Did you know I’m a little Irish? Well by the end of this entry, you’ll have proof. You’d think that I would have a little leprechaun following me around day after day, you know, because we all do. But honestly that’s not the case at all. It’s a demon, and it pokes us every so often with a long pointy stick.

I say “us” as if I’m educated on the topic. Really I’m not, I just don’t want to be so alone in my misfortunes, so if you’re Irish and you don’t have a little jerk with a pointy stick by your side? Just ignore my blatherings and pretend I’m sane.

When my hubby left for Iraq I was on a mission to get healthy. I started treadmilling every day, drinking (much) more water, eating better. Pounds started melting away and I was feeling so great! Except for one little thing.

I had a ganglion cyst on my foot that was growing up so fast (whee!) that it was pressing down on the nerves to my three little toesies, and I couldn’t feel them anymore. With only the Luck O’ The Irish, I got to meet the most wonderful quality podiatrist in Perth. She is giggly and wonderful and confident and absolutely, positively loves feet more than anyone I’ve ever met in my life. She explained to me in great detail what was going on with my big friendly lump, and assured me that she could make no guarantees that I will ever recover the feeling in my toes.

That sucker was a doozie, and it squashed my nerves, destroying them.

Ah, who needs toes, anyway? I can move them now (see my pretty ugly bloody no-lump pic?), but I still can’t feel them. And if you run your finger really lightly over the scar? I might kick you in the face completely by accident. So don’t do that.

After a short (read: long) period of recovery, I had another surgery planned. This one would make my back feel better! Except for later, when I’d come to find out that the damage was done.

I had two pounds worth of a breast reduction. Oh, my goodness did I feel like a princess, a spoiled brat even when that happened! I mean really, who can afford that kind of stuff? Thankfully, because of my (old) size and my upper back problems it was a medical necessity, so I was covered. And the day after surgery? My back and shoulders felt great! So great that I dove into projects no woman should ever undertake!

Like gutting a bathroom to the studs and rebuilding it! Yeah! That’s exactly what a person shouldn’t do! It was probably this adventure that really completed the wracking of the back.

But oh! How LUCKY I am! I have the sweetest, kindest, most wonderful chiropractor on the face of the planet! He cared for me, adjusted my back throughout the year as needed, and finally it all boiled down to this, my spine sucks. He put his arm around me and comforted me while I cried. He recommended me to a place that only charges a mere $12,000 for a 6 week therapy program that has over an 80% success rate. I decided to swim, instead. That’s only $50 a month, and I can go for 240 months, that’s 20 years. Way longer than 6 weeks.

Only, wait! I’m trying to get healthy and fit! That’s just wrong, my body doesn’t LIKE that! Stop, it says, stop it right now!

A little over a month ago (I’d been swimming for a few weeks already), I began having some pain that I was certain was an easy thing. Hahaha! I’m hilarious! I should have known better, as I have the Luck O’ The Irish!

I waited it out, the pain didn’t subside. So yesterday, while I was getting Chickeymonkey’s vaccinations, I asked doc to feel around and confirm what I suspected was the cause, ovarian cysts.

“oh NO”, says my most favoritest doctor in the whole wide world, “that’s not a cyst! Cysts are for kids! You have a Spigelian HERNIA! They are very rare and you are Irish, aren’t you?! Congratulations!” And then he poked me with a really pointy stick.

So this lucky little Irish girl gets to go have s’more surgery, yay me!

Remind me to stop trying to get healthy okay? And if you have time, could you send me some information on Nursing Homes? I just want someone to take care of me now. I’m falling apart. Thanks in advance.