Actually, it was a few days before my birthday that I woke up in the middle of the night, quite uncomfortable. In that pre-dawn muddle I wasn't sure what was bugging me, but I tossed & turned and finally shook it off enough to fall back asleep. When I awoke, my elbow hurt.
It hurt like I had banged it against the corner of my night table (not an impossible thing to do in my sleep, knowing me). I looked for a bruise but saw nothing. Shrugged. Oh well, it will go away.
But it didn't go away. The darned thing hurt all week! I didn't take anything because it was so incongruous, I just kept thinking that it would disappear in the night, going the way that it came.
Last weekend the elbow spoke quite loudly. It would not be bend all the way. It would not straighten. No lifting, please. What the heck happened?
I got an appointment this morning, not with my doctor, but with the P.A., who told me I had tendonitis. Huh? Where the hell did that come from? Honestly, the dishwasher wasn't that heavy. I helped move it a few feet and felt no pain. Nothing snapped or pinged or creaked.
I must take advil around the clock for a few days and ice ice, baby. See the lovely ice pack?
So my boss had an explanation as to why it happened. He said, "it happened last Sunday because you were one day older than last Saturday. And that's what happens when you get older. You get pain. Things start falling apart." Yeah. Right around the birthday, too. Sheesh.
