Mind over matter, everybody. Mind over matter…

Sunday’s strips are colored, but haven’t been “painted” yet. They need to be. I’m confident that I could spend all day tomorrow doing the work left-handed, but I’ve decided not to.

Tomorrow, I’m going to awaken refreshed, with my shoulder continuing to heal nicely, and I’m going to get some work done.

It’s not about getting the comic out on time for you people. I mean, it is, but if I were desperate, I’d send the files to someone else. No, this is about not being bored out of my skull all day. Convalescence is for people who can stand to watch television. So… I’ll paint the four-row Sunday, I’ll crop, webbify, and upload a week of strips, and then I’ll see how I feel. I’ll probably flood-fill the first week of Book V, script the third week of it, and then take some time off for lunch.

I will NOT be taking two Lortabs. I probably won’t take ONE of the stupid things. If I need painkillers, I’ll lead off with 400mg of ibuprofen, which should leave me plenty of nice, tasty pain to chew on. As a bonus, it’ll let me know if I’m doing anything stupid with my arm.

Yes, I’ll be careful. Yes, I know that if I overdo it, the shoulder will take forever to heal. If I feel any more of the wrong kind of pain, I’ll mouse left-handed or upload a flood-fill Sunday. But I will NOT spend the day bored and/or intoxicated, thankyouverymuch.

In other news, “Freudiana” will forever remind me of being on drugs. How fitting. It’s nice to have albums conjure up memories, and I certainly wouldn’t want to forget my days of substance abuse.

–Howard

(Note: I’m thankful for drugs. I’m concerned, however, that the side-effects of my 15mg dose of hydrocodone included symptoms that are listed in the “symptoms of overdose” column. I’m taking this crap one pill at a time now.)

I wrote that last journal entry just before my pair of Lortabs kicked in, and I’ve been next to worthless ever since.

“Kicked in” is the right word choice. A team of metabolism commandos kicked the door down, and then kicked in my skull. I shall now describe the symptoms of onset as clinically as I can.

0 seconds: “hmmm… my tummy feels funny. I think I’m going to barf.”
10 seconds: “nope, not going to barf. Is it hot in here?”
20 seconds: “why am I pouring sweat?”
22 seconds: I call out to Sandra, but she can’t hear me.
25 seconds: I hit “Submit” and send off my Live Journal Entry
30 seconds: I stagger away from the computer, and Sandra hears me.
60 seconds: I’m back in my bed.
120 seconds: I’m asleep.

Over the last 6 hours we’ve discovered that every hour or so I’ll wake up and get maybe 10 minutes of euphoria mixed with “I need to be doing something.” I’ll come down to the computer, read stuff, and then the cold sweat starts in earnest, and I end up getting escorted back to my bed.

There are two pieces of good news.
1) I assure you, there is no danger whatsoever of me getting addicted to Lortab. I get a better endorphin rush off of capsaicin.
2) I can lift my arm forward now. The episode where I could not lift it was last night. Something healed up a bit while I slept last night and this morning.

Ooooh. I think my 10 minutes are up. More later.

–BRAAAIIIIINS

Much as I want this injury to be a strain, sprain, or other “minor tweakage,” I discovered something last night that pretty much proves there is something out-and-out WRONG with my shoulder.

I mean, besides the fact that some of the pain I get from it makes me gasp in surprise WHILE ON LORTAB.

Before getting into bed I had to remove some clothing. This meant removing the sling. With it off, I decided to take a few minutes and map out the range-of-motion pain. Slowly and excruciatingly I moved my arm around, deliberately taking it places that earlier in the day had been labeled with ugly clap-board signs saying things like “House of Pain,” and “Short, Sharp Shock.” I was pleased to find that the full range of motion seemed to be available to me, provided I didn’t mind the fact that this range could only be reached by walking over broken glass.

Then I tried to reach forward. Uh-oh.

I present this as an exercise for the reader.
1) Sit up straight.
2) touch the top of your computer monitor.
3) I can’t do that with my right hand.

It’s not just “dear me, it hurts too much.” It’s “why can’t I lift my arm?”

I can lift the arm laterally (provided I’m willing to make unpleasant noises and tear up like big cry-baby), but I can’t then bring my extended arm in front of me.

I suspect I’ve found the bit that’s separated.

I just took a Lortab. If this entry stops tracking somewhere in the third or fourth paragraph, you’ll know why.

This morning I failed my dexterity roll rather literally. I was playing volleyball, dove for a ball (which I slapped badly), and then tucked into a right-left shoulder roll (lead with the right shoulder, roll across to the left hip). But I failed my roll, both literally and spectacularly. It ended up being a right-side “shoulder furrow,” followed by a rolling flop onto my back. There were funny noises and sharp pains, but no colorful metaphors because I was playing ball with a bunch of nice ladies from Church.

Ask anybody who has worked with me extensively: I’m quite capable of using foul language. I find it base, demeaning, and unfortunately rather expressive, if in a lowest-common-denominator sort of way. So… it’s not that I didn’t curse because I don’t know how, it’s that there was just enough higher function in my brain to override. What came out of my mouth was a grunt, followed by some throat-charring gutteral groaning as I put my shoulder through a quick self-test to see if anything was broken.

I can tell this is going to get long. Here’s the obligatory ‘More behind the cut’ tag