Surviving the Cure

On the three week anniversary of my stupendous idiotic stunt, I had a massage scheduled. I first had it scheduled for last week, but due to other illnesses, I had to postpone what I knew was my last hope of feeling better.

Gil came in and I showed him my arm. My partially immobile arm. The one that couldn't straighten out or bend completely. I thought that the straightening out pain was muscular and the bending was neural, but even that may have been an error.

The first few days post-trauma, I used the sling constantly. Then my neck began to hurt so much that I switched to an intermittent usage of the sling, only when needed. Mostly I held my arm in a static position by muscles alone or by propping it with my good arm.

Therein lies a problem. After three weeks of tucking my arm in mostly a 90º angle, it didn't want to un-angle. The muscles themselves had begun to atrophy or contract. Or else, perhaps they were so cramped from a constant holding pattern they simply couldn't work any more.

Gil worked on my neck and arm and I can now almost completely straighten it out. I would say I am about 95% there, perhaps even more. If I let it hurt. Straightening out my arm is all muscle pain. There is nothing tingling and nothing shooting up or down my arm. Bending my arm, however, entails both muscular pain and the numbing, shooting stuff I associate with nerve involvement.

So my plan is to allow the muscular pain to just happen. My arm needs to move through the pain in order to get back my full range of motion. I'm willing to live with constant low grade pain for a couple days in order to get my arm back long term. I'm a little more worried about the nerve stuff.

Pain is nature's way of telling us to stop doing that, whatever that is. The muscular pain is simply from misuse. The nerve pain is from a damaged nerve, something I don't wish to further damage. I'm willing to go through the stretching, cramping, tearing stuff for the muscles, but nerves aren't supposed to do that. But if I continue to not bend my arm up, the muscles are only going to get worse.

So, I took a walk around the block with my arm down at my side with the hefty weight of the dog's leash further exercising the muscles. Pitiful, but there it is. I'm willing to keep bending my arm until I get any of that buzzing stuff going on. Then, I stop. I don't wish to exacerbate any swelling and compression around the nerve itself.

This is the best I can figure out to do right now. I hope that in the next three weeks I will get myself completely healed. I won't be nearly as useful for moving across the country as a crippled old lady. I better get that fixed prior to my departure. I'm working on it.

I have another massage scheduled for next week and that will hopefully loosen up any more muscle contractures that I've not been able to loosen up on my own.

With all this sitting around and doing nothing, I'm frightened to step back on the scale. If I was too fat before all this happened, I can only surmise it is worse now.

On a happier note, I bought three more pairs of stretch pants.

Sick and Tired

I'm tired of being sick and tired. I know that a majority of my issues are self-inflicted which only makes the matter worse. There really is no comfort in knowing that I did this to myself. At least when I broke my ankle playing racquetball, I both won the game even though injured and had a shiny cast to prove I had a boo-boo.

I won nothing. I looked pitiful. I'm still looking pitiful. And there is no cast. I stopped wearing the sling within days because it hurt my neck too much.

I've looked up the treatment for my particular boo-boo and the treatment is to let time heal all wounds. Unless it gets worse and then there are other things that might work, but the essential treatment is to do nothing. I've got that covered.

I cannot straighten my arm. Even if I ignore the pain and just go for it, I cannot straighten my arm. This is a concern. But if I allow time to heal all my wounds, it should be able to straighten my arm at some time in the mists of the future. It should stop hurting eventually, too. Great. I have the exact opposite of the patience-of-a-saint – whatever that may be. I'm completely unenchanted with this whole fiasco. And yet, despite my feelings about it, the boo-boo lingers.

I have been coughing now for three weeks. I thought colds were supposed to last for two weeks with a doctor's help or a fortnight if left alone. Still, it's been over three weeks. My sore throat comes and goes. The cough was almost completely gone and then after a day or two of respite, it came back with such force that I sometimes look for a lung or two to go flying across the room with the rest of my innards in hot pursuit. I cough until I can't breath. I cough until I'm choking and gasping for air. I cough so hard that I sometimes try to even bend my left arm to help in some way driving a white-hot shaft of pain up to my shoulder and out my fingertips.

I've given up trying to sleep. If I lie down, I nearly choke to death. I've camped out in a recliner the last couple nights and dozed in between choking fits. I've sucked on cough drops until my whole mouth is puckered. I knocked over a glass of water in the middle of the night giving me even one more thing to whine about.

With holding my arm funny and sleeping in a chair and choking and hacking my way through my days, my arthritic neck is snapping like a turtle during mating season (do snapping turtles snap more during mating season?). My neck is so full of creaking that I listen to the snap, crackle, pop each time I turn my head. I'm sure it is loud enough for others to hear, maybe as far away as downtown.

I had a massage scheduled for this afternoon, but I can't lie down without choking to death and most therapists don't like you coughing in their faces. So regardless of how much good it might have done for my arm and definitely would have done for my neck and shoulders, I had to cancel the one thing that was sure to make me feel better. I will hopefully be well enough by next Tuesday, when my boo-boo will be three weeks old, my cold will be four weeks old and my neck will be striving for the century mark.

Since cough syrups that come by prescription only contain codeine, and since I had no such cough syrup in the house, in the middle of the night I devised my own strategy. After waking yet again in the middle of a choking fit, I realized that the good ER doctor had given me pain pills for my arm. Hydrocodone, synthetic codeine. I took one. I actually got a few hours of uninterrupted sleep and woke up with a neck so stiff I could barely turn my head. But sleep! Blissful sleep.

I then noticed that my caffeine intake from the day before had been too low and that my now throbbing arteries in my head were not happy with me. With enough time and freshly brewed coffee, this passed quickly. If only my lungs, elbow, and neck could speak to the coffee-happy arteries.

Life is what happens when we are busy making other plans. And so the saga of the boo-boo continues.

Possible Topics

As I sit here and think of things to talk about, I'm struck by a plethora of issues that have crossed my mind this week.

I've been noticing far too many women wearing tops that are completely inappropriate. The new style is made to accentuate boobs and so there is a top that is supposed to have material that is gathered under the breasts. However, some women are either 1) too old and saggy or 2) too fat for the tops they choose. And so the seam with the gathering is not scooped under their boobs, but rather they are looking like bandoliers with stripes across their chests. Do they not have mirrors?

Then there are people who drive like they are the only people on the road. They are either not concentrating on their whereabouts or are just inconsiderate. But they have traffic backed up with people trying to get around them while creating traffic hazards for all concerned. One clod was going 45 mph down Interstate 95 and had all of us at risk due to the one car's idiot driver.

My injured arm is wearing on my patience. I have very little patience to start with and I'm totally at the end of it. I needed a jar opened, there was no one here but one-armed me and it takes two arms to open a jar or far more experience being one handed than I have been able to accumulate. I accosted a perfect stranger who was simply riding his bike down the road, but due to the kindness of strangers, I got my pasta sauce opened. Thank you, stranger. I hope you get some play out of the story, as I have nothing else to offer you.

We went to Sculpture in the South this weekend. There are some very talented people out there who are able to create beautiful art. Some of the pieces were absolutely breathtaking. All of the price tags could suck the air from a large room. There were a couple of large sculptures that had price tags around $50K, but most of the pieces were much more reasonably priced for just a few thousand dollars. I'm not a connoisseur of fine art and I have no desire to dedicate a portion of my house or life to caring for it. But it was very pretty to look at. And the day was perfect as well.

I finally found the book I needed for the book club. I read it, I enjoyed it. It was nothing I would have found on my own. This is the reason I joined a couple book clubs. It paid off. What a fun thing. I had tried to find the book previously. I thought the date for the meeting was last Wednesday, but it turns out that it is this coming Wednesday. So I still had time. So I called one last book store and miraculously, they had just gotten an order in and there was one still unpacked in the back room. They would hold it for me and so I went and picked it up. If I hadn't hurt my arm and been delayed, I wouldn't have been able to find the book at all. Sometimes things just work out.

Aiden was in a musical play at school. It was mostly the kindergarten classes, but the pre-K kids got to perform at the end for a couple songs. Joe has his video camera from when he was really filming stuff. He videoed the presentation. Morgan was thrilled with seeing people she knew up there on the television. It was finally time for the kids to perform and Aiden was up on stage. The kids were spectacular. They had hand and arm movements to go with the songs. Aiden was happy to move his hands, but his lips never moved. The kid next to him wasn't quite settled and when he irritated Aiden, he was given the mean look that immediately made him bug the person on his other side and leave Aiden alone. That look is the best.

I've been working on the fiction stuff trying to figure out where it is going. I never know what's going to happen to my characters until I begin to write. I had solved a problem here and there and had no idea what to do with them next. They somehow figured it out for themselves and I found a new tack to take. I am amazed at the process of writing fiction. When I write non-fiction, I have to stick to certain pre-ordained rules. Not so with the fiction, especially with the premise I'm working with. All in all, I'm learning new stuff all the time.

As I look around, I notice that there are many things I could talk about here. Some days, I feel like there is nothing out there to talk about, but I know that all it takes is fresh eyes. The world is a fascinating place, if you only take the time to see.

One Week Later

I knew as I left the hospital with my arm in a sling that I was going to have trouble with typing. It was one of the least problematic issues I've encountered during the past week. I typed one handed and it took a very long time, but it wasn't like I had anything of great urgency to tackle. Just sitting around being hurt was all I was capable of doing.

If you have an arm that neither bends acutely or straightens out, you are stuck with a pretty useless limb. I can't get a potato chip to my mouth with my left hand even now. It is still painful to get my contacts in place.

Zippers really take two hands to use. My purse slides all over a surface while I try to zip it back up. I can't hook up my underwear properly so … perhaps that is too much information.

It takes two hands to put in a ponytail. It takes two hands to dry your hands. It takes two hands to open up packages, or teeth and one hand when desperate.

It takes two hands to eat a steak or pork roast or chicken breast because they must be cut into bite sized pieces. It is why I've been eating soup and salads and cheese on crackers. I can't cut up the meat, so I've not been eating that. Well, I can eat bacon. Yum, bacon.

While it is possible to pull my pants on, I can't wear anything with a real waistband because I cannot button or snap anything since my clothing is a little on the too tight side to begin with and I only have the one arm and hand. I can get my elastic waist pants up but I look almost as graceful as I was as I skated down the driveway on my inline skates. Yes, it looks that bad as I hop around tugging first one side and then inching up the other. It makes me really think hard about making a trip to bathroom. "Do I really have to go or can I wait. Really, bladder, you can wait a while and we can make one less trip per day," I say to myself by mid-afternoon.

All the little things were astounding. But catastrophically, I couldn't hold the babies for Mother's Day because it would hurt. I had to wear the sling in the car because my arm was aching held in one position for too long.

My arm is bruised in a most curious fashion. I wish I knew exactly how I injured myself. The bruising covers far more area than I thought it would. I keep trying to do something new and it flares up and then I'm taking another pain pill to deaden the ouch factor.

What I miss the most, however, is the ability to take care of myself. I'm alone for a few days, so I'm stuck caring for myself which means that there are certain things that I can't have right now. I wanted tuna in my leftover macaroni salad, but it takes two hands to operate the can opener. I ate plain macaroni salad. It's not like I'm going to perish, but I am going to whine. See?

My arm is getting better each day. It will soon be completely healed and I can get back to my normal life. I hate being dependent and I hate being thwarted. I keep telling myself that I at least have my dominant hand working to full capacity.

I sure hope by a two week post-idiot blog entry I can tell you all that I'm perfectly well and functioning to my normal slug rate. At least I'm typing with two hands again.

I'm Too Old for This

Perhaps I should have entitled this 'I Should Know Better' instead. Let me start out by saying that I'm typing this one handed. At least I'm typing it right handed, so things could be worse.

Prelude
Since I am unemployed, I have nothing but free time. I have very little structure to my days and vast stretches of open time. One of my favorite pastimes – since I was five years old and first learned how, is reading. I enjoy reading. I enjoy learning. I enjoy being entertained and creating the author's world in my own imagination.

Watching television or a movie means I surrender my imaginative process to the producer, director, and actors. I prefer my own version, stimulated by the author over the version created to fit within the current constraints of film (video).

Reading, however enjoyable it is, does not burn many calories. Even when reading a heavy tome. And I often read paperbacks. Not only does the act of reading not burn many calories, it is also a wonderful time to ingest calories. Reading a book while munching on potato chips or some other treat is a splendid way to spend a sunny afternoon or stormy evening.

Then there is the inescapable fact that I am getting older by the second. Each day adds more time to my accumulated stay on Mother Earth. I started out my journey here as an infant, moved towards toddler, crept up on pre-schooler, sped into student, ran into teenaged years, hurried into adulthood, and zipped into grandparent status. Now, with AARP card clutched tightly in hand, I am old and careening toward decrepit.

The older I get, the slower things work. Instant recall is no longer instantaneous. Running is really jogging. My metabolism has slowed down. So even though I now have only a bowl of potato chips while I read instead of the whole bag like I used to do, I'm gaining weight. And there is the crux of the problem.

I'm getting fat. Not by any true medical standards, but my own standards. I find my size six clothing tight and uncomfortable. This wouldn't be as much of a problem if I had fewer size six clothes. But I have one walk-in closet, one double closet, and three dressers full of that size. Unless you count Nana's antique piece as a dresser and then I have four. Too many items to replace.

What I need to do, therefore, is keep my fat ass the same size as my clothes. This used to be easy. I had an active job requiring me to do many physically challenging things. I played racquetball and sports with the kids. I moved more and burned calories at a greater rate even as I sat still.

I have tried various methods of exercise since moving south and being sedentary. I went to Curves, I've done water aerobics. I rode my bike. I walk the dog. I really hate to exercise no matter what. I find it abysmal to spend more time on the trip back and forth to the gym than in actual exercise. (There is no logic there because as a slug, I really have nothing else to do with my time.)

I figured that a good way to burn calories would be to get some inline skates. I have watched many people skating past my window as I sit in front of my computer. It looks fun. I got the skates. I put them on for the first time today. Before my grandson was allowed on his skateboard, he was covered in pads – knees, elbows, gloves, and helmet. Me – just gloves.

I was unsteady as might be considered normal. I asked my husband to supervise in case I should fall. I fell. He stood in the driveway and looked on as I yelled 'it hurts' over and over. I had been standing still when my feet flew out from under me. I landed flat on my too fat ass which is thankfully over-padded. When the jarring, stinging pain receded from my posterior, I found my left elbow very painful. I could move it, but only with great pain. And my fingers were going numb.

Finally, after either six lifetimes or a few seconds – depending on perspective – my husband helped me get the skates off and watched me hobble into the house. He immediately got me some ice but my arm continued to cause me considerable pain. We went to the hospital.

I was given a couple pain pills so that I could move my arm adequately to get decent x-rays. The films proved to be negative. I have a bruise and some swelling. But mostly I have a highly irritated ulnar nerve that would like my arm to remain perfectly still and don't even think about moving any fingers.

So, I will be returning the inline skates. I'm really too old to be this stupid. I may have to learn to just like having a wardrobe consisting entirely of a few pairs of stretch pants that will accommodate my copious hind end.

Ben Franklin said that he didn't mind so much being old, but he hated being old and fat. Yep.

Moving Day

I have moved a few times. I have taken four people (2 adults, 2 small children) across the state. Then, ten years later I moved 3.5 people (2 adults, 1 college kid who didn't really live with us any more, 1 teenager) back across the state. No pets. Then I moved two adults and one dog across several states.

When I get ready to move, I know far in advance that it will happen. Months in advance. I have to put a house up for sale and look for a new one to purchase. Then I move. I call up the utilities and cancel them at one end and have them scheduled to initiate at the other. I have moving people scheduled to pack up my stuff. Then load up my stuff. Then move my stuff. And finally deliver my stuff.

I have learned that it is much easier to throw away much of the crap before you move. It is really a pain to have to lift it out of a large box, unwrap it from copious amounts of newsprint, and find out that it is trash and so throw it out. It is easier to do all that before it is packed and moved and delivered.

The last time I moved, I worked for months de-crapping. I got rid of an enormous amount of junk. I took boatloads of books to the library and clothes to Goodwill. I got rid of extra things, doubles or triples of items that don't need replication. I threw away a lot of stuff.

I also stopped buying lots of stuff. I don't know when I began hoarding food because I've never starved to death. But I have way too much food in my house. I've been doing this for a very long time now. At least without a basement, I have less room for extra food and so have less extra food, but I still have too much food. Before I move, I stop buying food. We can eat for several months on the food I currently have in the house, which means that I still transport food around the world as I move from place to place.

Moving is difficult. It is expensive. If I throw all this stuff away, I might not have the funds to buy replacements if I need them when I get to my destination. And so I vacillated about tossing stuff. And then when I got to the next place, I found that I had too much crap and continued to have to de-crap and toss more stuff. Carefully packed and wrapped stuff. Lots of extra stuff. That I didn't need.

I know it is difficult to move.

It is much easier to move someone else. I did not have to make any choices about what to take, what not to take, the wisdom or foolishness of moving an item from one place to the next. I just followed directions and watched the kids. It was fun to move. It was still a lot of work but I didn't have to make any decisions.

I need the practice. I have a couple more moves to help with. I can help my other son move. I can and will, if he wants.

I am helping my sister move. Long distance move. All at once move. The kind of move that I am more used to. But without corporate sponsorship. So moving unneeded crap is costly. It was costly for me, too. But costly to the corporation, not personally.

De-crapping is difficult because we become attached to our possessions. However, most of our possessions aren't really all that important.

Unless it is your favorite toy or needed blanket. Those are indispensible.