Don't worry! None of the Hillbilly family has an actual sickness. We're just old. And used to breathing fresh air. The Pony is fit as a fiddle, and hopefully has developed an immunity to dog bites after being bitten three times.
Anyhoo... The Pony arrived at 8:30 Thursday morning for our casino trip. While waiting for Farmer H to come in the house, fresh from getting all sweated-up before our trip by rider-mowing for an hour... I confessed to The Pony that I felt like crap.
"Oh, no!"
"Don't worry. I'm still going. But my back hurts SO MUCH that I can hardly stand it."
"I was worried that it was something with your leg. How is it?"
"See? It's got a scab on it. Almost well. Do you think I should cover it for the trip?"
"I think so. You wouldn't want that scab to fall off if you bump it."
True. That scab was all bumped out, just waiting to be jostled so it could break loose. So I put a bandaid over it for the day. It traveled well. My back was another story. I was writhing while riding shotgun in A-Cad. Even more than I usually squirm on a trip with Farmer H behind the wheel.
"I hope this is just something muscular, and nothing to do with my kidneys! I have no idea what's wrong. It's on both sides, and I can hardly stand it."
I leaned from side to side, kneading my back with alternate fists. I didn't want to think about walking around the casino with my cane. That locks it up if I go too far without sitting to relax. In fact, I start out just carrying the cane, using it mostly as I stand and let my knees loosen up.
Anyhoo... lucky for me, once I took my thyroid pill right before we arrived, and it had about 2 hours to work, my back pain almost disappeared. Funny how the thyroid works. Without it, all the other hormones and vital endocrine-system condiments barely do their job. So maybe I just needed the natural pain-killing part of my body juices to get that little boost back to normal.
On the way home, my back felt just fine, thanks to A-Cad's seat-back heater. Then Farmer H turned onto the back entrance gravel road with two miles remaining to the Mansion, and hit every pothole. The deepest one wrenched me off the seat, and my back started screaming at me. So much that after a trip to town (of course!) I had to lay down on the bed on my side, and let it relax.
My knees were a little cranky, but that's to be expected. What was NOT expected was the next-day infirmities. More on that tomorrow. Before you frown and groan, let me brighten your mood by informing you that FARMER H was also afflicted!
6 comments:
I'm sure Farmer H did his best to avoid the potholes, right?
Bwah ha ha.
Sioux,
Your BWAH HA HA is the rightest part of that comment! Sweet Gummi Mary! It's a GRAVEL ROAD. I drive on the wrong side whenever I need to avoid potholes. This deep one was on a straight stretch, nothing coming. He could easily have gone around it. But no.
Farmer H needs to learn to avoid those potholes or at least slow down and ease into and out of them. I would think his sweaving method of driving would come in handy on a pot-holed road.
I had a whole day of unexplained body ache last Monday and was fine again on Tuesday.
River,
He could certainly slow down on that gravel road! His method of sweaving means that he hits EVEN MORE pot holes that a normal driver staying on one side of the road.
That's the thing about getting old. I never know what caused my aches or sickness, and then they're gone with the same mystique!
HeWho seemed to search out the worst roads on our last trip. I was already sick on the way home and he sugested that I sleep while he drove! Idiot!
Kathy,
Farmer H suggests that! I tell him that I want to SEE how he kills me.
Post a Comment