21 February 2013

Costco Killed My Sexy

About three weeks ago I noticed a sore spot in my chest just below my breastbone. I thought maybe it was a cyst, probably hormonal in nature or, God forbid, exacerbated by caffeine. I vowed to keep an eye on it because I certainly wasn't going to stop drinking coffee. The discomfort steadily increased, so I determined it was either the world's most slowly developing heart attack or a tumor. I always like to assume the worst so I can be pleasantly surprised when it ends up being something mundane. It's how I roll.

By the end of the week the pain was worse and making me short of breath. This made me tired, and--to The Captain's horror--decidedly unfrisky. As you know, or perhaps assumed, romance writers are required to maintain a certain level of sexiness in their lives at all times. Otherwise, our stories lack verisimilitude. Because I choose, as a courtesy to the other moms in the neighborhood, to keep my sexy under wraps during the day, concealing it under my uniform of velour pants and black t-shirts, I have to make up my recommended daily allowance at the end of the day.

That's where The Captain comes in.

He's always willing to sacrifice some of his personal time for the good of the romance-writing team because he's anxious to cash in on the big bucks I'm going to make writing the smut. He's pretty heavily invested at this point, so he was understandably concerned when I kept passing out on the couch at ten o'clock. He insisted I go see a doctor, you know, for my own good and the sake of the children.

I was already scheduled to see my very nice nurse practitioner to follow-up on the persistent sinus infection that's been plaguing me since December. Jesus, things really start to fall apart when you hit 40 (+8). I hopped up on the stubby exam table and told her about my pain. She listened to my heart, although by then I'd ruled out the creeping cardiac event, and then she felt me up. This was a bonus for me because I haven't seen my OB/GYN in two years. Then she made her diagnosis.

"Costco coinditis."

I immediately thought about how The Captain was going to pounce on the fact that excessive warehouse shopping had broken our bank account and my chest. I mean, those carts are pretty big and when you fill them every week with seven gallons of milk, cereal, waffles (always, for Five) two dozen eggs, meat, cheese, apples, grapes, vegetables, the now-essential Madeleines, toilet paper, and the occasional peripheral item (car phone speaker because the Buetooth hurts my ear and I've really got to stop breaking the law) they get heavy.

I asked her to repeat the diagnosis.

"Costochondritis, otherwise known as chest wall inflammation."

Ohhhhh.

Costochondritis is sneaky. No one really knows how it starts, but some contributing factors might be:

1. Heavy lifting (say, moving your mother in her sick bed, or rearranging entire floors of furniture after everyone moves out of your house)

2. Excessive coughing (perhaps from a persistent post-nasal drip that turns into a nagging sinus infection)

3. Exercise (if you suddenly decide, after twenty years of neglect, that you're going to move every day for the sake of your boy)

Ding ding ding! We have a winner!

The nice N.P. gave me an anti-inflammatory that promptly made me sick, so I substituted ibuprofen and a vacation in Arizona. I still have pain (I blame the boys), but I feel the sexy coming back, which we all know is the most important thing.

The Captain says I owe it to my readers to be my best, and he's never wrong.

14 comments:

  1. Ah, The Captain is such a trouper, willing to render such services as are required by your budding career as a romance writer! Such generosity of spirit and self-sacrifice. He is our hero!

    Glad you found out what the problem was and are taking care of it. Take care of yourself because we care about you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It's true-he's always thinking of me first.

      Thank you for caring--sometimes I forget to!

      Delete
  2. I'm glad you are on the mend because it would be tragic if you lost your sexy before we even get to read a book with your name on the spine.
    And, of course, not only did you write a funny blogpost about this, now you have a good excuse for no heavy lifting or exercise!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I went back to the doctor today. She told me to keep not doing what I've been not doing. I make a good sloth.

      Delete
  3. We're very lucky that you and The Captain are so devoted to your readers.

    (What a strange and annoying ailment, glad it wasn't much worse.)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The Captain feels a real obligation to you all. Truly, he's selfless.

      Annoying is the key word. It's a lingering bugger.

      Delete
  4. Ugh my mom had that years ago and it was terribly painful and made her short of breath, too. She got lots of relief from a muscle rub called myoflex (avail at kroger) and a heating pad. Maybe you could get the Captain to apply the muscle rub and bring the sexy back that way???

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Firstly, this is not the first ailment your mother and I have shared. I feel increasingly old.

      Secondly, the Captain thanks you for the suggestion. He's on the way to the pharmacy now.

      Delete
  5. Gah that's a pain in the tuchas. Well, the ribcage. You know what I mean. Very VERY glad it wasn't anything serious - we can't have the Captain missing out on his opportunity to contribute to the romance community, now can we?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm certain a pain in the tuchas will follow.

      Although the Captain is much more introverted than moi, he takes his responsibility to my readers very seriously. Also, he would like an acknowledgment in my book so he's willing to go that extra mile.

      Delete
  6. Ouch. And here I thought you were referring to yoga pants. ;)

    Slow down, will ya lady?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I would like to slow down and take a nap right now. Yikes this week is killing me! However, there remain far too few hours in each day for me to get everything done, dammit.

      Delete

Thanks for reading! Unlike other Diaries, this one isn't private. Feel free to share your thoughts. Politely, of course.