Beth the Dragon, Linda tames the beast: we rob banks!

After a few tough days, I decided to relax by going to boxing. A needed evil, healthwise which ended as a painful idea.

The class was small so we did ALL the time not doing sit-ups and push-ups on the heavy bag. This is not a good idea if, like me, you have muscles that tear like tissue paper. Somehow the idea that I access the muscle power, even when I am going ‘lightly’ to hit the heavy bag hard enough to tear the same muscles is odd. I did my 100+ sit-ups and 80 push-ups and several hundred combos on the bag (26 six punch combo's in a minute...ack, I am so slow!). Also I sweated a lot, whihc is sexy and good right? Sexy, like the commercials, and then I have a cold drink I slowly rub down my body or something. Only my care worker helping me with a shower was like, "My GOD did you sweat." and when I was trying to be sexy went, "Are you trying to drink that or drop it, I can't tell?"

Plus all that ripping up the muscles kinda hurts the next day, just to let you know (kind hurts that night, stops sleep and stuff).

So the next day (today), I move like a crab and I try to get sexy with a can of root beer and end up dropping it.

Also, where no nerves are has made some muscles atrophy so much that they are just covered with skin: the bone, sinew and blood vessels covered lightly over with skin, like a tent.

I have this compulsion to cut through the skin at a couple areas where I can feel the bone underneath, just to see it (is it always white?), and the blood pumping along. This I have been told by a couple people, care givers and those who care, is a BAD idea. All sorts of infections, sepsis and gangrene can follow – turns out curiosity can kill this kitty.

Linda was brill, she saved an extra pain patch though this morning it had NOT kicked in yet so I woke like a dragon, WHUMP, my fire breathing decimates a village, WHUMP, I burn down everything to the left. “AHHH, why are you making noise like the band section practicing?” I shriek. “T-A-L-K softly” I said with the intensity of my eyes bulging out of sockets as I seem to try to be strangling the care worker with my eyeballs. I had to send someone out of the room because the PENCIL was ‘too loud’ on the paper. WHUMP, the wild dragon girl has arrived.

Pain doesn’t make me pretty, makes me all want to eat the bitter, just to make it stop. Pain just makes everything loud and intense and I see myself being bitchy even when I don’t want to. And then, when the patch kicked in, which it did so noticeably that over 3 minutes, I went from, “AHHHH, why are you so confusing when you talk!” to “Ohh, this is really nice Linda, I really appreciate how you have put these tastes together, that was very thoughtful.”

Linda wanted to know what the patch was like.

I said, “Well, I still hurt and ache but……I can think complete sentences. Oh, and I now have control over the volumes at which I speak. I also don’t just howl at the computer screen when I can’t find a file. It is…nice.”

So, due to boxing, I have edema pushed back so much that I have a shapely leg again, and I can play with my boobies and feel more tingle than pain. Plus, I can be a tongue in cheek goth again and eat flowers and stare mysteriously (there is no fun being a ‘wanting to shriek all the time in agony goth’ because you’re not a goth, you just are...wanting to die). I am not sure where I can get the odd bonnet, or the amount of material – I guess I need sewing skills beyond mine. But I am good at eating flowers , which seems a requirement for all introspective angsty gals.

This is how Linda thinks of the patch and I think of the pain. Because Linda is about the ‘practical’ and ponders, and I just ‘ponder’. Which I am sure is good for something. Hold on while I eat some more odd stuff and get angsty while I ponder. Yes, look at Postcard Project post and how 'Nothing Matters': so deep, and gothy.

This is Linda and I to a T, as I am using waxing on mentally about how things connect and the the historical and human connections, how this feeling has universal meaning and Linda is looking up going, “Oh yeah, did I remember to bring the towels in from the dryer yet?” Hey, we all need people to care about towels being brought in from the dryer.

Meanwhile, I am high on a bit of hot sauce (the endorphins make me want to drink and either take my clothes off or kick some butt).

So thanks to Linda thinking about pain patches and laundry, I have a nice bed, and sanity, of a sort. I hope you have a good weekend. Linda and I are going to carve up the town, starting maybe with the banks, then onto robbing other things. But first off I want to find out exactly what kind of webbed panties she is wearing – I told someone yesterday, I would try anything once, twice really, except for some sexual positions (once is enough to know, ‘Yeah..um, no, that isn’t doing it at all!’). So you have a kicking weekend!