Just to keep you up to date on my pinched nerve, my doctor told me yesterday that I would need physical therapy two to three days a week for at least a month to try to get rid of this things I have.
If that doesn't work, an epidural injection might be the way to go.
He can't guarantee that I will be the same that I was before I injured myself, but any lessening of the pain would be a positive.
I hurt so much now that I will take what I can get.
I point to "The Lockhorns" comic strip today.
In the single panel strip, the doctor asks Mr. Lockhorn, "Where doesn't it hurt?"
I am in the same predicament.
I hurt all over.
Well, not all over, but my right arm is absolutely killing me.
And since I'm a righty, it makes things all that much worse.]
I am learning to do things with my left arm, although the doctor did say that going to work was, in fact, making it worse.
But I can't sit home; I don't have enough sick days to do that.
So I trudge along.
And, oh yes, happy birthday Raquel Welch.
I have never been a big fan of hers, but she is what she is--the last real, old fashioned, honest to goodness sex symbol that Hollywood produced.
She made one good movie--"Fantastic Voyage"--where her sexiness was downplayed.
And she made numerous horrid films--including "Kansas City Bojmber"--where her sexiness was completely overplayed.
She was no Marilyn Monroe, not even a Jayne Mansfield.
But in the 1960s and early 1970s, the name "Raquel" almost became a code word for sex.
Heck, even Russ Meyer had a film named "Harry, Cherry and Raquel."
So, her legacy is intact as she celebrates another birthday.
Good for her.
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