Old Man River

I turned 33 on Friday, and I felt pretty old. It's closer to 35 than 30 after all, although apparently 40 is the new 30, which means I'm actually only 23. I was buoyed by this news for at least an hour before I tried to tear up a cardboard box and thoughtfully dispose of it in the recycling bin, and pain erupted down the right side of my neck and shoulder. I believe I said something that sounded a bit like "khhhhhaaaaarrrrggghhh" at the time, which didn't really help, so I staggered about in a circle for a while, trying to flail but being prevented from doing so by sharp stabbing pains. With my years of ER experience and double PhD in applied doctoretics, I figured it was only a pinched nerve and decided that I should still go to work.

Several hours later, my head was hunched down onto my left shoulder and I was having difficulty seeing straight. Even thinking was a trial, like trying to speak over a blaring siren in my head. It was time for an emergency massage, of the type offered at Bondi Junction, not King's Cross. It turned out to be more of a runes-and-crystals type of massage than I'd hoped for, but it certainly helped. I then went and lay down for a few hours, before heading out with some friends to see the Waratahs and the Force at Aussie Stadium. It was a good night, but there were still significant levels of pain.

The rest of the weekend I spent in front of the TV, catching up on back episodes of Heroes, Battlestar and Rome with my head gaff taped to the couch. By Sunday I could move side to side a bit, and by Monday I could move reasonably well, apart from the occasional jag that made me yelp. Right now, my shoulder makes interesting pings and clunks when I move it, although it feels like they're doing some good and limbering the area up, instead of being symptoms of floating cartiladge and bone fragments. I certainly hope those noises aren't bad, and it all settles down soon. It was a memorable birthday, but I really don't need any more broken body parts.