Being stiff

Like many of my fellow vertebrates, I’m particularly protective of my head. It’s evolutionary my dear Watson.

Like many of my fellow sentients*, my behavior is not always perfectly consistent with my fears or beliefs. It’s what we call rationalization.

None of this has anything to do with what follows… I thought I’d tie it in somehow, but it didn’t pan out.

So I have this habit of getting into a car like I’m some kind of Magnum P.I. wanna be. I swing open the door like I’m too cool to be driving a hard top, then glide into the seat in one swift, graceful thrust.

Today was no exception. I was mounting my Civic Coupe like a Ferrari convertible, per usual; only today I was wearing my exceedingly fashionable fanny pack (emblazoned with the corporate logo for the manufacturer of the chemo pump held within). It turns out a fanny pack situated on one’s belly (such as mine was today) makes the torso slightly less flexible. This in turn makes the wearer slightly more erect, and can place the roof of a car right smack in the middle of one’s glide-path, when entering a car in a Magnum P.I. type fashion.

Or, to put it more succinctly: I smacked myself silly in the parking lot of my oncologist this morning.

Although there’s never a good time for a self inflicted concussion, if you had to pick a time and place… an MD’s parking lot is as good a place as any.

* Making nouns out of adjectives is a hobby of mine. I hear all the really cool people are doing it.


  1. Did the same thing recently (sans chem pump), but in my case I hit my head on the roof only to jerk it wildly away and strike the top of the door with the other side of my head. Both hits directly to the middle of the ear.

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