", given some scripts for various meds, and sent home. After I returned to my floor to finish my charting and give report to the nurses who would be taking over my patients, I left around 1am.
I stopped by Wally World on the way home to pick up an ice bag. Some very interesting people visit that place late at night, and they also bring their very small children. Who keeps their kids up at that hour? From there, I went home and crawled into bed.
The next morning, it hurt to even climb out of bed, but I managed to so I could give Little Roo her shot. This was a painful experience for us both because I had to crawl under the bed to fish her out. Not having anything better to do after that, I went back to bed.
Around 1pm, I got up and realized I needed to fill the prescriptions, but I had to drive to BFE to do it. Unfortunately, I live on the other side of town, close enough to the stadiums to hear the collective groan coming from Arrowhead. So, I haul ass across town, have my scripts filled, and drive back home. Fortunately, I missed getting clogged in post-game traffic.
The muscle relaxers, coupled with the pain pill and anti-inflammatory, worked great. Now, it's all worn off, and my back still feels crappy. Getting out of bed was a fun task. Looks like I will be self-medicating again this morning. On a more pleasant note, Brother brought me delicious coffee this morning.
Funny thing about that combination of meds is that it leads me to extreme relaxation where I just sit at the computer and shop. And I drool a lot. This week's medicine-influenced purchase: one pair of black, platform, knee-high boots. Surely, I can incorporate this in my Halloween costume. While waiting for the pharmacist yesterday, I meandered over to the costume store and perused the isles, my mind a whirling cesspool of creative alternatives.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention that I am sitting here, feelings hurt. I'm not going to elaborate much on the matter, other than this is starting to be a regular occurrence. What does one do when someone regards your feelings as nothing more than a punchline to some lame joke? Yeah, I'm usually a barrel of laughs, but my life is not a comedy.
I have feelings, too.