New Thingd #79 - Viva México!

What better way to celebrate two people starting their life together than doing so in Mexico. In February. Thanks to my friends Betsy and JP, I got to go to Mexico for the first time. I was usually working during spring breaks in college, and cash was limited, so I was never able to make it to Cancun like most other kids my age. It's kind of amazing that I had never made it there, but an adults only resort in the middle of winter was just what I needed.

What I didn't need was a bout of the flu the week before I left. Well, it wasn't actually the flu, but it sure felt like it. I haven't felt that terrible in a very long time, and I don't recommend it to anyone. Nearly 6 days after the first inkling of craptacularness, I was finally feeling better enough to go back to work. Yes, 6 days of it. It. Was. Miserable. Of course, that was also the day before I left for my trip and would be gone for another 3 days. Good thing my boss is an understanding guy.

Side note: we have come so far in medical technology. So why can't doctors determine if you have the flu without shoving a giant Q-tip into your neural cavity. Through your nose. That was quite possibly the worst thing I've ever experienced. Had the wall not been right behind me, there would have been an Exorcist moment with my head flipping all the way around.

But, anyways, getting back to Mexico. I'm going to try to pair down the 5 days into one blog, so bear with me. Fortunately, most of what I did was either lay poolside/beachside, or sip Mango Tangos in the water, so there won't be too much to write about. But, you know me, I can write a three page essay about walking across the street.

I did have a roommate for the duration of the trip - another of Betsy's friends - Julee. We were both without a date, so it made sense to share the costs of a room. We flew out on a Wednesday morning, with nearly everyone else from St. Louis that was going to the wedding. JP is from Jersey, so the other half of the guests would be coming from that direction.

One of the great things about this wedding package is that we had a direct flight from St. Louis to Cancun. The resort was actually in Riviera Maya, but it's only a short bus ride south of the airport. Our plane left pretty early, but I was happy to be getting there with enough daylight left to enjoy. The flight was uneventful, other than the fact that it was about 35 degrees when we got on and about 85 when we finally departed. Leaving St. Louis in February, I was prepared with long pants and my winter jacket. I layered up though, so I wouldn't be dying when I got to Mexico.

I was still dying. Before we even got off the plane, I could feel the humidity deep in my pores. Sweat was starting to seep out of places that hadn't seeped since last August. It was equally exhilirating and terrible at the same time. Standing in the airport waiting for our luggage was quite possibly the longest 20 minutes of my life. I hadn't worn any shorts under my yoga pants (big mistake), and my legs felt like they were being jabbed with thousands of little red hot pokers. I could feel little beads of sweat running down my calves. Good grief, we hadn't even left the air conditioned terminal yet! I went totally hoosier and pulled my pant legs up as far as I could to let everything breathe. Don't judge me, I was freaking hot.

Our baggage took forever to come out, and I started to panic a bit. I always do at airports. There's always that chance your luggage is half way around the world from you. One by one, I saw everyone pick up their suitcase until there were only 3 or 4 left. None of which were mine. Well that's neat. At least I had packed a swimsuit and flip flops in my carry on. I may not have anything to wear to the wedding, but at least I could get in the pool!

To my great relief, it eventually plopped onto the baggage belt, and we could head over to customs. Each person has to press a button to get randomly selected to have your luggage searched. The lady before me pressed the button and it turned red. She had to get searched. I assumed I would be lucky and get a green, but nope, I wasn't that lucky. I had to heft my suitcase - which, of course, was overpacked - onto this table, and open it up along with my backpack.

Now, if you know anything about me or my family, you'll know that we are the ultimate packers. We can get 10 pounds of shit into a 5 pound bag. That suitcase was a thing of glory. I had enough clothes to last me for 2 weeks, maybe 3, and it was packed so beautifully .... As soon as that lady started to open it up and run her hands through my stuff, I almost lost it. Was I going to have to repack that entire thing in the middle of the damn airport while everyone stood around and watched? Fortunately for me, either they don't have to be super thorough, or I got an agent who didn't really want to go through my immaculately packed suitcase. She barely moved anything and then sent me along my merry way. Whew!

Then we were off to our bus to be shuttled down to the resort. We all got on the bus and realized that there were two people missing. They're friends of the couple's, but I don't really know them that well. They never showed up after quite awhile, so we assumed they found their own ride. Eventually, we got on the road, and our guide started handing out Coronas. Bingo. This is what vacation is all about. (Come to find out, the girl's passport had been chewed on by her dog, and the Mexican customs agent wouldn't let her into the country. So, she and her boyfriend had to immediately return to St. Louis. I can't even imagine what that must have been like.)

The ride didn't take too long, and the bus was air conditioned, but I was definitely itching to get out of my pants. Wait, that sounds bad. Dirty birds! Get your minds out of the gutter. I wanted to put on swimsuit and cool off in the pool! Geez. Once we arrived and checked in, we had someone take us to our room. While we were on the golf cart, we had him take us around the resort a bit to show us where some things were, and I immediately got lost. I'm pretty decent with directions - I am the Map Maven after all - but his constant turns and weaving had me losing my bearings pretty quickly. Oh well, at least they gave us a resort map, so we could find our way around.

Everyone was congregating at the pool, so we quickly changed and met them there. It's amazing what a little sun, some frosty beverages and a little pool time can do for your overall disposition. It was like the previous week of feeling like poop just disappeared. All the stress at work...gone. And it felt amazing. The swim up bar was incredible, and since Betsy had given me a Bubba Keg for Christmas, I was able to have them fill it all the way to the top and decrease my frequency to the bar. So, while everyone was carrying warm glasses of beer back and forth, or freezing their hands off from the daiquiris, I was pimped out with my giant thermos.

I stared with a Miami Vice, which was a combination of a strawberry daiquiri and pina colada. Not bad, but a little too sweet. Next I went for the Mango Tango. A strawberry daiquiri/mango concoction that was perfect for our Mexican retreat. That ended up being my drink of choice for the entire weekend. And I wasn't alone. Most of the girls were drinking it, as well as most of the guys. I think it's funny how guys won't admit they like girly frozen drinks until they're on vacation at a tropical locale.

The afternoon went by way too fast, and we all headed back to shower and change for dinner. Julee and I opted for the Italian restaurant on the resort, along with Sarah and Jenny, two of Betsy's other girl friends that came together. It's kind of funny getting Italian food in Mexico. It made me think of what my friend, who lived in Italy briefly, said while we were there. He could never find Mexican food in Rome!

First course: Caprese salad with plum tomato confit and buffalo mozzarella cheese seasoned with basil.

I was in heaven. Give me a good caprese salad and I will be your best friend. I could have eaten 5 more plates of this.

Second course: Ricotta cheese ravioli with mandarin carbonara cream and smoked duck breast.

YUM. I wasn't completely sold on the duck breast, mainly because the thought of eating poultry that's still partially rare freaks me out. But, the ravioli and the cream sauce were amazeballs.

Third course: Salmon filet, with a light, sweet pea cream with essence of white truffle, ragout of porcini mushrooms and a tomato, oregano anchovy bruschetta.

Again, freaking delicious. I'm not usually a fan of these teeny plates, but it gave me the opportunity to try numerous different things, so I wasn't complaining too much. All of us were still starving at this point though, so we opted to get two desserts. Well, everyone except Julee. She wasn't feeling well, so she headed back to the room. I, on the other hand, went to town on my desserts.

Dessert #1: Mexican chocolate cake

I was pretty disappointed in this, especially considering how amazing the first 3 courses were. It was incredibly dry and a little too heavy.

Dessert #2: I can't remember what this was exactly, but it was a pear bruleed over a cream/custard of some kind.

This was better than the cake, but still not as decadent as I was looking for.

After our meal, Sarah, Jenny and I headed to the hot spot on the resort called Guacamayas. This was the "it" place to be every night because they had entertainment - from dancers to singers to fire throwers - followed by a DJ and a big dance party at the end. We hung out for a bit, but I was sad to admit that between still recovering from being sick and the long day of travel and sun, I had to leave pretty early. I wanted to enjoy the weekend and not be an exhausted mess.

Kelley and Amy - Betsy's friends from StL

Natalie, the matron of honor, and her husband, Aaron

Sarah, Betsy and Jenny - friends from college

Lauren and Johnny - friends of the couple

One of only a few photos I got of me in Mexico. Clearly I need to work on my self-portrait skills

Thursday arrived, and Julee and I were up early. We headed down to the closest restaurant to grab some breakfast before it got too crowded and then did a little sightseeing at the resort. They had a buffet set up with fresh fruit, meats and cheeses, cereal, toast and other bakery items. You could also order off the menu, so I got some eggs to go with my fruit and cinnamon rolls. They brought my eggs with a side of refined beans. Can't say that you see that every day. After that we headed over to the activities pool, different than the one we were at the day before. Betsy had gotten up early to snag a cluster of beach chairs together so we could all hang out. The day was spent soaking up some sun, frolicking in the pool, drinking Mango Tangos and people watching. It was magical.

Giant chess!! Too bad I never made the time to play.

This is a great way to wake up.

Preeeeetttty.

I had to capture that beauty for all the world to see.

Our beds. With Flat Nate. He was taking a nap after a long day.

I should explain Flat Nate. Basically it's a family joke going around at Christmas that someone always gets an item from my cousin Nate with his face on it. My mom got a t-shirt one year, and my sister-in-law got a poster. This past Christmas I got a dozen or so adhesive Nate faces, and I decided that 2013 was going to be the year of Flat Nate, and I'd take him everywhere with me. Stay tuned for the end of this year when you will see the entire Adventures of Flat Nate! Oh, and I left the one on the bed. Except, I left it under my pillow for the maid to find! :)

Just being silly hanging out with the bamboo.

Our room was pretty nice.

Why yes, that IS a see-through piece of glass from the bedroom right into the tub. I can imagine this is cool if you were sharing a room with a significant other. Not so much when it's just a friend. Needless to say, neither one of us used the jacuzzi tub.

Nice shower and a toilet room.

LOVED the sinks/bathroom.

Closet on the left with the hallway into our room.

Lunch was at the Mexican restaurant, and we were all a bit tipsy. And by tipsy I mean full on drunk. The mango tangoes had been going down way too easily that morning. This time I went with Julee, Natalie, Aaron, Amy and Kelly. Because of said inebriation, we ran a train on the nachos and quesadillas the waiter brought out. I'm pretty sure he's used to drunk guests eating their meals, but we were particularly entertaining. As were the other half dozen or so tables full of our wedding guests.

Again, the afternoon was spent at the pool until the sun started to descend and the temperature in the pool became a bit too chilly. One of the drawbacks of going in February. Plus, this pool wasn't heated like the one from yesterday. Again, we freshened up for dinner, and this time Julee and I went with some of the St. Louis and Jersey clan to the Caribbean restaurant. I failed to get pics of what I ate - I'm sure you're devastated - but it was tasty and should make all of you jealous.

Back to Guacamayas for drinks and entertainment, and this time there were guys and gals dancing around with fire. Fire on poles. Fire on rings. Fire everywhere. It was pretty cool. Too bad I didn't want to drag my camera everywhere with me, or I would have gotten some bitching photos. Eventually, I realized that the bride was having a few too many drinks. I didn't think she'd enjoy a hangover on her wedding day, so I stole her away from her guests to get her back to my room where she planned on spending her last night as a single lady.

Friday. Wedding Day. I had booked a massage the day before, and I figured the morning of the wedding would be a perfect time. My personal concierge had convinced me to do the massage/facial package which ended up costing less than their normal massage. Uh, hell yeah, where do I sign? It was on the other half of the resort, so I hopped a golf cart early in the morning. I hated to leave Betsy by herself, as Julee was heading to do ATVs and wave runners with Aaron, but fortunately, Natalie showed up shortly after I left for their day of pampering.

I arrived at the spa, and they immediately showed me to the women's locker room. I had about 45 minutes to kill before I would begin, so I opted to partake in their sauna and steam rooms, along with the jacuzzi. I had done those before with a massage in Vegas, and it was the most magical day of my life. I read the numerous "rules" lining the walls that required a shower before heading into one of the rooms. I'm not sure why, but I rinsed off in the shower and stepped into the sauna. Dear God in heaven, I forgot how difficult it was to breathe in there. Dry, suffocating heat. How do people enjoy this? I watched the timer on the wall, which uniquely enough was an hourglass that you turned over yourself. It had little tic marks at different lenghts to let you know how long you had been in there.

I tried to relax. I really did. I was in Mexico after all, at a gorgeous resort, getting ready to have an 80 minute massage. But you try relaxing when all you can think about is the heat invading every pore, every air passage and every single part of your body. Breathing in and out without passing out from the heat was the least fun game I've ever played. Instead of closing my eyes and relaxing, I was counting down the tic marks on the timer. Five minutes. That's all I needed to stay in there. Just five minutes. As soon as that was over I walked over into the steam room. Which is about 5 million times worse than the sauna. At least it was a dry heat in there. The steam room felt like I was in the middle of the jungle with someone pouring hot water all over me. Little water droplets from hell cascaded all over my body. I sat on the tile bench and tried not to wince every time one of those little pellets of death struck my skin. I couldn't see a timer in there, but of course there was so much steam, I couldn't see more than a foot in front of me. Hell, there could have been 15 women in there, and I'd never have known it. At least I didn't pull a Chandler and sit on someone's lap. That's a Friends reference, in case you didn't catch it.

I tried to count in my head silently, but I couldn't concentrate on that either. I eventually left to see what time it was and realized I had about 10 minutes left until my massage. One more room, the jacuzzi room, was on my agenda. I walked into the jacuzzi room, which was not inside the ladies' locker room, and was glad I had worn my swimsuit. In Vegas, all the ladies had been free-boobin' it. A couple was in there using the high-powered jets to ease their muscles. I saw 3 pools, one large one with different areas for massage, a small pool in the corner and one medium sized one at the front. For reasons unbeknownst to me now, I headed straight for the back pool. I guess I wanted the solitude and was bummed there were other people in there. I stuck my toe in and it nearly froze off. Holy shit, that must be the polar pool. Uh, no thanks!

I decided to try out the jacuzzi pool, even though the couple kept moving around and trying all of the jets. I walked in and looked around and saw a small squared off section by itself. Embedded in the tile was a small button that said Push Here. I pushed here. And water shot up out of the floor like a cannon going off and nearly tossed me on my ass. I realized there were handles, which I now fondly refer to as "Oh shit handles", and held on for dear life. If that couple hadn't been watching, I probably would have left immediately, but I figured I should save face and ride it out. But, holy hell, I'm surprised I didn't drown. Water was shooting out of the floor and the three sides surounding me. How in the world is this supposed to be relaxing? I didn't feel like the water was gently caressing my tired muscles. I felt like the water was trying to punish me in terrible, terrible ways. It only lasted for about 30 seconds to a minute, but if felt like forever.

I was trying not to watch the other two people in the pool, but I was trying to figure out if all the little areas around the pool were like this one. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, so maybe I should try another one. I went around a little corner, and saw what looked like a metal bed just underneath the surface of the water. Hmmm, this is pretty wacky. Again, another button to push to start the jets. Big Mistake..... Huge. I had barely gotten situated on the "bed" when the jets started, and it was like a combination of a damn rollercoaster and one of those old-timey vibrating beds you feed with a quarter. I can only imagine what those people thought as they watched me holding on for dear life like I was riding a bull at the rodeo.

Seriously, how is this relaxing? It seemed like forever, but less than a minute went by before the jets stopped. I realized it was probably best if I got out now before I killed myself. I assumed they would come and get me for my massage, so I grabbed my robe and waited. One of the employees eventually asked why I was sitting there, and I told him I was waiting for my massage. Apparently, I should have been waiting in the lobby, but no one told me that. Damn language barrier. I finally went upstairs for my massage, and it was magical. Well, other than a few minor glitches. First, I had specifically put on my chart that I didn't want my right hand to be massaged. It's much better, and doesn't really give me any trouble anymore, but I also don't want some guy kneading the crap out of it and bruising it all over again. Well, either my masseuse didn't look at the chart or he didn't really care. Not one, but twice, I had to stop him in the middle of my massage as he started to knead my hand. Good grief buddy, I said stop once already! No means no in Spanish too, you know! Also, I'm not entirely sure why I even wore my swimsuit bottom at that point. He massaged so far down my back that I was considering teaching him an anatomy lesson. It wasn't inappropriate or anything, but it was just a bit surprising.

A quick facial followed, and then I was out the door. I had nearly fallen asleep on the table, so I was a bit weak and disoriented. I headed back down to the locker room to shower and change, and realized that I hadn't brought any dry underwear with me. I had worn my swimsuit knowing that I would be spending the day in the water, but hadn't really thought about the ride back to my room. That was fun.

A quick lunch followed with getting ready for the wedding. I stopped by to see Betsy getting ready, and then we all headed over to the wedding area. I'm not sure I could bring myself to do a destination wedding. I love the idea of having my friends and family all there to celebrate with me, and that's difficult to do at a tropical locale. But, I have to admit, the ocean as a backdrop does make for a spectacular wedding site.

Reading her card from her hubby-to-be.

Checking out the earrings he bought her.

Gorgeous flowers!

Sarah, Jenny, Amy and I. I was rocking the orange sunglasses that Betsy and JP bought for all the guests.

Great place for a wedding.

Betsy's Aunt Mary and Uncle Rod

Amy Kelly

Kane

Jersey friends...I can't remember all of their names. :(

Jersey boys

He was soooooo nervous! It was adorable.

JP with his brother/best man, Terry.

Sand ceremony.

I ain't mad at that view.

The wedding was in Spanish and then translated into English. Also, Betsy and JP had opted to officially get married in Mexico, rather than doing a quickie ceremony in the states to make it official followed by the ceremony abroad. It was beautiful and of course had me crying.

JP waiting to see his bride.

Matron of Honor, Natalie

Seeing his bride for the first time.

I didn't take any other photos during the wedding because I didn't want to be in the background of any of the professional photos with a giant camera in my face.

The happy couple!

After the wedding, we had some time to kill while we waited for them to take photos before the reception. What to do, you ask? Two words: Mango Tango. I'm seriously going to miss those things.

Pretty ladies.

I feel really tall....and really white. Damn you Betsy and your beautifully tanned skin!!

Sorry ladies, he's a taken man now.

Drinkie drinks!

Betsy had the maracas custom made with the crabs from their save the date.

The ladies' table.

Reception area.

Yep, that's a pool at the reception!

So cute!

My memories of the reception are hazy at best, but three things I know: 1. There was SO. MUCH. FOOD. I think they brought out every protein known to man: chicken, steak, shrimp, salmon, you name it, along with pasta, potatoes, spinach...it just kept coming. Even tiny little bite sized desserts along with a giant plate of tiramisu. It was all phenomenal, but I finally had to throw in the towel because I just couldn't fit any more in.

2. Caribbean Jungles are quite possibly the best vacation drink ever. Yes, even better than Mango Tangos. In my not-so-slight inebriation, I had no idea what they were, other than a succulent nectar from the Gods. However, I was told later it was just a mojito using coconut rum. I also know that the bar at the reception area was the only place on the entire resort that knew what the heck a Caribbean Jungle was. Everywhere else I went for the duration of the trip, they looked at me like I was nuts, so I just went back to ordering Mango Tangos.

3. I didn't get the nickname Dancing Queen for nothing. I'm seriously scared to look at the professional photos from the reception. There were very few songs that I sat down for - and they were mostly the slow dances - and by the end of the night, I was a sweaty mess. It didn't help that a torrential downpour came through during the night and brought with it a hot mess of humidity. But, despite glistening like a pig, I couldn't bring myself to stop dancing. I just physically couldn't do it. When we left the reception and went back to Guacamayas (naturally), JP's brother, Terry, came up to me and very seriously said: "I have a question for you....what's it like to own a dance floor?" Granted, he was far from sober at this point, but it was pretty funny.

The happy couple being announced.

Betsy and her dad.

JP and his mom.

Kelly and I with our waiter, Abner. We called him Lil' Abner, but I don't think he got the reference. He was also a TERRIBLE waiter. He would never remember our drinks, or bring us the wrong things. Julee ordered an electric lemonade, and he just brought her a regular lemonade, and then later brought over a shot of vodka for ALL of us.

Two of JP's coworkers: Jackie and Ryan (Kane)...JP used to live with Kane.

Julee and I. No, we didn't plan our matching dresses before the trip.

Loved the orange glasses.

The guys went through two kegs of beer, so they had to bring over cans from another one of the bars. Then they decided to start shotgunning those beers.

This was a cute moment, but I didn't catch it until the very end. They were doing the lift from Dirty Dancing.

Sweaty kids. I wasn't the only one dancing my pants off all night.

JP was killing it during Gangnam Style!

First the dress shirt comes off.

Then he does this.

And then this happens.

We decided to get a prom pose photos, since the resort had left us a note in our room addressed to Mr. & Mrs. Jones!

Kelly ended up taking the wedding cake back to her room!

Eventually, the night had to end, but fortunately, we had one final full day at the resort before we had to head home. Betsy and JP planned their wedding for a Friday night, knowing everyone would need a day to recuperate before heading home. We all spent the morning at the beach, followed by an afternoon at the heated pool. The storm from the night before brought cooler temperatures, so we wanted the warmer pool this time around!

I love resort towel animals!

Flat Nate was getting some sun.

He wanted to take a photo with the new Mrs. Decker.

Kane felt the need to take photos with his new hat that made it look like he wasn't wearing any bottoms. Trust me, he was wearing shorts.

He wanted a photo with Nate too! I don't think Nate approves.

Jackie was so close to covering everything up! I guess I could Photoshop it.

JP and all of his friends.

They decided to do a pyramid. My favorite part is Kane rubbing Johnny's head...

Not to be outdone, Betsy needed a photo with her girls.

After lunch, we headed back to the pool, where Nate decided to take a nap in one of the cabanas.

Then he decided he wanted to go for a swim.

At some point, Jackie decided she wanted to start a belly flop competition. At first, she was met with resistance, but the guys finally gave in to her pleas. I think it was mostly alcohol driven though. I missed most of the best flops, especially Betsy's improv one, because I was actually in the pool and didn't want to take my camera in. I eventually got out because I couldn't stay warm, and started snapping photos at the end. I did catch some great moments though! This was a fun afternoon.

Team work makes the dream work!

It's funny how Johnny is so much higher than Kane, but they jumped at the same time.

JP going in Superman style.

His Superman splash.

JP describing where it hurt.

Belly floppers.

One of JP's friends from Jersey. Not exactly the best belly flop form!

This poor guys looks terrified!

The girl who started it all.

Tandem fops.

This one has to be my favorite. Johnny did quite a few flops, and each time, he'd yell "OW!" really loudly before he even hit the water. He also tended to tilt to one side each time. The next day, his entire right side from shoulder/armpit area down to his hip was red/purple/black/blue. It looked a bag of skittles. I couldn't believe how bruised he got.

Everyone watching the flops.

This random guy - who looked like a young Ozzy Osbourne - decided to give it a try. He had pretty decent form.

We had a group of 3 guys who were nearby in the pool decide to jump as well.

This video happened. There's a mixture of St. Louis friends, Jersey friends, Virginia friends, and random other tourists from the resort.

The day finally came to an end, despite my best efforts, and I headed to dinner with Aaron, Natalie, Amy, Kelly and Julee. This time we went to the Chinese restaurant, and had nearly a 2 hour wait. It was pretty ridiculous. They apparently had strict rules against pushing two tables together to accommodate a larger group. And since the ONE larger table they had had a group of people drinking heavily with no intention of leaving any time soon, we were stuck waiting. Fortunately for us, there was another larger group behind us in line who were drunk and belligerent and kept trying to pay off the hostess to get them a table sooner. She was clearly getting annoyed with them, so I think they ended up pushing two tables together for us, just so she could seat them faster.

A peacock?

Or a turkey?

More fun with Flat Nate.

Everyone wanted to be in the picture with him. Popular guy.

Pretty ladies! Julee didn't want to be in the photo. :( It was also FREEEEEEZING. That was the only long dress I brought, and I hadn't thought to bring a sweater of any kind. After experiencing 80 degree days all week, it was a bit of a shock to the system.

So romantic.

This was worth the wait though. Tonkatsu chicken. I can't remember what was all in the dish, but it was phenomenal! I also had a fantastic spring roll to start, but I forgot the photo.

Dessert was an apple, pear and cinnamon spring roll with a vanilla and butterscotch sauce. Again, PHE. NO. ME. NAL.

The evening wound down with cocktails (at an indoor bar, yay!).

It was so sad to be leaving the next day. :(

Our departure from Mexico the next morning wasn't nearly as fluid as our departure from StL had been. Our transfer bus was late, the line to check in at the airport was ridiculously long, a handful of us weren't assigned seats when we checked in, our gate got changed 3 times, we finally received seat numbers, then we had to wait in another line to get on a bus that took us to our plane. It's never fun being hungover and traveling. I don't recommend it. But, we eventually made it home to the freezing Midwest.

A few resort photos I got before we left. I love all the vibrant colors!

A sign by all of the breakable glasses. They can't tell me what to do. I totally touched under my risk.

Overall, the trip was awesome. I wish I hadn't been sick right up until I left, because I was pretty tired the entire time I was there. But, at least I wasn't sick on the trip, and that's really the only thing that matters. I'm so happy to have been a part of my good friend's wedding and the start of their life together. Thanks to the Deckers!!

New Thing #78 - Stupid Hamate Bone

33 years. No broken bones. It's not really that impressive, especially considering I wasn't exactly the most active kid in the world. It's a good thing reading a book wasn't dangerous, or I'd have grown up in a full body cast.

However, since I've reached adulthood, and more specifically since I started my new thing blog, I've taken more risks in my life: skydiving, zip lining, para sailing, kickboxing. So it's not all that surprising that I finally broke that record. Pun intended. What is surprising - and frankly, kind of embarrassing - is the bone that I broke and how I broke it.

Let me give you a little bit of a back story. I'm a graphic designer. So that means 15 years of my right hand curved permanently around a mouse. And with that comes sporadic pain in the wrist, the palm and the forearm. It's just the nature of the beast. I've resigned myself to the fact that I will eventually need to have carpal tunnel surgery. It's a given, but I feel like it's the price I have to pay to do what I love to do and what I'm good at.

Because of these random aches and pains, I tend not to really put much thought into them when I have them. Fast forward to last week during one of my workouts. I have a great workout partner that pushes me to work harder than I would if I tried doing it on my own. We met during our trial month of muy thai kickboxing. In chatting one day, we realized we could buy the equipment for cheap and work out together for free instead of the outrageous prices at the boxing studio. It's been a match made in heaven ever since. Besides our regular kickboxing, we throw in other cardio circuit training like jump squats, lunges, burpees, push ups, and a ton of other things. We've been introduced to the Body Rock movement and it's been awesome.

I've never been a fan of push-ups. Ever. The mere mention of them brings back traumatic memories of trying to lift my own body weight in junior high P.E. It was not a highlight of my childhood to say the least. But since starting these workouts, I've gotten better at them. I still hate them, I just don't cringe as much when they pop up in our circuit. Burpees are another vile exercise created by buff trainers trying to kill their clients. If you don't know what they are, be glad. If you want to know, check out this video. We tend to do them a bit quicker though. And not nearly as gracefully.

The past couple of weeks I've noticed that my hands didn't feel the best when I'm doing these moves. But I just ignored the twinges, not wanting to being a wuss. But let's get back to last week. I'm pretty sure our workout involved burpees, push-ups and kickboxing, and afterward, I had an uncomfortable tweak in my right palm. So much so that I asked Jen if we could eliminate any moves that required my palms during our next workout. I made it through the rest of the week with some occasional pain and a somewhat unrelenting dull throb, but mostly it was just annoying. I honestly just thought I bruised or maybe pulled something.

This past Sunday I found some compression gloves I've used in the past to alleviate pain and started wearing those. Monday through Wednesday I wore them every day at work and then iced my hand down every night. But it didn't seem to help. The pain and discomfort weren't necessarily getting any worse, but they also weren't getting any better. I picked up a carpal tunnel brace at Wal-Mart and that started to help somewhat. The pain was worse if I tried to cup my hand or squeeze my fingers together, so keeping my palm flat was a big relief.

On Thursday, I finally broke down and went to see my doctor. I didn't want to, but almost two weeks of discomfort was starting to trouble me. My doctor was on vacation, but another doctor in her practice could see me right away. After discussing my symptoms, she concluded that nothing was broken and that it could just be tendinitis or possibly an abscess that was swollen and needed to be drained. However, she didn't want to give the final diagnosis, instead opting to send me to a hand specialist.

Side note: why don't hand specialists have their own fancy name? I mean if you're a foot doctor, you get to be called a podiatrist. Hands are way cooler than feet. In putting this quandary out there, my friends came up with maniatrist, manologist and handologist. Any other suggestions? (Turns out they're just orthopedic surgeons, which is totally lame.)

Fortunately, they were able to get me in the next morning. Seeing as I'm a new patient, I had about 45 forms to fill out. So yeah, that's super fun with a bum hand. I'm sure they thought a Kindergartner filled them out. The nurse came in to get me and did a quick history on the injury and my symptoms. I told her the other doctor didn't do X-rays because she thought it was a soft tissue problem. The nurse looked right at me and calmly said, "This is orthopedics. We always do X-rays."

Okay then.

I headed down to the X-ray room to get 3 different X-rays done of my hand. It didn't take very long and wasn't all that painful. I had a twenty or so minute wait while the doctor's practitioner reviewed the results. I spent my time flipping through the only magazine in the room - Saturday Evening Post. They really still publish that?

Rick came in a little bit later (he's the practitioner) and went over my X-rays with me. Nothing was showing up as broken (whew!), so he concluded, based on my symptoms to the nurse, that I had severely bruised something. He told me to continue with the brace, if it was helping, take an anti-inflammatory and call them back in a few weeks if it wasn't feeling better.

Thank God. I let out the breath I had been holding for the last hour and said a silent prayer that it wasn't anything worse.

And then Rick started asking me a few final questions. What was I doing that might have caused the injury? "Burpees, push-ups and kickboxing." Had I had any tingling in my fingers? "Yes, primarily my pinky, but some days my ring finger as well." He furrowed his brow in concentration. Has there been swelling? "Well, yes, a little, but it's only noticeable if you compare it to the other hand." He scrutinized my palm a bit more and started prodding mercilessly until I was close to unleashing a string of obscenities at him.

"Okay, I want to get one more X-ray. You might have fractured the hook of the hand."

I stared at him like he had just asked me to put my left foot in, take my left foot out and shake it all about. What the heck was he talking about? Didn't they just do THREE X-rays to show that nothing was broken? I was 45 seconds from walking out the door and now he's changing the diagnosis? He saw my uncertainty and explained that the hamate bone is a bone in the palm of the hand that is shaped like a hook and grows straight up. It's impossible to see on normal X-rays, so he wanted one more of just my palm.

So, back down to the lab I went. This time the tech explained that she wanted my wrist face down, and that I had to pull back on my fingers to get a good stretch in the palm. What. The. F**k. She saw my look, and said "I promise I'll hurry."

She did not hurry.

Okay, perhaps she did hurry, but the searing pain in my palm was obscuring any rational thoughts. As soon as she was done, Rick had the footage on his iPad and he followed me into my room. That's when I saw it. The tiny hook shaped bone, and the thin dark line at the base of it. He explained that due to the angle of the X-ray  it could be any number of things, but it was most likely fractured. To be on the safe side, they'd put me in a cast for a couple of weeks and then get a better X-ray to be certain.

He said it so nonchalantly. "We'll put you in a cast...blah blah blah." I stopped him and said "You're putting me in a cast? Right now?" I was in shock. He looked at me like I was a 4 year old and said, "yes, we need to restrict your movement to get a better X-ray in a few weeks. I might be over-reacting, but I don't want to take any chances."

Whoa whoa whoa buddy. So, what you're telling me is that you're going to put a huge dent in my life on a hunch? I naively asked why I couldn't just use the brace I had, and he said that it wouldn't restrict my movement enough. All I kept thinking was how am I going to work? Put my contacts in? Live my life. "Don't worry, it'll be a short cast. You'll still be able to use your fingers." Lovely.

He left to go get the nurse to do my cast and I sat in stunned silence. I broke a bone. In the palm of my hand. From doing burpees and push-ups. And I'm getting a cast. This was not an anticipated outcome to my day. The nurse brought the swatches out for me to pick colors, and it still didn't seem real. I immediately thought to get yellow or maybe the light blue, but I didn't want it to get all dirty. I opted for the black because the nurse was getting impatient, and I couldn't think clearly. (And no, getting Cardinal red didn't even cross my mind.)

She came back a few minutes later to get started. All I was thinking was that I was glad I was wearing a sweater with loose arms that day. She started by putting a mesh-type open ended sock-like thing on my arm. Next came the roll of cotton, and she was going pretty far down my forearm. "I thought this was going to be a short cast?" "It is," she replied. Great, I hate to know what a long cast looks like. Next came a roll of the white fiberglass gauze that she wet slightly. As it dried, it quickly hardened into shape. Huh, I never knew how casts were made. Finally came the final black roll, and she was chatting about making sure I didn't get it wet.

Shit. I forgot about that.

Showering is going to be a bitch.

She finished quickly and told me I was free to leave. And to be sure I didn't get it wet. If I did, I needed to call immediately and come in for a new cast. I get it lady. Stay away from pools, puddles and slobbering dogs. Got it.

I made my way slowly out the door to my car and realized that I couldn't get my coat on. The arm holes were too small. I sighed. This is going to be a long few weeks.

So, it's been a week since the cast went on, and I've done a little research and have some other firsts.

Breaking the hamate bone is most common with amateur golfers and baseball players. The injury can also occur from repeatedly falling onto outstretched hands (I guarantee none of my friends will ever be doing a burpee again after this.) Fracturing the hamate bone usually doesn't show up on normal X-rays, and symptoms include pain from gripping, tenderness in the palm above the bone and irritation of the nerve. This is characterized by numbness in the pinky finger.

Nailed it!

I share an injury with Jose Conseco, Ken Griffey Jr. and a dozen or so other baseball players. So, I've got that going for me.

I won't mention what I read on another website about the necessity of surgery with this type of fracture. This is why you shouldn't research health issues on the internet.

So, first attempt at using my mouse: terrible. The pointer finger is connected to that nerve and it's a pretty damn unpleasant feeling clicking the button. Not to mention the cast won't really let me grip it anyways. So much for still being able to use my fingers.

First attempt at typing: equally terrible for the same reason as above. So, it looks like I will be typing solely with my left hand for awhile. Please disregard any and all spelling errors that might have occurred. This blog took me forever to type.

First shower: not too terrible. Until I was done. I was able to shower okay, although washing my hair was tricky. I just turned the bottle on top of my head, squeezed and hoped for the best. First attempt yielded nothing. Second attempt was like the bottle exploded on my head. Looks like I will be using a lot of shampoo in the coming weeks. The real trouble began when I tried to take all the plastic off my arm. Being a Jones, I was nothing if not thorough. Plastic wrap, followed by a small trash bag secured with duck tape, followed by a 1 gallon freezer bag over the hand. (I had started to rip the trash bag and wanted an extra layer of protection.) Let's just say that duck tape doesn't come off of trash bags. At all. I think I spent more time trying to remove the tape/bag than I did showering. I finally managed to pull the wad of tape/bag towards my elbow enough that I could get scissors under it. I really thought I was going to be walking around with a ripped trash bag around my elbow the rest of the day. I've since discovered a much better method that requires zero duck tape. Heather 1, Cast 0.

First prescription pain medication: beyond terrible. The first few days with the cast were annoying, but not unbearable. As the week went on, that no longer remained true. There has been a constant throbbing and just about any movement sends a shooting pain through my hand. I called in a request for something stronger on Tuesday. They recommended Vicodin, and I said hell no. I still needed to be able to drive and function as a human. So, the nurse suggested Tramadol since it was not a narcotic. Score. Sign me up.

My first two pills seemed to help and didn't release any side effects. Of course I was sleeping for most of that, but whatever. As Wednesday morning progressed, I felt incredibly drowsy, and am pretty sure I fell asleep at my desk once or twice. Then the heat wave hit. I threw off my sweater and turned my portable fan on high. Geez, this must be what menopause feels like. (I feel like I should clarify that I was wearing a shirt under my sweater. I was not free-boobin' in my bra in my office.) Next came the dizziness and the foggy-around-the-edges vision. That was trippy. The icing on the cake was the nausea. It hit me like a ton of bricks and I nearly passed out from the force of it.

Needless to say, I headed straight home and into bed. I slept the remaining effects off and woke up feeling moderately better. I figured maybe I didn't eat enough with the previous pill, so I ate lunch and tried one more. The relief in my hand was worth one more try.

That plan totally backfired on me. I think I made it worse. I went back to bed to try to sleep it off and was mostly successful, but the symptoms lingered through to the next morning. I don't know how people enjoy tripping on pain killers. It was a terrible experience for me. So, now I'm just on extra strength Tylenol. It seems to be helping to take the edge off a bit. (From what people have told me, Tramadol is about as weak as they come regarding prescription pain killers. Great, I can't even handle the watered down stuff. Let's hope I don't ever need anything stronger!)

I'm having good hours and bad hours, pain-wise, but mostly I'm incredibly frustrated with the whole thing, and I hate feeling helpless. Thanks to my friends and family who have done simple things like helping me with my coat, opening a pudding cup or washing my hair. I appreciate it. Stay tuned for an update after I see the doctor on the 26th!

-------10/26/12 - My trip back to the maniatrist (Not a real word, but I really like saying it.)

So this entire blog was a sham. I never actually broke any bones. But, I'll get to that. Guess my record is still intact!

The second week in the cast was more manageable than the first. The pain had lessened, whether over time or because of the tylenol, and I was beyond thrilled. It still wasn't pleasant by any stretch of the imagination, but was more tolerable. When I headed into the doctor's office, I honestly figured I'd leave with another cast. I didn't see how it couldn't not be broken based on the pain and symptoms I had.

But first, they had to remove the old cast. For those of you who've had a cast, you can snicker at my naivety, but I definitely wasn't expecting the nurse to use a saw that required electricity. When she wheeled that machine in, I'm sure I looked like some poor schmuck about to be submitted to the firing squad. I almost laughed out loud. Is this some kind of Halloween prank?

She asked me if I had ever had a cast removed, and I told her no. She said not to worry, that the saw will only slice through the fiberglass, and the cotton under-layer would stop it from hitting my skin. The only thing I'd notice is some vibrations. I believed her, obviously, but I guess I wasn't expecting that to be how you removed a cast. Not that I really had any pre-conceived ideas though. She started along one side of the cast and started slicing. Next, she went along the opposite side and made another incision. That was followed by a large pair of pliers that she used to pop the edges of the cast apart. A few more pops and she pried the two halves apart until my arm was finally free!

She asked me if I'd like to wash my arm, and I nearly knocked her out of my way to get to the sink. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but I was really ready to scrub a dub dub. It felt amazing. But, I couldn't believe how much smaller my hand was after only two weeks in a cast. I couldn't imagine what it's going to look like after 2-4 more weeks in one.

I was quickly taken down to get 4 new X-rays. These didn't hurt nearly as badly as two weeks ago. Even the one to stretch my palm didn't produce any foul language. I headed back down to my room, but didn't really think much about the lack of stabbing pains. I had never broken a bone before, so I assumed this relief was normal. I wasn't going to question it. Rick had even pushed and prodded on the area before the X-ray, and I didn't want to punch him in the face afterward. That's a good sign, right?

He came in a few minutes later, and the first thing he said was, "Well, there's no fracture."

What what now?

There's no evidence of a healing fracture. I couldn't believe it. I looked at the X-ray, and damn if he wasn't right. Not that I'm suddenly an expert on reading X-rays, but that pesky dark line we saw before was mysteriously absent. The hamate bone was still intact in all of its itty bitty glory. Rick continued to say that while it wasn't fractured, it's most likely that I severely bruised the bone. I proceeded to ask him what that line was we saw two weeks ago. "It could be any number of things, from a shadow of another bone to a nutrient vessel."

He says these things like it's no big deal. But, he put me in a cast for two weeks because of a damn nutrient vessel. A NUTRIENT VESSEL, people. Or possibly an effing shadow. Does this seem weird to anyone else? I guess the more I think about it, it's probably better than I had the cast. It did restrict my movement - in a big way, that I otherwise wouldn't have been able to do on my own. Perhaps this helped to contribute to the healing process. Dammit. I so wanted to be angry with him for putting me in a cast, and then I have to go and ruin my tirade by thinking logically.

He figured that due to my current symptoms, and how they've lessened in two weeks, that I should be fine in a few more. I'm still to limit my use while it continues to heal, and I can't squeeze, grip or push off of anything for awhile. And definitely no push-ups or burpees. Yay! The nurse fitted me for a gel brace that they give to carpal tunnel surgery patients. It's just a wrist sized brace, but it has a gel pad in the palm for comfort. He wants me to wear it for at least two weeks or until the pain goes away.

If the pain isn't gone in a month, then sh*t will get real. I'll have to go in for a CT scan, and worst case scenario I will have to have surgery to remove the bone. He doesn't think that's likely, but of course, he has to give me all the possibilities and outcomes. Since my pain is better, he didn't think it was necessary to do the expensive test right now. I agree 100%!

So, that's it. No broken bone. I went through all that, just to find out I bruised my palm. So lame. But at least the blog isn't completely false. I did get a cast for the first time. And I saw a hand specialist. I just still can't believe that I bruised it that badly working out AND that it was so incredibly painful. As my friend Brenda says, this is why working out is such a terrible idea.

Here are some photos of my cast with all the signatures I got.

Brenda drew the StL. She did a great job! Other signatures include my mom, my niece Remi and the top says Brenda was here!

Kevin is a friend from Angels' Arms, Mackenzie and Mia are my nieces (I love how Mackenzie's letters got bigger as she finished. She's 4.) The smiley face is from Stephanie, a friend from Angels' Arms, Andi is my boss's 9 year old daughter, and the Way to Go! -JJ is my brother.

My last niece signed Charlee, Love U!

I'm not really sure why she did this, but the President of my Junior Board, Sunny, put her full name followed by Esq. (she's a lawyer), along with her work phone number. I guess she thought it would be funny?

My coworker Jonathan, and my sister put "The Big Sis, Love Steph"

My friend Betsy put Bitty (Heart) JP (that's her fiance), and my other friend Julee put Bies which is an abbreviation of her last name.

This is what I have now. Sooo much more comfortable AND it can be removed for showers. Hooray!