Dear Internet,
There is a phenomenon that is often referred to brain freeze or zap, in which a bolt of electricity can shoot across your brain unexpectedly. Different people describe differently things, but for me it’s like an ice pick was jammed in my head and then removed rather quickly. I rarely get them, rare enough that I don’t even document them. On Monday, I got two. When the second happened, nearly 12 hours from the first, I was in bed reading email and I knew whatever I wanted to do, I had to shut down the computer and go to bed.
It was a strange blessing I wrote chocolate, chicago, train in a fit of insomnia the previous night, I was dead asleep, with an achy brain, almost immediately and then slept for 9.5 hours. I naturally woke up shortly after 5AM on Tuesday morning. But now it is after midnight on Tuesday night, and I’m just now writing my Wednesday entry. If I sound confusing at times, you were warned.
I was able to secure Wednesday The Pug a vet appointment on Tuesday to check into her balding patterns and get her bi-annual check-up. At 13.5, she is still remarkably healthy and the vet thinks the hair loss is part of her prednisone consumption (which we’re now halving) and she picked up some kind of skin infection, all cured by antibiotics. The price of her vet check up, which included blood draws, labs, drugs, and a few other things, took a good chunk of the savings I was able to pull for the month. I’m glad I can afford to take care of her and pay for her needs in cash but I’m frustrated because it seems whenever I have a few extra bucks, something happens.
On our way to the vet, the low tire pressure light came on the driver side right tire and wouldn’t go off. The first winter I had Jeeves, all four lights came on one particular cold morning and I had a massive panic attack on what to do, because no one tells you this is going to happen. Turns out the TPM device gets off-set with sever weather changes, which can be reset by the MINI dealer.
This time around, instead of hyperventilating because the TPM was off, I went to the first gas station available. Broken gauge. Drove to my second gas station. Also broken air pump gauge. At this point I’m within a mile of the dealership and hurrah for run flats! Off to the MINI dealer I went. I can drive a hundred miles with flat tire and not fuck my rims!
Turns out the tire pressure in the driver’s side front tire was actually the correct PSI but as the others were a few ticks above, the driver’s side was then registering it was under pressured. Once we got this sorted, the MINI shop clerk (who was a girl!), showed me how to check my oil and then she filled up my window wiper fluid. As an aside, on my way back from Monterey, I sat next to a mechanic who told me he used to work at a government base that was located across the street from a gas station. After watching several hundred cars come in and fill up, he noted that not one person checked their oil. Nothing like potentially running my timing chain will get met to pull out that dip stick.
At this rate, I just need a swiss army life and duct tape and then I can solve everything!
x0x0,
Lisa
Street graffiti, Fountain / Division, Grand Rapids.
Dear Internet,
I wished the other day for a burger cooked in pork fat, Friday I got my wish. Work husband #3 and I have a monthly standing lunch date which was happening that week and he suggested we meet at Reserve. The menu was a message from the gods since a large number of the plates were Lisa-friendly AND then there were the aforementioned burgers and fries cooked in pork fat; I was starry eyed on my walk down to the restaurant.
The burger and two helping of fries and lots of good conversation later, I felt full. Uncomfortably full. To work off some of the deliciousness, work husband #3 suggested we walk over to Vault of Midnight, the GR arm of the famous Ann Arbor comic book store, to check out the latest comics. After that, we grabbed coffees at Madcap before heading back to our separate work destinations.
Protip: Making an audible comment in an artisanal coffee shop that pour over coffee is nothing more than fancy drip, earns you dirty looks in said coffee shop.
But they do make a damn fine mocha.
A good Friday was had, but I could not shake the feeling of over fullness – which isn’t surprising given I had not had any meat or animal products the entire week. The uncomfortable feeling turned into queasiness and didn’t go away. There is no dinner for me Friday night and no breakfast on Saturday.
TheHusband and I went to a birthday party Saturday night, which was held at a local bar that served food. After barely eating since lunch on Friday, my eyes were as big as dinner plates and I ordered too much heavy food on a stomach that was already not feeling awesome. This was going to become a potential pattern of solid plant diet during the week and meat lovers delight on the weekends. The lesson learned is even when being mindful when eating something you’ve been depriving your body for a while, the sensitiveness of your stomach will kick into overdrive.
[And no, I am not going to go vegan. The momentary sensitivity after eating a tasty, delicious bacon burger is totally worth the price of admission.]
It was a quiet social weekend but a busy domestic one. TheHusband and I decided to turn our solarium, which I tried to capture as my writing office, into a meditative space for him (and for me), which meant spending quality time at a local garden shop figuring out plants. He wants to go back to one of the very original ideas we had upon our move in by turning the room into a meditative space with mainly plants of various flavors and sizes to create the desired tranquil environment. I do currently use the room for my own yoga and meditative practices, so when TheHusband suggested we turn it into a global meditative space, I couldn’t really object. We’re attempting to utilize as much of the space we have as possible, but we know at some point with the next few years, this house as lovely as it is, is going up for sale.
This summer after putting the writing space together, and a few haphazard attempts at using it, I then spent the rest of the summer at the cabin. School started in August, time was unprioritized but not entirely unfruitful, but I still wasn’t using the room as I had intended. And right now I’m splitting my writing time between my proper office and our bedroom since my flat ass doesn’t take kindly to the chair I have in the curated space. Ideally, I’d like to move the writing work outside the house to a co-workspace or something along those lines sometime in the future.
We’re noticing WednesdayThePug has started shedding large amounts of hair and it is not just her summer into winter coat. But instead of regaining replacement hair, she’s going bald in random parts of her body. I noticed it during the summer, but the bald spots didn’t seem get bigger or multiply until recently. Her attitude, food, and bathroom habits haven’t changed, but as she seems to continue to lose more hair at a faster rate than in the summer, I’m going to book her in with the vet this week to check on that and to get her shots up to date. Fingers crossed it could be as simple as age or the effect of her daily 1/2 dose of prednisone is finally catching up with her. She is 13.5 years old, which is bordering on extraordinary for a pug whose median age is 11.
I’m not very confident she’ll make it through the winter due to her existing arthritis, hip dysplasia, and other health issues even though she’s constantly in good spirits, will slit your throat for a pizza crust, and waits every day at the door for me to come home from work. She’s had a few close calls with death in the last few years, of which all she’s rebounded quite majestically from, but she’s torn my heart out enough with her illnesses that I feel as though I have grieved already for her many times over. I’m not attempting to be cruel or cold, but more matter of fact as I also know that once she’s gone, whether naturally or because we had to put her down due to health reasons, I will be an emotional wreck. I’ve had her for 1/3 of my life and she’s been my most constant companion and my best friend during all of that time, even if her farts can clear a room.
Well that forked path was cheery.
It’s quite late now and I’ve made the mistake an hour ago of checking the weather forecast and discovered it is going to snow sometime between now and sunrise. As much as I complain, as much as I hate driving or dealing with it, snow is quite beautiful to watch. From afar. Preferably in a house or other locale. I’m kind of sad I’ll miss tonights flurries, no matter how brief. But I will say I am looking forward to winter break in December where I’ll have nearly a whole month to watch flurries all to my little heart’s content.
x0x0,
Lisa
The beach, Scheveningen, Holland circa 1890-1900, via Library of Congress. Courtesy of The Commons, Flickr.Dear Internet,
Tonight is my last night as a free person for tomorrow I head back to work. The nostalgia factor in my jobs doesn’t escape my attention, and in fact, we relish all the opportunities it gives me such as long holiday breaks, mostly summers off, and a bit more freedom than if I were a librarian somewhere else.
The bittersweet component I keep close to my bosom, trying to not let it suffocate me or me suffocate it. The proverbial question of what did I do this summer and what I wanted to do this summer, always separated by miles of truth. I had a lot of questions I needed to get answered, plans I wanted to put into action, and places I wanted to be. While I never got the opportunities to do the things I wanted to do or fuck, even have the vacations I wanted to have, I don’t regret the outcome of this summer at all. A lot of digging deep into my psyche was achieved and its given me a better handle on what I need to do for the future.
The one thing I learned this summer is I work much slower than I had envisioned myself to work. Meaning, I had plans in place to do X things at X times and never factored my actual TIME to do the thing so it was always a mess. Now I know.
This morning I did some work work from home and in the afternoon, worked on getting more content from the archives back online. I’m almost done with 1998 and there is a variety of adjectives about that jaunt down memory lane. 1998 is a good year to illustrate my maniaism. The primary descriptors of me at 26 would be whirling dervish. But I know that all changes in the following year, when depression comes and smacks me about like an angry Frenchman. I wasn’t on drugs in 1998, other than birth control pills, and it wouldn’t be until 2000 when my primary descent into my imaginary mental ward would begin. I smile a lot at Lisa at 26 (and TheHusband too since he and I were living together then), but I’m afraid for what happens after.
So let us talk about the good things then, rather than stew over what we cannot change.
Wednesday was back to the vet again for yet another UTI. She’s a low riding pee-er and this will apparently be the source of discomfort for her until her death. She’s two days on her drugs and so far, no more accidents in the house, no blood in the urine, and she’s not peeing 19 times a day.
This weekend is the kickoff for the 2013/14 EPL season and I am beyond giddy to find out a local pub is opening up early to start serving for the matches (Arsenal starts at 730A). I support West Ham United, whose game starts at 10A and which I’m dragging TheHusband to. TheHusband and I have an agreement: He’ll come to the pub with me for the games and I’ll sit through a basketball game.
I’m not quite sure which one of us is going to be more bored.
I also found out today the city’s rec department has an adult fencing class offered this fall, which I hope to get signed up for. I’m also going to sign up for swimming, starting with beginners and see how I do.
Also, the other big news is next week I’m going in to see a neurologist to talk about if whether or not I have epilepsy. I was diagnosed when I was a wee lass when I had a grand mal seizure, and until I was 12, I was carted to Children’s Hospital of Detroit to find out what is going on. So nearly a decade after it happens, I get the “eh” clear from the doc, who my mother laments now she should have sued him for malpractice.
I’ve had small seizures infrequently over the years but I haven’t seen a neurologist in over 20 years. I need to make sure my i’s are dotted and t’s are crossed in case anything happens to me. Maybe THIS will explain it all?
Lastly, I got a bit of fiction writing done today but no major word counts to even worth mentioning. My Scrivener project for notes and ideas grows, so just as in all things, baby steps.
x0x0,
Lisa (Day #26)
P.S. I forgot to mention EPbaB finally has a working contact form again which has been out of commission for most of the summer. Thanks to TheHusband’s nimble BOFH skills, and my bitching, he finally got it working.
Hercules vacuum cleaner, 1930s; State Library of New South Wales. Courtesy of The Commons, Flickr.
Dear Internet,
First I must tell you it’s much later than what the time stamp says on the entry. The second thing I must tell you is that I’m fairly high on Klonopin, which is in part thanks to having a physical anxiety attack this late evening. One pill couldn’t cut it, it seems, so I took two.
This week was kind of adventurous, which I’ve got started as another post-dated entry, but to bring you up to speed, we’re up at Throbbing Cabin which was solely to be for our vacation and not for renovations. Yet instead, it has turned into a comedy of errors.
As some of you may know, earlier this week I had a round of The Plague which changed everything, namely this entire week was to be our vacation week where the cabin was to be our actual vacation home and not a money pit of despair. The hope was to have day trips all over the area and see things we haven’t seen yet outside of our little 10 mile area.
We were obviously too ambitious.
We came up to Throbbing Cabin late Thursday afternoon, two cars packed with goods. After getting unpacked, it is discovered I left the non-perishable groceries on the counter in the kitchen back in Grand Rapids, which leads us to quick on the fly thinking of where to do for food, ending up having dinner at Little Traverse Inn, where their gastropub specialize in British foods with a twist. I really enjoyed the haggis parcels.
After a marvelous dinner, we head into Glen Arbor to grab the missing dry items left in Grand Rapids, head to the cabin to get ready for bed and sleep.
Except that didn’t quite happen. Wednesday had been acting odder than usual since I picked her up from the bordering place earlier in the day. I had thought it was their off her schedule walking that twas giving her troubles, but even after we right the wrong she decides to do two things:
She pees on the new wood floors right after we arrived
She pees on our bed at the end of the night, soaking through the duvet, sheets, and the mattress pad
Even better? TheHusband had been laying on some of the pee.
Thankfully we had back up sheets and comforters on hand. Also thankfully the mattress pad was designed for just such an occasion so the mattress itself never got wet.
Now I can speculate for as long as the day as long as to why both instances happened:
She’s 13 (or 101), and she’s incredibly picky how things are done. If they are not done just so, she gets upset
Boarding place said they had walked her twice before I picked her up at 11:30AM that morning, yet she almost immediately shat and pissed in my car. So see point the first.
We walked her more as soon she got home and after, yet our punishment was the peeing in the house.
It’s worth nothing that today she’s been fine. As a precaution, we’ve removed the water bowl we kept for her in the bedroom (since we’re upstairs, and she cannot get up/down stairs).
With that incident having now occurred, we knew we were going into Traverse City to do emergency laundry and then the thinking went, well as long as we’re in Traverse, might as well run a few other errands since we’re in the city.
Which completely shot our damned day. We were thinking beach! Hikes! Things! Not sit in a laundromat, watching DEAL OR NO DEAL.
My boyfriend, as he’s referred to, is the contractor who laid down our flooring and also builds homes. We’ve been getting price quotes from him to do work beyond our means, like rip out the second bathroom and redo it properly. We’ll also be contracting him further down the road to gut out and redo the kitchen (hopefully via IKEA).
He’s called such because it seems he only calls me, not TheHusband, for anything and we’ve now moved on to texting. The luck of the draw is that he looks like someone I would date. And there might be slight chemistry between us. But it’s kind of hard to feel the allure when the only times he’s ever seen me is when I look my not so very best.
After TheBoyfriend had come and gone to drop off some contract work, breakfast was made and consumed, we spent time putting together yet even more IKEA items from our haul this week. I prodded TheHusband to call a pest control person for we were finding little piles of dust in the master bedroom area and as luck would have it, the pest control could be out there early evening.
With our chores and bathing done, we started the slow trek into Traverse as we had stops such as at the recycling and gas station to embark on.
The bane of my existence during our courting years was TheHusband’s obsession on finding the perfect engagement ring. I looked at hundreds, if not thousands, of rings that all began blend into the same one.
Shopping for floor rugs with this man has the exact same experience. Online or off, there is always something not quite right about anything we have seen. We stopped at a rug showcase on our way to the laundromat and one after. My eyes were glazed over with all the seemingly same choices. My final threat was we were going to pick up something from Target, which turned out how our search ended with two area rugs thrown into our cart. Now we’re finding ourselves saying things like, “Well, if we don’t like it, into the guest room it goes!” which was also our mantra for Throbbing Manor.
Which explains so much about our decorating process.
Errands done, finally, headed back to the cabin, we meet up with pest control guy who showed up a little early. After poking and hunting around the cabin, he can’t quite find any trails to suspect carpenter ants are eating at the cedar. Since it’s either them or carpenter bees, and the bees are not here, then it’s got to be the damn ants. Traps were laid about the house and the outside perimeter was sprayed with poison. We report back to him in a week.
After all of this is done, it’s now closing in on 8PM. We wolf down dinner, grab the dog, and head to the local beach to watch the sunset and ended up staying for little over an hour. I was hoping to see more stars, with zero light pollution, but we were woefully unprepared for hanging out on a darkened beach.
We headed back to Cedar and got slushies before heading home, and here we are.
Mood update: Mood update has been pretty chill, though I’ve been sick for the better part of the week. I skipped a few days of the klonopin because I didn’t want to have an interaction with Day/NightQuil. I have not started Wellbutrin but several friends are reporting they are feeling good things about it, so that is still a might see.
I cancelled my appointment with Dr. H. on Monday because I had completely spaced on the appointment AND I don’t have the ready cash. Dr. P. and I have been unable to connect for a few weeks so hopefully I’ll get to see him soon.
x0x0,
Lisa (Day #21)
Auchinleck Manuscript – Reinbroun. National Library of Scotland. Courtesy of The Commons, Flickr.
Dear Internet,
I did not so much as leap out of bed this morning in so much as I forced myself to acknowledge that yes, morning was indeed here and yes, it was time to get up. I used to go from dead sleep to out of the house in 45 minutes. But then the ankle surgery occurred and I slowed down a bit. Now with the constant energy drain, I’m positively glacial. Dead sleep to leaving the house is not 45 minutes anymore, it now takes close to two hours. This summer gives me loads of flexibility because I’m not tied to any kind of schedule so I can pretty much roll into work whenever I want to.
But when fall comes, that will be a whole different matter.
And by fall, I mean start of classes which is in about three weeks.
Later
I had the good grace to get this entry started this morning, a running commentary through my head as the day progressed. Let us get the work out of the way first before continuing, and see where that takes us.
On the Wednesday front, she started spaghetti legs again this evening and I’ve started her on a dose of Gabapentin to go with her ‘roids. Like before, it just shows up. She remains as alert as ever, which we’re constantly surprised as she’s 13 years old and you’d think there would be some feebleness to her. Oh, no. She’d cut a bitch for pizza crust, let’s make sure we’ve got that correctly. She’s back to chewing on her raw hides again, which she hasn’t touched in years. It was eye brow raising moment of “Que?” when she picked up this habit again, for she just waltzed into the living room, dragged a rawhide with her (mind you, the same one she’s been working on for 3 or so years) and put a big dent in it on afternoon. Now she does this every night.
This morning, I was up and out of the house within 1.5 hour of waking up, so minor victory! My decision to pre-pack my lunch, pick out the day’s outfits, and get my gadgets in gear helped. Ages ago, I learned the lesson of packing for the day the night before so these are not new introductions to the plan, rather just tried and true ones. Also ages ago, I used to eat breakfast at work, so my lunch bag was doing double time, but lately I’ve been eating before leaving, namely as if I don’t have food in my stomach in and around the time I take my pills, then I start to feel awful and get massive cramps. Eating breakfast at work was to “save time,” but now I found eating at home is faster because I don’t have to prepare and pack more food.
I weighed and measured myself, transposing that into Fitbit this morning. I’m unsure when I’ll keep that active – weekly? Daily? Monthly? Something will naturally occur. I also started, again (always again), tracking my food portions but opted to not finish out the day. My caffeine intake consisted of an iced coffee at 2PM and a 8 oz Sugar Free Red Bull in the morning. I consumed 32+ oz of water during the course of the day and this evening, I’ve been double fisting water and blood red orange soda for I am desperate to not be dependent on caffeine. My food choices were healthy, for what it was worth, and my only indulgence were the aforementioned large iced coffee before I headed to see Dr. P.
My session with Dr. P. went really well, as par usual. The chaos inside my brain seems to soothe a bit after I see him. He did suggest that while taking Klonopin at night was a good idea, it has an extremely long half-life, so I should be taking it earlier in the evening. This means if I take it before bed, as I had been for the last week plus, it has not completely cycled by the time I’m up and at ’em, which explains why I’m groggy in the morning. Then add on the lithium which causes low energy and you have yourself a winner. His suggestion is to take the drug at about 7PM or so, so that it would have cycled by the time I get up, which I’m starting tonight.
(With all the med changes and other special needs I need to be aware of, looks like I’m making another IFTTT recipe. I love this service.)
My mood today, in the morning, was fairly focused as I started getting some work done that’s been woefully behind since I’ve been rarely here. I was still feeling tired for the better part of the day, but it came in spurts. One minute I was fine and then a few moments later, I could curl up and sleep with it disappearing again not long after. Since I took the Klonopin late and I didn’t get a full 8 hours of sleep which is usually needed, I’ll assume this is part of the problem. As I have taken the Klonopin earlier this eve as directed by Dr. P., I will now have a control study of sorts.
While I was fairly focused, I was also feeling very pedanticy, meaning I had this urge to correct and illustrate my awesomeness to everyone. Mainly with vendors. Case in point: I emailed a company that solicited us for one of their products. After going over their website with a fine tooth comb, I could not find the answers to my questions. So I emailed the sales rep explaining I could not find the answers on their site and here were my questions. The sales rep turns around and emails me a copy/paste job of their technical support page. So I responded back that I had already read this, as I had pointed out, and if she could not answer my questions, could she haves someone else do it for her?
She’s working on it, she says.
Variations of this happened with several other vendors today. Is it the fact it’s August 1? Do people not read their goddamned email or understand their products? It just got me really irrationally worked up. But I recognize it’s irrational.
Since my original plan was to head to Throbbing Cabin for the weekend after the session today, it was curtailed as TheHusband is coming home on Friday, I was out of sorts after my session with Dr. P. ended at 3PM. I then got this urge to garden or perhaps use our rowing machine for 1/2 hour or so tonight. Or maybe do both! Also, maybe get some writing done and get caught up on paper reading.
No. No. After beating the exercise and gardening demon back to their black holes inside my soul, the night turned into a lot slower. I was able to clean up some server work and get some digital reading done, but no where near what I had anticipated or hoped. And I’m reminding myself this is okay.
In my session with Dr. P. today, I mentioned the following and about a few other things which I’ll write about tomorrow. I said to him that I don’t know if it is the drugs, or the circumstances, or what, but I don’t like this person I’ve become. While I was never a WILD AND CRAZY GIRL, I didn’t have any qualms or issues about being a bit reckless, or doing things outside of my comfort zone. And now, I’m more often than not, trapped by fear. And that has become the most crippling feeling of all.
Dear Internet,
I’ve been getting a lot of emails / Facebook messages/ Tweets about all of the writings on my struggles, and this leads me to feel sort of awkward because I don’t know how to respond to the kind words, the support, or those who are telling me they are, thanks to me, looking to change up their own mental health routine to get themselves on track. I write to give voice to myself, to voice those who cannot, and to make clear that being a bit touched isn’t something you can just get over. If I don’t respond to your message, for whatever reason, at least know that your words are inspiring to me and and Wednesday and I (and TheHusband) thank you from the bottom of our hearts for all of the support.
I know for some of you it’s been kind of a pain as when something is posted on the blog, it auto-cross posts to LiveJournal, Facebook, Twitter, and Tumblr. Well, it’s a pain if you follow me everywhere or in a few places. I know the argument for this cross-posting from SEO experts is I’m doing it wrong, and you know what? Fuck ’em. A lot of my traffic comes from those cross-posts, not everyone utilizes the web in the same way, and not everyone uses the same community driven sites in the same manner. This has all be very deliberate, specifically with LiveJournal acting as my archive for all the content posted on all of my blogs since the dawn of time (or 2001). Anyone battling any kind of illness knows that the biggest support is finding others out there like you and if there are people / community that can be touched or created from my own experiences, then it’s worth thumbing my nose at SEO peeps.
I’ve started curating themed days around here, which I started with Collectioun of Cunnynge Curioustes (which will post every Saturday). I’ve got a few more themed days lined up, which I hope to get sorted by the end of the next week or two into the rotation. This does not mean that the baring of the soul will stop, rather the point for curation is to keep posting content in a regular manner even when the soul baring is not as productive. Stuff like Collectioun of Cunnynge Curioustes can be done over the course of a week or in another themed content that I’m currently entertaining, it can be stacked weeks ahead of time.
I’ve got a post that is set to publish on Monday that will cover my goals, hopes, and dreams for 2013 so there I will explain all of this a bit more.
x0x0,
Lisa
Dear Internet,
It’s a beautiful afternoon here at Throbbing Manor and I plan on taking full advantage of it before the cold eventually sets in. Since I’ve spent most of the summer, okay all of the summer, cooped up in the house, the desire to be outside sometimes borders on desperation.
TheHusband and I got into one of our many fake fights this morning because I’ve not been after the doctor’s and physical therapist’s rules to the letter. When he pointed out this was the exact same behavior as my mother1, I decided if there was any good time to change it would be now. I’ve been monitoring my behaviors all summer to figure out routines which would not only work on my days off from the library, but also I could easily modify as I move from working part to full time.
The big time suck, of course, is social networking. You cannot just login and read Twitter/Facebook/Tumblr or whatever your vice is and get off (figuratively and literally) in a short amount of time. There is some stickiness to this wicket as many of my friends are only on X network and often, that may be the ONLY way to communicate with them. Social networking is also part of what I do for the library, so I need to be up to date with what is happening in those worlds, so it’s a lot harder to just kiss off social networks or even specific services.
Ultimately, I think the real motivation of what’s keeping me on these networks is I want people to read what I write. I want my words to connect, resonate, laugh, and perhaps give others courage (or fear depending on what it is I’m writing about) so that at the very least, we do not always feel so damned alone. I find it hugely interesting with all of these tools to connect us, so many of those that I’m acquainted with often still feel like they are all alone. This may not happen all the time, sure, but even I have found while I may have over 300 friends on Facebook, but when TheHusband had seizures in the spring of 2011 and I rushed him to the hospital, I had no one to call locally for comfort. I not only want to be big in Japan, but I want a more locally fulfilled life.
With that being said, I received a lot of outpouring of support across the networks as of late over this morning’s entry and others. While I may not have responded to all of those who have written, I did want to publicly let everyone who has reached out to me to let them know how much I appreciate and adore everything you have said and given me.
This space, here, is my safe space. While I am grateful for those who have reached out to me and tell me they are there for me, please understand if I do not immediately take you up on your offer. I use this space to work out what I’m feeling, but attempting to express those thoughts does not always work vocally or in an area I cannot control. Each piece takes me hours to write so to vomit emotionally on a person is lot more complex then it is here. Also understand that I have a difficult time discussing my feelings with TheHusband and I live with him.
With that all being said, I still encourage people to comment, whether via the comment option at the bottom of the posts, via email, or on any of the socialnetworks I am. I want to know that you’re alive and listening.
By the by, Wedensday the Pug and I were chased out of the backyard this afternoon by an indignant squirrel who kept yelling at us, for over a half an hour, from the tree tops. At first I thought it was several squirrels fighting, only when I looked up in the trees, I saw one squirrel running up and down the branches, squawking, but no other squirrels were (that I could see) in the vicinity. The squirrel made a point to jump lower and lower, keeping its gaze on the dog which is when I figured the squirrel must of thought Wednesday was intruding and it wanted to protect its space. Fair enough. I took Wednesday in and as soon as we were in the garage, the squawking immediately stopped. My office looks out onto the back area and I have yet to hear a single peep for the rest of the afternoon.
There is a metaphor in there somewhere, I just know it.
TTFN,
Lisa
1. He was commenting on how mother has been hospitalized and then placed in a physical rehabilitation center for nearly four months each time, two years in a row. Both of these incidents stemmed from her own negligence of her body, meaning that as someone who is a brittle brittle brittle, has congestive heart failure, and severe arthritis to the point that she’s had joint replacement surgery, she takes terrible care of her health. The doctor’s have told her repeatedly that all of this could be circumvented if she stopped eating like crap, exercised, and was more proactive.
Dear Internet,
Thursday marked the six-week anniversary of my lay up (lay in?).
When TheHusband and I started discussing what exactly the surgery was going to entail, I genuinely thought I would be laid up for 2 weeks of bed rest and than have a walking boot for another 4-6 weeks, then physical therapy as prescribed. I thought I would be back to work by mid-July.
At the two-week follow-up, 30+ staples were removed (20 on the interior incision, 10 on the exterior incision, and 6 on the fascia incision. I went from this to this (go Hammers!). I was told to remain 0% weight baring and due to the nature of my job, was off of work for the another five weeks.
Three weeks after plaster cast was placed, I started getting a lot of irritation inside the cast, against the incision. With two weeks more left before I could go back for the next followup, the irritation may not be able to wait, so I called and was immediately seen. When they took the cast off, which due to how ticklish I am had me laughing like a loon, this is what greeted us. The MA said that we caught the pending infection in time, for if I had waited, things could have been a lot worse.
Because they were planning on putting me in the walking cast in the appointment two weeks out, it was decided that I would get the walking cast now instead of another plaster case, on the condition that I would remain 0% weight bearing. They would also load me up on antibiotics to stave off any infection cooties. As I was to continue to be 0% weight bearing, work would still continue to be out of the question. The advantage this time around was that instead of having a plaster case that weighed 5 lbs, I would be wrapping my ankle in dry dressing twice a day and wear the walking cast boot. My foot and lower half of my leg could have freedom, but I could not shave my leg. If you look closely in some of the more recent pictures, you could see the inches long hair on the top of my feet. I could now wash my foot in the shower, instead of wrapping the leg in a garbage bag as I was doing before and I could put lotion on my toes to ward off the dehydration that was occurring from lack of moisture.
So six weeks of near complete bed rest; the number of times I’ve left the house can be counted on one hand and the number of times I’ve gone down the stairs wouldn’t be that much more. I started the convalescence before the beginning of one of the hottest summers on records and for every small break we’ve gotten in the heat, I’ve cracked the windows open and gulped the fresh air like a person long deprived.
We found that any small movement could and would disrupt the healing process, like sitting upright in a chair longer then a few hours or wearing the walking boot, which fitted while the leg was swollen and caused undue pressure. I’ve spent much of my time in bed, my leg propped at varying degrees, all my electronics spread around me, a TV in front of me, and pretended I was some modern version of Rear Window. This has been Wednesday’s position for almost the entire time.
I had set up loads of plans to keep myself occupied while I was laid up: Watch a TV series I haven’t seen (or haven’t seen in forever) and write about each episode, finish my cross-stitching (I got a total of two letters added), do some knitting, work on research for a writing project, catch up on professional interests; the list was endless.
And I’ve done almost none of that.
[to be continued]
ttfn,
Lisa
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