I Wish I Had Cloned Myself 20 years Ago

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Wouldn’t that be great if everyone had the opportunity to clone themselves at the peak of their health, stamina, and gloriously long hair?

I’m longing for the days of 20+ years ago, when I was thinner, more in shape, and my left knee wasn’t popping like 3 different kinds of popping cereal.

I miss not having white hairs on my chin, under my chin, and in my eyebrows.

I miss being able to eat Doritos and Ho-Hos as a main diet in college, then walking it off everyday to class.

I wish it was mandatory to clone yourself, for free when you’re younger. Then you can have the opportunity later to transfer your cognizance into that body when yours starts running out of steam.

Morality, legality, ethics, and all that nonsense aside, if I could jump into my 21 year old body right now, I would in a heartbeat.

My husband wouldn’t recognize me, though, and would probably be afraid of my ginormous bangs and bushy hair.

I like to think I would take better care of THAT body and make sure I wasn’t creaky and old like I feel now at 43, but I know damn well, I’d run my second body into the ground, too. As long as there was still Ben & Jerry’s Peanut Butter World…


I Was Injected with Chicken Parts

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No joke.

I have a bum knee, and whatever is supposed to be inside of it (Skittles, unicorn kisses, sheet rock, I don’t know) I only have 5% left of it. Now I’m terrible at math, but missing 95% of something needed is not usually good.

It’s all kinds of bad. I’m too young for a knee replacement, so for the next 15-20 years I am to survive on cortisone shots, Ben Gay kisses, and ice pack dreams.

Cortisone shots are supposed to work for at least 3-6 months. Mine lasted about 6 weeks. Then, like a dork, instead of calling the doctor when I notice it is starting to hurt, I wait for it to magically feel better until I can’t stand it, then I call.  Then I have to wait another few weeks to get in.

The last time, the doctor said if cortisone doesn’t work, we’re going to try a gel instead.  I call when I can’t stand it anymore, on September 3rd, and they call my insurance company to approve it. For some reason it took the insurance company a MONTH to do so.

I was shocked because insurance companies usually work really fast. *snicker*

Soooooo, I was FINALLY able to get the shot yesterday, October 15th. By this time, I’m eating Motrin like candy, weeble wobbling all over the house and generally feeling about 117 years old.  I take all three kids with me, because the shots are supposed to be timed. Same time every seven days for 3 weeks. They wouldn’t make me wait, right?

Wrong. My 16 year old and two 3 year olds end up stuck with me in a 90 degree room the size of stall in an elementary school for an hour. I was almost ready to just find the shot and inject it myself. He finally comes in, and the kids are looking at him accusingly, and he humbly apologizes. That’s nice, Doctor, shoot me up already.  He asks if I’m allergic to bird products, like eggs, and I laughed and said no.

He then pulls out a needle WAY bigger than the last time, and stabs me repeatedly in the knee with the force of the Incredible Hulk.

Ok, not really, he gently did it once, but it felt like the above.  I asked what exactly it was he shot me up with, and he told me it was a Hyaluronan which is partially made from processed rooster or chicken combs.

Interesting. My question is: WHO FIGURED IT OUT? Who said: “HEY, I’m gonna take a rooster comb and see if it can help arthritis!” Was this person laughed at? Mocked? Given a wedgie from all the science nerds in the lab? How does this happen?

I’m just glad I asked, because it totally explains why driving past Kentucky Fried Chicken today made the hair on the back of my neck stand up and the urge to flee was so prominent. I also have the incredible urge to throw food on the floor and peck at it.  I promise, if I lay any eggs, you’ll be the first to know.

Feel the Burn, Then Cry…PSA

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I have a bad knee. Like, really, really bad. Like so bad I’m gonna need a knee replacement soon, and I’m only 41. My doctor tells me to try to hold off for…TWENTY MORE YEARS!

Twenty! That’s 240 months or 7300 days. I’ll be lucky if I could hold off until Christmas.

See, your knee, and I’m going to try to simplify it here, is supposed to be full of stuff. My stuff is almost all gone, and what is left causes a grindy, crackly, goes out on me at any time, screamingly painful, puffy knee-like structure. It’s so noisy, I can’t sneak up on anyone anymore.

Cortisone shots are supposed to last from 3-6 months. Mine last 6 weeks. My doctor comfortingly told me I could probably just get a partial knee replacement.  Partial? Screw that, I want a bionic knee, and I want it to make Bionic Man noises.

I have a sexy knee brace I wear all the time that helps, but it still hurts all the time.

Now I might be weird, but I don’t mind smelling like Ben-Gay.  It reminds me of the white paste from first grade that I finally got up the nerve to try at the end of the year.

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t taste like it smells.

Instead of Ben-Gay, I found Icy Hot, with a roll on applicator. Good stuff, works pretty well.

But last night, my generally congenial Icy Hot, turned on me with an evil like no other.

I rolled some on like usual, and it started working. A few hours later I decided to put a little more on, because the pain was starting to creep through the minty gel band-aid.

After about ten minutes, I felt a burning sensation. Then a few minutes after that an “on fire” sensation. I look down and my knee is bright red, and it feels like a million red ants were crawling on it with little red ant knives dipped in red ant chili pepper juice.

The pain! I read the back of the Icy Hot bottle, and it says: “If severe burning sensation occurs, discontinue use immediately.”

Thank God I read that, because the most obvious solution to my problem was TO PUT MORE ON.

I used baby wipes, dish soap, regular soap, soap-on-a-rope, burn relief spray, and first aid spray. Nothing worked except lying on my side whimpering for a few hours.

That did the trick. After 5 hours it did not hurt anymore.

The good thing was that it made me forget my knee pain for a while. THANKS ICY HOT!

So, my PSA is, when it says not to apply more than 3-4 times a day…make it 2, with 12 hours in between.

I have just decided the best course of action is for Mr. Who and I to buy Motrin. I don’t mean go to the store and buy Motrin. I mean the company.

I’m gonna need a lot of it.


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