Drug-induced hallucination week! Day One: The Scantily Clad Latin Men

So, I just had some (minor)(don't worry, it really was minor) back surgery. (ongoing thing cuz of this.) And because of that, I was on pain pills continuously for several days. And sometimes when I'm on a continuous pain pill schedule, I hallucinate. More like waking dreams, really. Like you've sort of fallen asleep but you don't know it yet and are still conscious? I'm sure if you've ever experienced a Vicodin haze you know what I'm talking about.

So in honor of this occasion, I have declared it drug induced hallucination week! Some of you have heard this first story, but it's one of my favorites, so my apologies for repeats.

So, once like ten years ago I had this ovary that burst. (Painful.) I was scheduled to go immediately into surgery, but there kept being major traumas that would displace my little burst ovary, so I had to wait for two days. And for those two days they kept me REALLY drugged. Like, stoned out of my mind drugged.

So, the night before my surgery, I was lying with my head on Steve's lap. When out of nowhere, this scantily clad Latin man just walked past me. He was tall and really buff (think abs like Jacob) and had long black hair and was wearing a loin cloth.

"Well," I said. "That's pretty strange."

And then, there was another scantily clad Latin man that walked by. But his loincloth was a different color.

And then there was a third and a fourth and a fifth. A whole rainbow of loincloth colors!

And then I realized that they were just parading in a never ending circle in front of me.

So I turned to Steve and said, "How did all these Latin guys get in here? And what's with the parade?"

And then the REAL Steve came out of the other room and said, "Did you say something, honey?"

And I looked down and had been talking to a pillow.

What's your idea of a (cheapish) dream date?

Steve wants to go on a really nice date tomorrow and he wants my ideas. I have none. Like, at all. I don't sit very well anymore (cuz of that one bad car accident and my now-awful back), so movies and concerts where long sitting is required are kind of out. Other than that....

What do you guys think?

What makes your life worth living?

When I was at physical therapy today (more than a friggin YEAR after the accident and I still go to this, yes), the tech doing the untrasound on my back was telling me ALLLL sorts of stuff. Stuff like his elaborate fantasy about being the only skinny guy in the WWF and what his costume would look like and how everyone would cheer for the skinny-buff-awesome kid who was definitely NOT wearing a speedo. He also told me about how he's got a big fishing trip scheduled for this weekend. He said, "I have to have *something* to look forward to, or else I can't make it through the week."

This reminded me of a conversation I was having with a friend of mine about how the only way I got through chemistry class was the fact that I had a crush on a boy in chemistry (not Guy-Smiley, steve. I'm talking about a different chemistry class!). So I *wanted* to go to chemistry. I wanted to *study* chemistry. (my mind is making up all these lame jokes about boys and chemistry right now!) Chemistry class was something I looked forward to every, single day. It was soooo exciting! So dramatic! So awesome!

So, this leads to the question...Once you're all old and married with kids and stuff, how do you get this excitement back? How do you look forward to a day/class/activity with as much excitement as I had about that chemistry class?

What works for you guys?

Seeking Advice

That's right. I'm asking for it, people!

Let's say you have found the most amazing massage therapist on the planet. You had a headache for 6 months straight and he made it go away in one hour. You fractured your &^%$ spine and couldn't move for like a year until he got his hands on you and now you're almost thinking you might be able to run a step or two. Any knot EVER he can get out. He's like a seriously gifted not-just-relaxing-but-truly-MEDICAL massage therapist.

And let's say that he TOTALLY creeps you out. You're not sure if he's on crack, is a whore, some combination of the two, or (even though you suspect he prefers men) he totally likes touching naked bodies.

WHAT do you DO?!

The awesome thing about having a fractured spine

is that my insurance company is paying for me to have a nanny. Every day for three hours a day. For a YEAR!!!!

I cannot describe the vast surges of joy this causes me. Or how much I love my insurance company. Geico-oh-geico let me write a poem for thee . . . Or maybe just say that you're AWESOME.

[post edit: actually Geico lied about the nanny. and they SUCK.]

Yes, I have a fractured spine

At least, two doctors said I did. One told me I had a broken vertebrae and then went to the hallway to confirm with his doctor friend who also thought it was broken. But there was this one radiologist who disagreed and said it could be something else (because no one thought to take pictures--they thought my back pain would magically go away!-- until, like, months after the accident, so things change after months and things that look like they might be fractures can apparently be confused with I dunno what). I don't know what they wrote in my medical file. But they all agreed that my spine is messed up. I think he was saying I have a ruptured disk, a herniated disk, a torn disk, and an assortment of ripped ligaments all along the cortical, thorassic, and lumbar spine. Something medical and horrifying like that. It's that drunk dude's fault who hit us in that really bad car accident just after my baby was born. I actually got subpeonaed for the first time, by the way. Pretty exciting. I'm a witness for the prosecution in a criminal jury trial. It's almost like I'm the star of my very own TV show! I can't decide what to wear... :-)

In praise of the VW passat

My husband and I were in a bad car accident Friday night. We were coming home from seeing Superman (without babies, thank goodness) and getting off the freeway onto the four lane divided highway thingy that is 7200 S.-West-of-the-Freeway, when an out of control drunk driver came from behind. I'm not exactly sure what happened, but we were hit once from the back, then there was some spinning (and some screaming), then we were hit from the side, then we skidded over the median and into oncoming traffic all the way across two lanes and up onto the opposite sidewalk and almost into a ditch but not quite. Thank goodness the oncoming traffic was able to stop because let me tell you there's not much freakier than seeing six or seven sets of headlights coming straight for you as you're totally out of control (and screaming ). The side air bags deployed and my husband's window was shattered. The whole back of the car was mushed in and the side pretty messed up, too. All four tires exploded and there was oil leaking from somewhere in the car.

Afterward were shaking pretty dang bad but were really surprised to be walking around. [Not quite as surprised to see the drunk dude stumble out of his car and try to run away from the cops who were *right there*, but whatev.]

Turns out our car (a VW Passat)--which we bought for the sole reason of its being the cheapest used car we could find at the time--is one of the safest cars you can get. It's mushed now, but we walked away and think we want another one just like it.

Anyway. If we had skidded across the median about three seconds later than we did, we could very well be dead because we would have hit two cars head on. It's frankly kind of weird to be in a situation that could have been so deadly. I don't know if the fragility of life is supposed to teach you to just hang on through tough times or to do whatever it takes not to have tough times because life is so short.

[post edit: my back hurt a lot after this, but the medics and the hospital thought it was the type of injury that would go away. but it didn't. it might never go away, they tell me now. blah.]