Why is it always on a weekend that this crap gets bad? My choices are to torture myself riding in a car to go to an emergency room, where I will be given Flexeril or Tylenol with codeine, and told to go to my regular doctor on Monday, or to sit at home and dip into my reserves of Flexeril and enhanced Tylenol products that I've kept from past events for emergencies such as this, and wait for Monday to roll around so I can meet the doctor I've been assigned and not yet seen. The main two differences are cost and the car ride. Guess which one I'm choosing. I wish I had a chiropractor or physical therapist on call, as a neighbor or friend of the family, who would come over on a weekend and who could shove my hips back into place properly while I wait for the spasms and inflammation to die down. They are visibly rotated and I can tell whenever I shift or try to stand that they aren't lined up where they belong. The radiating pain and muscle spasms have shortened the reach of my arms too. I can't extend either arm far enough to pick up items that lie sixteen inches on either side of me, like coffee cups or phones, without a five minute long production to lift myself up and rebalance on my sit bones. I took a long winter's nap this afternoon, under the influence of muscle relaxants, and stretched out on one side, the pain actually went away. More accurately, it went dormant, because when I woke, I forgot and stretched and twisted gently to one side. It was like being stabbed just below one kidney. I learned that the smell of menthol rub interferes greatly with the enjoyment of kielbasa and Earl Grey tea, but does little to soften severely knotted muscles.
My one big accomplishment today was actually a rather good one. We had an abundance of eggs (forgot to ask the delivery man to skip a week) and cream cheese (giant brick from Costco), so I made plans to bake an egg-rich dessert. I made a crustless cheesecake over which I layered a flourless chocolate cake, and I found a bright spot on an otherwise dismal day. I didn't measure a single thing. I just dropped a couple big globs of cream cheese into the stand mixer (had to have help getting that out of the pantry), poured in sugar until it seemed to be worked in to the cheese, scooped in a couple spoonfuls of sour cream, two eggs, and a splash of cherry brandy. I let that bake in a cool oven (300), without a water bath for half an hour, and then I started the chocolate layer. Three fifths of a big package of semisweet chocolate, and about three quarters of a bar of Kerrygold butter melted in the microwave, while four eggs whisked in the stand mixer. I blended them, along with a single pack of instant coffee (Starbucks dark roast), until the whole thing started to get firm in the bowl. I gently spooned it over the cheesecake, and returned it to the oven for another half hour. Once done, still a little jiggly in the center, I let it cool on the stovetop for a while, and then chill in the refrigerator for several hours. I made a soft whipped cream with a little more cherry brandy, and that was it. No measuring, no fuss. It was comfort food when I needed it. And boy, did I need it.
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