Kicking Me When I'm Down

Thanks to social media, blogs the world over have suffered, and while I'm guilty of that it's not the primary reason I'd stopped writing. 2013 was a very bad year for me. Here, in the past, I seem to have written some controversial posts and, as a result, gained a lot of haters. I have since tried to eliminate anything negative, even when factual. So, rejoice everyone who despised me! Your collective negativity toward me has, perhaps, rewarded you.

I began suffering health problems in the late part of 2012 and my condition declined into 2013. My blog became difficult to write as I grew more and more confused. At first it was just the odd word, but around May it became impossible for me to hold a conversation. At the same time I began to lose my hearing. People 12 inches from my face were sometimes impossible to hear, while people 40 feet away sounded as if they were shouting in my ear. It worsened to the point that every noise above a whisper became painful.

During this time I was also unable to sleep. In fact, I thought this was the root of my problems. I was exhausted all the time. Countless friends told me, "You don't have kids! You have no idea what tired is!" And I believed them, when instead I should've been telling my doctor.

In the summer my exhaustion became so terrible that I decided to take a Friday off work. I spent 3 straight days in bed, tossing and turning. The entire weekend's reward was about 3 hours of sleep. I couldn't lift my feet anymore, regardless of how hard I pushed myself. That's when I began falling down. But the worst part was how my body felt. My heart hurt, and my whole body felt... wrong. I knew something terrible was happening but I didn't know what.

One day, at the hospital, a specialist gave me my answer. What he found was simple, but severe. What I had was a serious vitamin B12 deficiency. Normal B12 levels (supposedly) range between 250 and 900 pg/ml. Some respected doctors even feel that damage to your body begins when your levels drop below 350. And what was mine? Mine was 130.

My specialist phoned my doctor immediately and told him I urgently needed B12 shots. My heart was in danger. The next day I started a 6-week regimen of weekly shots followed by a 6 week regimen of bi-weekly shots. I am now up to monthly shots.

Around Christmas I had considerable improvement, sleeping about 4 hours a night. I started to feel better, and that's when I really got hit hard.

By a car that is.

In the first week of January I was rear-ended at a red light. A young girl, distracted by her phone, drove her SUV straight into me at 65 kph. My glasses flew off my face and cracked against the windshield. The impact sent me 15 feet into the car in front of me - a mother, her 8-year old and her 1-year old. With tears streaming down my face, I nervously wiggled my toes and reached under my coat to feel my searing spine. I was ok, sort of. Paramedics put me on a backboard and rushed me to hospital.

My seatbelt had torn all the muscles in my left shoulder, a tendon in my left shoulder, and caused nerve damage to the ulnar and radial nerves in my left arm. I lost all the strength in my left arm; it flopped around like a towel hanging from my neck. I was terrified, frustrated and angry.

For three weeks I couldn't move my head due to the pain. But after a month of Naproxyn, Tylenol 3s and muscle relaxants, I started physiotherapy. Today I'm back at work, but the fingers in my left hand are still numb. I'm crossing my fingers that my seven remaining weeks of physio will get me back to who I used to be.

Keeping Firemen Busy

On Saturday night we travelled to Toronto to have a nice dinner with our friend Tonton, following the directions spoken by our sweet silver NAV-U GPS, which we've dubbed "Lady". And yes, the Styx song routinely gets sung whenever we say her name.

Anyway, about ¾ of the way there I noticed a fire engine in my rearview, lights blazing.

I've never had a fire engine blast up my rear end on a six-thousand lane highway, so I wasn't sure what to do. Some people were pulling over, while others were slowing down. I was in the middle and had nowhere to go, so I slowed down and let the truck pass me.

Within 3 seconds, literally, the fire engine (A) stopped in front of us, partially blocking our view of the accident and the tow truck (B) who, not-surprisingly, greedily arrived at the scene first.

It would seem that Jimmy Dillnuts, driving a VW Golf this time, decided he didn't want to use his brake pedal, and gave a Nissan Murano his patented move - a good butt-ramming. From what I could see as I rubbernecked, the Golf suffered extreme damage to the hood and bumper area while the Nissan was relatively unscathed.

After dinner with Tonton, we sped through the downtown in his diesel Golf, and landed at the trendy Foundation Room. It was dope. When we left I snapped this picture of a Chrysler 300C whose owner decided parking on the sidewalk was trendy.

Toronto. I should go there more often. I'll get great accident photos because the entire Dillnuts family must live there.

Spring Crash #2, in F Major

Incredible as it may seem, Jimmy Dillnuts cannot be stopped. It doesn't matter where you drive, be it city streets, quiet neighbourhoods or the highway. You will not escape Jimmy.

With her shit-ass 1 megapixel camera phone, my sister caught the devastation of Jimmy Dillnuts following in the wake of Saturday's accident. Yesterday morning she emailed this picture to me.

The Saturn Ion, or Hyundai Accent, or whatever the gosh darn heck this little silver wreckage is, appears to be another victim of the carnage-hungry Jimmy Dillnuts.

The vehicle is missing at least one front wheel, as you can see from the way the front of the car sits much, much lower than the back of the car. The engine compartment is munch-city, the hood is dented and the bumper has a scratch.

Firemen were busy at work here, earning the money they will use to buy their bacon bits for their fancy salads. As one fireman pulled the bodies of the dead midgets from the trunk another swept the sand they use to absorb the blood from the highway. Blood, you see is slippery, and the police don't want other motorists to slide in the blood and cause another crunchy accident.

In order to stop accidents like this, police should be more strict in the suspension of people's licenses. Following a second incident, idiot drivers should be electronically tagged and monitored. On the third offense, they should be swatted on the nose with a rolled up newspaper and have pickled eggs popped up their butts.

Unless, of course, they like that kind of thing.

A Fresh Spring Crash

On Saturday night I was meeting some friends from college for a dinner, followed by drunken Guesstures and deep conversations about ear wax and its incredible healing properties.

I was on my way to the restaurant when I encountered a familiar sight. That rapscallion Jimmy Dillnuts somehow got his licence back, and was on another destructive rampage.

Police directed traffic away from the accident while firefighters and witnesses stared at the wreckage of the black Mercedes. They were probably amazed that it suffered so much more crumplage than the plastic Cavalier which was also involved in the crash.

I could tell the cop directing traffic wanted to beat my ass for being so insensitive about the situation - so I avoided him by crouching on some stairs in order to take pictures.

I thought it rather humourous, and ironic, when I saw this sign in the background (on the right). I giggled a little bit, then turned around and headed back to my car.

That's when I ran into trouble. All of the occupants of the crunked vehicles were standing outside the restaurant where I had parked. The intense, angry stares were nearly enough to make me smash my own camera. Just kidding. But the daggers they shot at me were truly vicious.

I ducked as I sped away, causing no less than seventeen accidents as I made my slow, hybrid-style escape. At least the police and fire crews were handy.