All I want for Christmas is anti-inflammatories
It's Christmas morning. My elderly father-in- law and I are seated in the lounge and have been let off kitchen duty. Him due to stuffed kees thanks to a youth spent playing rugby for Natal and me with a spasming back because I'm 40 and I got out of bed incorrectly last night. I've been eying his zimmer frame covertly all morning. Right now that piece of machinery would be right up my shuffling alley. For a newly injured invalid I've started to check out the toilet rails in my in-laws home much like I would normally check out the peppermint crisp tart that my mother-in-law makes. It has been a rough week injury wise. It's like my body heard the repeated chorus of 'happy birthday' at my various soirees and said, 'Oh so you're 40 now? Kiff, hold my beer.' This week I've already had injections into my shoulder to stem the pain of what appears to be a rotator cuff injury, possibly a tear. As a result of that the referred spasm in my neck had me ...