22 and I'm falling apart? What am I, fragile?

I have been laid up. On bed rest. Couch-ridden. The list continues with me requiring outside assistance to wash heavy pots & pans, aid in sitting and standing, having to dictate my essay test to a scribe because I couldn't hold a pencil, inability to sit for the length of a tv show without pain pain pain, shooting barbs in my muscles if I tried to roll over in bed, lack of desire to eat and a surging desire to eat all at once, extreme nausea, sensitivity and reaction to medication, and whoops, I meant medications plural. 

Mid-February I tripped up a staircase. My coordination is unmatched!  After trying very, very hard to take it like a man I ended up swallowing my pride and visiting four doctors. Count them! 4. It was against my will, but the husband interceded. What? Like husbands are allowed to care about their wife's health? Psh! He's a bully, I'm telling you. 

Diagnostic:

broken pinkie. right hand. For this I was given a cast that bound my entire hand and was told not to use it to lift, pull, twist, or write with. Typing was out too. Hah! Lovely. 

muscle spasm. AKA back pain from hell. I could neither sit, stand, walk, or lay down even with the assistance of two capable men. Extreme agony with no improvement led to the emergency room! Yay! I experienced an allergic reaction--something called Dilaudid-- and discovered that I'm highly reactive to intravenous medication. 4.5 seconds and my eyes were rolling in my head. And valium too! Wheee. Also, I certain there is no medical procedure I detest more than having my blood pressure measured. If my fingers had retained sensation after turning that shade of plum I would've punched the nurse in the stomach with as much force as my "no, thank you, a wheelchair wouldn't help-- I can't sit down" back would have allowed. Bottom line? Muscle relaxants, Lortab, and a note excusing me from school for a week and a half while I was expected to rest. Operating heavy machinery was out too.  :)

slightly dislocated shoulder. I'm really not kidding. The chiropractor guesses that the impact from fainting in the kitchen after breaking my finger not only encouraged my back injury, but dislocated my shoulder. My wrist, pelvis, and left hip were also out of place. Boy can I milk a good trip up the stairs, eh?

The best part is that I've been bed-resting at home, alone. Dylan has been out of town touring with his folk dance team (I'm so proud of him!) and so I've been on my own. Thank you to Matt & Heather for feeding me and for the massages and driving me to the ER, thanks to Tiffany for washing my dishes, thanks to Joni for lending me Goose Pike & Logan Huntsburger and for the cinnamon rolls, and thanks to satellites that make cell phone communication possible between Mom & Dylan who both insisted over and over and over that I see a chiropractor. YOU WERE BOTH RIGHT, okay? 

Hopefully I'll feel better next week. 

I'm taking this moment to rant, mainly because I've been sitting on the couch so long I watched a whole season of Gilmore Girls in two days (or rather nights--yep, can't sleep either) and Gilmore Girls always fuels my ability to blabbity blabbity blab about something that's been driving me nuts. Blabbity blab about things like, oh gee, I dunno-- coal. What was that thing, ten paragraphs? Honestly, no one will read that! Sorry everybody. I was so disgusted I had to get it out. Apparently my next topic was the state of my health. My apologies if you took the time to read either one of those verbages that veered most verbose.