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Okay, so very brief fly by post today, but OMG! (I've already told Magister about this, since he was intimately involved.)
Finally, they have figured out what is wrong with my back! For over eighteen years now I have been complaining of back pain, occasionally so crippling I can't move at all. (Occasionally so bad I have threatened to kill Magister, who, thank God, knows me well enough to forgive me, and has the reflexes of a bat. The amount of balled up socks that I could have killed that poor man with, had I only been able to get out of bed and smother him with them...)
Anyway, can you believe that I was GLAD when the MRI scan came back showing something?
Turns out, being in labour for ... oh, I think it was a century and half, wasn't it?... and being given stuff that paralyses your lower limbs so you can't even twitch your toe, no matter how badly your back hurts... turns out that is BAD for you. Turns out, it leaves little fissures and cracks on your coccyx, and bulges all along your back that your nerves get trapped in. Turns out that nearly two decades of doctors saying 'it's all in your mind,' or 'it's just hormones, it will settle down once you're past menopause'... turns out that's crap. (Yeah, that's right, because no woman ever got backache that wasn't related to hormones.)
It does also turn out that there are things they can do to help. So, despite being pissed at the medical profession in general, I am glad. And VERY glad for my current doctor, who ordered the MRI scan, and preemptively apologised for the medical profession, because she couldn't understand why I'd been waiting so long.
You know what, all hail that doctor. Within about two weeks of her ordering the MRI I've got a sodding result. That's a miracle.
Also, to put this in perspective, me and Magister are glad. (I mean, I'm sure he would prefer me NOT to have a bad back, but he'll understand what I'm saying.)
Let's face it, if I had to break my back for somebody, Magister and I officially have the BEST son in the world. If somebody had presented me any other human being on the planet and said, 'this will be your son, for the rest of your life you will walk around feeling like your heart is living in someone else's chest, you will feel like dying if someone even looks at him wrong...' for anyone else, I would have said 'no'. If anyone else had said, oh, 'let's add long term back ache and (other random embarrassing issues) to the mix,' I would have said 'no.'
But, hey, it's just past two AM, my back is killing me, my son is eighteen and a half, and wow. I don't care! My back has been hurting for nearly twenty years, and he's worth it.
Thank you, Magister, for being part of our awesome son. (This is not me being passive aggressive at all, this is genuine thanks. Ride has met the son and heir, she knows how awesome he is, and how much better the world is with him in it.)
So, at the end of a stressful however long, I've been weighing things up, and on balance, they are good. Sometimes people think the end of a marriage is the failure of a relationship - I disagree. Magister and I never failed. In fact, we succeeded. We met when we were six months older than our son. We still love each other, we're still talking. Our son knows that he can rely on us both, he rolls his eyes when we go of on fannish tangents.... unless of course he's joining in. When I have a problem, Magister is one of the first people I talk to - always has been, over twenty years now, even when I officially 'hated' him. I always knew I could trust him, that he would be there. I hope he feels the same about me. Our marriage ended, it didn't fail. If somebody stuck a gun at my head and demanded I tell them who my best friend was, there would be two on the list, and Magister would be one. (Of course, such a hypothetical someone would shoot me before I could blurt out an answer. Hence the need for fanfic... I now feel the need to write... something. I know not what, but it shall be the terror of the earth. It might involve blindfolded Fraser choosing between Rays... Damnyou fanbrain, shut up, I'm trying to write something meaningful here!)
Anyway, back to the over-emotionalism. Everyone thinks S looks like me, then they see your photo, Magister, and their jaws drop, and if they're female (or even in the slightest way bi) they go 'wow.' You're not PG good looking, (IRL who Who the hell is?) But our poor lad wants to know can he 'shave his head bald' because he's freaked out by girls at college petting it and asking him out. I have told him - no. He cannot get his head shaved bald. If the girls asking him out are a problem, he can sic me on them.
As a joint parental decision, you would agree with this, yes? I mean the 'not shaving his beautiful hair issue,' not the 'psychotic mommy issues, omg, is she for real, holy crap, I hope she doesn't have a knife, holy cow, she has a knife issues...' which I accept are all my own. Fortunately, they don't realise I'm crippled with pain, they just think I'm very, very cross.
Finally, just so you'se all know. Yes, I am in pain, and sentimental. And no, I am not drunk, nor high. nor on pain meds. (Though Lord, I wish I was.) However, I just felt the urge to revel in the fact that there is a reason for my backache, potential help for it, and that, in the end, who cares.... my son is awesome. Which should have been a very short posting, but then led me to thinking... hey, his Dad is awesome too! Which led to me thinking about tall men with curly hair, which led me to thinking about Doctor Who....
And now I am thinking about Ride being here, and the DW episodes that S and I are considering showing her. (Classic Who? New Who? Shall we just go bananas and watch Torchwood instead? 'Urgh, no! Jack will probably shag a cactus!' 'Son, what sort of fanfic have you been reading?' 'Nothing, I just watched Torchwood. He's a trysexual... try anything, ' etc. There go our evenings.)
Waiting till Ride is here in the next.... TEN DAYS!!!)
Finally, they have figured out what is wrong with my back! For over eighteen years now I have been complaining of back pain, occasionally so crippling I can't move at all. (Occasionally so bad I have threatened to kill Magister, who, thank God, knows me well enough to forgive me, and has the reflexes of a bat. The amount of balled up socks that I could have killed that poor man with, had I only been able to get out of bed and smother him with them...)
Anyway, can you believe that I was GLAD when the MRI scan came back showing something?
Turns out, being in labour for ... oh, I think it was a century and half, wasn't it?... and being given stuff that paralyses your lower limbs so you can't even twitch your toe, no matter how badly your back hurts... turns out that is BAD for you. Turns out, it leaves little fissures and cracks on your coccyx, and bulges all along your back that your nerves get trapped in. Turns out that nearly two decades of doctors saying 'it's all in your mind,' or 'it's just hormones, it will settle down once you're past menopause'... turns out that's crap. (Yeah, that's right, because no woman ever got backache that wasn't related to hormones.)
It does also turn out that there are things they can do to help. So, despite being pissed at the medical profession in general, I am glad. And VERY glad for my current doctor, who ordered the MRI scan, and preemptively apologised for the medical profession, because she couldn't understand why I'd been waiting so long.
You know what, all hail that doctor. Within about two weeks of her ordering the MRI I've got a sodding result. That's a miracle.
Also, to put this in perspective, me and Magister are glad. (I mean, I'm sure he would prefer me NOT to have a bad back, but he'll understand what I'm saying.)
Let's face it, if I had to break my back for somebody, Magister and I officially have the BEST son in the world. If somebody had presented me any other human being on the planet and said, 'this will be your son, for the rest of your life you will walk around feeling like your heart is living in someone else's chest, you will feel like dying if someone even looks at him wrong...' for anyone else, I would have said 'no'. If anyone else had said, oh, 'let's add long term back ache and (other random embarrassing issues) to the mix,' I would have said 'no.'
But, hey, it's just past two AM, my back is killing me, my son is eighteen and a half, and wow. I don't care! My back has been hurting for nearly twenty years, and he's worth it.
Thank you, Magister, for being part of our awesome son. (This is not me being passive aggressive at all, this is genuine thanks. Ride has met the son and heir, she knows how awesome he is, and how much better the world is with him in it.)
So, at the end of a stressful however long, I've been weighing things up, and on balance, they are good. Sometimes people think the end of a marriage is the failure of a relationship - I disagree. Magister and I never failed. In fact, we succeeded. We met when we were six months older than our son. We still love each other, we're still talking. Our son knows that he can rely on us both, he rolls his eyes when we go of on fannish tangents.... unless of course he's joining in. When I have a problem, Magister is one of the first people I talk to - always has been, over twenty years now, even when I officially 'hated' him. I always knew I could trust him, that he would be there. I hope he feels the same about me. Our marriage ended, it didn't fail. If somebody stuck a gun at my head and demanded I tell them who my best friend was, there would be two on the list, and Magister would be one. (Of course, such a hypothetical someone would shoot me before I could blurt out an answer. Hence the need for fanfic... I now feel the need to write... something. I know not what, but it shall be the terror of the earth. It might involve blindfolded Fraser choosing between Rays... Damnyou fanbrain, shut up, I'm trying to write something meaningful here!)
Anyway, back to the over-emotionalism. Everyone thinks S looks like me, then they see your photo, Magister, and their jaws drop, and if they're female (or even in the slightest way bi) they go 'wow.' You're not PG good looking, (IRL who Who the hell is?) But our poor lad wants to know can he 'shave his head bald' because he's freaked out by girls at college petting it and asking him out. I have told him - no. He cannot get his head shaved bald. If the girls asking him out are a problem, he can sic me on them.
As a joint parental decision, you would agree with this, yes? I mean the 'not shaving his beautiful hair issue,' not the 'psychotic mommy issues, omg, is she for real, holy crap, I hope she doesn't have a knife, holy cow, she has a knife issues...' which I accept are all my own. Fortunately, they don't realise I'm crippled with pain, they just think I'm very, very cross.
Finally, just so you'se all know. Yes, I am in pain, and sentimental. And no, I am not drunk, nor high. nor on pain meds. (Though Lord, I wish I was.) However, I just felt the urge to revel in the fact that there is a reason for my backache, potential help for it, and that, in the end, who cares.... my son is awesome. Which should have been a very short posting, but then led me to thinking... hey, his Dad is awesome too! Which led to me thinking about tall men with curly hair, which led me to thinking about Doctor Who....
And now I am thinking about Ride being here, and the DW episodes that S and I are considering showing her. (Classic Who? New Who? Shall we just go bananas and watch Torchwood instead? 'Urgh, no! Jack will probably shag a cactus!' 'Son, what sort of fanfic have you been reading?' 'Nothing, I just watched Torchwood. He's a trysexual... try anything, ' etc. There go our evenings.)
Waiting till Ride is here in the next.... TEN DAYS!!!)
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Date: 2014-10-03 07:59 pm (UTC)From: