The stories we tell ourselves
The Medical Issue
I started this week off Googling "Coronavirus symptoms" after my 17yo came coughing and sneezing into my kitchen early Monday morning. He'd been at his dad's all weekend, so I had no idea there'd been a shift in his health until he came home Sunday night, but I really didn't pay too much attention to it before going to bed.
In true Irish Catholic fashion, I never go looking for problems. In fact -- if anything -- I try to wait for them to go away. Alas, the thing about problems is that they have a knack for just getting bigger if not addressed. This phenomenon is true for everything from acne to poor credit to bad marriages. Eventually, you need to step in and do something to make things better.
For the last 5 or 6 months, I have had a pain like you would not believe in my right shoulder. Not a constant, throbbing situation, but a giant zap when I moved it in the wrong way, like going to pull my blankets over me in bed or pointing too quickly at something. I was also no longer able to cross my arms in the motion required to pull a tshirt off over my head, and instead had to figure out how to maneuver my left arm out and then raise my right arm straight up in the air to pull said garment off the rest of the way.
When my younger daughter was home from DC about a month ago, we went to Old Navy to check out all their workout stuff on sale. If you're new here, you must know I am ob-sessed with ON workout leggings. They are super cute and comfy and not $$$ or sized for a child, like Lululemon.
But that day I was all about finding a new workout bra since the ones I have in rotation at home had the elasticity akin to my jowels. As in, they used to be tight but have given way and slumped over time.
So we loaded up on a bunch of things to try on in Old Navy's very open and communal dressing room situation -- like, you get to go into a little closet and lock it but any pervert could be strolling by at any given moment. I'd grabbed a bunch of bras in different styles and sizes, eighter Mediums or Larges, to accommodate A: my bust but really B: my right shoulder boo-boo.
I tried one on in a Large and was like, "Boom. Done." I could easily slink my left arm out through the bra's band and then pull the rest over my head and gently off my right arm. But, like that second cup of coffee I know I'm going to regret but drink anyway, every day, I had to try the same style on in the Medium.
I slipped it off the plastic hanger and over my head, shoving my arms through the straps and began to pull it down and as it got to the top of my chest, it stopped. It had gotten stuck. I tried my ususal trick of wiggling my left arm under the bra's band, but it was too tight and my right hand was useless. Then I noticed the price tag dangling from the bottom, which was clearly marked SMALL. Someone had put it on a hanger marked MEDIUM.
I stood for a while in the very bright dressing room with the very small and tight sportsbra stuck across my chest and contemplated my options. Which were few. Finally, I called to my daughter in the next changing room and asked if she could come over and help. I grabbed a pair of leggings off the bench and held them in front of my chest and tried to hide behind the door as she slipped in, laughing. I turned with my back to her and she said, "You're gonna have to lose the leggings."
Ashamed, I dropped the leggings and held up my arms and she carefully peeled the bra off my upper torso and over my head, the whole time we were both laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. I mean, what would I have done if she hadn't been there?
"That's why I always carry a knife," said my workout friend, Dan, the next day, when I relayed the dressing room story. "You never know." Then he asked when I was going to do something about my shoulder, which he'd already diagnosed as a rotator cuff issue and we'd been working on keeping it from freezing up, which apparently is a thing: frozen shoulder.
Reader, that's just what it was. I went to the doctor last week and he had me do a couple of tests where he positioned my arm in a certain way and then told me to resist letting him push it down, and I whimpered in pain and gave up each time. He told me it was definitely the rotator cuff and seemed kind of bad but, like, tendinitis- or bursitis-bad, not major-tear-bad. But it would be hard to know more without an MRI, which the insurance company wouldn't pay for until I submitted to a round of physical therapy. I left with a prescription for 500mg. Naproxen and order to go to PT twice a week for six weeks.
Okay, Naproxen (really, 2 Aleve) is a miracle drug. One week later and my shoulder is not perfect but, man, I can get a sports bra over my head now no problem. And PT is interesting. I went early this morning and it's me and old ladies who've all had some kind of surgery, and conversation seems to center on their injuries or the Coronavirus.
As for my son, it turns out he did not have Covid-19, but I kept him home from school that day, just to play it safe.
I see people posting their Coronavirus prevention measures on social media -- collections of bleach wipes and water bottles -- and I had drinks at a girlfriend's house last night and her son came home from working at our town's family pharmacy and reported that a shipment of Purell he unpacked at the beginning of his shift had been completely wiped off the shelves by the time he left.
As you can imagine, I'm not really that concerned.
I'd never done anything about that tick I found stuck in my torso in the fall, other than sending it out to get tested and discovering it was an infected deer tick. Cool. Cool. The third thing I left the ortho with last week was a prescription to get a blood test for Lyme, after getting badgered by Dan to do somthing about that, too. I think I might even tackle that today, just so I don't have to hear him talk about it any more.
Is this what it's like to get old? On second thought, wait. Don't tell me. I don't even want to know because I'm not going to do anything about it any way.
Happy Friday everyone!
xoAmy
I love this illustration by the artist Fran Meneses, which I found thanks to Gretchen Rubin's weekly newlsetter. I am so cruel to Future Amy.
This Friday's Faves
With all the goddamn doom-and-gloom out there, let's focus on happy things:
One delightful revelation this week was discovering (courtesy of a pal who shared with me) the Rich Roll podcast and his 2-hour conversation with the lovely Kelly Corrigan (listen here or watch it here). She is just such a gem of a person. During the chat, she admitted she wished she had healthier habits and the next day, I got my weekly NYTimes Smarter Living newsletter that was all about -- you guessed it -- cultivating healthier habits. Kelly and I had emailed about something years ago, so I searched her name and it came right up in my contacts, and I forwarded to her with a note to say I thought she might find helpful in her quest for better living. Like, 5 minutes later, her response popped up in my inbox. Short and sweet to say thanks and that, of course, she'd already read the whole thing. And also that she was in the throes of finishing a book, which made laugh because writers will take any excuse to do something other than writing. Like answering an email. At least, that is totally what I do, all day long. If that was indeed what she was doing then it made me love her even more.
I've cooked, like, nothing this week except quinoa as my teen son is trying to slim down for lax. He reported he already lost around 10 pounds, which he did by eating a little more quinoa and protein and skipping the cookies I always pack in his lunch bag. I would kill to be a 17yo boy. Here's a yummy/easy dinner (compliments of my virtual workout friend Tracy): put chicken and broccoli on sheetpan, rub with oil + taco seasoning. Roast. Throw on top of bowl of qunioa with some black beans and avocado. Maybe drizzle TJoe's sriacha ranch dressing. Watch teen try to navigate around beans as long as possible before one makes way onto his fork and into his quivering mouth. Enjoy.
Loved this list of 15 books that The Skimm declares every Millenial woman should read. I've only read 6, so I need to get on it. And here's my latest rant that's in that vein: why should it just be women reading books about women? My book club just read The Catcher in the Rye and discussed how we related to the teenaged Holden and how it was still a part of the canon all these years later. Then I asked: What book is a part of the canon about the female adolesent experience? The only thing I could come up with is A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, but how many dudes read that either on their own or because it was assigned for class? I tried to get me 27yo son to go see Little Women with me a while back, and he was like, "You know I don't want to see that." and I was like, "Why? Because it's about chicks? Do you know how many movies I go see with all dicks running around?" And he actually said, "That's fair." #feministrantoftheday
If you are local and in the market for a new sports bra, leggings or any other athleisurewear item, please don't miss Athleta Shrewsbury, NJ store's FRIENDS AND FAMILY 20 percent off, starting today. You just need to make sure to sign up. If you are a true FOA (Friend of Amy) come shop any time this Monday, March 9 on the special Friends of Amy day, and maybe we can shop together? This is their best sale of the year, so don't miss it.
Finally, do you have a pal who you think would enjoy talk of bum shoulders and sheet pan recipes, I would like to suggest that you share this newsletter and encourage them to right in their inbox.
xoAmy