OK, this XKCD really hits the mark.

Days and nights

As previously reported, on Wednesday I came home from physical therapy, got my mountain bike out, and rode twice up and down the street outside the house.  Just to see if I could.  (I could, but it wasn't easy.  I had to raise the seat an inch, and my right knee still hurt a lot at right-pedal-TDC.)

Yesterday, having got about a seven-foot chunk of blue Thera-Band from PT, I started out doing some of my knee exercises.  I've been doing 20 reps in PT (20 forward and 20 backward per knee), but it's an easy exercise, so I did 50 reps.  I could have done more, but it was time to take my parents to the airport in Manchester for their return flight to Spokane.  My father drove from here to the airport, so I wouldn't have to do as much driving.  Then I drove to the good Asian grocery in Nashua (which I almost overshot because it's changed its name and sign since we were last there), then up to Tilton for a fuel stop, then to my orthopedist's for a new prescription for pain medication, then to the pharmacy to drop off my prescription, then to the shoe store because the Dread Pirate Bignum is outgrowing her sneakers, and we walked around two different stores looking for shoes, and made a quick stop at the supermarket, then back to CVS to pick up the new ration of Oxycontin ...

Today, I hurt.  Enough that I don't really want to move much.  But not nearly as much as I hurt last night.  "Mack the Knife", the sadistic little virtual hob who camps out in the sympathetic nerves in my left leg and foot, went through his entire repertoire of ways it was possible for my left foot to agonizingly cramp up.  Then when he'd been through the entire list, he started over from the beginning, just in case I'd forgotten any.  After he eventually got bored of that, he went through the list a few times in the other direction for variety.  (This is about the time I looked at the clock, and thought "Oh god, how can it possibly be only 12:25?")  Then after another aeon ... um, hour or so, he started making up new variations.  Then he did a few repeat performances of his favorites.  Meanwhile, all my joints were aching as though I had the bends, and my arms were spasming.  (If I didn't know better, I'd think someone had somehow slipped me some ibuprofen.)  I recall several times wishing someone could just sedate me, and at least once the thought that I'd settle for a bullet in the back of the neck.

Along about 0330, cymrullewes half woke up long enough to say something about taking some painkillers instead of lying there in pain.  I think I mumbled something semi-coherent about severe doubts I could make it down the stairs to get anything.  I think about an hour after that, things finally subsided enough that I got enough respite to just curl up with cymrullewes for the rest of the night.

Everything comes with a price.  The currency demanded varies.