The leg/back? It's like two steps forward and one step back, then one step forward and two steps back. It's irritating. The back is actually doing better, but the leg (which runs from the butt, down to the knee) seems to be getting worse. PT doesn't really aggravate it, but it doesn't seem to be helping that part much either.
In the meantime, Goten has decided that he needs to kill me. This isn't real news, he's been on and off this mission for a number of years, but he seems to be taking it up again with a renewed enthusiasm. I came home from PT today and he had all those little balls we buy for him, not right by the door, otherwise I would have opened the door and scattered those, instead they were piled just beyond the sweep of the door. I walk in after PT and stopping at the grocery store to get a few things, I'm carrying the bags, I don't see it and WHAM! On my ass in the kitchen. Yes, I'm sure this is just what my ass and leg needs.
In doing this, I dropped one of the bags I was carrying. A small carton of cream I had bought flew out and slammed onto the floor, splitting open and starting a small cream puddle.
This brings the other two cats running out, because they can smell dairy from miles away. I'm sitting on the floor, shaking my head, trying to get my act together. Goten has meanwhile, gone over to investigate what was in the bag besides cream. Fortunately, it was nothing he much cares about.
So, I get up, sigh, pick up the bag, get that straightened out, then clean up the cream. Jesse and Chrissy glare at me, wishing me dead for taking away their snack. I debate if I should go and get more cream, but decide that I can wait. I want it so I can make something to take to my mother tomorrow, and I can have Todd pick it up after work and bring it home to me.
Goten rushes over and attacks my pants. Because as anyone who reads my journal knows, my pants are the root of all evil and must be destroyed at all costs.
As I'm dancing around the kitchen with a 13lb cat hanging onto my jeans for dear life with his teeth, I remember an old commercial for Iams, that said that research showed having cats lowered your blood pressure.
If I ever go missing? Assume Goten succeeded in his plans. And probably ate me when he was finished.