Vicodin and Mayonaise

Poor Superpounce. Don't tell her I let you know. She wanted us to tell her friend that she was grounded rather than let her know the truth. Superpounce has been quarantined from Oofy, the little stuffed dog she has slept with since I placed Oofy in her crib when she was a toddler.

Superpounce is quarantined because she contracted a case of head lice--and she would die if she knew that I let it out. She considers herself to be legitimately famous now that she is on the blog.

The over the counter treatment did not work, so we consulted a highly trained medical professional who recommended . . . .

Mayonaise.

Yep. Mayonaise in the hair, bound up in saran wrap for three hours then washed out. Worked like a charm. So much so, in fact, that Superpounce asked whether we could smother Oofy in mayo so that she could have her back tonight.

It was hard to make her understand that mayo would not work so well on a plush toy, especially one that is in danger of losing her stuffing and what's left of her loved-on fur if we wash her ever again. There is nothing for it except two weeks in a plastic bag to let any vermin die off.

"It's going to be a long two weeks," moaned Superpounce.

Indeed it is.

Would that mayonaise or even two weeks in a plastic bag could cure me. An MRI has confirmed that my neck owie is an actual slipped disc between C6 and C7. Highly trained medical professionals blow.

Slipped disc????? What am I some obese, deskbound office worker who throws his back out reaching over his paunch to tie his shoes? This is nuts! I refuse to have such an injury. I am not going to age like my parents. I am, after all, immortal. I'm an American, dammit. We are young and thin and strong, at least when we watch TV to escape the reality where we are all wadlding toward a BMI gomorrah of type II diabetes, heart disease and arthritis.

But my refusal to have this injury has not sufficed thus far. The injury refuses to listen. Vicodin helps. (It is also highly recommended for Thanksgiving and other large gatherings of extended family. Got to save some of the prescription for next year). I have been running. But I miss the pool. I miss the bike. And most of all I have a gnawing fear that I won't be ready.

I want to be at the start line of Ironman Wisconsin with a sound body and a confident mind. I know I'm blessed to be as healthy as I am, but that does not mute the little voice in my head reminding me that I am not where I want to be.

Now, where are those pills?