Tickets To What I Need

You know it's going to be one of those days when you're delivered a rubber vulture in the mail.

OK, so I actually ordered the vulture, it's not like someone anonymously sent him my way as a harbinger of doom, but it was still an interesting experience opening up that box. I ordered the vulture on Mr M's behalf, and those of you who know Mr M realize that there is nothing at all abnormal about him wanting a giant rubber vulture. In fact, it might be out of character for him not to want a giant rubber vulture.

He's a little bit endearing, to be honest. I know that must come as an incredible insult to him, this Bird of Death, but I like him quite a bit. I've named him Hiram.

As I mentioned oh-so briefly yesterday, I hurt. I'm injured in some way, and I'm not sure exactly how. I guess I'm injured in that way where you just mysteriously hurt. It's in my stomach, on my left side, and at first I thought I'd cut myself, because the pain seemed to be topical. So I looked at my stomach, not an entirely lovely proposition, and realized there was no cut, bruise, nor anything else. The pain is akin to being stabbed quickly with a butcher knife when I am in the act of sitting down, standing up, or bending over. When this pain happens, everything goes a little quiet in my body, save for the sound of me going, "Oof!"

Now as you might imagine, these three motions that cause me pain, sitting, standing, and bending over, make something that was once a pleasant experience, having a small pee for myself, a now not-so pleasant experience. Sitting, "Oof!" Standing, "Oof!" Bending over to catch the pants afterwards, "Oof!"

I had convinced myself that I'd pulled a muscle in my tum-tum somewhere over the past few days, though I'm not sure how that could have happened. Dancing to the Hackensaw Boys? Toasting on the mountain? Driving? Going to the movies? With the slight exception of number one, not exactly your more strenuous activities.

Anyway, it just so happened that today at work I got to speak to my buddy TT. TT is, of course, my surgery mentor and is, if you'll remember, also not above kicking my ass. Thankfully, today I didn't come in line for an ass-kicking, but I did mention my little "Oof!" problem to TT and she said, "I wonder if you have a hernia."

Hernia? Shockwaves went through the body. ("Oof!")

Now, I know that by virtue of the fact that I've had surgery I'm more vulnerable to a hernia than most. In fact, I'm not supposed to lift anything, really, but I still do because I'm just that kind of girl, but I just never pictured myself as the "hernia kind." Even though I couldn't tell you a single thing about what the "hernia kind" might look like.

TT told me a good way to find out if I need to be thinking hernia instead of pulled muscle. Lay flat on the floor, and do a sit-up while holding the area of my stomach that hurts. If there is a knot or bulge, I may want to see a doctor.

I didn't really have the heart to tell TT that doing a sit-up while holding my stomach might actually give me a hernia, if not a full-blown stroke, and so I told her I'd try it. I haven't yet, but I plan to before, oh sometime, I guess. Before I forget, certainly.

So I told TT that I'd do that, but that I just didn't have the time in my life right now for a hernia. Actually, what I think I said was, "I don't want a hernia," in a particularly whiny way that was just an invitation to an ass-kicking, but instead of getting out her pointy boots, TT replied, "Well, now, don't be so hasty. If you have to have hernia surgery, they'll automatically do a tummy tuck at the same time, if you like."

And so now I'm kind of hoping for a hernia. In fact, I'm wondering how I can get me one, and I even asked TT if she had any suggestions on this. I could feel her foot heading towards the phone receiver and so I let up on the subject, but I did go online tonight to do a little research on how a person can prevent a hernia. And so I'm going to do the opposite.

Seems all I have to do is slouch in my abdominal area and lift heavy objects poorly. And I figure having an abdominal slouch while lifting heavy objects is pretty poor indeed, and I can kill two birds with one stone. And then have my surgery, and kill two more birds with one stone. Two stones, four dead birds, everybody's happy. Except the birds, I guess.

So if you see me in the future holding a bowling ball in one hand and a five-gallon jug of water in the other, slouching in my abdominal region, please remember this blog and don't ask me what I'm doing. I won't have time to answer. I have a hernia to induce.

Until then, if you'll excuse me, I have to go have a nice evening in with a rubber vulture.

Betland's Olympic Update:
* Acrowinners, we have acrowinners. I think. I liked everyone's answers so much I couldn't decide, and so I'm letting Mr M hand out the favors this week. So, Alaska.
- Honorable Mention goes to Flipsy, with her "Everlasting natural terrain: eskimo’s ransom."
- Runner-Up goes to LilyG, with her "Eskimos need tender erection relief."
- And this week's winner goes to DeepFatFriar, with his "Ebullient northerners tally energy reserves."
- Thanks to all who played, you've all done very well. All complaints and/or thank yous to be sent to Mr M for processing.