“Much like my first prostrate exam, it certainly wasn’t good, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
Greetings, faithful readers. After a brief hiatus I am happier than a poo flinging monkey with incredible aim to be writing again. Let’s get right to it shall we? Here’s your dose of all things Mitch.
First, there was the nerve damage flare up in my hands. I’ll sum it up with my hands hurt like they were on fire and I could’t even hold onto a piece of paper without grimacing in immense pain. I consequently missed two weeks of work. I’ll pause here for you to make a lame masturbation joke. During my two weeks away from work I rehabilitated my hands with the assistance of my chiropractor and extremely hot, like I mean hot hot hot, as in “I want to throw her on the acupuncture table and make fiery passionate 90’s bad erotic thriller movie sex scene on late night cable TV love to” hot acupuncturist, my hands were starting to improve. Still no real answers as to what was causing the issues but I got an neurologist appointment coming up soon, and Ill keep you all posted.
After two straight weeks of appointments I was happily walking home with Little Mitch from the grocery store after a popsicle run. It was a beautiful Friday and I was enjoying a sunny fall day with my son. I was thinking to myself. “I’m so happy to be done all those appointments…” before I could finish the thought, all of a sudden a sharp pain emitted from my right eye and I was temporarily blinded. I hunched over in pain and resisted every urge not to rub my eye in fear of making it worse. When I regained my senses I realized what happened. A thin tree branch just in my peripheral blind spot was jutting out onto the sidewalk at exactly my eye height, and I walked right into it.
The next morning I was at my “under the radar, two glasses of wine, hot” optometrist (how do I end up with all these hot health care professionals?) with a scratched cornea. I ended up with an eye cream, and an eye patch, that made me look like a James Bond villain. If I was a Bond villain, my name would be “Vas Deferens” and I would talk with a bad foreign accent and slight lisp “Thoooo… Meester Bond…teal me zeee planth for de TestiCleeeez layther….”
I finally got back to work this past week. The weird thing is, missing two weeks of work sucks. It’s not like I was on vacation. I never thought I would say this but I’m actually happy to be back at my day gig. When I was on the disabled list my days consisted of appointments with my chiropractor and appointments with my “want to make sweaty monkey love to you” hot acupuncturist. Let’s just say it’s a good thing I was laying face down on the acupuncture table because every time she would touch me the sundial was saying it was high noon. Then I would come home for a brief few minutes to take a rest and then leave to go pick up Little Mitch from kindergarten. Repeating this day after day for two weeks got real old real quick. I can now see why people on disability are prone to depression. I couldn’t help out around the house, couldn’t play rough and tumble with Little Mitch, and my energy level was low from my hands constantly hurting. You really start to feel useless and frustrated with your body. You feel like your body has decided to betray you. You’ve become an unwilling passenger in a mechanically unsound vehicle.
After a few days back at work I was feeling pretty good about myself. I was feeling useful and productive again. My hands are only about 90% right now but I am managing the pain and my physical limits effectively. My eye was feeling better and I was coming home from a follow up appointment with my “kind of hot” optometrist who seemed really flattered when she caught me checking out her back side. She was a lot friendlier after that. What can I say? I like to boost self esteem in others, it’s a gift. Mrs. Mitch was at work, and Little Mitch was having dinner with his Papa so I decided to grab some take-out on the way home.
I was walking home cradling my donairs in my left hand, holding them the way one would hold a plate of food; open hand palm up, food on top. I crossed the street to Chez Mitch and stepped onto the curb. I quickly discovered Mother Nature played another cruel trick on me. I stepped onto what I thought was flat ground but was in reality a huge divot covered with leaves making the ground appear flat. I rolled my ankle and was pitched forward off balance. My work bag went flying four feet to the right and my donairs went flying four feet to the left and Mitch went four feet up the middle. It was a spectacular fall. A cacophonous symphony of flailing arms, legs, work bags, leaves, dirt and flying food. I landed with a sickening sliding thud. The result? I scraped my nerve damaged hand and caused it to flare up again, with incredible nerve pain. I had a twisted ankle, and was the proud new owner of a swollen knee complete with limp as an added bonus. I’ll sum up the rest of my evening with ice bags, Advil and Tylenol 3’s. I shall now add the tree gouge in the eye and the flying donairs incident to “Reasons why Mitch hates being outside” list.
So that’s what’s being going on with Mitch lately. A few other quick updates, we finally gave in and got cell phones, and Mrs. Mitch passed her drivers exam and is now licensed to drive, and Little Mitch has a school girlfriend.
Sign that the universe is telling Mitch he needs to take a break from online dating.
Today one of my carefully selected, just for me, using 29 points of Eharmony compatibility ,”matches” was someone from my past… who was one of the most arrogant, entitled, negative, miserable people I have ever met in my life …
…who also happened to be my former best friend’s newly ex-wife.
If ever there was a sign from the cosmos it was time for Mitch to take a break from online dating, I think this was it.