With his sisters back to school, the time for me and my eldest to have a "Mommy date" arrived. Off to our favorite Indian buffet we went where I ate my weight in curries while he ate as little as I normally do. It was a fun role switch. Both of us sat reading and drinking black tea. I've struggled to eat enough calories daily so I didn't stop myself from eating thirds of every gluten-free item on the buffet when hunger hit. I figure an extra thousand calories at least one day a week will only help me offset the 500-700 I am short daily.
Photo by Elli O. on Unsplash
Kid 1 watched me consume food whenever he paused in reading. He looked concerned, like maybe I resembled the Beast in that scene from the Disney Beauty and the Beast cartoon. I checked my face with a napkin. No slobbing for me, but maybe I was eating a tad fast. Had to stay ahead of that short appetite.
He really is the perfect date. We sat with our books practically binding to binding, but I didn't really read. My arm hurt too much. What is it about knowing the details of an injury that makes it hurt worse? Anyway, we capped off our lunch with a trip to the local comic book store where I got him a Star Trek poster, a Doctor Who poster and a copy of My Friend Dahmer. He devoured the book while I trekked him to Dick's Sporting Goods to hunt down that cho-pat I was talking about earlier today. We found him a rather Whovian neck warmer to complement his haul and back home we popped.
Photo by Stefan Cosma on Unsplash
Let me tell you something about the cho-pat: When I found it (and it took far longer than I hoped), I strapped it around my arm and watched my hand open and close with amazement. I got Kid 1 to pull his nose out of his book for long enough to watch my fingers move and not move with the cho-pat on versus off. We were both awed and grossed out. After all, something is ripped inside my arm and the cho-pat only made it more obvious how poorly its been functioning.
To my relief, the driving pain I'd been feeling up to that point abated almost immediately. I paid for the cho-pat with it on my arm. My kid and I got back in the van and I dropped him at home before gathering his sisters.
I can turn my steering wheel!
I can hold a (light) shopping bag!
I can pick up my tea cup!
Photo by Maria Angelova on Unsplash
I went out to bond with my son and came home with a grip. And because I'm a writer fond of puns, I mean that doubly. There was the grip on items, yes, but there was also the tightened grip on my sanity which pain had been chipping away. Maybe triply as the bonding with Kid 1 leveled up in geekery and I feel this makes him my child all the more.
I'm feeling better while feeling worse. That's a wonderful thing in itself. While I wish the medications I can take would ease the pain, I'm very happy to have my tendon supported and the ability to feel when I'm pushing (or pulling) too far.
Another reframe on this whole grip because you know I'm fond of those: I'm grateful my pain and need to go get the arm support tempted me to go out for lunch instead of trying to cook. One torn tendon resulted in some serious bonding time with my tween. Pretty great, huh?
Ooh, one more: The pain made me hungry giving me a "grip" on my appetite. Especially as I rarely feel hunger. So many bonuses!
How do you multiply "negatives" to make gains?
(Also, are you a fan of Math puns? If so, let's be friends.)
