Tuesday night, the daughter had her audition at OCHSA. While sitting there in the hallway on a hard plastic chair, hearing her Muse video blaring from the studio, I could only think of that terrible stage mother in the original Fame. The one who bullied her unattractive, untalented daughter as much as she bullied the teachers. Yikes. I'm sort of the polar opposite--I never wrote much about the TV show the daughter was cast in for the producers' pitch to the network, but I was not exactly disappointed when it didn't go. A fourteen-year-old is not a ten-year-old, though, so I respect her desire to pursue this line of study. And the girl's interesting and funny (not to mention persistent), and a complete DIY director. I hope the school gives her a shot. As I told the daughter when she finished her meeting, it takes tremendous courage to take your stuff out on the road and let strangers see it. I was really proud of her for doing so.
Of course, she hasn't been raised with the irrationally exuberant excess of self-esteem that plagues so many her age.
I was relatively miserable last night; the epidural was not a pleasant experience. I was supposed to be quiet last night and today, reclining and letting the cortisone slosh around in my spine.
(The therapist yesterday told me that my descriptions were a little too vivid when I told her I'd been stretching the other day and it suddenly felt as though someone was pouring a cup of hot lava through my spine, starting around L2. Last gasp of a dying disc, I suppose.)
Anyway, I'd been warned that the lidocaine used in the procedure might give me some temporary relief from the pain. And it did.
So this is where I own up to everyone who was convinced that my pain level of 3 was closer to the rest of the world's 8. Yeah. The lidocaine kicked in and the difference was pretty stark. But don't worry, today, I'm right back where I was at 2:45 yesterday (the cortisone is supposed to kick in 5-7 days from now...if at all.)
What was oddest, though, was once I didn't feel any pain, the lack of muscle control was astonishing...far worse than I'd believed it to be. So, another epidural if this one doesn't work or wears off: HELL NO. Surgery, if it will take out the pain: HELL YES.
Oh, and getting function back would be great.
So that's where we are with that.
The cat has evidently made a miraculous recovery. All my carpets need to be cleaned, and he's beginning to resemble an Air Stream trailer, but his energy level is that of a kitten. That's where all the irrational exuberance in the house went.
Go listen to some good music: "Pain" from the album BOI-NGO by Oingo Boing.