Vicodin. Yes!

Some days the ol body just doesn't want to cooperate.  One of those days was Monday.  I don't know what the hell happened (I have my theories though), but my right shoulder hurt like a motherfuck.  I went to the gym, asked some of the staff there what to do or not do.  One said leave it alone, let it rest, another said work it out, get it warm, yet another said ice it up and rest.  So I thought it best to just do legs on Monday night. 

Got an appointment at my new doctor's office (LOVE THEM), and saw the PA, who was very, very nice, they took an x-ray of the shoulder, and she told me I had a purdy shoulder (then you should see my ankles, they are cute, so Mom would say).  But the initial prognosis is a torn something in my tricep.  Shit, 5 months ago you couldn't pick my tricep out of a police line up.  So, physical therapy it is.  And Vicodin.  And Flexoril.  I didn't even ask for the muscle relaxer, so that was a bonus.  I have watched ER and Nurse Jackie, I know how these people fake things to get controlled substances!  I don't want to be pegged that!

So last night, Pam worked my legs.  I mean worked them.  And it hurt.  Not as much as the shoulder, but man, it was tough!  Guess that means good things.  When I got home and got ready for bed, took a Vike, and was in la-la land.  Until, for some strange reason, 4:00 this morning.  Could not get back to sleep, so I got up and started watching MSNBC, which was cool, since their clock is EDT, so I was watching live programming as opposed to reruns of Dateline or Lockup.  Around 5:30, went back to bed, slept for about 90 minutes and felt great.  Cept for this whole achy breaky shoulder.