Sandy Supposes....

Carry On

Prompt : Wildcard Round! What is the best or worst non-medical advice you've ever received for an injury or illness?

         As I have mentioned/lamented before, I am a natural - born klutz. I'm not sure why this has never been recognized as an actual illness with an official name. Clumsiness is my curse. My injuries have varied from strains and sprains to fractures and stitches. Many times, I have been told to "Pick yourself up, brush it off, walk it off." My brother-in-law likes to spout his own wacky wisdom, "It's a long way from your heart." Well yes, this is often true, but some occasional sympathy/empathy might be nice. My father liked to employ reverse psychology with me when I would come crying to him after a spill, or a tumble. He would take my hand in his, and let me lead him to the scene of the accident. Crouching down, he would study the offending patch of grass, or rutted pavement asking me if this was the exact spot. Sniffling, I'd nod my head, and he'd nod his head. "Yep, I can see the dent you made. You musta fell hard. I can see why it hurt."

         Anyway, my worst piece of non-medical advice was experienced when I was heavily pregnant with my first child. It is still simply amazing to me just how much skin can and does stretch. There were wagers as to how many babies I was carrying. I would not have been too surprised to give birth to an elephant. The official due date of April Fool's Day came and passed. Apparently, this was not an agreeable birth date for my baby. My womb was more than comfortable for this reluctant child. I was growing weary of this nine - month process. As a far from fleet - footed female, I missed seeing my feet. Usually, I needed to see them, keep them in view, so I knew where they were stepping.

         Aside from impatience and anxiety, I anticipated writing university exams soon. I did not relish sharing the joys of birth with my classmates. At this point, I received a plethora of pregnancy, and or labour - inducing advice. It ranged from drive over a long bumpy road to engage in sexual activity. Huh, I was certain that the last one had caused my current condition.

         Desperate, I dispatched hubby to the drug store for my solution. He was feeling helpless by this point, too. This bit of advice seemed feasible, plausible, and most important doable; nothing ventured, nothing gained. I had never ingested cod liver oil before, but if it could move things, meaning the stubborn baby, I was game. During the nine - month marathon, I had been uber healthy; no morning sickness, no heartburn, and no indigestion. I prided myself on my stomach of steel.          

The cod liver oil didn't look pretty. It didn't smell appetizing. It looked oily. I couldn't fathom that it would be as vile as it was, after all I liked seafood. If you thought an oil would be easy to swallow/swig, you'd be so wrong. It did not stream easily down my throat, I had to gag it down. Bottoms up....

         Long story short, I was violently ill; projectile vomiting and retching. Things were moving all right, but not the baby. There were no twinges, or labour pains, nada.

         In the end, ten days past the due date, my daughter was forced into this world via an inducement, and I am not referring to a bribe. Maybe she had been holding out for a May birthday? She had to settle for an Easter arrival, and a grandfather that thought the name 'Bunny ' was cute. Actually, I christened my daughter, Carrie. I have always been a fan of the British Carry On movies.