Yesterday I finally had my EMG testing done. Great fun it was… the good news is, I appear to not have any neural damage (which leaves only one thing: I need to stretch and strengthen my muscles). Otto is scheduled to come over to give me a massage on Monday night. Last time I bruised (again!); maybe I’ll suggest he go just a little lighter this time. However, for anyone who is in doubt about whether or not I am a wuss, here’s an ad-lib recap of part of my conversation with the neurologist:
“This last one’s going to hurt the most,” he warned, as he stabbed the inside, fleshy part of my thumb (a.k.a. mount of Venus). I breathed deeply and relaxed; I didn’t even start when he poked (though it hurt like hell dammit). He said, “Man, you’re a tough one! It must be the child birthing and all that. That one usually makes most of the guys hit the ceiling.”
Well, it doesn’t say much for the guys (wimps), and since I had a c-section and missed all of the fun of “natural” childbirth, I wouldn’t know what that pain is all about. However, I *can* say that the pain that I was feeling in my neck and shoulders since the end of March through the better part of April *killed* and the next time I ask for meds, they better not poo-poo my request, thinking that I’m just whimping out.
On the other hand, those freaking (not so little) needles they poke you with are not the most pleasant… not to mention the shock that follows soon after to test for neural response. I was hoping for acupuncture type needles… they were more like thumbtacks.
Last night after I tried (and failed) to talk Gabriel into an order-in pizza for dinner, I succumbed and took him to McDonald’s as per his heart’s desire. It was past 7PM by this time… we were sitting on stools at a counter, eating our food and minding our own business, when someone (who appeared to be in drag—red lyra above-knee dress trimmed with sequins; platform shoes), asked us, with great flourish, if we would mind if ‘she’ sat next to us. What was I supposed to say… yes I mind?
“Yes, yes we do mind! Your appearance is disturbing… not only to my 10 year old child, but to me as well. If white bra straps were meant to masquerade on your shoulders like that, they’d sew them that way and make them part of the dress. Did you know that the average lipstick-wearing woman consumes about XXX pounds of wax annually… I’d say, by the amount you have all over your face presently, that your innards should be good ‘n slick… and how ’bout those acrylic nails… did you get your arms and chest hairs lasered off? Please, do tell…”
But no… I just smiled (which looked more like a grimace, I’m sure) and said “Sure, have a seat.” ‘She’ proceeded to pummel Gabriel with questions… ‘how old are you?’ ‘are you doing well in school?’ ‘what’s your favorite subject?’ ‘do you do any sports?’ Like… WTF? Then ‘she’ says… “Sometimes kids get confused… I don’t want him to get confused…” “Confused about what?” I ask (though I really feel like saying… “What? The Lou Rawls timbre to your voice even though you’ve got a red dress and heels on?!” “I’m not a pretendie… I got an operation and I’m real… it cost me $75,000,” ‘she’ says. “Okaaaaayyyy…”
We wrapped up dinner shortly after that, and as we were walking out to the car, discussed what exactly ‘she’ meant by “real” and “pretendie”… the “pretendies” are transvesties who only DRESS like women, but still have all of the male hardware… the “transexuals” are the ones who went through a whole lot of time, expense and probably a lot of time on the shrink’s couch to essentially have a boob job and his sexual organs altered to look like a woman’s. However, either one is NOT a real woman, no matter how much they’d like to think they are. We discussed how strange it would be to be in such a situation, where you are not really one or the other, and wondered about the kind of person you’d attract as a mate. Just the kind of conversation I was anticipating I would have with my 10 year old… And no folks, this did not take place in L.A. All this in our very sedate, uber conservative (Republican) city of Irvine. Don’t blame me… I can’t vote anyway.
I heard from Steve today, who was at the mini-moto race this afternoon in ‘Vegas. Mercedes Gonzales was on hand for the race (she subsequently crashed and broke her leg). She’s kindly offered to give Gabriel and me some private riding lessons… hmmm… I was only kidding about running up the hospital bill, y’know. 😀 When Steve worked at Specialized Bicycles, I went to more than a few mountain bike races, and I got to meet many of the riders, including Mercedes. I’m stoked… when do we start?
On a totally UNrelated note: I saw my first “Hello I’m a PC / Hello I’m a Mac” tv commercial today. LMFAO ROFL! Now *that* was funny! I’d seen one of the print ads, but not the commercial. It was worth the wait. 🙂
And on a FINal note for tonight, I got the Dog Star CD, Quattro Formaggi, in the mail today… only four tracks… they’re pretty good… too bad they’re done as a band. I always marvel at how the heck bands come up with their names… this one queues me over to Harry Potter (oh, my mind works in mysterious ways)… Dog Star / Sirrius / Harry’s godfather, Sirrius Black… well, I know, it’s a stretch, but bear with me. It works the other way ’round too… I was so set on a certain piece of music from one of the scenes of the second book (I think) that I felt something was missing from the movie when it didn’t include it. During the scene when Nearly Headless Nick is throwing a party for all of his ghostly friends, I couldn’t help but “hear’ Oingo-Boingo’s “Deadman’s Party” playing in perpetual loop. Wasn’t that an obvious fit?!
Okay… I’ll shut up now… since I woke up way before anyone OUGHT to wake (at 4AM this morning), I’ll be turning in.