And through it all, my dad's sage advice has always seemed to ring in my brain at the exact moment I wasn't following it.
Ex 1. Dad: "Take vitamin C every day."
Me: "Okay, Dad," (just started doing it about a couple months ago after years of asthma flare ups, bronchitis *Ain't nobody got time fo dat!!* and picking up every flu bug and common cold thrown around in the world.
Ex 2. Dad: "Drink lots of water, especially when you're sick or else you will dehydrate"
Me: "Okay, Dad." (Got dehydrated a couple months ago and had to go to the hospital)
Ex 3. Dad: "Wear lots of sunscreen, even when it's cloudy."
Me: "Okay, Dad. (Can't count the number of sunburns...)
Ex 4. Dad: "Be careful where and what you eat, you never know what is in food and you're too sensitive to not be careful. (referring to celiac)
Me: "Okay, Dad." This advice has been followed by at least four bouts of 3-4 day illnesses including vomiting, other fun stuff, and ironically, also lead to the afore mentioned dehydration.
This last example is my favorite, and will probably be the clincher as to being what it takes to finally listen to my dad BEFORE the inevitable occurs.
And it's probably my most idiotic, self-inflicted injury yet.
Dad: "Lift with your knees, not your back!!"
I can't tell you how many things I have lifted in my life where I had those words echoing off the walls of my low-functioning brain. But I did try my best to follow them, unlike some previous experiences.
Until today, and that rotten garbage truck.
Mom leaves for work, asks me to take out the garbage, pretty normal Thursday proceeding. But she mentions there are some boxes in the garage that need to go out too. NBD, I got this!!?
The garbage truck never comes at the same time every week. (I'm referring to the truck instead of the man that drives the truck because I feel less bad directing my frustration at a lifeless object) So I'm just enjoying myself in my amazing bed, because that is by far my favorite place to be in the morning, when I think I hear the scumbag truck. So I jump out of bed, run around and grab all the trash, zip out the door, run the trash can down, remember the stuff in the garage, fly through the door to that place, see the boxes run up and try to lift one purely with the strength of my back and let out a loud "OWWW!!"
My first thought was, "well that was new." As in I'd never experienced that type of pain. And of course I assume that it would immediately go away and I would be able to get that box. Round two, bend with me knees, exert a little energy trying to lift the box again, this time I believe my words were, "Owie owie owie!!"
But I used a dolly and got that piece of trash out! And it literally was a piece of trash, not the derogatory term.
But you know how there are scenes in movies or cartoons where someone freezes as they are in motion? As the day has gone on, my back has stiffened to the rigidness of an ironing board, can't sit or lie down or sneeze or breath, let alone use the bathroom. And all because I am soooo dumb! And I can't help but have a little painful laugh about it, then maybe say some swear words in my head followed by a sarcastic, "great job, Savannah."
You should all not feel bad for me because I am pretty much the definition of "my own worst enemy". I take full responsibility for most of the health problems I've had in life.
If I only listened to you, DAD!!! Bet you always wanted to hear those words ;)
So now I'm watching all electronic devices I own slowly be drained of their power because I'm too sore to get up and plug them in. Sweet.
Peace and blessings!
No comments:
Post a Comment