Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Son of a &$%##! God-&#$_#!



It May be Worth it If I was Some World Class Soccer Player
 
 
 
When younger I used to think Charley horses were the bane of athletic types, certainly not a threat to me, who wasn't coordinated enough to run in a straight line. I'd see football players in my high school, lying on the grid iron in a crippled state and wonder “Is it really that bad...sounds like something minor to me.”   Yes, they are really “that” bad. I can get them so my thighs feel bruised and hurt for two days after.

I think I started having them in my 30's. I'd get them in my thighs, calves and even in my toes, no joke. I'd get all sorts of advice. “You have low magnesium/potassium/calcium! You're dehydrated! You should stretch more!” I've tried all of that advice and there I'd be, on the floor crumpled up like a ball of paper, having another one.

I probably look quite the sight when I'm hit with it, especially when it involves both thighs. I'm on the floor, curled up, gritting my teeth and breathing heavily. You'll also hear a mighty list of cursing words as well. “Jesus FUCKING Christ! God DAMMIT! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” If anyone was around me, I'd be like a wounded wolf, trying to bite you if you come near me or try to help.

“I can handle it! No! NO! GET AWAY FROM ME! (Snap! Snarl!)”

You know why I do that? Or at least you see men doing that? When hit with that kind of pain, I quickly go into a mental state to “manage” it and anyone distracting me only increases the pain. Just let me lie there and seethe, sucking air through my teeth and twist and turn, till it passes. I have my own way of dealing with it mentally and it usually works. It sounds like a I have a Zen meditative approach to it I guess, albeit a weird one. Eventually I'll become more amiable and less likely to shock your sensibilities when you try to help, only to get your hand bitten. So to speak.

I actually hit someone, more of a good brush off I guess, when I was lying on my backyard lawn, all crippled to hell for ten minutes. This girl, who I was dating, rushed to me to help. Did I recognize her as a an ally? A good guy? The cavalry coming over the hill? NOPE.

I said two words, “GO AWAY” and swung my arm into her legs as she came to me. You know what sucked then? There I was, in the throes with my hamstrings all balled up, taught as hell, in pain and now I realize I have to apologize and explain, while in this state...to her. The look on her face was of such pain from being pushed away. Jesus...now I feel bad on top of everything else.

I quickly patched together an explanation of “why.” I just kept saying...”Leave me alone, I'll get through it...Just leave me alone...I'm OK.”

I still had to explain after wards. She was really hurt from being shoved aside when she all she wanted to do was help.

Why am I writing of this now? I just spent the last twenty minutes eating my carpet from having both thighs tighten up on me. Ugh. I knew it was going to be a good one when I dropped. One time, I let go of a pizza I had just ordered, to see it smack the floor and then I lay next to it, swearing and cussing like a sailor, holding the backs of both thighs.

*****

If firemen ever pull me from a car accident, they'll have to shoot me with a tranquilizer dart. It'll look like Animal Planet as they take down a very pissed off cougar that's wandered into a shopping mall.


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