Snake oil and quacks...

please, find your way to my door. I've decided to love you.

The day I went to get my 24 staples out so I could quit playing the part of a train track for Thomas, I was complaining to the nurse practitioner that the nerve pain pill (or as we call such pharmaceuticals in the South, "nerve pills") was just not cutting the mustard with controlling said nerve pain. She suggested that I buy some Icy Hot and have someone "rub me down" with it all around the incision and down onto my sciatica nerve and then apply an ice pack.

On the way home, Mom stopped and purchased the I.H. At home though when I told Husband what he was to do with the balm o' relief, he said that it sounded like snake oil to him. Of course, I have come to be a believer. Boy howdy! It is truly intense, the first time you undergo the treatment, but now I can proudly confess, "My name is Elle, and I use Icy Hot daily." In fact, I'm concerned that I may not be able to go to sleep without the vapors of the lovely salve.

This week's challenge has been cruddy weather and itchy lungs equaling coughing fits. Which by the way is not the best athletic event after back surgery. Enter my second stab at snake oil antidotes. I submitted to Vick's vapor rub all over my feet plus socks. Between the Icy Hot and Vick's, the bedroom was odor-splendiforous. Husband almost needed a gas mask the first night.

But I slept oh so well. And the real triumph in this snake oil tale is Husband has submitted to using the Icy Hot as well, for his own aches and pains. We're a romantic and vaporous pair these days.

Mawwiage and true wove. Brought to you by vapors.