I'm gonna learn that song!

I dunno. Should I make this a shingles blog? Guess we're already there, huh guys? Should I post pics? Ewwwwww....

And the reason I'm up at this awful hour (GMT-5) is I tried to roll over and the hip didn't like it. Haven't had the joint related part of shingles before. wtf is up w/that? Gawd I'm a mess. Painkiller is sorta working. Topical cream. And baking soda sitz bath is getting daily use. But dammit.

Perhaps I shouldn't have done it yesterday, but I push these things. Tried to mow the lawn and within minutes found I couldn't stoop or stand. LOLOL. I looked very funny all bent over. Sooo, a painkiller, half an hour, and I was back at it. Lawn's pretty even if I'm not.

Part of it is, well, I LIKE my lawn and the work I've put into it. It's not machismo. (Do I have to revisit the reluctant "yes, Lancer, you're butch" comment? No? Good.)

But I don't want to imagine NOT being able to do the things I love. So I fight to keep doing them. I know it's ridiculous, but there's some part of me that fears if I don't do, say, mowing the lawn, I'll never be able to do it again. This will pass...but it's scary nevertheless, especially when I reach the point I have to use a cane part of the day. I like my independence. I like being outdoors. I like being able to move.

And, hell, if anyone has some psychological insights, fire away. Comments such as, "Oh you Poor Thing" are welcome, too.

Sounds strange, but one thing I do like is that I can bitch and moan to my heart's content here.

Lambert: I can't see a goddamn thing.
Kane: Quit griping.
Lambert: I like griping.
"Alien" (1979)