Happy Birthday to Theodosia and Jesse (and Rayne, of course!)!!

Just caught up on five days worth of Natter, and all I can think to comment on is the way my mom keeps pushing liquor on me this week. "You want a beer? Wine? How about some of this Baileys, or maybe this new drink I just tried last week?" And she's not a lush by any stretch of the imagination, but this is part of the ingrained hostess in her. I keep on telling her I really don't drink much at home, and just having lunch or dinner with her here at her house feels too much like hanging at my place for me to feel comfortable boozing it up overly (although I did join her in a beer for dinner last night).

We had my brother and his family over for Xmas eve (the 13-y.o. niece loved the music-themed bracelet I got her), so that was fun. Christmas mass was hard for Mom, who told me afterwards she occasionally cries in church since her husband died before Labor Day. I'm hoping I'm helping her some by being here, but she has other stressors going on that I can't really ease for her much.

Oh, well--we're heading out in a bit to meet Big Bro and the family for dinner and then we're taking the kids to "A Night at the Museum," which I've heard isn't all that hilarious, but it's something all three of them want to see, including the 16-y.o. who's sans girlfriend this week and so is willing to spend some time with the family.

That should kill 10 minutes or so.

I'm working as slowly as I possibly can, and I'm not sure I can make it stretch until quitting time. I've been trying not to read Yuletide at work, but I'm probably going to cave soon.

Now what? More coffee? Another cigarette? I haven't done any window gazing yet - maybe I'll tackle that next.

At our house, you could do both at the same time. We have a window with a fantastic view of LA from just west of downtown, all the way to the ocean (on really good days). That window also happens to be the smoking section of the house.

shrift, I once went to the dentist (U of M dental school) and the student dentists were waiting so long for the prof to come check their work, the anesthesia wore off. When they started to drill again, I screamed, and the fuckhead prof came back, grabbed me by the face (which was in a lot of pain, remember?) and told me not to scream as there were other patients within earshot.

I could have gladly ripped his balls off too.

Skipping ahead to wish Rayne, Theo and Jesse the happiest of birthdays.

I'm back home. Does my type look different? I don't want to go back to work ever again.

The only thing I know anecdotally about men vs. women and pain is that my waxer says that men are exponentially bigger babies on the table. But eh--I think it really varies more person to person that across genders as a whole.

It's quiet but busy here. About half the staff made it in. I was talking to the security guard, who was stuck here on Christmas, and he said quite a few people came in then. I'm pretty bad about working late and coming in on weekends or holidays, but I draw the line on Christmas.

I know that I'm highly sensitive to pain, but I can endure a hell of a lot and will only go to the doctor if it is truly debilitating

I think that in general women feel pain more quickly, but also endure it better. I also think that women tend not to be as stoic, unless for some reason it's important for them to be (i.e. so as not to scare children), so they tend to be honest when something hurts. Men, in my experience, have been at either one end of the spectrum or the other: either total wusses, or so stoic that they'd hardly peep if you cut a finger off. I tend to like the wusses, because I hate pain and can relate.

Nine times out of ten, I'm fine with pain. I have put my fist through a window, stepped on glass twice, and hit myself in the nose with my knee- just in recent memory- and registered very little reaction. When I get cramps though, I'm a squalling baby until the meds/heating pad/whack on the head kick in.

Why can't it be 7:30 yet?

That's true, different types of pain do spark different reactions. After tearing my knee open I picked myself up, drove 12 miles to an ER, and walked several blocks from the parking structure without complaint. (Though it was fun to see the duty nurses drop everything when they saw how much blood was soaking my pants leg.) But if a migraine gets a good foothold I turn into a very sleepy baby, and the actual amount of pain is considerably less.

I was walking after I broke my ankle in two places. It was weird - half the time walking produced no extra pain and half the time it produces a lot. That's when I figured I might have broken something, so I stopped walking on it until I could get x-rayed....

Dull pain, even quite a lot of it, can be borne longer and more stoically than a bright, sharp pain, or at least it works this way for me. I had endured quite a lot of abdominal pain with fibroids over several years because it built up slowly, notch by notch. And you tell yourself you stood it perfectly fine and got through it last time, stop being a baby, you don't have any sick time, get your warpaint on, get in the car and get to work.

Dislocated shoulder? Not a lot of actual pain after the impact, which was white-out bad, but a lot of fuzziness and being on the other side of a transparent curtain--both vision and sound were reduced, as was clear thinking, obviously. It wasn't till I raised my arm (why can't I do this simple thing?) assisting with the other hand and the arm bone snapped back into the socket that I greyed out again, and then there was super brightness and hereness and some soreness.

I figured all this out later on my own. Nobody paid any attention to me because a handicapped classmate had gotten a concussion in the same fall, and everyone was concentrating on her. I was concerned, too, and tend to dismiss my own symptoms, a lot. I know I'm a hypochondriac, always with the, "What was that?" so I don't pay attention till it's really bad.

Which, not the way to go, really.

Dislocated knee, with accompanying torn ligaments and other delightful additions? Just let me pass out right here, baby. No, I can't stand on that leg, no not at all, I'm not kidding. No, the knee won't lockfuckdon'tdothat! When you wish you could just go to your happy place and hide from it.

I don't do trauma pain well. Grinding chronic pain? Yeah, pretty much ignore it, or deal, or work around it.