I've had a cough for awhile now. Since before our trip to L.A. So, like three weeks. No other symptoms, sore throat, or anything. Just a nice, juicy cough.
Breathing in deeply brings on a cough, so I've nixed running. Running also became more difficult because Saya is now a so-called "sentient being" and expresses anger at being in a stroller for longer than she wants to be (before, she was at my running mercy). And my training schedule had me running for longer and longer periods of time, which I found I no longer had.
I know...excuses, excuses. In short, I've fallen off the wagon. But lest ye fall off too...Let me tell you what happens to me when I stop exercising: RAPID ATROPHY. My body doesn't just look like I never exercise...it looks
worse.
I started running because, hello, pancake butt! And, hello, baby! At a few points during my six-month running career (please don't laugh at me when I call it a career), I felt toned. Even though my butt was still as flat as ever, it was flat with
oomph. A mere two weeks after abandoning running, not only is the
oomph gone, but my pancake butt looks worse than it did
before I started running. It's like two mini-balloons (my mini butt-cheeks) got deflated. Which looks much worse than the nondescript flatness that preceded the running career.
See how maintenance begets maintenance? I find it very ironic that running is like getting on the treadmill...of life. If you try to get off, you are screwed.
If you think I'm done with this extended analogy, you are sorely wrong, my friend.
Example 2: I am trying to be "clean." Other, "normal" people might not consider my standard of cleanliness to be "clean" and might refer to it as "a slight step above living in abject filth", but I am not here to talk semantics. Today, in an inexplicable burst of productivity (which some might also refer to as "procrastination") I gathered up a big pile of dry cleaning and a big pile of things to drop off at Goodwill. I was in the mood to unclutter.
Dry cleaning and Goodwill are each within 5-7 blocks of our house, so I thought I'd walk. There was a lot of crap. Plus I had Saya. I realized I could not carry all this stuff, plus push her in a stroller. So instead, I stuck Saya in the Baby Bjorn and loaded up the stroller like a grocery cart. The stroller was piled so high, the stack of things was almost past my head. I knew I looked absolutely, completely ridiculous. And as I started to walk, a few people did double-takes, looking at me as if to say, "Where did this scruffy homeless lady get this baby?" I kept my cool though, thinking "I'll never have to see any of these people ever again."
I got to an intersection. A car politely honked at me as I crossed the street. I stared at the car with Evil Eye...only to be met with Imeh's friendly smile and a wave. What the heck!!! The only time I ever look this ridiculous is ALSO the only time I run into someone I know in Menlo Park.
So, you see how the maintenance of one's home and "cleanliness" begets additional maintenance of one's social relationships? Now I have to go and tell Imeh "By the way, I just want you to know that I am aware of how crazy I looked today, and I humbly advise you to forget you ever saw me."
Am I done? No.
Example 3: I went to get Botox this evening because, you know, I'm trying to
maintain. I was sitting in the room with the nurse when my phone rang. I made a super-awkward, weird movement to lean down to get my purse, and then let out a huge, juicy cough at the same time.
I felt searing pain. It felt like part of my chest folded over, or that I had a charley horse in my chest/stomach area. Something wasn't right. I took in a few breaths and then righted myself. The nurse was like, "What's wrong? Are you okay? Are you anxious about the Botox?" I felt ridiculous. I was like, "Um, I had this really weird pain when I bent over." She gave me a look like she thought I was actually panicking about the Botox, and also maybe thought I was a complete weirdo, so I said, "Sorry, this has never happened to me before." She was like, "If you're anxious, we don't have to do this right now." And I was like (even more anxious about the prospect of forehead wrinkles), "No, I NEED TO DO THIS NOW."
Then I coughed again. More pain. After the injection, I got out of the chair and realized it was painful to sit up. I was freaked out.
I got home and called the doctor. I spoke to a nurse on call. This is how the conversation went:
Nurse: How long have you been coughing?
Me: Three weeks.
Nurse: I see here that you went to the doctor last week. Did the doctor treat your cough?
Me: No.
Nurse: What were you here for, then?
Me: A post-partum exam.
Nurse: When was your baby born?
Me: Nine months ago.
Nurse: Why was your post-partum checkup so far after the birth?
Me: Because I had complications.
Nurse: From what?
Me: My vagina.
Nurse: Oh.
Me: Yeah. So anyway...
Nurse: Breathe deeply. Any pain?
Me: No.
Nurse: It's probably not a hernia then. When does it hurt?
Me: When I cough and get up from sitting down.
Nurse: Sounds like a rib fracture to me. It's very common for people with prolonged coughs. Come in tomorrow morning, first thing.
Me: Uhhhhh....
Nurse: Just don't pick up anything heavy. If it's a fracture, it'll take 6-8 weeks to heal.
So, that's cool, right? Because I don't have (for example) a 19-pound baby to carry, a move involving (say, for example) packing or lifting boxes, or (as another example) three trips involving suitcases in the next month. Or anything else on my plate, for that matter.
So do you see how maintaining one's youthful appearance begets additional body maintenance?
And do you see how a simple cough begets
loogies in one's face, a flat ass and a potentially fractured rib?
