This morning my husband told me that I was letting my readers* down by not posting yesterday. I told him I didn't know what to write, so I just didn't write anything at all. I was in a fog yesterday brought on by a decidedly miserable night's sleep. My dear husband sleeps with CPAP machine for his sleep apnea, and the seal on his face mask had sprung a leak, so to speak. It was emitting a sound that went from high pitched squeal to full blown fog horn, and back again. He slept through most of it. I did not. So I lacked the mental fortitude to write anything. I couldn't even think of a full sentence, mush less an actual subject. He said I could write about him. I could write about how much I love him, how wonderful and supportive he is, and how he's so very manly. I told him I would write about him, all right, but it just may not be about the things he wanted me to write about.
Instead of telling you about his manly macho-ness, I'm going to tell you about his hurt leg. He managed to pull a hamstring, or strain a tendon, or just generally F-up his leg. So it was off to the sports doctor for him after he suffered for a while and figured out that it wasn't just going away by itself. But the trip to the doctor was highly disappointing, because the doctor just told him basically what I just told you - he managed to F-up his leg. But the trip was not all for naught, oh no it wasn't. The doctor prescribed Ibuprofen for him. Also, physical therapy. So now we have a bottle of Ibuprofen in our medicine cabinet that is so big, it towers above all else. Imagine the biggest bottle of vitamins you can buy at the store - you know, the mega-bottle - and double that size. That's how big this bottle is. And while I know you can buy Ibuprofen over the counter, it just felt like we had scored something major by bringing home this huge bottle. And it has a refill, so there's that.
He went to physical therapy yesterday and found out a little more about what to do for his leg. They hooked him up to an electrode machine and shocked him for a while. (Is this considered shock therapy?) They also iced him down. Which is how it came to be that he was lying on the floor last night with two of those cool packs on his legs. You know, the ones you use to keep you lunches cool. I was reminded of packing the kid's lunches and for a moment I imagined him as part of a huge lunch. And could you imagine the size of that lunch box?!? But I digress... They also told him no more elliptical machine and no more squats, leg presses, etc. Which is really not doing much for his psyche. He is a man who belongs in the gym. It keeps him sane, and in return, we are allowed to stay sane also. He is allowed to continue working chest and arms, so he'll at least have that.
So that's what's been going on around here. Try to contain your excitement. I know I am.
*As if I have "readers" - it's more like "reader"