Maybe I’m not cut out to be a belly dancer

Yesterday afternoon as I lay sprawled across the chesterfield in a medicated haze, the phone rang.  It took me a few minutes to realize it was the phone as my hands, eyes, ears coordination was not that great.   The caller was my daughter, during prime time on her dime.  The moment I heard her voice I asked, “Am I dead?”.   She never calls me through the week, let alone on her dime, even with family calling rates she still waits until Sunday to speak with her ailing  mother.

I knew I had to recover quickly if she was that concerned.  Or after spending the afternoon with Julia, she wanted to get first dibs on my stuff in case I was on the way out!

So I’m back and up and at it, after a week from hell.   When my back started aching a week ago this past Saturday I did not give it much mind.  Hell the pain was not that bad, I even joined a belly dancing class the following day with my friend “J”.   My Christmas wish list was to include veils and scarves from my grandchildren.   My plan was to cut a video for each of them starting with a disclaimer that any therapy brought on by watching their grandmother do the dance of the seven veils would be at their own expense.   Monday I suffered through thinking it was the belly dancing.   Tuesday afternoon I spent in the outpatient’s department undergoing blood work, peeing in a very tiny bottle and being x-rayed.

From Tuesday to Saturday I followed the doctor’s orders, took  my medication (Tylenol 3), used a heating pad.  All in anticipation of Sunday’s belly dancing class.   (It’s a grandmother’s duty to expose her grandchildren to different cultures.  And to think of meaningful Christmas gifts.)   Besides my DH was home from Cape Breton and Miss Julia was visiting from Vancouver.

By Saturday evening I could not walk let alone bend over to go to the bathroom without excruciating pain in my lower back and left hip.   So back to the outpatients we go.  This time I received a shot of Demerol and gravel in the butt.  The nurse pointed out to my husband that she did not cause the red angry rash on my butt.  In my loopiness I had to explain that earlier that day I was convinced that a Motrin pain relief rub would end the hurt.   Who knew I was allergy to analgesic rubs!   An emergency cat scan was scheduled for Monday.

To risk sounding like a hypercondriac, I’ll shorten the story.   We went back to the outpatients’ on Monday for the cat scan, returning later in the day for the reading.  By the time we returned the lab was closed and I was just about crazy with the pain.   The nice doctor prescribed morphine and that did the trick.   Mind you I found out I also react to morphine.  By way of projectile vomiting.   By Tuesday I had a rash on my butt, a pain that would not go away and constant vomiting.   Through the magic of gravol, morphine and a good night’s sleep I was convinced I would live again.   Another day of rest was the ticket.

Today I went back to work, drug free for over 24 hours.  Now if I could only get rid of that rash.