Again, I haven’t blogged in a while. Not because nothing is happening, but because too much is happening.

We’ve been busy. Very busy.

I’m overwhelmed with the fact that the older I get, the faster the years go. And everyone tells you that. I’m surprised by the fact that, as I get older, I seem to get busier. More and more things are piling up and we haven’t even gotten to the girls going to soccer, gymnatistics, or tuba lessons. Or whatever they’ll be in to.

Well, my latest affliction - of which there have been many - has slowed me down a bit. For a change. Sure, things are piling up, but… I’ve had to get off my feet for a while.

Seems I was bitten by a nasty little spider at some point in the last week. Don’t know where. Don’t know when.

At first, I thought it was a mosquito bite. I ignored it. Then it started getting bigger, but… like an idiot, I ignored it. When my ankle swelled up to size of a softball, I couldn’t really ignore it anymore. It wasn’t too painful, unless you poked it with a stick. Which I don’t recommend. Anymore.

By Saturday morning, we (by which, I mean my wife) finally called the Blue Cross help line to get advice from a registered nurse on phone duty. She basically said if she could smack me upside the head in person… she would have. Told me to get to urgent care that day.

Then the fun began. I love going to the doctor. Pain is good. Pain makes me feel alive. And he didn’t disappoint. My swollen, bloody bug bite needed to be drained. I knew that. The docter who looked at it for about 3 seconds knew that.

Actually, it wasn’t all that bad pain-wise. He gave me a local anesthetic. But have you ever noticed that it seems like the shot you get to kill the pain probably hurts worse than what they were going to do? I noticed. He stuck a needle in my leg that had to have been four feet long. And apparently, you can’t just stick it in and squirt in the numbing juice. You need to work it around a little. And by a little, I mean a lot. Imagine this little five foot two doctor jamming me with a four foot long needle and then standing on the table and jerking it back and forth with all his weight and all his might.
That’s what happened.

I nearly hit him. But after the local did its work, I couldn’t really feel what he was doing to drain out all the blood and guts. Which was good. And I certainly didn’t want to watch. Oy. But then he told me to hold a jar of sterile gauze. He pulled out an 18 inch string of it and cut it off. Then he told me he was going to put it inside me.

Inside?! WTF?! I thought doctors got in trouble for leaving gauze pads, instruments, and gold watches inside their patients, for chrissakes!  But, nope, he packed it into the new hole in my leg. Supposedly to keep it from filling back up with blood and guts. But I think it was to inflict more pain. I think he was mad that he was five foot two and I’m six foot three. These little guys have complexes, ya know. They do…

I’m still recovering. Spent the weekend on my butt. The highlight was that L.A. Mommy had to mow the overgrown lawn. For the very first time. And not just the first time at our house. The first time ever! She had never had to mow her own lawn growing up. I wish I could have gotten up to grab my camera to take a picture. But it hurt too much.

I still have my Vicodin, though. It’s my friend. It’s makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Goodnight…