Hobkin woke me up this AM demanding his breakfast. After snarfing up his bell peppers, cucumbers, and broccoli, and gnawing on his carrot slices but not eating them (finicky skunk, sigh), he went rampaging around the house, digging up the carpet in the guest bathroom (don’t get me started on the foolishness of having a carpeted bathroom), pulling down anything he could reach on the coffee table, and attacking my feet when he thought I wasn’t watching him. After that exhausting morning’s activity, he’s all tuckered out. Now he’s sound asleep making the occasional snuffling noise in my lap. So now I’m pinned at the computer by a skunk. Typical.
Haven’t done any writing all weekend. Part of it is that I’m trying to rest my arms. I think my TOS is beginning to get better. Trying not to overdo it so that it continues to do so. The rest of it is that I cranked out several stories in quick succession and they’re all in the re-write/critique process right now. For some reason, my muse stays pretty quiescent when I’m in re-write mode. Probably just as well. Although I feel like I’m slacking when I’m not cranking out new word countage.
Either he found the Mt. Dew stash you have, or he’s paying you back for making him eat broccoli! ew! *grins*
Forgive my ignorance, what does TOS mean?
Thoracic Outlet Syndrome. In a nutshell, I’ve got an extra rib in my neck. It presses on my thoracic outlet nerve when I overuse my hands/arms (i.e. a lot of typing) and causes pain and tingling all up and down my arms and in my fingers. It’s considered a repetitive motion ailment.
My physiology is royally fucked.
I’d have thought ANY rib in your neck would be an extra one.
I don’t think so, actually. The doctor who showed me the x-rays talked about the regular “neck ribs” that everyone has, and then showed me the extra one I’ve got.
I thought it was confusing too, as I typically consider “ribs” as being those things in your chest. But apparently they go up into the neck.
He doesn’t consider clavicles ribs, do they?
I meant, “does he?” Not “do they?”
Reading makes the talking-English good.
Um, I dunno. He pointed to a white bit on my x-rays and said “extra rib in neck.” I said “WHA?” and he said “extra rib, thoracic outlet syndrome, send you off to neurologist now.”
So I went to see a neurologist who looked at the x-rays, said “yup, extra rib,” did some other tests and said “yup, TOS.” He then went on to say “surgery to remove rib not recommended at present.” (I said “whew.”) And then he gave me some pills, some exercises to do, and told me to sit up straight. I never questioned the terminology about the ribs/neck thing.
Matthew and I still debate whether I’m growing wings or tentacles. Either way, I wish the damn new appendages would hurry up and sprout. This in-between stuff is spectacularly annoying.
You’re a mutant! You could join the X-Men, iffen you got yourself a sexy skin-tight costume.
I got the outfit, really I do! I’m set to go. Where’s my membership card?
But hey, shouldn’t I be able to shoot rays out of my eyes or control the weather or something? Pain and tingling in my hands and arms seems like a totally sucky mutant power to me.
But hey, shouldn’t I be able to shoot rays out of my eyes or control the weather or something?
What, you think you can just do it? You got the chops, but not the skillz. Why do you think there’s a school?
Ouch. Here I was thinking it was some kind of writing process.
Like some funky writers block? Oh, heh, I can see in the context how you could think that. But nope, my physiology is royally screwed-up, I’m afraid.