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As a substitute teacher, I often catch random bits of conversations between students. This one made me laugh for the rest of the day.
Girl: Guys, did you see this [photo] on Facebook?
Friends tell her that it's been photoshopped.
Girl: But it's on the *internet*, it *has* to be real!!!
I don't even know what it was a photo of because we were all too busy giving her grief for her comment. She is actually a really bright girl, definitely bright enough to know that not everything on internet is real. I am just glad she made the slip up because it totally made my day… and she will never live it down.
It is strange to not have a family at Christmas. I don’t miss *my* family at all, but I do miss having *a* family at times. I have good friends, but Christmas is so family centered. Perhaps I am partially to blame… never showing vulnerability. I am always the tough one, the one who never cries, the one everyone else turns to for support, the one who never shows weakness. Everyone assumes I will be fine because I never let it show that I am not fine. In my family, weaknesses were exploited and used to the advantage of others. Confidences were kept only until they could be used as leverage in bizarre game of power and control. The phrase, "If you don’t stop crying, I will give you something to cry about" was never an idle threat. When you are the smallest of the herd, you learn to act big and fearless.
It is another sleepless night. Pain. I pushed it and I knew it the whole time. J is home for the first time since he left for college in the middle of August. Maybe it is pride, maybe it is maternal martyrdom, but I did not want his first trip home be filled with worry about me. Having my boy around is a great distraction during the day, but at night, when the house gets quiet it is harder to ignore the pain.
When the house gets quiet is also when I attack the scar tissue. PT Guy would be proud. I am now attacking it so hard that I leave bruises on myself. Bruises are good. Bruises mean I am ripping chunks of scar tissue from the muscles. It's not good that the adhesions keep coming back. Adhesions are normal after an injury or trauma, like surgery. They protect the injured area while it heals. Sometimes, the healing process goes awry and the body won't stop producing scar tissue. It appears that is the case with me.
The only treatment is to continuously break it down manually. I feel around the muscle for painful lumps, then press on them as hard as I can until I feel a pop. I also roll a piece of PVC pipe along the muscle. When I find a big adhesion, I press down as I roll the pipe down my leg in an effort to literally rip it off the muscle. It is as barbaric as it sounds. If I don't do it, the adhesions will just grow and spread, eventually overtaking the muscle tissue and rendering it useless.
Inflicting bruises on yourself requires going to very bizarre part of the brain. It takes a great deal of force and a great deal of self control to continue to apply that force when it hurts like hell. In a twisted way, it is a release. Adhesions hurt… a lot. Getting rid of them feels good, even though I know they will be back. Breaking them down is intense, but it also releases a lot of endorphins. Endorphins are good.
My doctor said diligence is the key. If left unchecked, these chronic adhesions will grow back bigger and badder in less than 24 hours. So twice a day, I work myself over with my PVC pipe. When I get busy and skip a session, the adhesions get aggressive. That's when I go to PT Guy, tell him I've been a naughty girl and ask him to hurt me.
In ten days, I will meet with the hip surgeon. We are all a little terrified of this appointment. Surgery would fix the torn tendon and bone impingement. But more trauma means more scar tissue. Being laid up would mean the adhesions would have free run of my leg for weeks. Not doing surgery means no relief from the hip pain. Unless this guy has a magic wand, I am kind of screwed either way.
For now, I will enjoy having J home for a few days. He is a great distraction. I am already counting down the days until he comes home for winter break.
The webcomic Homestuck has a nearly cult like following at the high school. I don't read it for fear that I will get sucked into the cult too. A: I belong to enough cults (ie. Project Runway, ANTM) and don't have time for anymore. B: I already listen to the same music, watch the same TV shows, and sometimes dress like the teenagers I am surrounded by all day. I need some boundaries. Anyway, I don't really know that much about it except my son gets very excited when a new episode is published and is sometimes exasperated when the story line goes in a weird direction. I don't know. It's weird. To borrow a phrase from the Bloggess, I've learned to "lean into the weird."
I am now 16 hours into chaperoning a 24 gaming marathon at the high school. It is kind of like a dance marathon for nerds. Instead of dancing for 24 hours, the students are playing Dungeons and Dragons, Magic the Gathering, and lots of other nerdy games. They are raising money for a local children's hospital. Right now, I am hiding out in a stair well because they are playing Zombies vs Humans, complete with full zombie make up and a huge arsenal of Nerf guns. With my orthopaedic issues, I don't need to be running around the auditorium in dark while dodging Nerf missiles. The students are having a blast. No one looks even a tiny bit tired.
I love that our high school is nerdy enough to pull this off. There is a rather large club that meets on a regular basis to play these games. Instead of sleeping late on teacher workdays, they get up early, go to school, and play Dungeons and Dragons. That is dedication. There are even girls in this club. There are teachers who give up their free time to play games with these students. Tonight, a teacher had his wife drop him off at school on their way back from an out of state wedding. Dedication.
When they came up with this idea for a 24 hour marathon, the school district said two adults would need to be present the whole time. The teacher in charge sent a letter to the participants' parents requesting volunteers. No one responded. No one was willing to come in for even an hour. I couldn't let lack of a chaperone stop these students. So, for 24 hours, I am locked in the auditorium with this great group of nerdy students.