You've seeen the photos. You've read the stories. Now fall in love all over again with "MBLF: The Beginning," the new major motion picture! Yes, now you can get a tiny glimpse into the real-life origins of MBLF, complete with surround sound! You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll heave with disgust at the full-color moving pictures of C's left AND right legs at the height of MBLF-dom. Play the video below for a blast from the past and see what all the excitement has been about.
Showing posts with label mblf update. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mblf update. Show all posts
Aug 27, 2008
Jun 19, 2008
Not With a Bang, but With a Whimper
So. I'm done with physical therapy.
That's it. That's my news. It happened all-of-a-sudden, really, so quickly that I still feel a little disconnected from it all. When I last met with Dr. G in May, he told me to continue PT for four weeks at 2ce a week, and then four weeks at 1ce a week and then I'd be done, unless my therapist and I felt more was needed. Marching orders in hand, I continued therapy.
Last Wednesday (visit #2 in my "1ce/week for four weeks" phase) my therapist Sara told me that, as of this week (visit #3 in my "1ce/week for four weeks" phase), she would no longer be working with this therapy group. She, then, would be finished one week before I would, and I would have to have my last visit with another therapist.
I was torn. It just didn't feel right to end my therapy with someone else, and seemed kind of pointless for me to come in for my last session and have to work with someone who doesn't know me or my needs at all. I spoke with Sara and together we decided that yesterday was, indeed, my last day of PT.
I'm still using a cane and have a substantial limp so folks have asked me why/how I can be done with PT. The answer is that it's now all about pain and healing. I can officially do all of the exercises that I do at therapy on my own, between the tools I have at home and those at my gym. I have a limp because there's still pain, and the body won't let itself be injured -- it automatically tries to compensate for the pain so until I (A) get stronger (exercise) and (B) get rid of the pain (extended healing), this is as far as I'm gonna get. The work's not over by ANY means -- I'll need to go through my routines every single day -- but there's no reason for me to spend time and money on therapy anymore.
When I left RSPTII yesterday for the final time, I was in a really strange place mentally and emotionally. I hugged my therapist, said goodbye to Sam the Receptionist, and then took a moment to look around. It was like a graduation, a breakup, a relief and a sadness all in one. I'm glad to be done, will miss the people I've gotten to know there, am scared of whatever it is that the future might hold ... but the future will come, sure as anything, so my only choice is to stand up to meet it.
That's it. That's my news. It happened all-of-a-sudden, really, so quickly that I still feel a little disconnected from it all. When I last met with Dr. G in May, he told me to continue PT for four weeks at 2ce a week, and then four weeks at 1ce a week and then I'd be done, unless my therapist and I felt more was needed. Marching orders in hand, I continued therapy.
Last Wednesday (visit #2 in my "1ce/week for four weeks" phase) my therapist Sara told me that, as of this week (visit #3 in my "1ce/week for four weeks" phase), she would no longer be working with this therapy group. She, then, would be finished one week before I would, and I would have to have my last visit with another therapist.
I was torn. It just didn't feel right to end my therapy with someone else, and seemed kind of pointless for me to come in for my last session and have to work with someone who doesn't know me or my needs at all. I spoke with Sara and together we decided that yesterday was, indeed, my last day of PT.
I'm still using a cane and have a substantial limp so folks have asked me why/how I can be done with PT. The answer is that it's now all about pain and healing. I can officially do all of the exercises that I do at therapy on my own, between the tools I have at home and those at my gym. I have a limp because there's still pain, and the body won't let itself be injured -- it automatically tries to compensate for the pain so until I (A) get stronger (exercise) and (B) get rid of the pain (extended healing), this is as far as I'm gonna get. The work's not over by ANY means -- I'll need to go through my routines every single day -- but there's no reason for me to spend time and money on therapy anymore.
When I left RSPTII yesterday for the final time, I was in a really strange place mentally and emotionally. I hugged my therapist, said goodbye to Sam the Receptionist, and then took a moment to look around. It was like a graduation, a breakup, a relief and a sadness all in one. I'm glad to be done, will miss the people I've gotten to know there, am scared of whatever it is that the future might hold ... but the future will come, sure as anything, so my only choice is to stand up to meet it.
May 16, 2008
What a World, What a World!
It's been an action-packed few days here in MBLF land. I've been hither and yon and hither again. The result is that I find myself having perhaps overdone things a teensy-tiny bit, and so am laid up tonight with a grossly swollen left foot that is strapped up and on ice.
To recap: Work has been more than the usual insane asylum, and I've been pushing it so hard that I've been feeling a tad beat up. Wednesday night I skipped PT and instead went to bed at 6:45 pm or so. It was lovely. The yesterday my mother JA arrived in town for the weekend. Of course, by the time I had made it home from work she had cooked, cleaned and basically "mommed" my whole house. We had a drink on the porch, had dinner and then went to the Christmas Tree Shoppe where I spent more than I care to acknowledge on mass produced junk. Colleen Brennan-Barry: supporting the economy since 1974.
After we shopped we decided dessert was in order so we headed to Read's Homemade Ice Cream. This place is beyond yum and is a little family business in Henrietta. They make all of their ice cream on-site, so it's fresh and natural. They also have fruit ice and ice cream cakes and custard, in addition to regular scoop. I had cherry vanilla; JA had vanilla custard and J had coffee with espresso malt balls and Heath crunch. Nice.
Today JA went to stay with my uncle, and J and I toddled off to work. I had lunch with one of my fave peeps and then went back to work where I hosted a wedding shower for two of my colleagues -- one of whom is the Web team's own Fran! He's getting married next week, and our colleague Mimi is getting married in mid-June, so it was great to have a gathering for the two of them.
And then I was supposed to have drinks and whatnot with some friends (hi, Steve!) but realized I had overdone it mightily these last few days and my leg was hugely swollen and in pain and perhaps the drinks and the whatnot? The drinks, and the whatnot, would have to wait.
To recap: Work has been more than the usual insane asylum, and I've been pushing it so hard that I've been feeling a tad beat up. Wednesday night I skipped PT and instead went to bed at 6:45 pm or so. It was lovely. The yesterday my mother JA arrived in town for the weekend. Of course, by the time I had made it home from work she had cooked, cleaned and basically "mommed" my whole house. We had a drink on the porch, had dinner and then went to the Christmas Tree Shoppe where I spent more than I care to acknowledge on mass produced junk. Colleen Brennan-Barry: supporting the economy since 1974.
After we shopped we decided dessert was in order so we headed to Read's Homemade Ice Cream. This place is beyond yum and is a little family business in Henrietta. They make all of their ice cream on-site, so it's fresh and natural. They also have fruit ice and ice cream cakes and custard, in addition to regular scoop. I had cherry vanilla; JA had vanilla custard and J had coffee with espresso malt balls and Heath crunch. Nice.
Today JA went to stay with my uncle, and J and I toddled off to work. I had lunch with one of my fave peeps and then went back to work where I hosted a wedding shower for two of my colleagues -- one of whom is the Web team's own Fran! He's getting married next week, and our colleague Mimi is getting married in mid-June, so it was great to have a gathering for the two of them.
And then I was supposed to have drinks and whatnot with some friends (hi, Steve!) but realized I had overdone it mightily these last few days and my leg was hugely swollen and in pain and perhaps the drinks and the whatnot? The drinks, and the whatnot, would have to wait.
May 5, 2008
Footsie
Today was an exciting day indeed, and since it's been a while since a MBLF-centric post, I think I'll let you in on my morning.
- 5 am: Alarm goes off. J gets up and staggers to kitchen to prep for first day of big new job at Kodak. Col resigns herself to never being able to buy the SLR she so desires, on account of wanting to keep J gainfully employed, and so rolls over and goes back to sleep.
- 5:01 am: Cat jumps on Col. Col swats cat.
- 5:15 am: Meow. {swat}
- 5:25 am: Meow. {swat}
- 5:45 am: Meow. {swat}
- 6 am: J rushes in and out of shower. Col stretches.
- 6:30 am: J off to work. Col grooms.
- 7:45 am: Col departs home and arrives at lab, greeted by the oddly disturbing statues of 6-foot tall male and female penguins dressed as doctors. Friendly neighborhood phlebotomist Karen begins the leeching process for regular PT/INR blood tests.
- 8:04 am: Col, lighter a few vials of blood, starts off.
- 8:24 am: Col arrives at Building D, also known as the home of the inimitable Dr. G. No handicapped parking spots are available. Col ponders the fact that Building D is ALL orthopedics: sports rehab, PT, hand and foot orthos, prosthetics, imaging ... and yet there are only eight total handicapped parking spaces for all us walking wounded. Odd.
- 8:30 am: Col checks into the Dr. G suite. Appointments secretary is first to say it: "You're walking! You look so good!" Extra bonus points: "Great cane!"
- 8:45 am: Glow-in-the-dark time. Nurse Gina: "You're walking! Look at you!" Col stumps into x-ray and has the customary three-shot. X-ray tech is taken aback at not having to give instructions on how to turn and position.
- 9:00 am: Photo op over; Col installed in spacious corner room with my cell phone and the latest New Yorker from home. Waiting for Dr. G.
- 9:10 am: Waiting for Dr. G.
- 9:20 am: Waiting for Dr. G.
- 9:30 am: The door opens and ... Dr. G. Col waits for the orthogroupies to enter but ... what is this?! Dr. G is ... ALONE!
- 9:31 am: Dr. G shakes hands and then goes *right* for the cane. "This is great," he says as he lifts, twirls, weighs and inspects. "WHERE did you get this?"
- 9:45 am: Col shows off new walking tricks, and then movesthe x-ray which shows some foot bones have fused -- nothing too serious but does mean some reduced mobility. All looks good otherwise. PT is perscribed @ 2x/week for one more month, then 1ce/wk for one month, then done. Footwear is discussed, and Dr. G extends handicapped parking permit, signs a waver to get Col back to the gym (WOOT!) and perscribes compression socks. With the wearing of said-socks, Col isnow officially 98 years old.
- 9:50 am: Dr. G and Col talk about the value of patience, and he begins the customary twirl out the door -- but with a joke (!) about next time Col seeshim, putting the cane up for sale on E-bay ... or not, because it IS a cool cane. And then he's gone, on to the next. A note: explore gifts for Dr. G involving a flame motif.
- 10:10 am: Col finally at work. Blood test results: 2.3 PT/INR. Ladies and gentlemen, we have FINALLY reached therapeutic levels! And a double WOOT!
- 10:11 am - 5 pm: Slavery.
- 5:00 pm: Off to PT.
Apr 24, 2008
December 4, 2007
It was late at night --perhaps even early in the morning, I had lost track of all time and place -- and I lay on the gurney trying not to twitch, not to breathe, not to move in case the new movement jolted my leg and caused a fresh wave of pain. The pale yellow walls were painted with decorative murals depicting cheerful little bunnies and deer and other woodland creatures as they flitted through the forest. Overhead a truck exploded as the muted tv replayed yet another episode in a never-ending Mythbusters marathon. In front of me, past the remains of my twisted feet, were racks of medical supplies, stationed next to the doorway leading to the emergency room's main medical station. Brushing lightly against my right arm and my I.V. drip of blessed, blessed morphine, was a closed curtain made of white netting and faded, generic pastel-swooshed 1980s-inspired fabric.
From behind the curtain, a faceless voice moaned.
J and I, waiting for the next in the night's procession medical folk, looked at each other. Another moan, this one more of a groan/whimper.
"Dammit! Dammit, this fucking hurts," a deep male voiced from inside the void. "Anybody? I gotta have me some pain meds."
J and I looked at each other again. Were we supposed to do something? Another groan issued. "Goddammit. GodDAMmit!"
Nurses and doctors hustled and bustled in and out of the room, grabbing supplies from the racks. No one looked in the Moaner's direction.
The Moaner moaned.
In fact, it began to sound like a symphony of the damned in there, behind the circa-1985 institutional drapery. Moans and groans, shouts and yells, our friend the Moaner was in rare form. He was a virtuoso, a regular Mahler of the moan, a Bartok of the bellow. He started slow, working the lower octave range, but soon begane to punctuate his overture with louder outcries and pleas for drugs, liberally peppering the score with profanities and invectives. Jesus was referenced regularly, as were some of His lesser relations. Most adjectives were NOT complimentary.
I looked at J again. What the hell was going on in there? Was my roommate dying? Had he lost a body part? A finger? A limb? MY GOD, was my roommate HEADLESS? Was he a HEADLESS, LIMBLESS SHELL? In my pain-exhausted and narcotic-infused mind, worst-case scenarios began to form.
A doctor wandered through and I, already stressed from the hours I had spent broken, stopped him. "My friend," I said, gesturing to the curtain, "appears to need some help." And for a blessed moment, the moaning ... stopped.
The doctor nodded and stuck his head out the door. Soon a little school of medical types appeared, waddling in behind the doc, as a line of baby ducks, snapping on fresh latex gloves with precision. One by one they all disappeared behind the mysterious Curtain of Doom, until, like the Moaner, the only signs of their presence were the music of their voices and the barely-containing bulging of the drape.
The drape twitched.
"Onto your side," ordered an officious voice.
Rustling. Someone's back, covered in curtain, pressed into my I.V. I shifted over.
"Hmmm. I need the (murmur murmur murmur)," said Officious Voice.
A nurse fluttered out from the Curtain of Doom, blood dotted across his gown. He grabbed something from the supplies and bustled back.
Silence. Then ...
"AH! Ohggodohgodohgodohjesuschristohlordhelpmejesus." A new fact: the Moaner was very religious, indeed. Christian, even. Except,
"FUCKING HELL."
Ok, well. Maybe not.
More rustling, more movement. And then, the nurse uttered the phrase that I will remember for the rest of my life, the words that gave us at last a dreadful, terrible glimpse into what lived behind the Curtain, and what kind of horror could be visited there:
"Doctor, do you want the 3" to tape back the buttock?"
Oh the abomination. The sheer terror of it all. The Moaner wasn't without a finger, a limb or even a head. No, it was worse, a million time worse. It wasn't that he lacked something he was naturally supposed to have, it was that he had something he SHOULDN'T. And I share with you, dear reader, one of the saddest reasons ever to have to go to the emergency room: my roommate, the Moaner, had out-of-control hemorrhoids.
I looked at J as the Moaner revved up, the nurses bustled and the tape ... taped. And for a moment, despite the stress, despite the needles stuck in me and the whoomphing pain pulsing up my legs, despite the fact that another human was suffering just inches away from where I lay, I let the drugs do their work as I gave in to the ridiculousness of it all and laughed until I could laugh no more.
From behind the curtain, a faceless voice moaned.
J and I, waiting for the next in the night's procession medical folk, looked at each other. Another moan, this one more of a groan/whimper.
"Dammit! Dammit, this fucking hurts," a deep male voiced from inside the void. "Anybody? I gotta have me some pain meds."
J and I looked at each other again. Were we supposed to do something? Another groan issued. "Goddammit. GodDAMmit!"
Nurses and doctors hustled and bustled in and out of the room, grabbing supplies from the racks. No one looked in the Moaner's direction.
The Moaner moaned.
In fact, it began to sound like a symphony of the damned in there, behind the circa-1985 institutional drapery. Moans and groans, shouts and yells, our friend the Moaner was in rare form. He was a virtuoso, a regular Mahler of the moan, a Bartok of the bellow. He started slow, working the lower octave range, but soon begane to punctuate his overture with louder outcries and pleas for drugs, liberally peppering the score with profanities and invectives. Jesus was referenced regularly, as were some of His lesser relations. Most adjectives were NOT complimentary.
I looked at J again. What the hell was going on in there? Was my roommate dying? Had he lost a body part? A finger? A limb? MY GOD, was my roommate HEADLESS? Was he a HEADLESS, LIMBLESS SHELL? In my pain-exhausted and narcotic-infused mind, worst-case scenarios began to form.
A doctor wandered through and I, already stressed from the hours I had spent broken, stopped him. "My friend," I said, gesturing to the curtain, "appears to need some help." And for a blessed moment, the moaning ... stopped.
The doctor nodded and stuck his head out the door. Soon a little school of medical types appeared, waddling in behind the doc, as a line of baby ducks, snapping on fresh latex gloves with precision. One by one they all disappeared behind the mysterious Curtain of Doom, until, like the Moaner, the only signs of their presence were the music of their voices and the barely-containing bulging of the drape.
The drape twitched.
"Onto your side," ordered an officious voice.
Rustling. Someone's back, covered in curtain, pressed into my I.V. I shifted over.
"Hmmm. I need the (murmur murmur murmur)," said Officious Voice.
A nurse fluttered out from the Curtain of Doom, blood dotted across his gown. He grabbed something from the supplies and bustled back.
Silence. Then ...
"AH! Ohggodohgodohgodohjesuschristohlordhelpmejesus." A new fact: the Moaner was very religious, indeed. Christian, even. Except,
"FUCKING HELL."
Ok, well. Maybe not.
More rustling, more movement. And then, the nurse uttered the phrase that I will remember for the rest of my life, the words that gave us at last a dreadful, terrible glimpse into what lived behind the Curtain, and what kind of horror could be visited there:
"Doctor, do you want the 3" to tape back the buttock?"
Oh the abomination. The sheer terror of it all. The Moaner wasn't without a finger, a limb or even a head. No, it was worse, a million time worse. It wasn't that he lacked something he was naturally supposed to have, it was that he had something he SHOULDN'T. And I share with you, dear reader, one of the saddest reasons ever to have to go to the emergency room: my roommate, the Moaner, had out-of-control hemorrhoids.
I looked at J as the Moaner revved up, the nurses bustled and the tape ... taped. And for a moment, despite the stress, despite the needles stuck in me and the whoomphing pain pulsing up my legs, despite the fact that another human was suffering just inches away from where I lay, I let the drugs do their work as I gave in to the ridiculousness of it all and laughed until I could laugh no more.
Apr 20, 2008
It's Going to Be a Bright, Bright, Bright Sunshiney Day
So. Let's see. Hmmm, it's been a few days so I'm sure SOMEthing has happened. Let's break it down, old school, shall we?
- Work: Work is insane. I have no other way to put it. If my head doesn't explode by the end of this calendar year I will be absolutely ASTOUNDED. I am in meeting after meeting after meeting about the large projects we are taking on, and just the *meetings* are a lot of work. We haven't even gotten to the real "work" of the projects yet! Thankfully I have a amazingly great team (Hi, K, J, A, S, M, F and A!). On Friday a few of us revived one of my favorite traditions, the "Ice Cream Benches," where we grab ice cream and then go sit on the little hidden patio down the hall while enjoying the summer warmth. Thank goodness for these sanity-saving kinds of moments!
- Home: I'm able to get around the house much more easily, as evidenced by the fact that on Friday night (gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous!) I was able to get into my beloved hammock -- with J's assistance, of course. It was amazing, actually. The weather has been beyond beautiful the last few days, sunny and 80s. We worked in the yard yesterday (ok, *J* worked in the yard as I sat in the hammock and directed) until we were actually sweaty, and plans for the summer home improvement season are slowly taking shape.
- Friends: It was a great weekend to get together with friends. Cath came over for a visit and dinner at the King & I (Cath would say I still have squid breath from my dinner choice; I beg to differ). After, we listened to 80s club music and journeyed to Garth's to meet up with J and Kim and Dave and the assembled Geeks for a small get-together. There was "Rock Band" and munchies and visiting, which added up to a lovely evening. I didn't even get home until after midnight -- like a real grown-up!
- MBLF: Like I mentioned, I'm moving around a little more easily and am not hurting quite as much as I had been. I'm icing a lot because the swelling is a little intense but PT is helping the leg get stronger and my therapist isn't too worried that I'm hurting myself. I'm just going to keep trucking along!
And now J and I are folding laundry and watching that 1988 cinema classic Sorority Babes at the Slimeball Bowl-a-Rama, which just issued the memorable line "I have your pants." A meta-statement for us all, really.
Apr 3, 2008
Call Me Lefty
An exciting 24 hours here in Brokenleftfootville! To whit:
Wearing the Shoes
Dear Das Boot:
This is so hard to say after our close, long-term relationship, but ... I don't need you anymore. It's not you, it's me. I need to stand on my own. Aww, don't cry, baby. We've had our time, but now it's time to renew some old acquaintances with my friends Chuck and Chuck below. Sorry. Keep in touch, ok?
Taking the Stairs
Taking the Stairs
Up the down staircase, that's me. A landmark today was that I actually walked up my front walk and stairs! Just don't ask me to go DOWN the stairs, because gravity is a bitch.
Wielding the Cane
I am no longer 112 years old! Now I'm merely in the retirement age range -- i.e. I no longer use a walker but a cane (and, you know, wheelchair for long tours). Jaunty, no? Now all I need is my new top hat and tails, and we're off. (Semi-)Vertical at last!
Mar 11, 2008
Pooped
Today was yet another big day: my first full day back at work (whew) and my first physical therapy appointment (double whew).
Work was basically the same as half-day, but doubled. I got to experience trying to get lunch from the cafeteria via wheelchair (Jules and Alicia helped -- thanks, girls!) and also just juggling double the amount of ... stuff. It was good, in a way, though I was beyond exhausted at the end of the day: I think full days are going to help me feel more like I fit in and am still part of the team, something I've been struggling with. My team ROCKS and have been just awesome to me, but it's hard to fit into a Colleen-shaped hole when the Colleen-shape itself has changed. And that? Was a totally sucky metaphor. Sorry, I'm tired. Let me try again, in plain English: I've changed (it would be hard not to have, honestly, given all that's happened), as has work, and I need to figure how the "new" me and the job fit together now.
Man, I really AM tired.
OK, on to a new topic: physical therapy ahoy! I started PT tonight, and am excited. It hurt, but it was good. I stretched and have new exercises, and actually walked 10 feet or so with no boot and a walker ... if you consider "lurching across the floor inch by inch as though possessed by the spirt of Frankstein's monster" to be walking. As of late I've really learned to count my blessings so I DO count it, even if it took me approximately five minutes to walk those 10'.
Once the stretching and lurching was done, I was attached to the electrostim machine where little electrodes were stuck to my ankle/foot and delivered continuous electrical "stim" (aka "shocks") to "stimulate" (aka "ouch") my muscles. See my leg attached, above.
Work was basically the same as half-day, but doubled. I got to experience trying to get lunch from the cafeteria via wheelchair (Jules and Alicia helped -- thanks, girls!) and also just juggling double the amount of ... stuff. It was good, in a way, though I was beyond exhausted at the end of the day: I think full days are going to help me feel more like I fit in and am still part of the team, something I've been struggling with. My team ROCKS and have been just awesome to me, but it's hard to fit into a Colleen-shaped hole when the Colleen-shape itself has changed. And that? Was a totally sucky metaphor. Sorry, I'm tired. Let me try again, in plain English: I've changed (it would be hard not to have, honestly, given all that's happened), as has work, and I need to figure how the "new" me and the job fit together now.
Man, I really AM tired.
OK, on to a new topic: physical therapy ahoy! I started PT tonight, and am excited. It hurt, but it was good. I stretched and have new exercises, and actually walked 10 feet or so with no boot and a walker ... if you consider "lurching across the floor inch by inch as though possessed by the spirt of Frankstein's monster" to be walking. As of late I've really learned to count my blessings so I DO count it, even if it took me approximately five minutes to walk those 10'.
Once the stretching and lurching was done, I was attached to the electrostim machine where little electrodes were stuck to my ankle/foot and delivered continuous electrical "stim" (aka "shocks") to "stimulate" (aka "ouch") my muscles. See my leg attached, above.
While I was sitting being "stimmed" (aka "No, really -- ouch"), I noticed this blue bad boy on the wall. This, friends, is the BAPS board. Remember that name, because I can almost guarantee I will be spending large amounts of time with that blue devil before all is said and done.
For the record: I hate the BAPS board. It works, but it sucks.
Eventually, after working for nine hours and PT-ing for one, I finally made it home with some Chinese takeout and a yen for sleep. Which is where I'm headed now, actually, but I wanted to share this photo with you. It's me -- or, rather, my feet. Both of them, broken left and slightly twisted right. On the floor, together, no boot. No nothing. Just me, my feet and the floor, standing, the way it should be.
Amen.
Mar 9, 2008
Inside, It's So Delightful
It's been a very cozy indoor type of weekend for me. Friday night my dear friend Holly (aka "Fishy") came over for some nibbles. We had chips and veggie sub and whatnot, and spent the evening listening to the 80s music channel and giggling madly. We said "Hello" to Lionel Richie and Wang-Chunged and basically had a fun time.
By the time Fishy left it was really snowing and when J and I woke up on Saturday A.M. it was blowing and dark and there appeared to be lots and lots of snow. The day was spent indoors (my wheelchair and snow are not friends), puttering about. We were basically rutabegas. Our friends the Lugers called to stop over, which was lovely: we always enjoy seeing them and spending time catching up. Jun had made the most AMAZING steamed buns ever - the ginger flavor was intense -- and so we visited and ate. Man, I could eat those things all day, every day! Thanks, Lugers. Once they left J and I put our feet up, listened to some mellow tunes and sipped cocoa. It was a nice way to close the day.
Now it's cold and the snow has ended -- it's very, very sunny but only about 20 degrees (wind chill is 9). There are about 14-18" of snow out there, with much more in the drifts. J is out with the snowblower, and I'm making a grocery list, planning what cookies to make this evening ... we are nothing if not the very PICTURE of domesticity.
Tomorrow is the big appointment with Dr. G, and also marks 13 weeks since surgery (14 since the initial injury, 10 since the broken lungs). Keep your fingers crossed that the doc has good news and that we can start rehabbing MBLF!
By the time Fishy left it was really snowing and when J and I woke up on Saturday A.M. it was blowing and dark and there appeared to be lots and lots of snow. The day was spent indoors (my wheelchair and snow are not friends), puttering about. We were basically rutabegas. Our friends the Lugers called to stop over, which was lovely: we always enjoy seeing them and spending time catching up. Jun had made the most AMAZING steamed buns ever - the ginger flavor was intense -- and so we visited and ate. Man, I could eat those things all day, every day! Thanks, Lugers. Once they left J and I put our feet up, listened to some mellow tunes and sipped cocoa. It was a nice way to close the day.
Now it's cold and the snow has ended -- it's very, very sunny but only about 20 degrees (wind chill is 9). There are about 14-18" of snow out there, with much more in the drifts. J is out with the snowblower, and I'm making a grocery list, planning what cookies to make this evening ... we are nothing if not the very PICTURE of domesticity.
Tomorrow is the big appointment with Dr. G, and also marks 13 weeks since surgery (14 since the initial injury, 10 since the broken lungs). Keep your fingers crossed that the doc has good news and that we can start rehabbing MBLF!
Mar 3, 2008
Rainy Days and Mondays
Actually, it's semi-sunny (though clouds are moving in) and almost 50 degrees F here, so the title of this post is a tad misleading. It IS Monday, however, so it's not all a total lie. And since it's Monday 3/3, we all know what that means: T-minus one week until my next appointment when Dr. G hopefully tells me that I can (A) start putting pressure on MBLF, and (B) start rehabbing ASAP. Keep your fingers crossed.
I'm actually pretty excited about next week's appointment. I'm also incredibly nervous. I'm having some "what-ifs" -- What if he tells me I have to stay off the foot for four more weeks? What if he tells me it didn't heal correctly? What if he tells me this is as good as it will ever get? What if I stand and put pressure and then reinjure? What if I have to start all over again?
In addition (and I'll be really honest here) I'm not looking forward to having pain again. Though MBLF doesn't feel *good* or even normal most of the time, the acute pain has faded since surgery to the point where it's really not painful, just uncomfortable. And the thing is, I know pain is coming: rehab/PT is actually more painful than dealing with the majority of post-injury recovery, if memory serves. I have to teach my leg how to function again, make muscles and bones and everything else bear weight (and let's face it, it's a LOT of weight) after being on vacation for months and months.
I have to learn to walk again.
It's not easy work, and it takes a loooooong time. It's frustrating when suddenly you can't even stand up long enough to do stupid exercises with a bouncy ball. Your arms and hands hurt from the crutches you have to use. Body parts of which you were never aware suddenly ache at all hours of the day and night. Your "good" leg screams from all of the weight and pressure it's constantly under. Muscle spasms lay you out as your leg just jerks and moves outside of your control. And I don't really take pain meds, to be honest: I generally prefer the sharpness of pain to the numbness of drugs.
So that's the immediate future, but I'm ok with it even if I'm more-than-a-little scared. At the end of this very long road, no more wheelchair. No more walker. No more hopping to the bathroom, and no more lugging around Das Boot. It will be worth it. I know it. Besides, it's not as thought I really have a choice.
I'm actually pretty excited about next week's appointment. I'm also incredibly nervous. I'm having some "what-ifs" -- What if he tells me I have to stay off the foot for four more weeks? What if he tells me it didn't heal correctly? What if he tells me this is as good as it will ever get? What if I stand and put pressure and then reinjure? What if I have to start all over again?
In addition (and I'll be really honest here) I'm not looking forward to having pain again. Though MBLF doesn't feel *good* or even normal most of the time, the acute pain has faded since surgery to the point where it's really not painful, just uncomfortable. And the thing is, I know pain is coming: rehab/PT is actually more painful than dealing with the majority of post-injury recovery, if memory serves. I have to teach my leg how to function again, make muscles and bones and everything else bear weight (and let's face it, it's a LOT of weight) after being on vacation for months and months.
I have to learn to walk again.
It's not easy work, and it takes a loooooong time. It's frustrating when suddenly you can't even stand up long enough to do stupid exercises with a bouncy ball. Your arms and hands hurt from the crutches you have to use. Body parts of which you were never aware suddenly ache at all hours of the day and night. Your "good" leg screams from all of the weight and pressure it's constantly under. Muscle spasms lay you out as your leg just jerks and moves outside of your control. And I don't really take pain meds, to be honest: I generally prefer the sharpness of pain to the numbness of drugs.
So that's the immediate future, but I'm ok with it even if I'm more-than-a-little scared. At the end of this very long road, no more wheelchair. No more walker. No more hopping to the bathroom, and no more lugging around Das Boot. It will be worth it. I know it. Besides, it's not as thought I really have a choice.
Feb 25, 2008
The Song Remains the Same
I have the (newly-Oscar winning) song "Falling Slowly" in my head. It's a really lovely, lovely song but it's also one of those songs that is totally insidious. It creeps into your brain and then WHAM! It just won't get out. I hummed it all through dinner, through making chocolate cookies, and even now as I'm playing on the interweb. Seriously, I dig it and highly recommend it, but I challenge you to listen to it and then see if you don't end up like me, singing quietly under your breath as you go about your day.
As far as my broken left foot, it's hanging in there. I'm a tad sore today, but that's ok -- I'll get over it. In two weeks from today I go back to the surgeon and I'm hoping against hope that he'll give me the "all clear" to start at least standing on the MBLF and to get into PT. My broken two lungs are also doing ok; these days, other than the blood thinners and the bruising that goes along with them, I generally don't even know that my lungs have been broken. Of course, as soon as I start to forget, I am forced to remember: I suddenly had a little chest-flutter tonight after dinner as I sat in the kitchen, reading and watching my cookies bake. It's fine (I promise) but just a little unwelcome reminder that, six weeks later, I'm still trying to get back to normal.
Hope things are great in your neck of the woods, dear readers. Thanks for reading my little blog ... it's nice to know that we can have this time together.
As far as my broken left foot, it's hanging in there. I'm a tad sore today, but that's ok -- I'll get over it. In two weeks from today I go back to the surgeon and I'm hoping against hope that he'll give me the "all clear" to start at least standing on the MBLF and to get into PT. My broken two lungs are also doing ok; these days, other than the blood thinners and the bruising that goes along with them, I generally don't even know that my lungs have been broken. Of course, as soon as I start to forget, I am forced to remember: I suddenly had a little chest-flutter tonight after dinner as I sat in the kitchen, reading and watching my cookies bake. It's fine (I promise) but just a little unwelcome reminder that, six weeks later, I'm still trying to get back to normal.
Hope things are great in your neck of the woods, dear readers. Thanks for reading my little blog ... it's nice to know that we can have this time together.
Feb 9, 2008
It's Friday, I'm in Love
OK, so it's actually Saturday, but I SHOULD have posted this on Friday so ... we're just going to pretend, m'ok?
Yesterday I had my usual blood test (INR = 2.1, which is a decent level of blood coaguation. I generally have to have a clotting factor of between 2 and3 -- so I'm on the low side right now, but still within range. Woo-hoo!). After that I had a true treat: my dear friends Julie and Alicia came over to visit and have lunch! They brought a marvy feast with them, soup and salad from Great Northern Pizza Co., as well as a lovely present from their recent trip to Puerto Rico. It was so, so wonderful to be able to spend some time with them, hear how things are going with their families and work and life in general. I'm blessed to have such great friends, aren't I?
Today I had a shower (wOOt!) and then I went to ... WORK! Yes, James and I snuck onto campus and into the GAC for a stealth check of wheelchair accessibility. Surprisingly, it went pretty well! I can get into my office ok, actually, and can even wheel into the nearest bathroom as well (<-- my real concern). I'll likely need a hand with the bathroom door and all, but the rest seems do-able. A few doors do look too narrow for me to move through (namely the doors of a few of my teammates), but I'm just going to have to hope people will travel to me for a while. Ladies and gentlemen, it looks as though a return to the N-A-Z is imminent.
I've also started up again with the committee of the HighEdWeb conference. HighEdWeb is a group in which I am truly invested; as part of the recently-incorporated HighEdWeb association, we organize an annual conference for higher education web professionals. Since 06 I've been part of the marketing team for the conference, and I'm thrilled to be back with the committee after my illness-induced sabbatical.
Yesterday I had my usual blood test (INR = 2.1, which is a decent level of blood coaguation. I generally have to have a clotting factor of between 2 and3 -- so I'm on the low side right now, but still within range. Woo-hoo!). After that I had a true treat: my dear friends Julie and Alicia came over to visit and have lunch! They brought a marvy feast with them, soup and salad from Great Northern Pizza Co., as well as a lovely present from their recent trip to Puerto Rico. It was so, so wonderful to be able to spend some time with them, hear how things are going with their families and work and life in general. I'm blessed to have such great friends, aren't I?
Today I had a shower (wOOt!) and then I went to ... WORK! Yes, James and I snuck onto campus and into the GAC for a stealth check of wheelchair accessibility. Surprisingly, it went pretty well! I can get into my office ok, actually, and can even wheel into the nearest bathroom as well (<-- my real concern). I'll likely need a hand with the bathroom door and all, but the rest seems do-able. A few doors do look too narrow for me to move through (namely the doors of a few of my teammates), but I'm just going to have to hope people will travel to me for a while. Ladies and gentlemen, it looks as though a return to the N-A-Z is imminent.
I've also started up again with the committee of the HighEdWeb conference. HighEdWeb is a group in which I am truly invested; as part of the recently-incorporated HighEdWeb association, we organize an annual conference for higher education web professionals. Since 06 I've been part of the marketing team for the conference, and I'm thrilled to be back with the committee after my illness-induced sabbatical.
Feb 5, 2008
Working Girl?
So it looks like I may be headed back into the working world, soon. My wonderful director Kate and I are working out a plan; right now it looks as thought I'll mostly be telecommuting but then will start a few half-days a week on campus, and then will steadily increase until I'm back in the saddle again. At some point -- a weekday evening or over the weekend -- I'm going to take a little trip to the office to see how wheelchair-friendly my work environs are (or are not). Hopefully we can get this worked out so I can get back into Naz-world again semi-soon. I miss my team.
Other than that, things are quiet. My ankle is a tad sore because, frankly, I'm pushing it a bit: I've been on my lovely and generous tushie enough now. It's time to start moving and getting up and about. This past weekend we were all around, including a breakfast at the Village Coal Tower, a trip to Wegs for munchies and a foray to the blessed Finger Lakes Coffee Roasters. Tonight I go vote (You, too! Go! Vote! It's important! Seriously, look what's happened in the last few elections, people.) and I have plans for the rest of the week as well ... PLANS, I tell you!
Oh, and: T-minus six days until pin removal.
PS:Also, the fabulous Web guy Fran used the term "rigamarole" in a conversation this A.M. -- this amused me, and struck me as another reason why he is, indeed, fabulous.
Other than that, things are quiet. My ankle is a tad sore because, frankly, I'm pushing it a bit: I've been on my lovely and generous tushie enough now. It's time to start moving and getting up and about. This past weekend we were all around, including a breakfast at the Village Coal Tower, a trip to Wegs for munchies and a foray to the blessed Finger Lakes Coffee Roasters. Tonight I go vote (You, too! Go! Vote! It's important! Seriously, look what's happened in the last few elections, people.) and I have plans for the rest of the week as well ... PLANS, I tell you!
Oh, and: T-minus six days until pin removal.
PS:Also, the fabulous Web guy Fran used the term "rigamarole" in a conversation this A.M. -- this amused me, and struck me as another reason why he is, indeed, fabulous.
Jan 29, 2008
Hopping Like a Mo-Fo (redux)
First and foremost, I'd like to let you know that my friend Mary (hi, Mar!) is responsible for today's title -- I used the phrase in a conversation the other day, she found it amusing and insisted I use it, and here we are.
The title isn't false advertising, either: I have been hopping all over the place. This means, of course, that my right ankle is rather sore and unhappy but oh, well. After talking with my lovely physical therapist Aaron, we've decided that my right leg likely won't be able to heal completely until I'm up and walking again -- the muscles are just not getting the workout they need, and the constant hopping puts a lot of pressure on things. It's about 80% of the way there -- I can hop and move and whatnot -- and 20% pain, until I'm in rehab and can use BOTH legs/feet again. Hey, considering that just about two months ago when I fell we thought both legs were broken? I'll take it.
Speaking of Aaron the PT pro, he tells me that this Wednesday is our last session: we can't go any further given my current limitations, so he's going to discharge me from home care. No more nurse, no more health aide, and no more in-house PT. I'll still have in-house blood draws, which is very helpful, but that's it. Exciting! And a tad scary.
This past weekend we went to Lori's Natural Foods ("Be good to the Earth -- go to Lori's ...") and to Borders, and then I was totally pooped. All I REALLY want to do is go and get a mocha. Dear God, a Finger Lakes Roasters mocha -- the pinnacle of all things craved for. Sadly, I cannot fit my wheelchair in their door (both the door and shop are really, REALLY small) but I am a junkie: grande non-fat decaff mocha latte, no whip. I'm such a junkie that baristas used to start making me my "regular" as I pulled up, before I even walked in the door. Just ... so good. Hmm, I think I've found my next trip to the "outside."
Oh, and to all who have asked if I'm going to listen to Dr. G and rotate the pin: N. O. I am/have/will not personally rotate (or remove -- dear GOD!) the pin unless I am under duress and something is severly hurting or injured. I'm not a wimp, usually, but ... well, I *am* about this. And I'm ok with that. I am not using my hand, my fingers, my pliers, my husband, my anything to rotate a dang thing -- the only thing I am willing to use deal with the pin is my surgeon. And that's that.
The title isn't false advertising, either: I have been hopping all over the place. This means, of course, that my right ankle is rather sore and unhappy but oh, well. After talking with my lovely physical therapist Aaron, we've decided that my right leg likely won't be able to heal completely until I'm up and walking again -- the muscles are just not getting the workout they need, and the constant hopping puts a lot of pressure on things. It's about 80% of the way there -- I can hop and move and whatnot -- and 20% pain, until I'm in rehab and can use BOTH legs/feet again. Hey, considering that just about two months ago when I fell we thought both legs were broken? I'll take it.
Speaking of Aaron the PT pro, he tells me that this Wednesday is our last session: we can't go any further given my current limitations, so he's going to discharge me from home care. No more nurse, no more health aide, and no more in-house PT. I'll still have in-house blood draws, which is very helpful, but that's it. Exciting! And a tad scary.
This past weekend we went to Lori's Natural Foods ("Be good to the Earth -- go to Lori's ...") and to Borders, and then I was totally pooped. All I REALLY want to do is go and get a mocha. Dear God, a Finger Lakes Roasters mocha -- the pinnacle of all things craved for. Sadly, I cannot fit my wheelchair in their door (both the door and shop are really, REALLY small) but I am a junkie: grande non-fat decaff mocha latte, no whip. I'm such a junkie that baristas used to start making me my "regular" as I pulled up, before I even walked in the door. Just ... so good. Hmm, I think I've found my next trip to the "outside."
Oh, and to all who have asked if I'm going to listen to Dr. G and rotate the pin: N. O. I am/have/will not personally rotate (or remove -- dear GOD!) the pin unless I am under duress and something is severly hurting or injured. I'm not a wimp, usually, but ... well, I *am* about this. And I'm ok with that. I am not using my hand, my fingers, my pliers, my husband, my anything to rotate a dang thing -- the only thing I am willing to use deal with the pin is my surgeon. And that's that.
Jan 23, 2008
Conversations One Should Never Have with One's Surgeon (Pt. I)
CBB: Hello?
DR. G: I'm looking for Colleen.
CBB: Hi, Dr. Gorczyca.
DR. G: Hmm, I hadn't realized my voice was that distinctive.
CBB: Yes, Dr. Gorczyca.
DR. G: Well, anyway. I heard your pin shifted?
CBB: Yes, it was standing upright and now it's almost flush against my foot. Is this normal?
DR. G: Yes, it happens a lot. Just go ahead and use your finger to rotate your pin back into place.
CBB: {Long pause}
DR. G: Just rotate the pin back so it doesn't dig into your foot at all.
CBB: But it's not digging, just laying there and ...
DR. G: Nope, just turn it right around in case it changes its mind and digs in.
CBB: {Longer pause}
CBB: Ooooookey-dokey.
DR. G: And if the pin gets, you know, loose, just go ahead and pull it right out. Just cover it with a Band-Aid.
CBB: {Cue hysterical laughter}
DR. G: Yes, and cover the wound with a Band-Aid.
CBB: {More insane laughter}
DR. G: Or if you need to come see me earlier than anticipated, that's fine too.
CBB: {still laughing}I just don't know what's normal with any of this anymore.
DR. G: Well, you're going to be an expert by the time this is all over.
DR. G: I'm looking for Colleen.
CBB: Hi, Dr. Gorczyca.
DR. G: Hmm, I hadn't realized my voice was that distinctive.
CBB: Yes, Dr. Gorczyca.
DR. G: Well, anyway. I heard your pin shifted?
CBB: Yes, it was standing upright and now it's almost flush against my foot. Is this normal?
DR. G: Yes, it happens a lot. Just go ahead and use your finger to rotate your pin back into place.
CBB: {Long pause}
DR. G: Just rotate the pin back so it doesn't dig into your foot at all.
CBB: But it's not digging, just laying there and ...
DR. G: Nope, just turn it right around in case it changes its mind and digs in.
CBB: {Longer pause}
CBB: Ooooookey-dokey.
DR. G: And if the pin gets, you know, loose, just go ahead and pull it right out. Just cover it with a Band-Aid.
CBB: {Cue hysterical laughter}
DR. G: Yes, and cover the wound with a Band-Aid.
CBB: {More insane laughter}
DR. G: Or if you need to come see me earlier than anticipated, that's fine too.
CBB: {still laughing}
DR. G: Well, you're going to be an expert by the time this is all over.
Jan 21, 2008
Flu, Fly Away
It turns out that I had some form of the flu -- a minor form, to be sure (thank God for flu shots) but I was achy and fevery and yucky and then sore throat-y and unhappy. I am now just minorly sniffly, and so am recovering. Again. Thank goodness.
Since the past few days have really been spent hanging out here at home, watching old movies and using obscene amounts of Kleenex and decongestant, I have no funny stories to share. I do, however, have some small observations and experiences:
Since the past few days have really been spent hanging out here at home, watching old movies and using obscene amounts of Kleenex and decongestant, I have no funny stories to share. I do, however, have some small observations and experiences:
- Having the flu sucks. Having the flu when you have strange and deadly lung issues really sucks. It's like trying to breathe through a drinking straw while a 400-lb gorilla sits on your chest. (Note: If you don't like gorillas, please feel free to pick another primate of comparable size -- your choice.)
- As they say, "The worm has turned" -- or in my case, "the pin has shifted." Slowly, bit by bit, the external Col-kebab has rotated and flattened against the foot. The little bugger is trying to make a run for it ... not that I blame it. I'll call the doc in the AM, probably, just to make sure I'm not totally hosed. I forsee more exciting radiological pictures in mynear-future, don't you?
- Das Boot (DB) and I have made some peace with one another, now that I'm accustomed to its size and weight; I suppose it could say the same about me if, you know, boots could talk. But they can't. I don't think. Can they??
- At last, J and Col have moved into the 20th century: as of a few days ago, we have actual digial cable television. Who knew?! James says it's for me so I'm not bored -- so altruistic and thoughtful he is, really. However, I've noticed that the History and Discovery channels have been getting quite a workout from one super-tall engineer that lives in my house ... wonder who that could be?
- I've been sleeping in the big girl bed with my husband again. It is odd. The bed is very, very high so I have to do a very graceful "lift and roll" onto the bed, clinging to it and pulling myself inch by painstaking inch onto the mattress top until I lie there at last, more on than off, gasping like a landed trout. I heart it. As I'm sharing again, I also have to compete for space and blankies, but the mattress is infintely soft and J is like a little heater at night. Eh, potato, potahto ...
- Come February, we're planning to get rid of the hospital bed altogether. I'll be making calls for that this week, I think. Wait, what's that I see in the distance? Why, could it be? Yes! It might just be a (please, God) return to semi-normalacy (pretty please?)!
That is all.
Jan 14, 2008
It's alive ... ALIVE!!
Ah, a big doctor's visit for me today -- went to see the fabulous Dr. Gorczyca today, do the x-ray thing, etc. I brought the nurses candy because I am (A) a shameless suck-up, and (B) fully aware of who REALLY runs offices across the country.
First up: the removal of the Barney cast, which I was somewhat sad to see go. I had become accustomed to it's lovely purple-ness, and so as it was cut off me I had a moment of fond feelings and then it was gone.
In its place:
First up: the removal of the Barney cast, which I was somewhat sad to see go. I had become accustomed to it's lovely purple-ness, and so as it was cut off me I had a moment of fond feelings and then it was gone.
In its place:
Seriously, I AM the Bride of Frankenstein. LOOK at that thing! Of particular note is the shish-kebab pin -- very nice, no?
So we mosey off to x-ray for a few glamour shots of my oh-so-photogenic appendage, and then we're off to wait. Dr. G comes in once my foot is all naked-like and says that all looks good, in good position, and we set a few landmarks:
- Stitches come out today (Calloo! Callay! And also, ouchie.)
- The shish-kebab comes out Mon. Feb 11 (four weeks and counting, darlings).
- Weight bearing (aka stepping on the bad foot) begins March 11 (give or take a few days in either direction).
And cast? HISTORY. Instead, I was wheeled over to the prosthetics and devices wing (I kid you not) and was fitted for ... Das Boot.
It is large (No, really. This thing is freakin' giNORmous), in-charge, black, strappy, and looks like something the Bride of Frankenstein would wear to lounge about the dungeon in her off time. See, I AM the Bride -- no kidding. Please note, below, the special mod we had to do to my boot: it has a special hole cut out for the Col-kebab. Nice, no?
In any case, I'm hating Das Boot (DB) at the moment -- it fits oddly and rubs at my incisions and it's heavy and huge -- but the trade off is that **I can take it off.** Not a lot, mind you, but I can take DB off three times a day to exercise my foot, and also to take a shower. SO, while it has it's minuses, there are some pluses as well.
And now, since you endured some icky pictures and probably need to clear your mind, I'll give you something pretty to look at, courtesy of my friends Tony and Linda who sent this over a few days ago. Enjoy, mes amis!
Jan 12, 2008
Field Trip
Today was a monumental day, indeed: I took my first post-hospital, non-medical field trip. I didn't go to a medical office, a doctor's visit, a testing lab, or any other place. For such a landmark event, where would a geek such as me choose to go on this, my inaugural outing?
Why, the library, of course.
James and I maneuvered my less-than agile self into the car, with bum leg propped on a squisht 70's-vintage gold-and-orange velour pillow (holdover from the Hancock apartment), and off we went. The first excitement of the day was the fact that James was able to use our shiny new handicapped parking tag for the first time -- that's right, prime parking, y'all! Right in front and ready to go. I hopped (literally) into my wheelchair and into the library we sailed.
People are oddly nicer to you when you're in a wheelchair -- they hold doors and say "excuse me" and whatnot. It's odd. I wish people were that nice to each other, regardless of circumstance, but we take what we get. At least folks are nice SOME of the time, I suppose.
I wheeled about, followed by my trusty 6'6" book carrying slave. The library is, of course, nominally handicapped accessible. However, you'd be amazed at how difficult all the study spaces and reading chairs and rolling cards and the like make it navigate. As I'm not the most graceful chicklet in the universe as it is (surprise!), I'm afraid I found myself stuck more than once as I rounded corners. Ah well, it was a learning experience.
I did find a number of interesting tomes, and it's quite the eclectic combo of books, I have to say. Being low to the ground via the chair made me notice a number of books I generally overlook. Also, as I told James, it's a different thing when you're browsing and able to sit right there in the aisles as you review and choose. For those of you who are interested:
Why, the library, of course.
James and I maneuvered my less-than agile self into the car, with bum leg propped on a squisht 70's-vintage gold-and-orange velour pillow (holdover from the Hancock apartment), and off we went. The first excitement of the day was the fact that James was able to use our shiny new handicapped parking tag for the first time -- that's right, prime parking, y'all! Right in front and ready to go. I hopped (literally) into my wheelchair and into the library we sailed.
I wheeled about, followed by my trusty 6'6" book carrying slave. The library is, of course, nominally handicapped accessible. However, you'd be amazed at how difficult all the study spaces and reading chairs and rolling cards and the like make it navigate. As I'm not the most graceful chicklet in the universe as it is (surprise!), I'm afraid I found myself stuck more than once as I rounded corners. Ah well, it was a learning experience.
I did find a number of interesting tomes, and it's quite the eclectic combo of books, I have to say. Being low to the ground via the chair made me notice a number of books I generally overlook. Also, as I told James, it's a different thing when you're browsing and able to sit right there in the aisles as you review and choose. For those of you who are interested:
- boy meets girl by Meg Cabot
- Close to Perfect by Tina Donahue
- Diary of a Bad Year by J.M. Coetzee
- Take a Walk on the Dark Side by R. Gary Patterson
- Death Makes a Holiday: a cultural history of Halloween by David J. Skal
- Fun Rooms by Ana G. Canizares
- Right on the Money by Steve and Annette Economides
Dec 21, 2007
Ewwy Gooey
You know that whole thing where something goes horribly, horribly awry (a car accident, people fighting in the street, Britney Spear's existence, etc.) and you know you shouldn't look -- shouldn't even think about looking -- but something in you, some perverse little imp at the back of your soul, forces your head to turn and your eyes to open and then POW! You're stuck forever with an image you really, really, really could have done without?
Yeah, me too. More on that in a mo ...
Today was a jam-packed day, actually. First up with my trip to the surgeon, and my first trip down my lovely new ramp. All was well, which was a treat. I had many new x-rays taken, and then for the big event: the grand unveiling of My Broken Left Foot.
Dear reader, I almost brought a camera with me. Almost took pictures of whatever it was that God and my surgeon (the fabulous Dr. Gorczyca -- hiya, Dr. G!) hath wrought. Almost. But I didn't, and you can send your thanks care of e-mail. It was ... well, disturbing is a word. Actually, let me start by saying that all is well in MBLF land. Yes, the right ankle is screwed up a tad. Yes, MBLF is still broken. However, all is generally coming along, and Dr. G seemed pleased by the health and general healing (right, Dr. G? Hello?). That said: ewwww.
**WARNING: If you're squeamish -- skip ahead, my sisters and brothers. Seriously, it's cool. *I* would've skipped ahead if I could've, trust me.**
Once the initial cast and splint material was cracked open, layer after layer of blood-soaked material was peeled away. The first part of my foot that was then visible to me was pin #1, situated about two inches below my big toe. And why was it visible? Because I am apparently a human shish-kabab, and I have been skewered with this temp pin, which has a little handle-thingy sticking out of my foot. OUT. of my. FOOT. And apparently, we aren't taking that bad boy out for at least six more weeks.
I was barely coming to terms with this little moment -- the blood, the pin, etc. -- when all was peeled away and, well, how do I put this? I apparently have a prop from Hellraiser attached to my left ankle where my foot once resided.
There are three major incisions going. One goes the length of the foot, from below the shish-kebab pin to my ankle. #2 is on the outside of my foot, going probably 3/4 the length of the foot. The third is actually my old friend the ankle scar re-opened for some tweaking -- from the base where the foot and the ankle meet, to about 4 -5 inches up. Very purty.
There are many, many, many black, puckered stitches holding it all together. I would say ... ehh, 40-50? Nice. Dr. G basically said all looked cool, I'm a trooper (he's right, I SO am) and he'd see me in three weeks for le removal du stiches and whatnot. Oh, and I get to have an actual cast. Alex the friendly med tech was feeling festive, as was I so voila:
**END squicky portion of blog. Resume your regular reading patterns.**
The day DID improve, of course. My truly fabulous friends Jules, Alicia and Sofia all came to visit me, which was a TOTAL treat. We visited, had some mad cookies and generally caught up. Then best friend Kim came over (seriously, if everyone could have a best friend as amazingly fabulously wonderful as Big K -- who has visited and helped and supported CONSTANTLY -- then we'd have world peace in like, a day) before her holiday soujourn to see the fam. And then, my team sent me the most gorgous bouquet of flowers from my fave flower store, Arenas. I miss my team so very much: there is no more talented, funny, caring, intelligent group of people anywhere and I am so proud to be friends and teammates with them all. Smooches!
And so, that was Friday.
Yeah, me too. More on that in a mo ...
Today was a jam-packed day, actually. First up with my trip to the surgeon, and my first trip down my lovely new ramp. All was well, which was a treat. I had many new x-rays taken, and then for the big event: the grand unveiling of My Broken Left Foot.
Dear reader, I almost brought a camera with me. Almost took pictures of whatever it was that God and my surgeon (the fabulous Dr. Gorczyca -- hiya, Dr. G!) hath wrought. Almost. But I didn't, and you can send your thanks care of e-mail. It was ... well, disturbing is a word. Actually, let me start by saying that all is well in MBLF land. Yes, the right ankle is screwed up a tad. Yes, MBLF is still broken. However, all is generally coming along, and Dr. G seemed pleased by the health and general healing (right, Dr. G? Hello?). That said: ewwww.
**WARNING: If you're squeamish -- skip ahead, my sisters and brothers. Seriously, it's cool. *I* would've skipped ahead if I could've, trust me.**
Once the initial cast and splint material was cracked open, layer after layer of blood-soaked material was peeled away. The first part of my foot that was then visible to me was pin #1, situated about two inches below my big toe. And why was it visible? Because I am apparently a human shish-kabab, and I have been skewered with this temp pin, which has a little handle-thingy sticking out of my foot. OUT. of my. FOOT. And apparently, we aren't taking that bad boy out for at least six more weeks.
I was barely coming to terms with this little moment -- the blood, the pin, etc. -- when all was peeled away and, well, how do I put this? I apparently have a prop from Hellraiser attached to my left ankle where my foot once resided.
There are three major incisions going. One goes the length of the foot, from below the shish-kebab pin to my ankle. #2 is on the outside of my foot, going probably 3/4 the length of the foot. The third is actually my old friend the ankle scar re-opened for some tweaking -- from the base where the foot and the ankle meet, to about 4 -5 inches up. Very purty.
There are many, many, many black, puckered stitches holding it all together. I would say ... ehh, 40-50? Nice. Dr. G basically said all looked cool, I'm a trooper (he's right, I SO am) and he'd see me in three weeks for le removal du stiches and whatnot. Oh, and I get to have an actual cast. Alex the friendly med tech was feeling festive, as was I so voila:
**END squicky portion of blog. Resume your regular reading patterns.**
The day DID improve, of course. My truly fabulous friends Jules, Alicia and Sofia all came to visit me, which was a TOTAL treat. We visited, had some mad cookies and generally caught up. Then best friend Kim came over (seriously, if everyone could have a best friend as amazingly fabulously wonderful as Big K -- who has visited and helped and supported CONSTANTLY -- then we'd have world peace in like, a day) before her holiday soujourn to see the fam. And then, my team sent me the most gorgous bouquet of flowers from my fave flower store, Arenas. I miss my team so very much: there is no more talented, funny, caring, intelligent group of people anywhere and I am so proud to be friends and teammates with them all. Smooches!
And so, that was Friday.
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