So the results of my spinal MRI came back, and they’re not too pretty.

I went from having two slipped discs a year ago to having three, all at the very bottom of my spine, and one of the discs is torn. I guess they’re pushing on my spinal cord, too. There is also some arthritis. The report also says that my back muscles are particularly rigid, probably because I’m in fucking pain all the time.

I’m going to see a orthopedic surgeon, just to check out my options. I’m still pretty anti-surgery, but I obviously can’t live in pain for the rest of my life.

My main issue with surgery is this: All of these injuries have been sustained falling during seizures. Who’s to say I won’t injure myself further (or worse) while recovering from surgery, or after healing from surgery?? I can’t live in a plastic bubble. I really don’t want to spend thousands of dollars out of pocket just to fuck myself up again.

It’s a conundrum.

In other news, the J-Man is enjoying life with the Lutherans to an astonishing degree. The other night he looked at me and said, “Mom, you know, I just might be popular.”

I’m no sap, but it made my eyes well up a little.

We went to the Lutheran high school’s open house on Sunday and were able to tour the place, and I like it a lot. It’s a very, very small school – 65 students in the whole place – and consequently a lot of individual attention is given. Their forte is academics and not sports, which I like, and there are a shitload of honors classes offered.

The J-Man was horrified to find out that in Honors Anatomy, the class dissects cats.

Yeah, cats.

I don’t think the J-Man will be signing up for Honors Anatomy.

The choir director seems to be fantastic, the drama club looks great, and – if all of this were not enough – they have in place a gaming club in which the kids get together for a few hours every Friday night and eat pizza and compete on the XBox.

I thought my kid’s eyes would pop out of his head upon hearing this information. They invited him to come and check it out this coming Friday, and he will be there with bells on.

In other news, I’m on the Atkins diet, which consists primarily of meat, eggs, and cheeses. It’s going rather well – I’ve lost eleven pounds since the beginning of the month.

It’s restrictive, and I miss the hell out of bread, but I can deal. Obviously I have no problems snorkeling down bacon at every given opportunity, but sometimes I long for something really crunchy.

Now nuts don’t have many carbs, so yesterday I perused the nut aisle at Target, looking for something that would satisfy my crunch jones.

What I found was a big jar of peanuts drenched in chili powder.

Let it be known that I love spicy food – the spicier the better. Mexican, Indian, you name it, bring on the heat. I bought two jars of said spicy peanuts, brought them home, and eagerly cracked open a jar.

I think the peanuts have something like 5 grams of carbs for 40 or so nuts, and my carb count for the day was pretty low, so I went white girl crazy on those damned things.

God, they were delicious. They were mouth-burning, satisfying, crunchtastic perfection.

I ate roughly a quarter of the jar, feeling more satisfied than I had in weeks of sucking down chicken breasts and tuna with mayo.

A couple hours later, I went to bed.

About two hours later, I was awakened by what I can best described by the worst possible sort of gastrointestinal distress.

From the sounds of my intestines, there was about to be a serious problem.

I leaped out of bed like a gazelle (if said gazelle had two broken legs and was smoking crack cocaine) and scrambled toward the john, where I would spend the next four hours doubled over in agony and regret.

The moral of the story? You can have too much of a good thing, especially if that good thing is coated in chili powder.

Was it worth it??

YES.

I also bought some benign-looking cocoa-coated almonds, which I sincerely hope will not yield similar results.

Another thing I’m spoiling myself with is coffee with heavy cream and sugar-free vanilla syrup. I make the J-Man a version that is three-quarters milk with a little coffee and syrup in the morning sometimes, too, so that he can feel very cosmopolitan with his latte.

Beats paying for Starbucks.

In still other news, it’s as cold as balls outside, and since I am a basement-dwelling troll, I have no heat. My bedroom is the coldest room in the house, and in order to actually sleep without growing icicles in my nasal passages, I have to crank my electric blanket up to 11 and utilize a small space heater.

This unfortunately attracts cats. If you’re the type that likes to eat/stuff/dissect cats, then I highly suggest this method of trapping.

I wake up at least nine times per night due to cats shifting positions, cats snuggling up to me for warmth, cats making disgusting sucking noises whilst licking their privates, cats attempting to sleep on my ass.

Would you like a cat? If it fits, it ships!

Happy Tuesday.

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