In Which I Almost Get My Ass Beat by a Crazed Teenager. And Her Mom.

We recently went to an amusement park.  It was a quick trip and we won the hotel room, otherwise I never would have been able to convince Sky King to go during the holiday rush. Also, I don’t think he realized two months ago that November 19^th was right before Thanksgiving. And, I remember about 3 days before the trip while we were preparing for Thanksgiving that he had that “I wanna cancel this stupid trip” look. But he didn’t. Which in hindsight might have been a good choice. But I digress.

  I was concerned that I would have a hard time physically, what with the whole “bad joints extreme pain can’t seem to handle anything more exciting than videos of cute kittens on Youtube” bullshit.  So, I borrowed my mom’s mobility scooter.  Which should have had a warning. Or several.

So, we go to the park and spend all day having tons of fun. I stay in the scooter most of the day, and it really makes a difference for me. Without it, I would have been good for maybe an hour or two. And, I would have been useless for a week after, so I was very thankful to be able to borrow it (thanks, Mom!!). 

One thing I DID notice is this: People have little to no regard for people in scooters and wheelchairs. They will push past you, pretend they don’t see you, and cut you off.  Older people pay better attention. And dads.  Sometimes the stroller set, too.  But for the most part, people would passive-aggressively push past, avoiding eye contact.  I don’t know what YOU would have done, had it been you, but  I got a teensy bit pissed. As in, the-next-person-to-cut-me-off-will-pay-with-their-ankles pissed. Yep, THAT’S where this is going.

Lemme set the stage…we just went on a roller coaster as a family.  I STILL don’t have a pic for our annual Christmas card* so we had all planned to do the puffed-cheek-about-to-vomit face. Nothing says “Happy Holidays” than that, right?

We are all excited to see how it turned out, so we motor over to the screens. I see a big crowd, so I kind of hang back, still on the scooter. I inch forward as people move out. But still, people are pushing ahead of me, or at least finagling past me. I’m getting a little steamed, but trying to maintain my composure because, after all, I’m a lady.  I’m still inching forward, and then people start seriously making me mad, coming up on my left, pushing past me, and getting right in front of me.  The last person that did it, I reached forward, and tap her on the arm. She looks back, and I say, in a very nice voice (REALLY. I was using a nice voice, I promise.) “Excuse me, I’m trying to move forward to see, too”.  She replies with, “So?”

I will allow some time for you to fully absorb the magnitude of this.

Who does that? Only people with death wishes, or people who step on kittens with hooker heels, that’s who.  And now I’m mega-pissed, and she’s about to die.  So, I wait for about 3 inches of space, and I push forward.  (Keep in mind that there are two settings: “turtle” and “bunny”.  I have had the scooter on “bunny” all day-more on this later) She moved forward at the same time, by swinging her leg over the front of the scooter. Which meant that I violently rammed her.  I’m thinking, win, win, right? I get a little more towards my goal of seeing the screen, and I have just annihilated a shin or two. Well, I’m not sure what I was thinking. Maybe I thought she would turn around and say, “Geez.  You’re right. It was incredibly rude of me to push ahead of you when clearly you are lacking height and maneuverability. My open wound has taught me a valuable lesson. By all means, proceed.”

She didn’t.  What she DID say was (and I am paraphrasing here, both to protect young minds, and because I can’t quite recall the entire tirade…) “Damn, bitch! What the fuck!  I don’t even care if you ARE handicapped, I will kick your ass!”.  I’m stunned (I don’t know why, though) and I try to use calm logic. But I have to yell my logic, because she is continuing to scream at me with her angry claws in my face.

Her mom then joins the fray, asking what happened. Finally, I figure, some logic will get into the mix. I explain I was moving forward, and her daughter had pushed ahead of me while I was moving forward. Nope.  Apparently the glitter doesn’t fall to far from the stripper, because the mom then starts screaming at me to not argue with a teenage.  REALLY?!?!?!?

So let me get this straight.  Teenager pushes ahead of person on a scooter.  Then when she gets rammed in the leg as payment for her asshole-ness, she screams at the person on the scooter.  Then, the mother of the teen comes into the mix, supposedly to find out what happened. Scooter driver calmly explains (really, I did try calmly), then mother begins to yell at scooter driver.  Got it.

Monkey Boy sees most of the scuffle, and says, “Dad, dad, dad” until Sky King comes over.

This is Sky King’s thought process.

Holy shit!  Some ruffians are about to kick my wife’s ass! I must save her….. (Screech).    100%.  OK. 

“Hey, (he says in his 6’2” frame), what happening?” It’s at this moment that the mother and her whore daughter meekly schlep off.

Right about then, Sky King seriously considers confiscating my weapon scooter. Combine this altercation with a couple other wheelies, skid-outs, hydroplaning, and near-misses, and he has reached just about his limit. I need to either erase the past two hours of spousal mishaps, or find him a beer.

So THAT is why you won’t be getting a Christmas card from us this year.

*yeah, right. I don’t DO an annual Christmas card. Or even a letter. Although, maybe I should……

You Think I Irritate YOU...

I know I irritate people.  Hell, if I didn't, I would think my efforts had been waning, and there's one thing I DON'T want to do is let down those who count on me to irritate the hell out of people.

But the person I irritate the most has got to be my acupuncturist. You see, he is different from most doctors.  Most doctors do this:

What's wrong? Oh, it looks like this.  It must be this. Try these.  No? OK.  Try these then.  Didn't work? Try these.  Side effects? Well, choose what you want: original problem, or side effects-your choice.

Then, they continue to "treat" you, with the same things that don't work, or cause crummy side effects.

Dr. G is not like that.  He looks at me, asks what is bothering me the most.  He is already on edge because he has been treating me for almost a year and I am not "cured".  See?  Irritating.

This is how it goes:
Dr. G: So, where are you having pain?
Me: Both wrists, left worse than right.  Both elbows, right worse than left. Worse with activity. Knees sore during yoga.
Dr. G: Sciatic pain?
Me: No.  Tenderness along the nerve, but no pain, per se.
Dr. G: (furrows brow) Why is it still tender?
Me: Ummm, 'cause it's messed up? 
Dr. G: How long ago did your pain, in general, start?
Me: Well, the sciatica pretty much my entire adult life, much worse since I got pregnant with my first child. Why?
Dr. G:  Well, there's an autoimmune response that is happening-you have some sort of inflammation, some reason your body is reacting with pain.
Me: Yes, I have fibro. That's what it does. Causes pain.
Dr. G:  Yes, I know THAT, but I want to know WHY, so I can eliminate the source!

This is where he asks me a few hundred more questions, then resigns himself to treat me.

Then, a few more questions come up, all seemingly unrelated, like:

• How's your bowels?
• Do you sleep at night?
• Are you irritable?
• How's your energy level?
• How long do you sleep each night?
• Does pain wake you?

Blah, blah, blah.  Inevitably,  he will find a supplement he wants me to try, for about a month, and then report back to him.

This time, he said, "Oh, I want you to start with one at night, one during the day. Take with your fish oils, for better absorption. Oh, and watch it, these can be a bit tricky with people. If you start feeling psychotic, that's bad-it means your dose is too high. See you next time!"

He should have said, "More psychotic".