Yesterday I woke up with a stabbing pain in my upper outer right arm area. It hurt like I had actually been stabbed. With a red-hot, razor-sharp, salt-encrusted jabby thing. To the bone. That would be the humerus, for those of you who did not pursue a bachelor of science degree in the sciences. The pain was in that deltoid muscle that abducts the humerus.
I could hardly walk, it hurt so bad. Yes. I know that should be "badly," but it hurt so much yesterday that it took away my adverbiality today. And no, before you ask, I do not walk on my arms. The pull of gravity set off the sharp stabby pain. I wanted to strap my lower arm across my torso like a dislocated shoulder person in a canvas harness.
The cause of my injury remains a mystery. Did Hick lay his fifty-pound bowling-ball head on my arm while I was in REM? Did he flip head-to-toe and stab me with a sharpened fragment of his great-toe nail? Was somebody (I'm thinking about YOU, Madam) thrusting hatpins into a voodoo doll of my likeness? The pain took my breath away. I was virtually incapacitated. So I called my mom. Using my left hand, of course.
"Oh, honey! Do you want me to drive out there? I don't know if there's anything I can do. But I'll try."
"No. I can't think, the pain is so bad. It takes my breath away. OW! I can't even move a little bit. I have to get where it doesn't hurt, and freeze. It hurts so bad I want to cry. And I have to do the Walmart shopping this morning."
"Oh, cry! Cry. That might make it feel better. It can't hurt any worse. Why don't you rub some ActivOn on it? Can I meet you at Walmart and put things in your cart for you? And help you unload it at home?"
"Nooooo. I have The Pony. But I think I will try that ActivOn, if I can grip it to get the lid off."
Aha! That's my mom's new cure-all. ActivOn. One of her old-lady friends recommended it. I took her to Walmart and found a box of it. Actually, it comes in a little plastic round dispenser like a glue stick. Looks like glue, too. The clear kind. I used some on my lower arm one day, and it worked. So I tried it on my newest ailment, even though the pain of it pressing against my flesh was almost unbearable.
By the time I got home from shopping, the pain was almost gone! It was a miracle! I assure you, I do not have blood like pure Rocky Mountain spring water. That's what Robby Benson's roommate said about him after giving him a pill to make him play better, in the best basketball movie ever, One on One, written by Robby Benson himself and his very own dad, back when Robby was at the height of his cuteness. Here's a bad clip to give you a taste.
Nor do I have blood that is pharmaceutical soup, like what I imagine runs through Keith Richards's veins.
I have Goldilocks blood that is just right for absorbing that ActivOn and ridding me of horrendous, debilitating pain.
If only all of my ailments were so receptive to treatment. One thing's for sure. A little dose of late '70s Robby Benson can't hurt.
I am sure I saw that movie--decades ago--but that little clip was so full of colorful language, my ears are now crimson.
ReplyDelete(I'll be right back. I need to get some more straight pins...)
One on One is the best basketball movie? What kind of talcum powder have you been sniffing? Did you get into the stash that Linda tapped out of her disco boots? Good gravy, everyone knows that Hoosiers is the best basketball movie ever made.
I expect a public apology for the offensive language that rained down upon my ears, and I'll accept your admitting that--once again--I am right.
Ohhh Robbie Benson...how does anyone who likes Seinfeld like Robbie Benson?
ReplyDeleteI am sorry for your pain but damn it, the whole post I was thinking that "it hurt so bad" sounds correct. I will now go to bed and be thinking on this.
ReplyDeleteIf your shoulder ever feels that way, take it from someone who's been there...move that sucker. Mine hurt like your arm did, and in a few days it had locked tight. Some little brat with no compassion had to break the cartilage loose one therapy session at a time when Ideveloped encapsulated something or other, science mama. Glad your arm feels better.
ReplyDeleteGlad the pain has subsided. Sorry, but I was never a Robbie Benson fan. Go figure....
ReplyDeleteI'm wondering if you didn't just sleep on that sword Johnny Depp gave you when you told him how much you loved his performance in The Curse of the Black Pearl. You know the one, beautifully hand-forged by blacksmith apprentice William Turner, perfectly balanced, with gold filigree on the handle; now stashed under you pillow so long it has become a salt-encrusted jabby thing. Maybe you should move your souvenir under the bed or between the mattress and box springs. Hick will sleep better as well.
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure what ActivOn is, but they should pay you royalties for your endorsement. And OH, Robbie Benson. He was my first crush ever, and I love him still. Even in those highlighter-yellow shorts that are a hanky's worth of fabric away from being a Speedo.
ReplyDeleteSioux,
ReplyDeleteExcuse me, Madam, for the imagined profanity that burned your ears. Perhaps I did not have my sound on. Perhaps I am immune, after working with adolescents all these many years.
I am no boot-sniffer. At least my head is clear enough to know that Hoosiers lagged in too many places. And there was no sweet Robby Benson. You are not right, but I will pretend you are, if you drop the pins.
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joeh,
WAIT! I didn't know I had to make a choice.
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Birdie,
I'm sure it's correct usage in some parts.
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Linda,
That description made me a bit nauseous. I long for the good times when I only had arm pain to deal with.
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Stephen,
I don't know what's wrong with you, not enjoying the amazing sight of Robby Benson in tiny yellow shorts.
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Leenie,
You have me confused with Madam above. I am no Johnny Depp fan. Nor a Viggo fan. Only Robby for me.
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Tammy,
Obviously, you do not frequent the Walmart pharmacy racks. You must watch that whole movie. Root for Robby the underdog. Enjoy the scenery. Cheer when he tells his coach, "All the way with a red hot poker."