Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Are You a Hot Mess?

Adrie and Sammie at a skating rink in Midway.

I guess I need to take a class on current language usage of 14-20 year olds. I consider myself to be a good communicator, able to carrying on a conversation with most people of all ages. I am, however, having difficulty recently understanding what anyone is saying me in the above-mentioned age category. Am I old? Apparently so.

I'm not sure but I'm a HOT MESS, SBI, maybe some day I'll be LEGIT.

My friend Kirsten is on a cruise, leaving her home full of 12-18 year olds who probably communicate in teenager. Yep, she left behind a whole group of these language-impaired people. She is probably engaging in real conversation with real words, words that you can find in the English Dictionary. Words like, I'd like another one of those chocolate tortes, please, and can you feel that breeze, and the sun feels amazing, I think I'll lay here for a few more hours. Kirsten, I wish I were with you because I'm just a hot mess, and it has nothing to do with the sunshine you're soaking up right now.

HOT MESS. As far as I can tell, someone who is hot mess is messed up. If they are indeed "hot," as in attractive or desirable physically, then they are an attractive disaster. If they are a hot mess meaning hot as in strong or intense, then it means those people are incredibly messed up, good-looking or not.

Therefore, when I heard Taylor say yesterday, "That girl is a HOT MESS!" I assume she means that someone is really screwed up. Given that this girl she was referring to was attractive but ditzy, then I deduce that someone who is a hot mess is physically desirable but messed up. So if someone calls you a HOT MESS then you should take it as a compliment partially because at least you have the attractive part down, right?

Someone tell me if I'm on the right track here. Hey, maybe I want to be a hot mess.

OK, on to SBI. My Dad used say, "That guy's a real SOB!" so I know what THAT means. But when teenage language involves just the letters, then you have to ask. I humbled myself and said, "What?" Apparently SBI means Sorry About It. Kind of like too bad, so sad, your tough luck, get over it, deal with it.

It's a way to say that you acknowledge what happened to a person. If you say SBO, then you're telling someone that you understand that something happened to them, and so you respond with such a caring comment that you can't even say the words? This comment is so sympathetic, you might as well tell the person YBL (You Big Loser) because that is the amount of caring that comment invokes. Or how about INL (I'm Not Listening?) Hey teenagers, add these to your repertoire. Good ideas, don't you think.

OK, now LEGIT. I think I get this one. I can figure this one out on my own!!! I kind of like this one. Probably because I was smart enough to figure it out. It's short for legitimate so I had a bit of a hint.

If you are LEGIT you are with it, cool, skilled, smart, on the right track, doing something good, rocking the world, having a great time, doing your best, getting stuff done, and in every way making good strides in your life.

"You're so LEGIT!" is a compliment. We want to be LEGIT because that means we're doing good things and people have noticed it. I'd much rather be LEGIT than SBI or a HOT MESS for that matter.

Here are some things that are LEGIT with my world.

Nathan is such a LEGIT basketball player.

My weekend was so LEGIT because Darren and I got away for a night and had a great time.

Alyssa is LEGIT because she got into BYU!

Sammie is LEGIT because she cut up 12 pounds of grapes for me yesterday. Thanks Sam!

So, go on out and do something LEGIT but try not to make a HOT MESS out of it. If you do, SBI!

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Hello Pysical Therapy: Nice to Meet You

So a couple weeks ago I started physical therapy for my shoulder. It had been six weeks since my surgery, and that seems the standard time to start "working" something that has recently been torn to shreds and then surgically put back together.

I have never had the occasion to have physical therapy in my life. I had no idea what to expect. I thought it would be oh, 30 minutes a couple times a week. No, says my PT, Ned, we might as well get everything back together as soon as possible. Let's work hard now, so we don't have to later. OK, I told Ned. You're the pro. I'm just a 43 year old woman who can't do her bra up anymore or reach that one piece of hair on the back of my head. And since I want to be able to do those things once again, I am following Ned's regimen.

Our goals are to get back all my "range of motion" and build muscle at the same time. This is a delicate balance. If you strain it building muscle then that sets you back in the range of motion department, and if you strain it getting range of motion back then that slows up the muscle building process. So we must work incrementally each day to make sure the proper balance is struck.

Well, this balance takes about 90 minutes three times a week, not including driving time. I know, I know, what else do I have to do in the dead of winter? Much to Darren's delight, I am missing a whole bunch of winter clearance shopping opportunities. By the time I get Leah to school and take a shower and get ready it's time to go to PT. And then it's 11:30. I have to be to work in a hour, but I have a bunch of errands I still want to run and I need to grab some lunch, etc..

This getting better feels like a full-time job.

When I arrive at PT, first I have heat, then ultrasound, then exercises, then stretching, then more exercises, then ice. Bam! The morning is gone!

So Ned, he's the best guy. He can't believe I have no pain. He says most people who've had my surgery are a six or seven on pain and I came in with a one, and that was only because I really tried hard that day to reach that one piece of hair with the straightener. Since then I'm a zero on pain. And I'm getting closer to making my hair look like I give a darn.

I have no idea why I have been blessed with no pain. But I have been. And it's amazing.

On that first day, Ned looked at my chart and said, "You had an anterior AND posterior labrum repair. And you have no pain?" When I answered no, he said, great, we're gonna work then. And when I'm done "working" I wonder why I didn't tell him I was a five on pain so I could leave earlier.

But there I am. Learning while I'm working. Learning how intricate and astounding the human body is to repair itself like this. I'm feeling some sense of esteem that I am making improvements rapidly. I'm feeling great that when Ned takes measurements of my "range of motion" the numbers are going up.

This is the first time in my life that my measurement numbers involving my body are going up and that's is a good thing!

And then I feel grateful. I met a woman half my age who has degenerative arthritis and she will have to have MANY surgeries to repair bones that are rubbing together. She was doing exercises to prevent having the surgery I just had, but she said it's inevitable that she will have it some day.

There are patients who are still in a ton of pain. They drag themselves in on crutches and endure. And I think what a terrible time of year to be on crutches when at any moment a piece of ice could send them back to surgery.

One Mom sat on the table doing her knee exercises while reading a Magic Tree House book to her five-year old. She was there at least as long as me. I was so glad I don't have to drag kids to PT. Everyone there is doing all they can to restore their bodies or make them even better than before surgery.

It's sort of a sense of community I feel with all these recovering folks. Who would have thought.