I’d broken up with someone, and every time I heard this song on the radio, I’d start to cry. And now I look back and think, “Really? All that drama over HIM?” I still like the song, though.
Category: My So-Called Life
River
I used to love to ice skate. Somehow, somewhere, my mom got hold of a used pair of figure skates in my size, and when it had been cold enough, long enough, I would trek down to Cobbs Creek, lace them up, and skate on that frozen stream as far as I could, blowing plumes of breath into the wintry air. The park was especially beautiful in the desolate light of winter; you could hardly hear the traffic on the parkway.
I was not an especially good skater; let’s say I was adequate, and never got any better. But it felt like flying, and that was more than enough. Later, when I was a grown-up, I’d go skating late at night at the Class of ’23 rink with my brothers (who were much better skaters than I could ever hope to be), and in keeping with the family tradition of parallel play, which is to say, close but actually never involved, didn’t try to help me improve.
I longed to skate backward like they did, but alas, it was not to be. But sometimes I still dream about skating.
Help!
So for two weeks, I yearned for my nice ergonomic setup at home. (I really hate typing on a laptop. Better than nothing, but not much. There’s a reason why I don’t have carpal tunnel, I’ve arranged my life to avoid it.)
Got up at six o’clock this morning to get to work at the other job, and … my monitor blew up. The screen was covered with little lines, and then it just stopped working. So now I’m working at my kitchen table, which is far from ideal.
Here’s the thing: I do have credit now, I ordered another one. But as those of you who have had credit for years know, the balance only seems to grow and it produces much anxiety. (I just ordered a bunch of little stuff for my recovery that Medicare doesn’t cover. That was before I discovered that my walker simply doesn’t fit though the hallway of my apartment. (I kept telling them at rehab how small it was, I don’t think they believed me. Ha, ha!) And not to be indelicate, but the new commode barely leaves six inches between me and the wall. This just felt like the final straw.
Boy, I really miss those spacious rooms and hallways at the rehab.
What I’m realizing is, I’m already banging into a lot of stuff here and it’s making me nervous, because obviously, I don’t want to fall. I’m not sure I can handle crawling behind my desk and reinstalling the wires for the monitor, I’ll have to get someone up here to help. But since we’re expecting either The Storm of The Century (or some rain), it will take a few days to arrange that. I AM READY TO SCREAM. (Sorry.)
Turns out I’m feeling wobbly because my repaired knee is at least an inch longer than the other one.
I also need a bunch of not-cheap supplements to help the nerves regenerate. No one told me that nerve pain was going to be a major problem. I’m just sitting here, minding my own buisness, (or in bed, trying to sleep) and these massive electric jolts hit my leg! Three to six months to heal, according to what I read. I want to hurry that along.
Anyway, if you would like to contribute, I’d appreciate it. Thanks!
Guess who got a promotion?
That would be me!
Hmm
Yesterday I had a new PT, and he worked me hard. By last night, my leg was throbbing, with all kinds of nerve pain. For the first time, I asked for more oxy — and a muscle relaxer.
This morning, I had no pain. Of course, I couldn’t leave well enough alone. I thought, “I wonder what would happen if I just stood on this bad leg. Would it stretch out the tight muscles?”
Yes, it did. And it hurt.
Anyway, I talked to the director yesterday about how great the staffers were. He said most of the employees had been there for years and didn’t want to leave, and they prided themselves on that.
All I know is, I’ll feel a lot more comfortable getting the second leg done, knowing I’ll have these people on my team.
Took a walk yesterday
From one end of the hall to the other, because it was New Year’s Day and physical therapy was canceled because so many people were out.
So one of the aides came with me to make sure I didn’t fall. It was pretty warm — we joked about the old building’s “bipolar” heating system, where it were from summer to fall every 30 minutes or so.
“Global warming,” she said. “We never have winter anymore. It’s just weird. It’s January 1st and it’s 50 out there.”
On the verge of a new year
How many years have we done this – waited on the brink, hoping for something new to change our lives?
What I hope is that after this (and the second surgery), I can walk again. I’m keeping it modest. If I want to get really optimistic, a life without canes. A life where I can play with the grandkids.
I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for the care I’ve received here. I don’t ever think I’ve been the recipient of so much sustained attention and kindness. Every time I think to ask for something, it’s already on the way.
My PT is in awe of all the rock and roll I’ve seen. The department head drops in for book chats. The OT came to pick me up for a session the other day, took one look at me and said, “How about we cancel for today and get you a shower?” (I’d been up all night with a fever of undetermined origin. I was so grateful.)
And this being Philadelphia, there are webs of connection everywhere. This nurse knows my niece; that nurse grew up on the same block as one of my friends.
I can’t wait to get home. But it will also be hard to leave.
Infection control
Well, it turns out I have a UTI. I knew something was going on because my temperature (which is normally less than 98 degrees) was higher than usual – but they thought it was normal, even though I told them otherwise. Also, after my nightly dose of Tylenol, I could feel the fever let up and I broke out in a sweat.
The only person who seemed to believe me was my PT, who dropped by this morning. “You kept saying you felt exhausted yesterday,” she said. (Thank you for noticing.)
So now even more pills. Ugh.
On asking for help
One of the things about being in a medical facility is that you have to ask for pretty much everything. I’m not supposed to get out of bed, or go to the bathroom without help. (I haven’t had this much attention for my BMs since I was three.)
I’m not used to asking.
Now I only ask for help when it’s something I can’t possibly do by myself, like put on compression stockings. But I get around with a walker.
Today I had a headache, and it took several hours to get an Excedrin approved. By then, I’d already talked the activities director into sharing some of his Diet Dr. Pepper, and the caffeine did the trick.
The physical therapist says I’m doing well, and should get out of here early next week. Can’t wait, mostly because there is no ergonomic setup where I can type comfortably.
Progress
They think I’ll be ready to go home early next week, so that’s good news.
My shin still hurts really bad. A nurse told me that’s where they put a clamp while they use the hammer and chisel on the knee — which is about what it feels like.
And I’ve never seen this much rejoicing over a BM since my three year old finally used the potty.