Under TENSion
Aug. 20th, 2010 09:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceFor about the last week, my shoulder has been slowly seizing up again: every morning a little tighter, a little more painful, a little less responsive to drugs.
Which being true, possibly it was not the brightest idea in the world to spend last night sitting out without a jacket in the rain, watching a not-very-good Romeo and Juliet.
This morning, the shoulder has been ... bad.
So it's back on the TENS machine for me, hey-ho. Tingle-time. And an appointment with my doctor for bigger brighter heavier painkillers. He will look at me askance, and wonder if I'm addicted. Actually not, but, y'know. If he doesn't ask, I can't tell him; volunteering the information is an instant dose of protesting-too-much.
Or I'm hypersensitive. Or both.
(Is there a rule, by the way, for when an acronym can drop its capitalisation and be written out like a regular word, like radar? If so, I am invoking it, prematurely or otherwise: if I mention it again, the TENS will revert to a Tens machine; in the same way that I write about Aids, not AIDS. It may horrify the copy-editors among us, but I can't be doing with these attention-grabbing capitals in the middle of a sentence. In fiction, I drop the capitals on titles, too, whenever I reasonably can: "As you say, captain," rather than "As you say, Captain." Capitals mid-sentence snag the eye, I find, and disrupt the visual flow of the prose. I have to fight for this with every book.)
Which being true, possibly it was not the brightest idea in the world to spend last night sitting out without a jacket in the rain, watching a not-very-good Romeo and Juliet.
This morning, the shoulder has been ... bad.
So it's back on the TENS machine for me, hey-ho. Tingle-time. And an appointment with my doctor for bigger brighter heavier painkillers. He will look at me askance, and wonder if I'm addicted. Actually not, but, y'know. If he doesn't ask, I can't tell him; volunteering the information is an instant dose of protesting-too-much.
Or I'm hypersensitive. Or both.
(Is there a rule, by the way, for when an acronym can drop its capitalisation and be written out like a regular word, like radar? If so, I am invoking it, prematurely or otherwise: if I mention it again, the TENS will revert to a Tens machine; in the same way that I write about Aids, not AIDS. It may horrify the copy-editors among us, but I can't be doing with these attention-grabbing capitals in the middle of a sentence. In fiction, I drop the capitals on titles, too, whenever I reasonably can: "As you say, captain," rather than "As you say, Captain." Capitals mid-sentence snag the eye, I find, and disrupt the visual flow of the prose. I have to fight for this with every book.)