"The doctor said I need a backiotomy."

Since I haven't been to the ER since my double-header back in June, and since I guess my outpatient surgery doesn't count towards my tally, I went back again today.

Good grief. Seriously? No, really. Seriously?

I'm back at home and in the bed now. Again. The drugs are wearing off, which sucks, but at least allows me to post somewhat coherently.

To back it up a little, on Monday I decided to ride my bike it to work. Why? Well, I've gained an obscene amount of weight since Playette was born and then I spent a month on the road eating crap which just, frankly, didn't help that situation one bit so I thought I'd learn to appreciate the scenery of our hometown, save gas, and sneak in a mini-workout a few times a week all at once. Good idea, right?

Well, it's Thursday and my bike is still at work.

I had to leave it there because on Monday evening my body was overwhelmed with pain. My lower back began to hate me in the morning and grew more angry as the day wore on. My co-worker brilliantly deduced that if walking was proving difficult for me that perhaps riding my bike home wouldn't be such a good idea. I disagreed (of course!), but then when I looked out the window and saw how cold and dark it looked, I changed my mind. It wasn't about my back. No, sir. It was about the raccoons. I knew they were out there. And in my weakened state, I wouldn't be able to defend myself. I could picture them chasing me on the bike (in my mind they are as fast as they are vicious) and then my back would lock up and I'd fall to the ground. To be eaten.

You didn't think I'd be over that already, did you? HA! Never.

So, yeah, I accepted her offer to drive me home.

I promptly crawled in the bed and BD took care of me. Very good care of me. I was out of commission all day on Tuesday, but was convinced that I was fine to work yesterday so I went in.

What a day that was. I had to get Playette to daycare early because the OT was coming. I could barely lift her which leads me to think that chicken nuggets, her newest meal of choice, are made of bricks. Anyway, so there was OT, then work, then home to pack the diaper bag, then back to daycare to pick her up, then off to an appointment, immediately followed by our monthly Parent Support Group meeting (hi, ladies!).

By the time we got home, put Playette to bed, and settled in for a romantic evening of Burger King and Bridezillas on TiVo, I was done. Done Done Done.

The pain kicked in for real again while I was trying to sleep and this morning BD found me on the floor. I couldn't get far and had given up. It was ER time.

My husband is amazing, y'all. He got Playette ready and fed, helped me put on my socks (complete with commentary), piled us in the car, dropped her off, and got me to the hospital. He even pushed my wheelchair without knocking me into any walls (maybe he took that class too?). We argued playfully about BlackBerrys, Tiger Woods, needles, pancakes, and Obama (no relation). If not for the circumstances, we could have called that a nice little date.

After I got a shot and some Vicodin, we got the results of the testing that was done (all fine) and were on our way. My sweet BD got me some lunch, filled my prescriptions, and helped me settle into bed before returning to his afternoon classes. When he's done, he'll take Playette back to the hospital for PT and then get back to his school work since he's got to play catch-up after missing the morning.

Me, I'll be here, trying to make myself relax and counting how many naps I have to take before I can finish an actual post (today's count: 3).

Oh, and the diagnosis was a "strained lumbar." I follow up with my doctor next week to see if there will be any next steps or if this was just a one shot (ha!) deal. Playette and I really didn't need any more appointments. Between the two of us, we're pretty booked in that regard through the end of the year. Ah, whatever. If we can laugh through trips to the ER then I guess we're doing ok.