Dumb-Ass Hot-Mess

How do you tell your Mom and Dad…
Me…”Sorry Mom and Dad, I’m not sure if you raised a dumb-ass of a hot-mess or I just became one as my years as a klutz on this earth escalated into this Un-Holy being that I am now."
I can sorta blame it on them right? Well maybe her. (I love you Mom…I’m YOUR girl.)
My Mom did take a tumble while I was busy minding my business trying to take human form, although Un-Holy for sure, in her Uterus sucking every fun quality I could from her…she kept many for herself though as she puffed away on her Virginia Slims, thankfully.
I’M JOKING!!! Not about the tumble and I was the one of the four of us that she didn’t smoke with while pregnant.

I think I have always been a disaster, a ragamuffin, a pigpen…
…Even at the age of 40, put me on a water ride with a bunch of Children and I’m the one that gets soaked to the bone, hair matted down to that of my greasy headed youth…
I can’t walk up the stairs with out tripping…This shiz has amplified as I’ve grown older.
When I was a Child I broke my thigh bone connected to the hip bone so high I was in a body-cast for some time…wheeled around in a red wagon by my siblings and cousins…I had to learn to walk all over again…Ahhhhhhh...Youth!
Youth is no longer on my side and Karma seems to be taking over. You would have thought I followed direct orders and killed an innocent bystander…he was guilty though, I swear. (That’s a joke people. I don’t think I’ve ever killed anyone…Not even on our road trip last year when the rear lights weren't working we turned ALL the lights on in the camper we were towing during a heavy down pour at dusk:/ I’ve done everything I can to prevent it.)

Some/Most to include my passive aggressiveness of my ailments are just remnants of injuries that have gone haywire in the last months as I’ve tried to ignore them, knowing deep down inside my mantra is…
…”Cells are just a pre-cancerous condition”
I should be thankful so far that all I have wrong with me is some bone, nerve, arthritis and tendon issues.

Note…We are all gonna die…it’s inevitable.

I could put it off no longer…I had to make an appointment with my hand/wrist Doc/Surgeon.

For the last 5 months I’ve lived under the guise of not being crippled. (I’m not really crippled, I’m just bitchy and probably PMS because if I’m not in the midst of my cycle, well you should just gather that I am PMS.)
In my right wrist I have an evil case of tendonitis only appropriate for an Un-Holy being.
It’s left a protruding ‘painful' nodule about the size of a penny on the underside of my wrist.
I’ve had it for months, 7(?) of them. My Doc tried injecting me with 'I don’t know what' but it looked like a 7 month old babies snot that’s had a cold for a couple weeks and the Mom is sick of wiping it on her sleeve so until someone looks she just lets that young child have a snack that’s dripped from it’s nose to perhaps ease the tension? blow up the tendon? I don’t know…but it was the easiest most un-invasive procedure that could possibly fix my problem. I waited for it to perhaps suicide subside. It worked for a few weeks then came back like that 3rd cousin that finds you after you win the lottery and Judge Judy can’t get rid of them with out the help of sidekick Byrd…After I had another visit with him where he said another shot won’t cure it and that I should see how long I can take it then go from there.
Well here I am months later and surgery to remove my tendon is now really only debatable in my psyche.
How excited am I?!
Not.
I made suggested we try another shot hoping the pain would at least ease for awhile. Now my wrist hurts and is bruised but I think it will ease my discomfort...a bit for a few weeks till I set the date to get rid of that bitchy tendon that it turns out …I don’t need?!!!

My left arm has also acted up in the oddest ways…my pinky and ring finger have enjoyed a great deal of attention and are acting like brats…The pain(?) enjoys taking road trips up my forearm and likes to party at night with my right forearm.
I have to see a nerve specialist. We will have to go from there about that…

My thumbs are…”A monkey can do that!” They don’t have thumbs…I have thumbs that are just malicious and bad tempered and need to be shackled into submission (braces when they hurt is what I mean, that’s not a sexual reference, pervert;).

http://behindthebookscover.blogspot.com/2012/02/rock-and-hard-place.html

This was written not for sympathy…Phleeeeease…Big picture people…I’ve got that.
It was written for my friends that got frustrated with me when I didn’t tell them that I had injured my right wrist…
…And most of all for my own entertainment.