Day one...testing the world of blogging.

Well, here I am, the author I've always wanted to be. Wow- it feels great. For the exception of one thing. I don't have a publisher, or a publicist, nor do I have a $25,000 advance for my musings in the bank from a publisher...but I digress, because that's actually two thing.s So much for being good at addition.

Some day I may become a professional digressor, but for now, I'm working  on my Jedi Knight skills, and a few other things, like humility, total surrender to Christ, and finding a cure for my back injury. I'd also like to learn how to control my puppy, Honor. I'm even certain he'd frustrate the Dog Whisperer himself, and send Caesar Milan home whimpering like a wounded pup.

I'm not sure what to write about today, so I'll just ramble a bit. 

Yesterday was my long awaited (took 6 years to get there...not because I was lost, and didn't have a  map, but because I was on a quest, like Froto in LOTRs, but without that freaky anorexic zombie creature whispering precious and eying my wedding ring). visit with my back surgeon.  It was a 6 year quest, because upon our last visit he gave me three options.  The first was I could have a back fusion surgery, the second a newly developed artificial disc replacement surgery. Where by the way, they put this silicone disc where your herniated, wounded, broken disc was and you wake up all good and new. The problem with this option was that if I was going to go under the knife to have a silicone implant, I didn't want a quarter sized one in my spine, I wanted a C-cup size on my chest... I'm just saying. If yer gonna get silicone, go big or go home.  But I digress...yet again.
So the third option was to try everything but chiropractic. He gave me a long list of things to do, and I eagerly went about completing the list, and even doing a few things that were NOT on the list like experimenting with the healing powers of Twinkies, writing odes about the evil herb Cilantro, and buying a treadmill and joining a gym.  I realize having a treadmill AND joining a gym is redundant, but we high IQ people often do things that don't make sense to the average person. No offense, it's just the way it is. Embrace your lower IQ. It's not a bad thing, trust me.  So, how'm I doing on that humility thing I am practicing? Good? No? Yeah, I have a long way to go.

Yesterday after exhausting all options, having 7 doctors over a 6 year period put my body through the wringer, being unable to agree upon a solution, let alone a plan to get my back healthy, they ended up in all their doctory wisdom making me sterile. So I can't have children. I also went from a slender, fit, 140 pounds to 195 pounds, then they kept adding pills to fix the problem, and I became insulin resistant, they burnt out my adrenals and my body stopped producing 3 of the major hormones you need to function as a healthy, horny, happy female woman- oh, and it makes it darn near impossible to lose weight. In 6 years I've only ever been able to drop 20 pounds.

So here I sit at 175...and it hurts my body. I'm not short, but I'm not tall. I'm not small boned, I'm actually a good, medium Austrian/German build with strong legs and broad shoulders. I could be a man, except I've got the wrong body parts, and the only facial hair I have is from the testosterone cream experiment one doctor put me on- Thanks, doc...what female doesn't love 78 or so THICK, black hairs growing out of both of her chins?  You told me I'd only get hairy where I applied the cream, and my inner thigh is NO where near my double chin(s)...they haven't sunk that low yet.

Back to yesterday- I apologize, you'll find I ramble. Not intentionally- again. It's the high IQ. So many thoughts and I must remember to get them all out or my brain will explode, I pray you understand my plight.

So, yesterday, after going through 4 rounds of therapy at a very well renowned back clinic, 2 rounds at a crappy pt clinic, Narcotics "therapy", walking therapy, personal trainers, bed rest, don't sit, don't stand, don't work, go to work, walk your dogs, don't walk your dogs, ice your back, don't ice your back, use heat, don't use heat, here- take these pills, with the other 7 we gave you, 4 series of bilateral facet injections (google it, and have a bucket near by- I almost puked each time I had the procedure, reading about it will turn you green), multiple steroid injections, steroid pills, creams, potions, voodoo, guesswork, treadmills, gyms and hundreds of healing prayers I went back to Dr. H to tell him I was ready for surgery, because nothing else worked.

He told me "no".  Um, doesn't he know who I am? Jedi Master, Warrior Princess of the Risen King, Cute Kacey, THE Kitchen Diva, wanna be member to MENSA... I mean come on dude, I was SOBBING during the examination and you say NO?!?! Are you flipping insane? I concurred that he was and aliens had sucked out his ever loving brain the night before our appointment. I don't blame him. I blame the government for not keeping a closer eye on all those locked up aliens out in sector 7... or where ever that place in the desert is.

Instead he told me to go BACK to the renowned therapy place (YAY) She says with obvious sarcasm...but again, I digress. I wonder if being a professional digressor pays well?

After the 12 week therapy course (which will be my 4th or 5th time, I couldn't tell you because of all the drugs these 7 docs put me on, it fried parts of my memory) I go back to Dr. H, the brainless (due to alien invasion) surgeon to have a discogram. Google that too, cause I'm not even going to talk about it- it's painful, I hate pain, and that's that.

Once Dr. H decides that things have or have not progressed (let's say they haven't) I get to see a shrink. Which is ironic, because I'm starting school this fall to become a shrink. Then, We go to our insurance company, who is always so willing to approve ANYTHING we need or desire. If they say yes, he'll fuse my spine. Wait, did he just say fuse? What about my breast implants? Er, I mean, disc implant?  Nope- he wants to do fusion. I refuse fusion. Look it up 16% success rate of the patient NOT ever feeling pain again, the rest either feel the same or worse... He said if we did get my insurance company to agree to the fusion, we could do some fancy wording to get a disc replacement out of it, but I have a lot of work ahead of me before he'll even consider surgery.  I felt like I was kicked in the gut, had a bomb dropped on me, lost my best friend, had my dog die, and had my husband tell me he was gay, and discovered Cinnabons had been banned by Obama all at the same time. Needless to say, even with out great Hope giver in office, I had lost all hope.

I think I blinked 5 times yesterday total, cried most of the day, was in extreme pain, oh and the best part is Dr. H said NO MORE PAIN MEDS... yup you heard me- Damn Alien brain suckers. He said they aren't really helping anyway, and if I'm only taking them to sleep. (who needs sleep anyway, right?) I was to stop taking them, and he wasn't going to give me any at all. I went catatonic at that point and just gave up in my head.

TSM was great yesterday. Rough on me, but loving. For the first time in my entire time of knowing him, he's done something so selfless, I'm starting to wonder if aliens got to his brain, too. He's stepping back from his "job" at the ministry to stay home with me as much as he can and go through this with me- yup...go through the water aerobics (from the side lines) go through the Back Clinic- from the side lines, and make sure I do all the other things I'm supposed to do so I can get back into shape, and get better. It's not the same as him giving me a child, but it comes close, because it showed me that he does value me, and he does care.  He can be a little hard to figure out in those areas, so I don't mean that disrespectfully to him. He's got baggage, too- but his is fancy baggage...we're talking Louis Vuitton baggage honey! Big, heavy, gaudy, and out there! I love him, but he came with a 7 piece set. Thankfully he's met some great Godly men, and he's down to an over night bag and the smallest rolling suitcase...and maybe the lighted cosmetic bag. Not that he wears makeup...he doesn't- but I'm trying to paint a picture.

Well, I've rambled enough for one day. Thanks for sticking with me. I was going to talk some more about Honor and how the big dorfus woke up at 5:39 this morning, but you can follow that on facebook today if you'd like. I'm off to make some waffles before TSM won't buy them any more (I guess they aren't healthy...who knew) and watch Angel before I go back to bed to get some sleep. They say sleep helps the body heal, so I plan on sleeping today. Oh, and the doctor said nothing about not taking Melatonin or Tylenol PM, so guess what? This woman is going to get some sleep. I'm in so much pain, that night time makes me cry myself to sleep most nights, and I'm not going to toss and turn and cry- so melatonin OR Tylenol PM will be assisting me.

Talk to you guys later. Thanks for reading my novel.
It's okay, I suck at blogging. I should do nogging. It's like writing a novel AND blogging all in one.

Well, since I've got to get my "fighter" attitude back, you can all kiss my grits... kidding!

Love ya all,
KC...