Roughly three weeks before we left Illinois for North Dakota, I threw my neck out (reaching for the freaking computer mouse no less), necessitating a trip to the ER, followed by several trips to the new base chiropractor. He twisted and turned and jerked, leaving me at one point thinking, “Holy crap, this is how we learned to break necks,” as he grabbed my head and twisted.

About 3 months before we left North Dakota, I have the fibro-flare from hell. It wrapped itself around my knees, and then my quads, making walking a near impossibility. I arrived in CA needing to borrow a wheelchair—I had to give back the one I’d been using in Grand Forks—and I used it for another two or three months.

Before we left CA for OH, it was the brain tumor. First the thirst, then the massive peeing…then the surgery.

You see a pattern here?

Two days ago the Spouse Thingy wanted me to look out the front window, and as I stood up, pain exploded through my left knee. It came in a wicked flash and then was gone, but it was enough to knock me back on my ass, and has poked at me since then. Last night I tried standing up a few times and wound up with my butt back in the chair. And now my right hip has decided to chime in, letting me know that it’s still here, and not willing to let the left knee get all the attention.

I should have expected this, really.

Since it doesn’t hurt all the time it’s not interfering in getting things ready for the move, but looming next Tuesday is Boot Camp. This would likely be my last week…but since I really don’t want to blow out the entire knee—I was warned a few years back that it was headed in that direction, pretty much just a matter of time—I think I may have to skip it this week.

And honestly, I don’t want to miss it. But I also don’t want to wind up with emergency surgery just a couple of weeks before we leave, and I don’t want to make a 5 day drive with my leg all wrapped up and immobile.

So…I guess I’m done with it. I’m going to try to walk the track tomorrow—not run—and see how that feels. I figure the track is better than trying to walk the bike trail behind the housing area. If I get two miles out on the bike trail and start to hurt, I have to turn around and try to make it back two miles. If I manage two miles on the track, I can crawl to my car if I have to.

It’s not that bad, I swear. I just don’t want to risk it getting that bad.

But really, maybe it’s a good thing the Spouse Thingy is retiring. Any more moves and I might have body parts dropping off in a trail behind me…

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