I broke a plate today. It’s one of those Corelle ones that’s supposed to be unbreakable unless you have tile floors, which of course we do. It shattered through the kitchen and living room, and pieces bounced so far they made it into clean dishes on the kitchen counter. Despite my feeble attempt at sweeping I’ll likely find more shards for the next few months, especially as we begin packing to move.
Right, we’re moving in a few or so months
The plate broke because some part of my body landed on it as I attempted to reach for a bowl on a shelf. In attempting to stop the plate from sticking to my bare skin, I tried to hold it in place. Unfortunately my arm is so weak and shaky I ended up watching in what I’m sure was slow motion as my hand skidded the plate to the floor. At least the sound made the cats clear the living room. It also woke the dogs.
That was at 1pm yesterday. It’s now 3am and I’m laying in bed in my 34 year old body that broke on me. I’ve attempted to wrangle pillows, a heating pad (for that arm,neck, shoulder area) and a heating blanket (for the equally sore legs and feet) into some position that will keep me comfortable for more than five minutes. I’m failing at this task.
(Restart heating pad, adjust pillows, adjust dogs, attempt to drink tea to soothe my always sore throat)
Six years ago this body was pretty good. It wasn’t as small as society and a few of my ex’s would have liked. I liked it, when I look at it now I still do. Inside it’s broken, like one of those vhs tapes that got eaten by the vcr because you watched it too many times. Now when you try it’s all messed up and all the tracking in the world won’t fix it. Maybe I used it too much, took it for granted. But who doesn’t do that, especially in their 20’s. There’s no way to know you will literally wake up one morning in severe pain that never stops. You’re not supposed to break when you’re 29. We’re not supposed to break at all.
(Adjust for pillows again)
Maybe the broken parts of me are scattered at different doctors offices, imaging centers, blood labs, emergency rooms, physical therapists…
I feel foggy now, and I must five in to pain meds. There’s always too much pain and not enough pain medication.