Hello Manifestites! Something strange has happened. Something very strange, indeed. In the past month, I haven't run into a single incident of donkishness that is worthy of gracing the Manifesto. Now, our motto here has always been quantity over quality, but I am serious when I say that nothing blog worthy has happened. So instead of letting the blog go without a post for what could be 2 months, I decided to give readers a re-cap of my week, so far.
Monday: Ahh, rain! Nothing like rain, for what seems like the last 2 weeks. Rainy and cold, beautiful! The highlight of my day was having an EMG/NCV test done. Readers may remember back in August when I had neck surgery to fuse together two vertebrae in my neck. Well, just before surgery I found out that I also had a problem in my left elbow. This was later diagnosed as cubital tunnel syndrome, which is a pinching of the nerve in the elbow. I've been in a lot of pain, have numbness in my hand and fingers, and can't do a lot of things, including playing my bass, which bums me out a lot.
This test is something else. I'm pretty sure out of medical school, those "special" students who seem to be overly interested in pain get to choose to either be a dentist, or perform these EMG/NCV tests. The EMG involves shoving needles into various muscles and wiggling them around/jamming them in and out while listening to the sounds the muscles make with special equipment. The NCV involved putting electrodes on my hand and measuring nerve responses by repeatedly shocking various parts of my arm. Yes, that feels exactly like it sounds. The EMG doctor says that my test results should get to my arm doctor maybe Wednesday, Thursday for sure.
Tuesday: I woke up, and couldn't move my arm or any of my fingers. This was interesting. I popped a few muscle relaxers and woke up sometime later that day. I don't remember much else. I do remember getting a phone call from the doctor's office. The test results were in and they want to see me right away. That can't be good. I set an appointment for Wednesday afternoon.
Wednesday: Guy at work calls a conference call late Tuesday and updates it 3 times for no apparent reason. Sets it for 8am and tells everyone to make sure they attend. He never showed up. Sets up the next conference call for the end of the day Wednesday, after most of the key players are already gone for the day. Doesn't reschedule it.
Later Wednesday Mrs. Morphy calls me. The soon to be 3 year old got into one of those inkjet cartridge refill kits after waking up for her nap. We expect her hands to be various shades of black, blue and red for the next 12 years or so. GG (that's good game, for those non poker players out there) carpet. GG clothing. It also happened at my mother in law's house, and she just got out of the hospital from a major operation, so I'm sure the added stress was just what she was looking for. Mrs. Morphy's elbow is blue.
Doctor's appointment: I have some neat options to consider. I could do nothing, do some more nothing, wear a splint that doesn't help, do nothing, take some meds that don't do anything, do nothing, or have surgery. The surgery involves a 6 inch incision on the inside of my arm. They then relocate the nerve underneath the muscle that they have to basically filet, and I should expect a 12 week recovery time. Yay!
Thursday: 36 oz. of Mountain Dew and some pain killers. Most of the day goes by without me really having any idea of what is going on around me. I get some stuff done at work and people thank me for it, so I think I did it right at least. There's 11 candy bar wrappers in my garbage, and all my change is missing. I'm hungry.
Mrs. Morphy calls me. After her nap, the little monster, I mean, my youngest, adorable daughter, gets into a few tubes of glitter glue. GG bedspread. On a positive note, glitter glue seems to partially remove ink from hands and arms.
I get home and Mrs. Morphy has a Mike's Hard Lemonade in her hand. Now, for those who don't know us, I'm allergic to alcohol, and as sort of a result of that, Mrs. Morphy usually doesn't drink a lot. I think she's had this case of Mike's for nearly 6 months. I know something is up. Demanda, I mean, Amanda, got into baby powder. The living room is white, and there's a cloud moving around the house. I’m waiting for lightning, although I still can't imagine that being as painful as a direct shock to the nerve in my left arm!
Tonight, as I write this, the 6 year old and her younger sister are holding hands and running around in circles in the living room...with their eyes closed. GG "gifted" children.
So this is my week so far. I would wait until after the weekend is over to post this, but there's a good chance that at least this many things will happen between now and Monday to warrant another journal. I apologize for no donkey stories, but maybe some of this will make up for it.
Oh...did I mention we have a stick of butter missing? I should go.
Until next time!
Yours Donkily,
Morphy
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2 comments:
Geez, goin a month without a donkified incident would suggest you've been living in a bubble.
I've got a similar story on "almost three year olds trashing the house" that can relate.
I have twins, and shortly after the ex and I split, she had them in the tub (at her house). As usual, she was running late, so she was multi-tasking, allowing them to play in the tub while she was getting ready in the next room. Somehow, she thought this was harmless.
She returns to the bathroom to find the kids dumping the last bucket of water out of the tub and onto the bathroom floor. She of course flips, gets them out of the tub, yelling all the way.
She concedes she's going to miss her appointment, and cancels it. While the floor is soaked, she continues to scold the children and also decides to clean the bathroom floor while she's at it. She grabs a bucket and cleanser of some sort.
My son, who is very sensitive, felt horrible about this incident. After all, he was playing, right? So, when he was ushered downstairs to play some more and discovers the rug downstairs is soaked, he decides he is going to help his Mama.
He runs upstairs and gets his bucket (yes, the very same one at the crime scene in the upstairs bathroom), goes to the kitchen to get his "cleanser," heads to the downstairs bathroom where he fills his bucket partially full with water, obtains a cloth to "scrub" the floor," and places the "cleanser" in the bucket of water.
He then proceeds to "clean" the family room floor just like he observed his mother doing upstairs. He scrubs and scrubs the floor, and is so happy that he "cleaned" it that he goes upstairs smiling away, to tell his mother its all clean, certain she'd be proud of his concern, work, and effort.
She goes downstairs to discover that the boy decided to use Cherry Kool Aid as his "cleanser" on her relatively new white carpet. Needless to say, I got a call at work and had to go to her house to pick the children up for their protection.
I loved your description of the NCV tests. You should check out how much they charge and get paid for that puppy too. Let's just say that as a medical biller, I encourage my clients to perform that test as often as needed. ; )
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