Not sure why, but the first image that popped in to my mind was of Mr. Burns, from the Simpson's. Scoliosis...seriously- is there a word that conjures up the image of the crypt keeper faster? But the funny thing is, I knew she was right. I mean, actually I don't KNOW for one hundred percent. I am not a Doctor, and I don't look at my back often.
But the couple times I have, something has been a teensy bit off. Not, spine like an S, one shoulder three inches higher than the other, Quasimodo type thing. But just the fact that the bottom right hand side of my back has always ached, where the bottom left side never has. When I was pregnant with Dalton I first really noticed it. Afterwards I would always attribute it to the fact that I was right handed and that was the side I picked up my kids with, the side I lifted heavy objects with...so it must be getting way more strain...right?
But no one ever said anything to me, and to be honest it was the occasional break out of a back pimple that had me more concerned than some little curvature to my lower back. No doctor had ever mentioned it. Granted, most of the Docs I have seen over the last ten years have had me ON my back with my legs up in stirrups...but still.
So, now I have to book an appointment. Do I do it with my eighty year old physician? Do I find some orthopod to see? I don't want them trying to convince me to have a surgery and stick a rod up and down my spine NO-THANKS. Of course I Googled it. Is there any other way to get info? I guess I could Bing it (but then again I guess that's Googling too, right ;))
Google showed pictures. There was one that was pretty heinous...like Elephant Man type stuff- tragic. But most of the pics looked like my back. There was a scoliosis chat room, or message board, where people left the most depressing stories of how scoliosis had ruined their lives. 40-50% curvature, and getting worse. One leg shorter than the other. Eventual surgery required or the spine would close in on the lungs. Sheesh!
Wikipedia told me that there is no cure. They don't know what causes it. They suspect it's genetic. There are three different kinds depending mostly on what age you were when you got it. One of them isn't that big of a deal (I think that would be me). One of them is degenerative, so it does get worse. And I can't remember the third.
I kind of feel like an idiot. Self diagnosing this. Aren't I a little old to be discovering this? How long have I had it? So, that's in the back of my mind. Part of me is wondering if there are ANY perks to this? Can I get weekly massage therapy from my insurance? Any elective plastic surgeries that would help to alleviate the pain that would just so happen to remove the veins from the back of my legs and get rid of old acne scars at the same time?...
So, that was yesterday. Today I got my arm practically clawed off by Shelby's favorite cat. I have to admit that there is something that I truly, deeply hate about every one of our cats. Our oldest one is worthless. Fat as can be and he can't be bothered to be affectionate more than about once a month. He's a jerk. He does keep the other toms in the neighborhood away...that's the only reason he still exists. That..and for some odd reason my daughter genuinely does love him. But then again, this is the girl who when asked how many members there are in her family, lists the cats, the gecko, and the crickets we feed the gecko individually, each one as important as the next.
There is Shelby's love- Lulu. We call her "Beautiful". She has been great...such a pretty, sweet little kitty, who loves Shelby. Garrett...not-so-much. But Shelby is her mama. If Shelby is every crying, Lulu bee-lines like a rocket to comfort her. Pink little nose, pretty pink little toes. But something is up with her lately. I am afraid she might have cat AIDS or cancer or something gosh-awful. And when I say gosh-awful I mean in the financial sense of the word. As appealing as cat health insurance was, we didn't spring for it. She seems more "delicate". Won't go outside. Doesn't like to be held as much. Refuses to eat dry food, like it hurts her. I am going to take her in... But tonight, OMGOSH. I get clawed by her. I mean, I am minding my own dang business, when she comes hopping up to where I am on the computer, and her dang foot long claws get stuck in my knit sweater, and then my shirt and then my new pants that aren't really new cause they were my sister's but they're new to me cause she's got good taste and I love them. And I am pissed off. I am sorry, I am. Enough of the claws of death.
We have a cat scratching post, there are plenty of trees outside. But unlike the other cats, she won't scratch. She's like the freaky lady in the Guinness Book of World Records who grows her nails out so long that they curl around and around until they look like something from Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. I'd had it. I pick up Lulu, head to the bathroom, and prepare to clip her nails. Problem was that I placed her like I do my kids, with her nails over the opened toilet, so they can land in the water. But I think she thought I was trying to drown her. She scrambles to be free of my grip and claws me so hard on the arm that it draws blood. I almost strangled her right there.
That was freakin it. I opened the door and grabbed a big ol ugly hoody that has no right to exist in my wardrobe other than to perform the function of protecting every inch of my top half from being clawed by long cat nails. I put it on, and grabbed the cat. I individually clipped every dang nail, and it was not fun. I didn't do it too short. Because to be honest, it does freak me out. I had seen a vet do it once, so I remembered how. But to Lulu you would have thought I was killing her. Maybe it's like the World Record lady. Maybe when they get a certain length they do get veins in there, and feelings, and a so instead of cutting nails it feels like you are cutting off a limb...who knows. I did it, and it sucked. And now it looks like I tried to take my life because my right wrist is slashed to pieces. And all I can say is the next time that cat claws me it's gonna be her life that is in danger.
And then there is the baby cat, "Puff Ball"- who just got snipped. It's official. The he, that was living a lie and going as a she, is now an it. Although, I guess just because you don't have sex organs doesn't make you androgynous. So now the hope is that "it" stops humping "her" big sister cat. Maybe THAT's why Lulu had grown her claws out so long...maybe it was for protection...hmm. The little cat is a love. "She" is a love to the point that you're like ENOUGH ALREADY. She has this crooked little bob tail, and the looks of a wild cat. But she is an idiot. Begs for food all the time. Chases dogs. Wants to sleep on your face. And cries when she is hungry, with a sound that is like nails on the chalk board.
So, like I said, I bottle it up. Because every stinking one of these cats has a place in my daughter's heart. Every night when she goes to bed, I lay next to her and we talk and snuggle for a moment. And then, one by one, every cat comes and jumps up on to her bed, and plops down on us, and purrs until she falls asleep. Usually one of them is right on my feet, so I have to wait till she's asleep to kick it off of myself so that I can get off the bed, but she falls asleep in heaven.
That's it...oy. Oh, and Dalton's birthday in five days...TEN YEARS OLD. WOW.