Wednesday, August 29

Snap, Crackle, Poop.

I'm Gunna Puke My Pants!

When I began training for the 'Book'n It Fun Run To Promote Literacy' back in early July, my only hope was that I didn't do anything foolish, like puke on camera or break my legs. And while there's still no confirmed footage out there of yours truly 'yodeling groceries,' I did confirm my suspicions that my right tibia had been fractured.

Come to think of it, I haven't thrown up since September of 2002. That's a long damn time, considering that I have nightly heartburn and I'm guzzling gin as we speak.

If you recall, I developed shin splints in both legs during my training, which caused me to rest for 2-3 weeks prior to the race. As the date loomed, however, I began to overtrain, heightening the inflammation of my joints and also pulling my left hamstring in the process (that's a red flag,).

Even though I was considerably hobbled on the day of the race, I ran anyway, resulting in 34 of the most painful minutes of my life. Makes sense, considering I was running on a broken bone, a pulled muscle and two severely inflamed joints. My ankles were so swollen after the race, they looked like your grandma's ankles.

My mantra throughout the entire training process was "Don't be a pansy," although I replaced the word 'pansy' for something a little less blog-friendly. You get the point. I accomplished my incredibly stupid and not-at-all worthwhile goal and was about to pay for it for the next 6 to 8 weeks.

After two weeks of limping around, downing Ibuprofen by the economy bottle and pouring Jameson whiskey on my Froot Loops every morning, I finally decided to go to the doctor. By this point, there was acute pain in my right leg (far beyond shin splints), leading to numbness and tingling running up the back of my femur. At any moment, I was expecting the entire works to crumble like an oak tree that had been ravaged by termites.

I couldn't walk around or stand up for more than a few minutes, I was acting like a real dick to my family and friends, and I was sleeping on the floor so I could elevate and ice the leg. Also, I was trying to refrain from accidentally booting the Missus in the ovaries in a fit of pain-induced rage while she slept. It was a rough 10 days.

There's something about going to the Doctor that always seems to make your symptoms go away. Every time I find myself in the office, I have to try to explain that I felt bad yesterday, but for some reason I feel 100% better today. Come to think of it, a poor man's health insurance should just consist of scheduling the appointment, watching the symptoms magically disappear, and then canceling the appointment later in the day. I understand that it's an evolutionary tactic to not show weakness in the presence of dominant opposition, but I also knew that I wasn't going to get any pain pills unless I convinced this guy that I needed them right away.

My Doctor in Middleton (The Best City In America, 2007) referred me to a Sports Physician downtown for x-rays, where after three hours of radiating and re-radiating, they finally determined that I had shin splints in the left and a fracture in the right. The x-ray technician kept messing up, so I probably got blasted with about 3000% more Tumor Juice than anyone should ever see in their lifetime.

I also appreciate that they make a point to cover my testicles with a lead blanket, as I can only handle one serious problem at a time. Something tells me that the sight of my gonads melting would have been a little too much for me to take on a Tuesday morning.

After the x-rays, the Sports Physician listened to my story, called me an idiot and told me I shouldn't do a damn thing with my legs until after I had an MRI and was put on a rehab program. They also made me take my pants off and wear a pair of communal shorts that I'm sure hundreds of tiny men have hitched up over the years.

They were green and I was very embarrassed.

I also found out that I currently weigh in at 164 pounds with all of my clothes and shoes on. While I'm in good shape and look dead-sexy in a tight shirt (still a size Small), this is the most I've ever weighed and a good 50 pounds larger than I ever thought I'd be in my life. You have to understand that I tipped the scales at 112 pounds my Senior year, where my Gangly Factor (GF) was off the charts. I always sort of thought I'd be like that forever.

I also never thought I'd be sitting in a Doctor's office, wearing someone else's clothes while a Sports Therapist tells me that my tibia was broken. Oh, and I have a hedgehog in my living room. Jesus Christ.

So, that pretty much brings us up to speed. The MRI is next week, the follow-up appointment is the week after that, and I've been instructed not to further injure myself anytime in between. Once they get a good look at me, I'll probably get a soft cast, some medication and a very busy wife. Until then, I'm limping on eggshells and avoiding concrete.

What I love more than anything is my mother, who still fully denies that there's anything wrong with me. When I called her before the race and told her I was hurt, she called me a baby and said I was fine. When I told her afterwards that I was hurt, she said I was not. When I told her I thought I had fractured my leg, she again called me a baby and said I didn't. Just today, when I told her about the x-rays, MRI and Doctor's word that I had a fracture, she told me that a fracture isn't the same as a break, and that I was exaggerating. Thanks for the compassion; I'll remember this when I choose your nursing home.

Sound off in the comments section and attempt to make sense of all this. The CDP Nationwide Mix-Tape Trade will be in the spotlight on Friday; please read this and get on board if you haven't already. We're up to 18 names, so it's already way beyond what I expected. Thanks.

Comments:
Better a hedgehog in your living room than a porcupine in your kitchen?

Do you have brittle bone disease?? For Pete's sake - rest! Seriously. I read on the internet somewhere that hedgehogs can sense weakness, and they've been known to go for jugular - so you need to be in fighting shape for when Laika snaps and becomes a vicious ball of spiney fury.

I just caved and created a Facebook account (already had a MySpace profile, but it has become apparent that it is no longer the bastion of cool, so off to Facebook I skulked like a beaten puppy). Total number of people I know on Facebook: 2. And one of them would be you. So if some weirdo from Florida sends a friend request, you'll know why.
 
I've never had a bone problem before, if you forget that one time when I had to stand up in front of the class my Freshman year....oh, wait...I should probably keep that to myself.

Laika was just sleeping next to me while she was out of her cage. I still don't really like her, but she's growing on me as she gets more acclimated to the house.

MySpace has sucked for years, but Facebook will eventually suck, too. That makes me happy, and I look forward to accepting your friend request.
 
Don't worry. It's a sign of stupid manliness to power through pain. I have no idea what I did to my quads while I was bartending the worst set-up bar in the history of manking for 300 people Saturday night, but they still hurt, and I was hustling cases of beer up the stairs at the Idiot all night.

For my next trick, I will spend Saturday and Sunday wakeboarding, and then spend Monday standing up while I tailgate for Clemson's season opener.

Just for good measure, I bought a Jagermeister dispenser tonight. Expect pictures and debauchery. I'll try to remember to rock my CDP shirt in a few of them.
 
Let that be a lesson to all the kids out there; you have to stretch before you get hammered. Or even when you're getting others hammered. Let's be safe out there.

If I get it in my area, I'll be watching the Clemson game, as well. Can't wait to see the new CDP shirt in action.
 
In this industry, it's all about who you know and I know Crackle.
 
CDP, I see how your eyes go all soft and tender when Laika sleeps next to you. Don't pretend you don't like her. She likes you, but I don't know how much longer she will if you continue to put periods outside of parentheses and capitalize nouns that aren't proper.

I hope you don't have to wear a cast, because as sure as Laika pooped on my arm this morning I do not want to do all of the driving.
 
Seriously, I started to hurt just reading about your pain. I feel for you man. But the key is to milk it for all it's worth. Now is the time to have people wait on you hand and foot, whether it is at home, at work, or just on the street. That's my advice to you, my friend. It worked for me when I sprained my ankle when I stepped in a pothole while drunk. Of course, I left out the part that I caused the injury cause I was drunk because people feel less sorry for you if they realize you're just a dumbass.
 
Due to my friends persistant machoness, I was forced to run a 10 mile sponsered walk back in September without any training. I ran for about 7 miles before I purposefully twisted my ankle just so I had an excuse to stop.

Although, that evening, I fell asleep in the bath.

So I suppose if you practically kill yourself because of your pride, life isn't all that bad.
 
The Clemson FSU game is Monday night on ESPN, starting at 8PM Eastern.

I don't have a new shirt, still the one from last year.
 
MOE - If the hedgehog would have been a male, I was going to name it Mitch Hedgeberg. I miss that man; I can only imagine what his upcoming HBO special would have been like.

HATHERY - I will never put the period inside of the parentheses! You hear me? Never!

I shouldn't have to wear a cast that would prevent me from driving. I mean, I can drive now, right?

...geez, at least I hope not.

JULIA - Thanks for the verbal massage. You're right about the sympathy, though. Once people find out that I hurt myself because I was too much of a douche to simply stop running the race, they tend to not care as much. I need to start saying that I was chased by a rabid wolverine for 3.1 miles.

CARROT - You're right. Even though I feel like an idiot and all, I still consider finishing the race a big deal; mainly because I wanted to quit and I had no reason to finish other than to prove it to myself that I could see through a ton of pain. It made me feel stronger, even though I walk like a pirate now.

10 miles? Don't you use metric over there, Duff?

JT - I'll be watching the game, after Monday Night Raw, of course.

Sometime before the holidays, I'll be completely re-designing the CDP merch. I'll make an announcement beforehand so people can buy whatever old stuff they want first.

Oh, and the CDP Fall TV Preview is in pre-production as we speak. Rawk.
 
All in favor of an "I Can See Your Butthole" T-Shirt?
 
Add that to the long list of t-shirts that everyone suggests, but no one will actually wear.

I can't believe that I gave away $100 worth of merch, and the person who won it didn't even contact me about it.
 
Yeah, that's too bad really. Nathan said he couldn't remember who won it, so maybe he just kept it for himself.
 
After looking at some of the photos from that night, I found out that Matt Krueger was there (about 3 feet away from me) and we didn't even notice each other. How weird is that?
 
What???? That's hilarious!!!
 
Kilometers!? Pah! I'm staying loyal to my British routes!
 
Awesome, I love it.
 
Okay, for the record, you do exaggerate things. A fracture and a break are two different things. That doesn't mean that one hurts more than the other, just that they are different.

I'm sorry if I came off as not being compassionate, I really am sorry that you are in pain.

By the way, I am not going to a nursing home, you and your sister are taking turns caring for me. Won't that be fun! We can talk about our aches and pains together; only mine will be real!
 
This comment has been removed by the author.
 
No, I didn't say anything mean to the CDP's mom...I just realized that what I said made no sense whatsoever :)
 
Here's the dictionary definition of 'Fracture:'

"To break."

I'm not even kidding. I laughed pretty hard when I read it.

Fracture = Break.

The Mix-Tape Trade is CLOSED, by the way. I drew names today, and I'll post everything you'll need to know on Friday.
 
I would wear a CDP "I Can See Your Butthole" t-shirt. To all of my husband's family's social functions. It would be fun!
 
Mark my words. I don't care if anyone buys it, I'm making a Butthole-T.
 
Yup. The first time I broke my wrist I had what is called a "Green Twig Fracture" and I had to wear a hard cast for 6 weeks. So it's definitely a type of break.
 
You should have a CDP T-shirt design contest!
 
I can definitely have people submit ideas for design; I'm a people pleaser, first and foremost.
 
That's what she said...
 
HA!
 
The first season of Friday Night Lights is out on DVD for $20! You absolutely cannot go wrong with a price and a show like that.

NBC is doing what FOX should have done with Arrested Development, and pretty much give the DVD's away with the notion that anyone who takes a chance on the show will love it and tune in next season. Fantastic!

Seriously, the first season of FNL was the best thing on television last season. Watch, watch, WATCH this show!
 
I like it, and I think football is for fruits!
 
But when Reggie Bush is on my TV Screen...WOOH! He makes me blush :)
 
Damn you, Reggie! Why must you be so nimble and beautiful?

(shakes fist to the sky)

REGGGGGIEEEEEE!!!!!!
 
Not just beautiful...GORGEOUS! *blushes fiercely*
 
Bweh-heh-heh-eh.
 

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