Diaries Magazine

Florence Nightingale I'm Not.

By Chardonaldson
I survived!
I'm not talking about my latest running expeditions. As challenging as they can sometimes be, I'm managing to tick them off my program without any real problems. My knee (ITB niggles) seems to have responded to my new-found diligence in doing my exercises. And I'm recovering well between sessions. Yay me!
No, what I'm talking about is the love of my life's latest malady. Poor Iven had a sore back.
This is not a new thing for Iven. He has had a history of back problems and has been given strengthening and stretching exercises to help keep it pain-free. The only problem is that he only ever does the exercises when he's in pain. When it's not hurting he tends to forget. So it's a cycle of pain, do the exercises, no pain, don't exercise.
I used to be sympathetic but now, not so much. From my morally superior pedestal (where I do the exercises I need to in order to delay the onset of rigor mortis) I tend to give him a dose of you-should-have-been-doing-your-exercises and I-told-you-so. And then I escape down to my workroom so I don't have to listen to a man in the throws of agony. But I'm not totally heartless. If he gets too loud and is in danger of disturbing the neighbours I'll throw him a couple of pain-killers from the safety of the kitchen and hope that they land close to him.
But that wasn't Iven's only complaint. He managed to get a cold aka the dreaded Man Flu.
I did feel a little bit sorry for him. And then I felt sorry for myself because a sore back means that I have to do a few extras like walking the dogs (not what I'd planned for in the midst of marathon training) and all the fruit and vegie shopping (lugging enough green groceries for a family of five for a week is challenging for a woman who has a runner's upper body strength). The cold/man flu means that I have a man, who's known for his ability to wake the dead with his snoring with the added challenge of congested airways, next to me in bed.
But worst of all he had to stay home for over a week!!
I know I live with a family and chose to have that family. And I happily let them have their girlfriends over (heaven knows that we need to redress the testosterone-oestrogen imbalance). But the honest truth is that I like I like having the house to myself. I like my alone time. I like not having to talk to anyone but the dog (yes, I'm one of 'those' pet owners) for a few hours every week.
On Monday, his first day back at work, I finally got my alone time. It was wonderful! I'm incredibly productive if I'm not being constantly interrupted. And since then I've had a few more hours of alone time - feeling like I'm on an even keel again. Which is good because I had to go brave the grocery store today - that grocery store that moved and which I've yet to learn where all my usual purchases are. When I got to the checkout I asked Jenny (yes, my checkout chick and I are on a first-name basis) how she was doing. She wasn't doing so well. Her husband has a sore back and is (and I quote) 'on the endangered species list' like the moth on my ceiling the other night.
Florence Nightingale I'm Not.
Just wanted to leave you with a picture that made me smile the other night. It was sent by one of my friends with Mmm being the only clue. Took me a while to realize that they'd enjoyed my cake. That makes me happy!
Florence Nightingale I'm Not.
I'm glad I'm not the only one.

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