{"id":768,"date":"2003-02-09T23:00:00","date_gmt":"2003-02-10T06:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.chocolatemussolini.com\/cm\/default.asp?n=40"},"modified":"2003-02-09T23:00:00","modified_gmt":"2003-02-10T06:00:00","slug":"painkillers-again","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/?p=768","title":{"rendered":"Painkillers. Again!"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Dear Friends,<\/p>\n<p \/>Lately, I&#8217;ve been playing pain roulette.<\/p>\n<p \/>Well, OK. Not pain, more soreness. In my muscles, the ones I keep forgetting I have until they hurt. Right now, I have my schedule perfectly planned to ensure that I am suffering in a new and different way every single day. I think it&#8217;s particularly ingenious. <\/p>\n<p \/>I work out at the gym three days a week, generally Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. On Tuesday nights, I have &#8216;Body Shaping&#8217;, which is a circuit weight training class combining free weights and stretching. It&#8217;s 90 minutes of wanting to die, and I love it. The class environment is good for me, because I&#8217;m competitive, which makes me keep going even though my arms have lost sensation and I&#8217;m unable to raise them above shoulder-height. I&#8217;ve started to say words like &#8216;reps&#8217; and &#8216;glutes&#8217; and &#8216;quads&#8217; without even giggling. After weight training, I&#8217;m surprised to find that my arms aren&#8217;t as sore as they just feel weak. The aching is focused in muscles I hadn&#8217;t previously been aware of: along my sides, over my ribs. You know, the ones involved in breathing. Ouch.<\/p>\n<p \/>On Saturday mornings, I have yoga. I&#8217;ve had about six weeks away from yoga class, and I&#8217;m glad to be back. I have the best of intentions about practicing at home, but in the rock-paper-scissors of my daily life, doing the dishes, vacuuming, and trying to keep up with email always beat yoga. It&#8217;s just the way it is. I&#8217;m proud to say I finally did <a href=http:\/\/sivasakti.com\/articles\/yoga\/sarvangasana-art20.html target=external>Sarvangasana<\/a> in class, and managed to stay there for almost ten minutes, despite my suspicion that I would almost certainly break my neck. I mean, who wants to have to admit they&#8217;re a yoga paraplegic? Not me. And not being one to get too into the spiritual side of yoga, while others are repeating their mantra and remembering to breathe, I&#8217;m thinking, &#8220;Thank god I remembered to shave my legs last night.&#8221; Mr. Iyengar would be proud.<\/p>\n<p \/>In addition to all that, I have this lingering hip injury. It&#8217;s the one that finally sent me skulking to the physical therapist&#8217;s office a few months ago, although I <i>did<\/i> get to see an x-ray of my entire pelvic area, which, I swear to god, if they&#8217;d have let me take home you&#8217;d be looking at right this second. It&#8217;s not every day you get to see these things. Anyway, that visit also led to a protracted battle with HealthPartners over the fact that they would far rather that I suffer and die than fork over the $100 for my medication. The upshot being that my hip is slowly getting better on its own, though it likes to remind me it&#8217;s unhappy with me every so often, and also, I have added HealthPartners to my ever-growing list of companies that have clearly accepted Satan as their CEO.<\/p>\n<p \/>Where&#8217;s my Aleve? Back to work.<br \/>Jenni<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Dear Friends, Lately, I&#8217;ve been playing pain roulette. Well, OK. Not pain, more soreness. In my muscles, the ones I keep forgetting I have until they hurt. Right now, I have my schedule perfectly planned to ensure that I am suffering in a new and different way every single day. I think it&#8217;s particularly ingenious. &#8230;<a class=\"post-readmore\" href=\"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/?p=768\">read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false}}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-768","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/po9qt-co","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/768","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=768"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/768\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=768"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=768"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/queenofsubtle.com\/cm\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=768"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}