Wow, it's February already? How did that happen? Feels like we were just tooting party horns only yesterday.
So I'm writing to you in pain. Not the existential pain us writers feel from time to time, but true physical pain. I have tendonitis in my arm. I wish I could say I got it from pounding my keyboard and printing out numerous scripts, but no -- I got it from pulling a heavy cart of laundry up five flights of stairs to our apartment in NYC. Yes, it's a walk-up. No elevator. I've done it a million times before (groceries are fun too), but this time my upper body said "Really? Are you serious?".
My left tricep feels like it's on fire and has the worst dull pain in history. I imagine this is what childbirth must be like -- only if I carried the baby in my forearm. So I'm still writing, but I have to stop and stretch often and eat Advil like Tic-Tacs. I can't sleep on my side. I have to lie on my back, zombie-like. It's amazing how our trusted, familiar bodies -- can just turn around and betray us so quickly. It's like my arm felt ignored and suddenly needed to remind me how important it is in my life... just like how my lungs reminded me how precious it is to breathe after battling pneumonia once. There is so much we have to be grateful for... when we're healthy and painless. So much we take for granted.
But, the important lesson here is to work through the physical pain. I can't use it as an excuse not to write or even to workout. My arm hurt riding my stationary bike yesterday. Okay, Good Lord, how is that possible? I wasn't even using my arms to pedal the bike... but, the slightest pressure on the handle bars reminded me of just how important arms are for balance. Thank goodness it's not my right arm that's going through this torture.
And if worse comes to worse, I'll type one handed.
Good thing I'm going on vacation soon for a long weekend in Florida. Sun and beach water might be just the medicine I need to heal.
Be well, peeps. I'd give you a fist-bump if I could.
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