Now, normally I would keep this sort of information to myself, but it's so bizarre that, oh I dunno, maybe someone might have an idea what the heck is going on, or else just have a good laugh at my expense (honestly, please go ahead, I insist ;)).

I went to bed last night (late), and was absolutely fine. Hadn't had any aches or pains all day, and was feeling very grateful for a "Good day" at last.
Woke up this morning, and I feel like I've taken a very fast-moving projectile to my bottom.

I have no idea what could have happened to cause the pain, and it certainly is a brand new one on me (not many more of those about, surely).
It feels like a bruised muscle, or bruised bone or something, but I have it on good authority that there's no mark to speak of in the area.

It hurts to move my leg, so I've been hobbling about all morning, clutching it! Must look very comical, a bit like Dr. Frankenstein's Igor, with an unscratchable itch.

Once again I have been away, and no it isn't all down to Neopets or Funkeys this time (Phoenix, I'll get to that too...in another entry).

We have had hi-jinx and shenanigans here this past week; everyone has been ill, and no one has had any sleep.

Started off on I-don't-know-what-day, Steve and his Dad decided to repair a hole in the kitchen ceiling, ever so kindly left there by some men who installed a boiler about a year ago.
I was in my room revising, when suddenly there came a huge crash from downstairs, followed by the sound of Steve's Dad going barmy.
I rushed as much as I could manage to the scene, to find Steve on the kitchen floor with a ladder underneath him. It had basically slipped out, and he'd landed knee first on a rung, and sent the impact up his spine.
He did the man thing, and insisted he was ok, all-the-while in obvious agony. Nothing his Mum or I could say would convince him to see the doctor, so I phoned NHS Direct. Rest and painkillers was their solution.

"Fair enough," we think.
Then comes the problem; to rest, or sleep, most people lie down, right? Yeah, except Steve can no longer lie down, due to the excruciating pain in his back, which only gets worse when he's horizontal.
Cue sleepless night for Steve, during which he wound up on the couch downstairs, wrapped in the quilt from the spare room.

Before this, however, I had rubbed some Ralgex into a sore shoulder, only to have to wash it off again, less than a minute later because his skin looked like it had sustained third degree burns. Strange because his back had been fine with it.

Next day, pain in his back was worse, and his knee had a big dent in it, so he agreed that perhaps the doctor was best. Well, we didn't see a doctor at the surgery, having gotten shunted to the nurse, instead.
She must have been having a bad morning herself, because she just couldn't get him out fast enough! "No swelling, soft tissue damage. Rest and pain killers."

Ah, there's that rest problem again.
Cue the pillows from the spare room all coming to visit our bed, so as to prop Steve in as much of a sitting position as was marginally comfortable.
And another yo-yo off a night for him.

Next day, he conceded that maybe an x-ray was in order.
Off to the hospital, it was then. And over to another one with, presumably, doctors better equipped for the situation.
After much prodding, hammering of joints and an uncomfortable x-ray, the doctor assured us that nothing was broken, and then asked Steve to diagnose himself "What do you think is wrong, sir?"
Say what, now?!? This man was supposed to have had however many years at med school, and he's asking us what the problem is??
"Pain killers, rest" We know the drill.

So, in for a weekend of fun we were, anyway, with Steve in pain and not being able to do much about it, let alone sleep.
Saturday morning, Steve's Dad, who is in very much less than perfect health, was ill and had to be taken to the hospital. Poor guy, so proud of himself for having not smoked in almost three weeks, and his body goes and rewards him with another case of cellulitis, and the day before the football too. There he is, wrapped in his duvet cocoon, shivering like he's wearing wet clothes in the Arctic, and his leg all gammy.
They let him home, though, but he stayed in bed for most of the day and hardly ate.

So we get to yesterday, seemed like everyone was getting better. Dad came down for a beer with his mate while they watched the footie, Steve went straight off to sleep as soon as his head hit the top of his pillow mountain, and although I'm nervous about my exam, and worrying about everyone, I'm off to sleep pretty early for me, and pretty quickly too.

Twenty to two, Steve and I were awake again, though. Seems his back was becoming unbearable again, but as far as I remember, we went back to bed shortly after.

Three-thirty then came along, and all hell broke loose.
Steve was actually sobbing the pain was so bad, and he couldn't move because it hurt. Managed to get him sat up, and practically ordered him to take some pain relief. Then I had a brainwave: the Ralgex had seemed to help his back, did he want me to take the chance and rub some in? He thought the risk would be worth it, as did I personally as his back hadn't been a problem last time.
So, dutiful partner that I am, I lovingly applied the muscle rub, and sat with him, on the edge of the bed, while waiting for the pain to ease.

Next second there's a horrid, awful, searing fire in my left eye!
Oh, Gods, it stung!
I'd only gone and rubbed my tired eyes with Ralgex-coated fingers, hadn't I?
Quick, run to the bathroom, and wash it out, hoping against hope that when I looked in the mirror, I didn't see a gaping, fizzing goo-filled hole where my eye used to be.
As it happens, it's not actually quite so reactive, and after a thorough rinse, all that was out of the ordinary was that my eye was abit red.

But, man, I could have done without that, not least because, I was obviously now wide awake!

So what have I been doing?
Falling off the 'Virtual Wagon', that's what. Nothing harmful, I assure you, but an addiction all the same.

It's all my brother-in-law-once-removed's fault (not sure if that a word, but it saves my typing Steve's sister's husband's brother, doesn't it? someone really ought to invent a title for obscure family members, even brother-in-law-once-removed is a bit of a mouthful, and still requires this lengthy explanation).
Anyway, I digress.
A few years back, I became addicted to a certain online pet site, so much so that, like any self-disrepecting junkie, I enlisted cohorts in the form of anyone I knew who had an Internet connection.

Long story short, I'd already put the habit to bed once, and given away my account (naughty me, I know), but after deciding to log back in one day for nostalgia's sake, I was bit by the bug quite a bit harder than before.
Once again, I realised that my time was being flittered away, and weaned myself off the site.

Well, thanks to said relative, I visited my account last week.

BIG MISTAKE

Admittedly, I'm somewhat controlling myself, haven't been too oblivious to the world around me.
I went out, by myself, today. Nothing major, just to do some bank stuff, but for me to even take the initiative and go it alone, is a big thing.

I just hope that retaking up this 'hobby' doesn't take over my life again...

It's all part of this 'Get Healthy' thing going around at the moment.

Everyone is actually doing really well, in a 'Rome wasn't built in a day' sort of way. But at least they're trying, right?

And yes, that does include me, by the way.
I'm not curling into a ball at the first mention of doing anything physical, for instance. Not that I want to do it, it hurts, dammit! But, I know that if Steve and his parents are going to do any good for themselves, they need my support.

Steve had his first weigh-in yesterday, after a month of...being aware of what he eats, we'll say. And, surprisingly, he's lost 2 lbs.
And, that's without really walking much (walking is the only exercise recommended to him at this point, and so long as there are relatively few people about, he likes to do it).
So, I think this month, the doc is going to recommend looking at his activities, as well as his food intake.
I really hope his progress reflects the effort he puts in, he deserves the encouragement.
We walked along the waterfront at Gosport, yesterday, and we're going to see Doc early tomorrow, so maybe we'll get another walk in.
Bless him...

I'm really proud of his dad,too.
He's 71 this year, and has smoked since he was about 13...Tried to give up, many times, but only sort of 'half trying' if you know what I mean.
Well, this time seems to be different, and so far he's gone three days without a cigarette.

Mike, Steve's sister's husband's brother, is also kicking habits, not his smoking habit, mind, but his Crisp one.
Seriously, this guy can go out and buy two multipacks of crisps, and devour the lot, in under an hour, if he's going slowly!
I've noticed a huge difference lately, in the amount he's been eating- He has just told me it's because he can't find a decent supplier right now! So much for that, eh?!
But, he has been round here a bit, keeping himself and Steve away from their computers, which is good for them. And, he's been walking with us.