Afterthought

By the way, it turns out Anthony didn't have to have surgery. Ah, the love of my life! Instead he traveled all the way to North Carolina to get some MRIs and physical therapy. Apparently he's a total freak when it comes to illness, disease, hospitals, etc. Whether it's a headache or triple bypass surgery, his response is always, "I don't do drugs." No tylenol, no Nyquil (a sin!), no Percocet, no Vicadin, no anti-inflammatories, no nothing. And he refuses to trust any doctor outside of his mother's personal network of friends. Since she used to be a nurse, I guess that's reliable, but at the same time, New York City has some of the most world reknowned doctors and hospitals in the world. I'm pretty sure they couldn't fuck up an MRI... (oooh!! Did I just say the "F" word?)

So, when the doctor said he didn't really need to perform surgery (after seeing the MRI), but another procedure could be done with local anesthetic, Anthony went ahead and turned that down too. After his mom force-fed him anti-inflammatory pills for a week, he promptly stopped that as well, i.e. he left North Carolina to come home to me. Mind you, this is the same man who deals with migraines by attaching a clothespin to his ear, claiming that hitting a pressure point takes his mind off the pain in his head.

Now Anthony is supposed to be doing leg exercises on his own, and building up the muscles on the inside of his knee so his patella doesn't over-rotate to the other side and cause him these same problems again. He is supposed to be working on endurance exercises like running, biking, swimming, etc.

Although now that he is sick, I don't think he's been hitting the gym all that much. And goodness knows that if he does make it to the gym, all he'll likely do is lift weights, the meathead!

Ah yes, the loveliness that is the wintertime flu season. Did I mention I got really ill upon returning home from the lovely Dominican Republic? I had a Bond-athon, extreme stomach pains and diarrhea, which means that I kept having to interrupt Sean Connery to either clench my eyes shut as spasms ran through my gut, or run to the bathroom at a 50-meter-dash world-record pace. I thought that it might have been due to the chili Anthony brought me from Lupe's back in Charlotte, or perhaps a change of diet from the extremely greasy Dominican food I'd eaten for a week to a diet that was slightly less, but it appears that it was likely neither as I have now passed on my illness in all it's glory to my love, my Anthony. Yet he has had the added benefit of a black eye I gave him last Friday night (well, the boy DID GET OUT OF LINE), a pinched nerve in the middle of his back, and other actual flu symptoms such as all-over body aches.

But does he take good care of himself? NO. He sets himself up with a vitamin cocktail comprising of a lot of letters in the alphabet, from A to zinc, stuffs himself with fibrous fruits before bed so he can sleep through the night without having to "pee through his bum" (his words, not mine), and then puts on every item of clothing he owns plus all his bedding so he can "sweat it out." Although I am not a big fan of taking random drugs myself, I can't stop from thinking, "What a weirdo!!!"