Where do I begin?

by | May 1, 2013 | Being Me, Blog | 0 comments

I am unsure how this actually happened…Contrary to speculation.  I find myself with two broken ribs and I do not know how it happened. Really.

As you may remember about 10 days ago I husband-napped Chip and we spend a get-a-way on Skaneateles Lake. Wonderful food, great wine and in a  very romantic inn.  The general consensus from close friends and family is that something occurred there causing these ribs to break.  Not so, although that story could tell a much better tale. I did, however, wake up that Saturday morning with pain in my lower back. For a week I took Motrin 800, slept on a heating pad and backed off my usual gym regiment.

The discomfort continued and my attempts to take Zumba with gusto were thwarted.  I could not lift my arms over my head and twisting was out of the question.  I was, however,  able to continue Spin Class so long as I didn’t use my upper body too much. I am so not happy.  I went to my NYC office on Monday and that was just the clincher.  Walking all over Manhattan and in and out of meetings,  I cried “uncle!” and called my doctor.

She examined me and said the muscles on both sides of my ribs and back  were really tight. She thought it was muscular in nature. She prescribed a muscle relaxer but thought to get x rays just in case.

Off I go to get the x rays and  within 30 minutes on my way home the phone rings and my doctor has the results:  a broken rib on the left and possibly on the right.  The osteoporosis was so bad they could not tell.  Not good.

No Zumba for at least 4 weeks.  Spin class only ‘as needed’.  Ya think she knows me? There was no way I could sit and do nothing, right? Well Mother Nature says differently and since it is hard to get in and out of a car, I will  have to concede.  Amelia said today, “believe me Mom, it is harder on us if you can’t go to Zumba!” Smart kid.

So now I am swimming in a foggy sea of muscle relaxers and narcotics for pain and I am trying to figure out how to break out at 4:45 am tomorrow morning for Spin. Fredrick (my car) won’t let me down; he knows the way to the gym all by himself.

All I have to say to you inquiring minds out there is that I refuse to answer on the grounds it might incriminate me.

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About Me

KarenHello and welcome.
I am often asked, “What is Pasta on the Floor?”
Pasta on the Floor is different for everyone. It is a recipe that tells a story and inspires them to try something new. For others, stories of family, joy, loss, and hope engage with them. This brings me a great deal of happiness. I do not take myself too seriously, so be forewarned the subject matter is open and truthful. In many ways, Pasta is a tale of life, and I think you will find familiarity and commonality as you scroll through these pages.

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