Turnips are Gross, That's Why

I have a compressed nerve in my neck. I didn't call it "pinched" because apparently doctors don't like that term. Whatever doctors...god, they're soooo sensitive. Yea, so um...my neck hurts and it sends waves of owies down my left arm as well that go all the way down the front of my forearm and onto my fingers. It sucks balls. So I ignored it for a couple days (shutup, I'm a stubborn dumbass) until finally last Sunday night, the pain actually kept me from getting any sleep. It got so bad in fact that I punched a wall in frustration. Not recommended by the way for two reasons: 1) it makes a hole that you then have to fix. 2) you could further injure yourself you big dummy. Also, you look like a huge jackass and immediately feel stupid and childish afterwards.

On Monday I went to my doctor and after some prodding, questions, and strength tests (still strong like bull) I was diagnosed with the nerve thingie. Luckily it was a muscle in spasm and not the more serious structural problems that was causing the pain. I was given a sling, a couple prescriptions for some meds (more on that later), told to rest for a few days and sent on my merry way. Well, that really wasn't good enough for me. I was still in pain and they hadn't done much to actually fix the problem. I then made the decision to go back to my old chiropractor to see what, if anything, he could do about this. Dr. Friedman worked on me back in 2002-2003 when I had injured my back. He's great and I can't recommend his practice Right Spine enough. I have gone a few times since Wednesday of this week and I can already feel the improvement in the neck.

So on Monday night after getting the prescriptions filled I took them and passed the frick out. The meds were 600mg of Ibuprofen, some Vicodin and some muscle relaxer thing (the name escapes me). I slept better certainly if by sleep you mean being in a coma. On Tuesday morning when I woke up, it was clear to me that I was not going to be doing any work for the next couple days. I took more pills, popped my arm in the sling, staked out a spot on the couch and tried not to grumble too much. I was fairly successful on that last one. The thing that helped was the Vicodin. Holy shit people, if you have never been on this drug then I feel sorry for you. I'm not one to say "Go do drugs" but if it is mothatruckin' Vicodin, take a dip, I won't tell anyone. Weary of the pass-out scenario of the previous night, I cut the pill in half and just took that. It left me with this lovely little buzz that I can only equate with having 2 glasses of really good wine and you are just about to reach for your third. Super mellow. Super Chill. Wow. I now understand why people abuse and get addicted to this drug.

Here are some things I thought about while under Vicodin:

• How come I can't taste my teeth? Or am I always tasting them and I'm not aware of it? How can I tell?
• How come I don't like turnips?  
• I wish I had had my teeth cleaned today. I love that freshly cleaned texture. 
• That freckle on my right pinkie is weird. Why is it there? Is it sad that it's all alone? 
• My forearms are hairy. My knuckles are not. Is that a good thing?
• I want to paint the stairs. Not the treads though. That would be ugly. Or would it? Yea, it would be.
• What if I got addicted to Vicodin? Would I lose the house and have to sell my booty for cash? Ugh. That's a horrific idea. Quick, think of something else.
• Blank. 

As I sit here now typing this up on day 7 of this thing I can truly say that I'm in the high 80% to low 90% better. And I haven't had any pills today either. I plan to not have anymore if I can handle it. There is still work to do over the next few weeks but Dr. Friedman says that I should make a full recovery by Christmas. Awesomesauce. He also does not like turnips.