Wednesday night at the urgent care is where it's at

I just couldn't stay away. I didn't go over the holidays but last night I found myself at an Urgent Care, waiting to get a chest x-ray. Fun stuff.

That pulled muscle from December? From the chest cold in November? Well, after it got better it got worse. And then this week, way worse. I saw my acupuncturist on Tuesday and she wasn't psyched about my progress. After my treatment, I felt better but then? Then yesterday I strapped on my fast runners and headed out...on a walk. Walking down the block and talking with Angela, I turned the corner, and bam! Lost my breath. Like had to stop talking, stop walking, and stand next to the apartment dumpster, next to the neighbors' gardeners, and try to breath. Hand on my side, hand on my chest. And silly me, once I caught my breath, I kept going.

We walked less than an hour. To Rite-Aid. We walked slowly but we walked up and down a teeny tiny incline which at the time seemed like Everest. We walked less than two miles but it seemed like an Iron Man adventure. I have never felt quite so out of breath. Well, that's not true. Remember the time I found out I was allergic to penicillin the hard way? That might have been worse. Less side pain but worse.

My acupuncturist/fabulous friend who loves me and takes awesome care of me texted shortly after and when I begrudgingly admitted to the walking episode she said it might be time for an x-ray. So I pulled out my shiny new Medi-Cal card and followed the directions for finding an urgent care. I made a call, was directed somewhere else, to a woman who seemed to be new at life, and then found out the urgent care Medi-Cal had directed me to didn't take Medi-Cal. They'll be hearing from me soon, trust me on this one.

So off we went to a private Urgent Care. In a shiny new-ish building that was clean and had a smiling receptionist and that got me seen, x-rayed, and headed home in less than two hours. For a very reasonable fee. The best news?

No punctured lung like we feared. No broken rib like we feared. No pneumonia or infection like we feared. The bad news?

A strained abdominal wall. And the discharge directions? Rest. Yeah. Fabulous.

So today I have moved slowly between my desk chair and the couch. Tomorrow I will do the same. I'll hold off exercising for a while. I'll take more steps around the house, gingerly. I'll will myself to heal. Pray myself to heal. Beg myself to heal.

But mostly? I'm grateful that in the scheme of things, this is just a little extra sprinkle of the bad and really, not horrible. I'll try to remember that in between pain pills. 

2015 - full of the good stuff already

It's a new year. It's actually been a new year for 12 days now. But for me, it really starts today. I am back in Los Angeles. Back behind my desk.

I had 24 days in Michigan. Almost a month that flew by in a blink of an eye. Christmas parties. Dinners with friends. Gifts and trees. Hugs and stories read. Jigsaw puzzles and games of euchre. Chocolates and wine. Sweatshirts and blankets. Snow. Just enough. Cold weather. Family. Saying goodbye to the year that was and hello to the year that will be.

We started some new family traditions. We had dinner with my dad's brother and his family, something we hadn't done at the holidays in years. We ordered pizza on Christmas Eve because no one could fathom cooking one more meal in between all of the mandatory family dinners. We celebrated New Years' Eve at 9:30pm with wonderful dear friends because the little ones and the big ones were tired. We cried. A lot.

It was another season of sadness. Every morning I got up thinking, I'll go to the cemetery. And each night I went to bed thinking, tomorrow. I'll go tomorrow. I never went. Instead I spent hours with Marilyn's son, my brother. Hours that we hadn't spent together in years. Instead I shared stories with my parents about my grandparents and Marilyn. My mom and I spent a Friday night drinking wine, painting pictures, getting drive-thru hamburgers, and crying in the car as we drove around looking at Christmas lights. It was sad and it was happy. It was life and it was glorious.

The new year has already brought with it surprises.

One? I am going to Hawaii in 74 days with my mom, dad and sister. My mom surprised us with a trip on New Years' Day. Seven nights at a resort in Waikiki over Angela's spring break. If you had asked me to predict what might happen over spring break that wouldn't have cracked the top 100 of my list. I cannot wait.

Two? I turned down a full-time job. It's one I applied for. It's one I have interviewed for. Several times. It's one I didn't really want but figured I needed. Being an adult person and all. But when push came to shove and the offer rolled in I knew deep down what the answer would be. The answer is I'm not done dreaming yet. I'm not done writing yet. I'm not done living this life I've created and am creating, every single day. So I did it. This morning. I said no to what was expected of me and said yes to hope, and faith. It helps that I have awesome, amazing people who love me and encourage me never to settle. Not even a little.

Three? I am still recovering from a nasty bending coughing incident. It happened in early December. I pulled something on the right side of my body. Coughing. [insert over the hill joke here] And I've had 5 chiropractor visits, countless hours on the couch with the heating pad and little electric stimulus thingy (thanks, brother!), laser treatments, and plenty of Vicodin to get me through it and it's still healing. And still painful. Tomorrow I'll start acupuncture on it. And the pain in my neck I now have to compliment my pain in my side. I'm thankful beyond belief that I didn't have to make my annual trip to Redi-Care while in Howell this holiday season but I'll tell you, this? This injury is on my last nerve. Here's to a less than 74 day recovery!

So what does the new year look like from my point of view? So far, not too shabby. It's been full of laughter and smiles and tears and sadness and anticipation and relaxation and we're less than 2 weeks in. I think that bodes well. Because frankly, I like to mix it up. Too much of a good thing, or a bad thing, isn't healthy for the soul. The soul needs to dance. To sing and cry and rejoice and mourn and most of all, dance.

Here's to a 2015 full of everything. With just a little extra sprinkle of good stuff.