And if I try to move my arms anywhere outside that low circumscribed arc, lightning strikes my neck and shoots down to my fingertips. It's, ah, vexing. Now I know my efforts to stop swearing in front of the baby have really settled into deep habit.
The chiropractor said, "Oh, yeah, this kind of pinched nerve usually happens to people who spend a lot of time carrying babies. In a few sessions we'll have it mostly cleared up, and your son's almost walking on his own, so you'll be fine by his birthday."
The M.D. spent 45 minutes chasing a red herring, asking lots of questions that clearly indicated she thought I'd had a stroke. But she didn't want to admit she suspected a stroke until after she'd finally ruled it out. She sent me home with a prescription for a drug that's incompatible with nursing my son, and a prescription for an MRI in case my neck vertebrae are disintegrating. Whatever. Good thing for her I'm not a tyrannosaurus.
Thursday I have too many follow-up appointments, so it looks like I may not be registering voters that afternoon after all. Damn and blast. Instead, I'll be finding out what a cross-section of my spine looks like these days. And if still I feel then like I do today, I fully intend to be doped to the gills on percocet, which is maybe not the best condition in which to be importuning unregistered voters.
Meanwhile, all my thanks to tracyandrook, who is coming to save my ass tomorrow, since I can neither pick up the baby nor drive.