Holidays

I didn't spend them on the floor this year so that's good. I get an occasional reminder - a not so gentle but generally brief jab of not exactly pain - that lets me know my fattened disc is still back there. It doesn't inhibit much except touching my toes and visiting the chiropractor. I don't know that either of those things would do any harm. I'm just not anxious to find out.

Otherwise, good. Happy to be upright, generally pain free, and walking. Outdoors.

Indulgences

Someone asked me today how my back was doing. It's a nice thing when someone does that but lately that question almost takes me by surprise. That's so yesterday. I suppose the greater the tragedy the longer it takes to move on from it which is to say that while it seemed tragic at the time, my back pain was small on the greater scheme of things. Thing is, I hardly think about it anymore and it's almost like the pain I felt was in a dream, a different place or time. (On the other hand, don't think I take it for granted. It was serious to me.)

I was still thinking about this later in the day when it occurred to me that there were only two things that were not to be missed just because I was confined to living in bed. This is ridiculous, I know, but it's absolutely true that no matter my condition I did not miss a single spa appointment. Specifically, my facials and my hair colorings. Two each.

This is a true testimony of my vanity, without a doubt. It took monumental effort and some coordination to pull off those visits and I never thought to cancel them. Did I go to work? Heck, no. I couldn't make it to the kitchen without needing to lie down. Was I expecting company? Again, the answer is no.

Here's the punchline. I did all that to maintain my "natural look." Embarrassing but true.

So, here's a bold-faced plug for the ladies I apparently cannot do without, ladies I would overcome, apparently, any obstacle to see. For facials and skincare I see C.J. at Park Lane Wellness Center and for hair I see Lynda Nuce-Warner at the 85th Street Salon. I have been seeing them both for close to fifteen years, if I had to take a guess. More than ten, anyway.

If I was at an awards ceremony or I walked around with production credits trailing behind me, these two names would clearly be on the list somewhere. You ladies make me look and feel great.

What A Difference Five Months Make

I was here in November, eating Vicodin and happy about it. I was in town (Palm Desert, that is) for a wedding and I had been in so much pain I wasn't sure I was going to be able to fly. Well, sit is more accurate since I, myself, cannot fly.

At the time, sitting was becoming a challenging occupation the way that touching one's toes becomes challenging for the elderly. That may seem exaggerated but elderly was what I was feeling, even as I edge towards that reality, as my pain kept me from doing things one normally does.

It wasn't long before not being able to sit was to develop into not being able to stand, and a reality I had not previously known. That of pain on a level I thought was made only of legend, the storytelling of people who were a little off, of seekers of attention. Little wonder those stories are not believed. They are unbelievable. I didn't believe it could be true, either, until I lived it. And, thank God, it was only for a short while.

But the story I tell today is one of remission. I am back in Palm Desert after an odyssey that bridges much more than distance. And, leaving out the details of what happened between then and now, I am happy to say that I am walking, biking, and swimming - all without pain. All without drugs.

I am here again, in April this time, not to see a wedding, not in pain, not taking drugs. And happy about it.

Strut

I saw a massage therapist on Sunday who is more into whole body therapy than massage. What I mean is, he is more of a diagnostician than a relaxing kind of fellow. In fact, his therapy is anything but relaxing.

The good news is, it didn't hurt (much). The last massage (in October) just about killed me! (Well, not really but it hurt a lot more than it helped.)

He gave me homework. I need to walk as if my leg muscles start just under my rib cage rather than at my hips. To effect this walk, I have to lean back so as to engage my stomach muscles and take a long stride. He said I should look snooty if I'm doing it right.

The reason he has me doing this is to acquaint me with some new muscles. Some of the leg muscles do indeed attach themselves at a point higher than the hip. Strengthening these muscles (and stretching others) will help me hold my body (specifically, my pelvis) in better alignment with my spine.

And there you go. Good as new.

I've been strutting around the neighborhood (not making any new friends) for the last couple of days. I can feel these muscles at work. Time will tell if this provides any lasting corrective or rehabilitative response in my body. It's worth a try, I figure.

Ides of March

... or I do March. Not, march, exactly. That would just look weird. But I've been walking and today I went eight blocks and enjoyed every step.

I was walking six blocks, now eight. A month ago I was walking zero so I'm feeling pretty good about eight.

I used to increase my mileage by actual miles. But now I'm taking it easy. Eight is good. And, I dare say, I can probably walk faster than the 90-year-old guy down the street. Not that it matters to me. I'm just glad to see him out walking too.

March Madness

I cancelled the March epidural. I continue to feel pretty good. Not even Advil that last couple days.

Delay of Game

The February epidural injection is now postponed until March. There are days when I think I will need it, and others when I don't. I'm just happy to be out of bed and, believe it or not, back at work.

(b)ack status

After canceling my back surgery, I set up an appointment for another epidural for later in February, and re-scheduled the surgery for April. I didn't think I would actually need either of these. They were more precautionary - or so I thought.

Now, I'm not so sure. I'm still not in much pain to speak of but my flattened spinal disk keeps reminding me that it's back there, still flattened. This doesn't worry me so much because I know the drill. I know what to expect if it gets worse, and I have some pretty good ideas of what to do (and not do) if that happens.

This really isn't surprising news. Just disappointing to think about. I'll just keep taking it easy and hope for the best.

Skinny

Don't know if I mentioned it but I've dropped ten pounds. You would think lying in bed for two months would add ten pounds, but no.

If I was ever going to do any modeling (which I wasn't) now would be the time. Weight wise that is. Pose wise I can do little more than just stand there! Bathing suit wise, however, would be a total disaster. Nothing but skin and bones. I need to get some work modeling big heavy sweaters.

More chocolate chip mint is in my future. Putting the weight back on will be fun - but will become dangerous when I don't want to stop eating cookies and ice cream. Oh well, I guess I'll worry about that ten pounds from now.

Woo Hoo

Liver test came back normal!

(I'm going drinking.....)

Nearing The Finish Line

Nurse Ratched called me this morning. She had received a message that I wished to cancel my surgery tomorrow. She was soooo sweet about it. (I think she just wanted to save her job but I haven't told that story yet.)

As backup, I scheduled an appointment for an epidural injection on February 23 and another surgery date for April 20. I don’t think I’ll need either of these but that’s the soonest I can get in. If I wait until I actually need pain relief I would have to wait a minimum of two weeks for the epidural and two months for surgery. Thought it was better to plan before any pain sets in. I can always cancel if I don’t need it.

I had one more blood draw this morning. Hopefully, it will be my last. The docs have been monitoring my liver function so this is just a checkup to see if it’s working properly. I should have results tomorrow. I expect everything to be okay.

I'll keep you posted.

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Oh, yes!

Eating Chocolate Chip Mint!

Game Off

I'm calling the surgery off. Nurse Ratched is going to have a cow when I call her on Monday to advise her. She already gave me an earful last Thursday when I wouldn't tell her over the phone whether I was going to keep my appointment. She told me People are waiting. I told her I have been waiting, too! This is an entirely different rant which I may post at a later date.

I've decided that I'm well enough to work and the pain is low enough to live with. It's to the point that I would call it stiffness more than pain. This is great news, of course, and my husband is very glad to have me back as a partner rather than a dependent.

I feel a little like I've invited you all to a large, elaborate wedding and then waited until all the pews were filled before I called the whole thing off. Embarrassed and relieved at the same time. I don't want any of you to think I was crying Wolf! or that I lost my marbles entirely. (Okay, the jury is out on the marbles charge.) This was all very real and I couldn't have endured it without you.

I am sincerely grateful to the many, many angels in my life. Thank you for the cards, calls, e-mails, text messages, phone calls, visits, food, support, encouragement, and prayers. It truly made a difference. More so than all the doctor visits, I am convinced.

This is not the end of back(b)log. Not quite yet. I feel like I owe you and a lot of other people an explanation - a reasoning for my decision. I wish I could do that now while it's all fresh in my head. But life is rushing on at an ever increasing speed and I am already swept up in its current.

In the meantime, I will find a moment to celebrate and I hope you'll celebrate with me. I told my husband when I got the surgery date that all I wanted when this was over was one scoop of Baskin-Robbins Chocolate Chip Mint. (I guess they call it Mint Chocolate Chip but then I'd have to call the new blog MiChoChi and I like ChoChiMi better....) I figured the surgery staff wasn't going to give me a lollipop or a sticker or anything so my goal was to get the surgery and then head straight to the ice cream shop. (As a courtesy to Cincinnati, there is no Graeter's here. If there was, this would be an entirely different discussion.)

But I'm not giving up the ice cream just because I'm giving up the surgery. That would be like giving up hope and I'm not about to do that. I have ten very intense weeks of work ahead of me and I'm going to need everything I've got to get through it. In fact, I'm off to work today but I'm taking a time out to get my scoop. If you get a chance, get one for yourself and enjoy the game (of football, of life, whatever).

Thanks for helping me get through this.

Chocolate Chip Mint

I'm moving to Chocolate Chip Mint, the new-and-improved blog all about me. (Because I am the center of the universe although I'm competing for that title with my Thinking Buddy.)

The web address is http://chochimi.blogspot.com/. ChoChiMi is my abbreviation for Chocolate Chip Mint. I thought that was clever. It makes me grin - and grinning is what ChoChiMi is all about.

I have a few more posts that will make it's way to back(b)log before shutting it down. (We're almost there.) Turns out this is my 90th post to back(b)log so I'll see if I can't make it an even hundred point something.

Please visit me at Chocolate Chip Mint. I'm looking forward to having some fun there and sharing it with you.

But, alas, I have to go to work..... I'll try to get caught up this weekend. Love you, and thank you for letting me share my story (rants) with you!!

Beautiful

I was doing a little surfing on my health care provider's web page, member's only section. There was a link to a page that would allow me to give them feedback on the health care I have received. (How has GHC affected your life....?)

I'm not in the rage I was in last night. So I think I was pretty reasonable when I simply wrote, I was disappointed. OK, that's not all I wrote, exactly. I acknowledged the things I like but summarized that I was disappointed when I really needed help.

The submit button didn't work......

Perfect.

WTF?

I have been puzzling over a seeming coincidence of facts: When I took more drugs, the pain increased. When I took fewer drugs, my pain decreased. NONE of my (21) doctors thought this was relevant. But it continued to bother me and I kept "googling" to find an answer: Does percocet increase pain, allergies to percocet, etc.

I think I found an answer in the form of "opioid-induced hyperalgesia." And now that I've found it, I am pissed. (This is an understatement, btw.)

According to an equally authoritative source (sarcasm intended)

"If you keep increasing your dose of opioid pain medication but pain is still an 8 or 9 out of 10, it's time to shift gears and try something else," says Miotto. She points out that at high doses, opioid painkillers can actually make your pain worse -- a condition called opiate-induced hyperalgesia.

(WebMD.com: Back Pain: Medication and Addiction)

So why did they continue to increase my meds even though I complained the pain was increasing. On exactly November 20, I was prescribed oxycodone (percocet) and on exactly November 20 my pain increased. (I was previously taking hydrocodone, also a narcotic.) The pain increase wasn't a matter of I think this is getting progressively worse. It was noticeable. Why wasn't it a red flag that I had to refill my prescription every ten days?

I just finished the process of getting off this narcotic and had the opposite reaction - I got better. A LOT better. Again, it wasn't a gradual change, it was a pretty quick reaction.

Coincidence? I'm of the personal opinion as the patient and the one who's been taking these drugs and living this freaking nightmare that it is not a coincidence.

I have been on drugs longer than necessary, in more pain than necessary, suffered liver damage (most likely not permanent but I'm throwing it in there for dramatic effect because this is my temper tantrum, goddammit), and may miss this surgery date because I found out too late to make the necessary adjustments. Too late for my body to adjust to the new input (or lack of it) and give me new information.

If I continue to get better, hallelujah. I have it coming, sister. But if I pass on this surgery and my condition gets worse (during my income producing months, obtw) - well, the truth of it is I will just have to deal with that.

I don't have any more. I just really needed to unload.

Dwinking

No, not as in I want to dwink youw bwood. That would be Elmer Fudd acting as Dracula. Dwinking is a double-wink. But not two winks. To dwink you have to be able to wink with both eyes - at the same time.

Go ahead, laugh. It's not as easy as you think because it's easily confused as a blink which is entirely different. Blinking provides moisture to the eyes. A dwink will also provide moisture to the eyes but it also conveys meaning.

Did you know that an independent study* found a single dwink is approximately 1.9 times more effective than two successive winks in conveying its message? It also showed that it had a success rate higher than double blinking by 3.14159%

According to this Wikipedia entry:

A wink is an informal mode of communication usually signaling, depending on context, sexual attraction or shared hidden knowledge or intent... .

Two winks in a row often was used by the sender as a subtle way to imply something said by the sender, immediately beforehand, was "sneaky", "tricky", "misleading", or "untrue" to the receiver... .

To close and open, or "wink", both eyes is usually an involuntary action known as a "blink". Though if done intentionally, in a particular way (such as once slowly or a few times in a row quickly), while giving a sweet or suggestive look with the eyes, often with the head tilted or at an angle in combination with the shoulders, is know as to "bat an eyelash", "bat/batting eyelashes", or "flutter/fluttering eyelashes". This is most commonly done by girls, as a way of flirting, showing interest, or in an attempt to persuade the receiver (usually a gullible male) to get what they want.

(All emphasis mine.)

I did not just make that up. That's what it says. You guys are so easy.....

A dwink, by contrast, is not intended to wile or guile anyone of any gender. It conveys a deeper meaning between sender and receiver, one of love or deep sympathy or appreciation.

Caution: Do not dwink and dwive.

*Testing was animal free.

Update

I upated the Mostly Red post with a much better picture of the Pessimist's Mugs.

Mostly Red

My husband broke a coffee cup today. It was one of my favorites but then I got to thinking (uh oh) that a coffee mug can say a lot about a person, especially first thing in the morning. I thought it was also a good mood indicator. Sort of like the terror alert colors.

Most of my favorite coffee cups are red - which does not make me a national threat even on my worst day. But they're a pretty good indicator of what kind of mood I'm in.

If you see me drinking from this cup, just turn around and walk away. Don't say anything, just leave.


There's nothing really wrong with this cup and I especially like the duck. But it's not red. It's not one of my favorite cups. If I'm drinking from this cup, I'm in a quiet mood, introspective. Maybe melancholy.


This one strikes a serious pose, doesn't it? It's a take charge, get things done sort of mug. But is has an appeal, striking, simple.


These are my snuggle under a blanket and read a book cups. They're for cold, rainy days when I want to feel cozy.


These are my seasonal mugs. I don't suppose I have to tell you which season.


These are special purpose mugs. They're shaped like a heart if you look at them from above. They're my valentine mugs and it's the XOXO that got broken. These are my flirty mugs so now, unfortunately, I can only be half as flirty.


Sweet! I had to make two to get the right shot. I'll be on a caffein buzz all morning! These are my Work Avoidance mugs. (They're good for blogging.) If I'm drinking from one of these, I'm feeling mischievous.


If you see me drinking from this one, you know it's going to be an all around good day. For me anyway. I have no idea how your day is going to be. These are my favorite books as well.

Editors note: None of these pictures have been retouched.

Uh Oh

Whenever I start a sentence with "I was thinking...." my husband says, "Uh oh."

I had to see another doctor today. This one was in the field of Womens Health. I have another appointment in the category of Womens Health on Wednesday. This doctor was not included in my previous doctor count of 21 since October. Also not included was my dentist. Which was what got me to thinking. (Uh oh....)

Could we save some time if we could do those two things together?

Part of the Womens Health thing is regularly scheduled maintenance (every two years and 20,000 miles). But I've been having some other troublesome symptoms that none of my doctors could explain. I kept telling them I thought it was related to all the narcotics I've been taking*. But no one else saw a correlation.

But today's doctor did. She welcomed me to the time in a woman's life known as perimenopause. You know what I said?

Uh oh.

*Big Bro: They were prescribed.

Sinking

I'm just curious about something. If your toothpaste falls off your toothbrush before you start brushing and falls in your bathroom sink, do you use it anyway? Or start all over?

If you're eating a cookie over the kitchen sink ('cuz where else would you eat it?) and a bit of it falls in the sink, do you eat it anyway? Does your answer change if the part that fell in the sink contained a chocolate chip?

The Morning After

The opera was beautiful last night. The arias were breathtaking, the crowd rewarding the performers with thunderous applause.

I made it through the entire performance but my back was plenty sore when I got home. Glad to lie down. I eventually fell asleep after much tossing and turning and was relieved I wasn't sore this morning.

I wasn't as sore as you might of been if this is what you were doing last night.

Pssst

You know what I do when my husband isn't home? I leave lights on in uninhabited rooms and turn up the thermostat.

My readership is so limited (read, exclusive), I'm sure he'll never find out.

Mwah ha ha ha ha....

Not All About Me

I can relate on soooo many levels.

"And yet, I failed to do the necessary, um, maintenance."

Link: Praying to Darwin: Breaking Up Is (Surprisingly, Not That) Hard to Do

The Downside To Getting Well

There are many. I don't get coffee in bed anymore unless I get up and make it myself. Imagine!

And work. I might be expected to do it! The fact that I made a rare appearance at the office today won't help any either.

It also makes the decision about whether to have the surgery a little fuzzy, a little gray. I like black and white. (Look at my wardrobe. Or my profession for that matter.) But gray? I don't know what to do with gray.

On the other hand, I might have the best of both worlds, black and white. I'm in just enough pain to know I don't want it anymore. But I'm well enough that it won't be absolute agony to wait another 13 days.

If you consider Avatar an advantage then you can list that in the Plus column as I got out to see it on Sunday. Painwise, it got a little rough towards the end but I was invested in the story at that point so I rode it out to the very end. (The best part is the 3D glasses.)

If you consider attending the opera an advantage, that's another one for the plus column. I'm seeing Il Trovatore tonight which is a great deal longer than Avatar. (I'll have to wear a bra.... It's only polite.)

Going to the opera also ruins my plan to let my holiday nail polish chip off over time. As in, "how many licks..." one wonders "how many chips" until it's all gone? We may never know the answer to that one unless I don't have another hot date until next Christmas in which case I can start the experiment all over again and hope that it's all gone by this coming December. (It could happen.)

So I bit the cotton ball and groomed all ten. Not that it should matter. The vast majority of opera patrons can't see well enough to notice my nails in full light much less after the lights go out.

But painting my nails does make it difficult to type so I'm taking the rest of the day off.

Delay Of Game

The surgeon has some sort of scheduling conflict so I got rescheduled for February 9. That's not a terrible thing in that I've been feeling well lately and the new date gives me a little more time for me to decide if this is really right for me.

It's confusing, I know, because I finally got what I was after (getting the surgery and a chance for relief) and then I have doubts about whether I should go through with it. I would like to claim Woman's Prerogative on this one.

The last two days have been relatively pain free which is a good thing but confusing as hell because it came out of nowhere with no apparent explanation except I could possibly be getting better. Welcome to the party, spine! What took you so long?

Besides, given the care I've been receiving, is anyone surprised this happened??

(The delay will not impact the Grand Opening of Chocolate Chip Mint.)

Despair

Here's the winner of the Caption Contest.

Walk In The Park

Hardly. But I made it around the block today. Big step. (Actually, several average ones.) The sun came out and I took advantage.

I learned the other day that if I walk counterclockwise around the block, I won't see the lake if I can't make it all the way around the block and have to turn back. So I made the radical move of walking around the block in a clockwise direction so in the event I had to quit, I would have at least seen the lake.

The strategy worked with the only exception (a good one) being I didn't have to quit. I had absolutely no pain so I kept going. It wasn't a case of ignoring the pain, or pushing through the pain. I didn't have any.

I ended up walking all the way around with no pain whatsoever. Got home, made a latte, put the wet laundry into the dryer, and still no pain. Sat down to blog and now there's pain. I wrote two posts and then got up to iron a couple shirts and the pain fell to the background. Sat down for one more post and the pain just stayed there - in the background.

My timer just went off to remind me it's time to take more pain medication. Usually, I can't wait. Today, I was surprised. Already? So soon?

Weird.

Side Note

I find it interesting that the only health care practitioners I've seen more than once in the last few months are the chiropractors, one of the acupuncturists, and the lab technician. The next time I "see" my surgeon, I may be unconscious so I'm not sure if that counts.

To be fair, I've had multiple contacts with various doctors by e-mail. And from an organizational perspective it makes sense. No one at the top actually does the work. That's what the little people at the bottom are for. I just find it interesting and wonder if that's part of the reason it feels so impersonal. (Props to everyone "at the bottom" who took wonderful care of me, btw. The largest portion of gratitude goes to my husband, of course, without whom all of this would have been impossible. Not to mention my producer, my manager, .... Wait. Where am I?)

Here's another interesting factoid. My latest experience is that the less percocet I take, the less pain I'm in. How is that possible? Coincidence or is there some correlation? With the percocet out of the way, all the other drugs in my body have a chance to do their thing? Is that possible??

Weird.

When Harry Met Lynn

(Thanks for the idea, Leslie.)

As a follow up to the cliffhanger of Meet Harry, I thought it only fair to let you in on how this story ends - or how I think it ends.

I'll never see Harry again.

Crushed? Disappointed? Waiting for a happy ending? Well, put your handkerchief away. Truth is, I generally don't go to the doctor enough for her (or him) to remember me or our last visit. What that means is I'm generally a healthy person and the only reason in the past to see my doctor is because I have to do those annual or biannual things that one has to do when one reaches a certain age. (Seems the older I get, the more they need to check up on me to make sure my parts aren't wearing out and to give me the okay for another two years and 10,000 miles before my next checkup.)

Until, of course, I needed to go I didn't really care who my doctor was.

Since my birthday (October) I've seen two chiropractors, one massage therapist, two acupuncturists, three physical therapists, two primary care physicians, one physician's assistant, one anesthesiologist, one surgeon and his assistant, one lab technician (on three separate occasions), two MRI technicians, three radiologists, and one spine specialist. The total is 21, if you were counting. That excludes all my traction appointments (seven), phone consultations, nurses, pharmacists, and administrative people (including a Patient Advocate). This also excludes any time I spent researching on the web, or my husband's time driving me to all my appointments to pick up my prescriptions.

The point is this. With any luck my health will be drastically improved sometime in the very near future and I will go back to seeing my doctor almost never. My checkups generally fall under the category of Women's Health and I see someone else for that so I won't be seeing my "regular" doctor again before he retires. Although he's just taken the position of Chief of my local clinic a year and one half ago, he's 65 now. I'm sure he'll continue to practice medicine for the next several years but if I'm lucky it won't be on me.

So long, Harry. It was nice knowing you.

Coming To A Computer Near You

Chocolate Chip Mint

Cookie Alert

House cleaners are coming tomorrow. If I'm going to eat cookies over the sink, today's the day.

(Your) Body Is A Wonderland

Traitor, is more like it.

Just sayin'.

It'll Be Our Little Secret

I went outside today. And I didn't stop at the mailbox. Nope. I kept going. A beautiful taste of OUTSIDE. Oh, yes.

And I did it right, too. I showered, brushed my teeth, put my hair up and - wait for it - sunglasses. Yessiree. Sunglasses.

It was sunny for little while yesterday and I missed it. I waited and by the time I thought about going outside, it was gone. I wasn't going to let that happen again.

Was it worth it? Hell, yes. I walked to the corner, exchanged niceties with a neighbor and walked all the way to the corner. I could see the lake. So, beautiful it was today.

I wanted to keep going. You don't know how I was tempted. But I turned around. I went back home. With a smile on my face, feeling the sunshine on my neck, the gentlest breeze on my face.

I won't even think about tomorrow. I'm just going to enjoy today.

(I never want to stop walking again.)

Afterthought

Maybe instead of walking, I should run. For a seat on Group Health's Board of Whatever governing body.

Just checked e-mail and there's one from my doctor. ALT and AST levels are dropping which is a good thing. (High levels indicate liver damage.) We'll test again in a few weeks. Good news.

Meet Harry

This is my new doctor, Dr. Harry Shriver. He was quoted in a couple articles regarding healthcare, or rather the healthcare debate.

Here he is in The New York Times. And, again in USA Today.

He seemed alright but 30 minutes was hardly enough time to size each other up. It wasn't even enough time to do the physical exam in the time allotted. He was aware of my concerns already since some of my complaints were recorded "in my file"when I fired my previous doctor. He wasn't simply aware of them, he seemed to understand them.

Group Health's local reputation isn't as good as these articles suggest. It's known locally as Group Death. Often, if I am complaining of my most recent healthcare woes, all I have to do is mention my healthcare provider and that's all my listener needs to know to understand what the problem is.

My husband and his kids have received very good care from Group Health. The doctors there detected and removed cancer from my husband's arm a few years ago and they diagnosed a very rare blood disease in one of the kids many, many years ago. I'm just saying it's not all bad at Group Health. It's not always been bad for me either. On the other hand, I've never been sick before so I never really needed it. (But I've been paying the premiums for the last twenty years, goddammit, so I want my money's worth!)

Group Health is spending a lot of money on their information infrastructure. Medical records are available to all doctors in the system by logging on to their network. X-ray and MRI images are there, all doctor reports and appointment summaries, medications, lab results. Much of that information is available to the patient as well. I can view or cancel upcoming appointments, I can schedule appointments (although this is a new feature that hasn't had all the bugs worked out). I can view my lab results and order most prescription refills which can be delivered (free) by mail. (They won't mail the hard stuff.) I can communicate with my doctor by e-mail or by phone appointment. This means fewer patients need to come in which is how they can reduce their patient caseload. All of this is good.

What they haven't figured out yet is how to keep the relationship personal. Usually, whoever I see (including my last doctor) doesn't face me when talking to me. They face the computer. They're typing notes or filling out some on-screen form. Not all of it is in English either so sometimes there's a pause in the conversation, if that's what you want to call it, because they have to figure out what code to use to abbreviate some condition, diagnosis, or procedure. It takes them longer to figure out what the abbreviated code is than it would have taken for them to type it in English or medical jargon.

The experience has become so impersonal that I am emotionally moved when someone breaks the mold and makes eye contact. And for just one moment, even, gives the perception that they care. I'm serious. That's enough to make me cry right there on the spot. (To be honest my eyes are leaking just a little bit right now just thinking of it.)

I went with a friend to one her doctor's appointments recently when that very phenomenon happened. She finally got a referral to a pain clinic two years after her symptoms started. (It's a slow process, this healthcare.) We met a charming gentleman who reviewed her file (on paper) - let me just pause right here. HE READ HER FILE, ladies and gentlemen. I hate to inform you but usually they don't! They only rely on their own experiences with the patient rather than try to understand the patient's past trials and failures. Incredible. And by taking the time to do this he was able to find multiple errors in her written file. How crazy, not to mention irresponsible, is that?

And then, here's the totally amazing part, he summarized her case history, without having taken notes or referring to her file. He quite succinctly boiled it all down, with accuracy, and with eye contact. He understood. You don't know what this means to us. To be heard. I don't know yet if he can help her but he scored major points for being compassionate. Seriously, huge moment but one hates to get hopeful as we've been disappointed so many times before.

Yes, we want to be healed. But we also want to be heard. (Cared for, would be nice too.)

I hope it works out for Harry and me. We'll see.

The Long And Winding Road

I Walk The Line

There was a time when I walked every day. It wasn't really a fitness thing, although I did walk frequently for fitness. No, there was a time when walking provided pain relief. I haven't actually tried it in about six weeks. Oh, I've been out to doctor appointments since then but not much else.

Back then I thought I wanted to walk forever. Because that was the only time I wasn't in pain. And I was outside. How I love OUTSIDE. But I also wanted to champion a cause. Because my personality dictates that I don't "dabble." I "master." And if I can't "master," I quit.

That's why when I started running some years ago, I didn't stop until I had run two marathons. But that's another story.

Then, one day, I stopped walking. Unfortunately, I was still a few blocks from my house when it happened. Walking wasn't relieving the pain anymore. I could only go a few yards at a time before I needed to rest and that's how I got home that day.

These Boots Are Made For Walking

Before then, when it didn't hurt, I thought I would fight to rid the world of pain. I would bring awareness to those of us who suffer from chronic pain whatever the source. I would champion the cause of pain sufferers everywhere. I would get the medical community to notice us and to do something about it.

By walking.

Walking On Sunshine

So just for grins and giggles one day I decided to use Google Maps to map out the route from my house to my dad's house. I live on the Left Coast and he lives on the Right. It's about 3,000 miles. Google Maps has a feature where you can select the mode of transportation. Car, public transportation, or walking.

What the heck? (Is that WTH?) I chose walking.

Turns out it's about a hundred miles shorter if I walk. It took Google Maps a second or two to figure out the route, but it did. The directions were right there.

I zoomed in closer - close enough I could see street names and followed the route on my screen. The route looks beautiful. The path follows some very nice trails here in Washington, and it goes through beautiful national forests, follows rivers, and by lakes. It crosses Lake Michigan by ferry, takes you into Canada, and brings you back into the US at Niagara Falls - which I have never seen.

Walking After Midnight

It would only take 37 days, roughly. That's assuming no breaks, of course.

So let's do the math. If I walk three miles per hour, for ten hours per day, I could walk there in roughly 100 days. Right? Just over three months if I walk every day. If I walk five hours a day, that would be 200 days. More than six months. If I do....

Walk This Way

Okay, let's get real. I have trouble walking past the threshhold of my front door! It's a pretty good day if I make it to the mailbox.

Maybe I should start small. Like to my mom's house. At least, she lives in the same State. That's about seven miles. Just over two hours. Now, we're talking.

Still, it's a stretch given my current state. How about work? That's even closer and I can walk on a bike path all the way there along Lake Washingon. It's very nice. That's just under five miles. Better.

Walk Right In

I could walk to Starbuck's. But what's the point? It's only around the corner.

Day Dream Believer

I still think it's a cool idea.

Despair, Inc.

Despair, Inc. is having a caption contest. The idea is to write a caption for the following image. Below are my submissions.

You're supposed to be able to vote, although I haven't seen that portion of the contest appear on their website yet. Check it out. Even if you're not interested in voting, the website is fun.

Voting is supposed to go through Wednesday.

The blog is here.
The website is here.

Indecision
The Paralyzing Fear That One Wrong Move and You're Toast

Friends
There to Guide You Through the Obstacles of Life
Unless They're Blind

Idealism
Hope in the Face of Crushing Reality

Seduction
Surrounding Him With Temptation
And Finding a Way for Him to Take the Bait

Reality
Knowing When it's Time to Suck it Up

Youth
The Time in Your Life to Seize Opportunities
Before They're Crushed by Reality

Letter From Haiti

The earthquake in Haiti is a tragedy with heartbreaking consequences for those who are there and for many around the world who are not.

On the 16th, a sometime-contributor to my favorite blog, posted a letter from his wife, Lissa, who was in Haiti during the earthquake. Since I read this blog daily, I feel as though he is a part of my family in a way. My heart goes out to him and to his wife.

His post and her letter are here: 76003.1414: Lissa

He received another letter today. Please read it and take the time to help.

Today's letter: 76003.1414: Letter From Haiti

If nothing else, pray to Whomever or Whatever you believe in.

MLK

I received - actually, won in a game of Greed - a 2010 calendar from Despair, Inc. The truth is that no else else wanted it which was fine by me because I'm a big fan.

I wanted it for the office. I have a number of electronic calendars but just for ease of reference I like to have one on my wall. (My apologies to environmentalists.)

As it turns out, however, I'm going to miss the entire month of January at the office so I thought I had better crack open my new calendar so I could enjoy it at home during the last few weeks of the month.

It didn't fail to disappoint, right from the outset, to the point where I thought it might have been intentional. A few of the pages were stuck together as if someone had spilled something on it before it got shrink-wrapped.

After getting November un-stuck from December I turned the page to January where the caption reads,

Economics
The Science of Explaining Tomorrow Why The Predictions
You Made Yesterday Didn't Come True Today

I might mention here that I was an Economics major. Then again, I might not.

My second disappointment came when a little slip of paper fell from the calendar. It reads,

It should be no surprise that we at Despair, Inc. made a mistake in our calendar layout. Please accept our apologies and correct the placement of Martin Luther King, Jr. Day in January by applying this sticker over the appropriate date grids. The responsible parties at Despair were promptly fired upon the discovery of this error.

Turns out that was the reverse side of a sticker, the front side of which was a portion of the January calendar correctly laid out so that Martin Luther King, Jr. Day appears on the 18th not the 13th as was printed on the calendar.

So there you go. I'm thoroughly disappointed with the calendar.

Regarding Martin Luther King, Jr., I just saw the film Talk to Me about Petey Green, a radio personality in the DC area during the late 1960's and early 1970's. It's a good movie and would highly recommend it. The assassination of Dr. King is a poignant moment in the film. It captures the profound sorrow (as well as many other emotions) that people felt that day and the days that followed.


I think I remember the day he died. But I was only five so I was completely unaware of the significance.

I am now.

I Never Think Alone

(That's why I have you.)

I have a friend who tells me I have a thinking problem. She should know. She's a recovering thinker herself.

I thought I had my thinking under control. I thought I could hide it. That no one knew. But she always knows when I've been thinking. I can never fool her.

I don't know if I can stop. I don't know if I can get through the day without thinking.

I never think before noon. But I guess that's not enough because I think so much in the afternoon that I more than make up for it.

What if I was just a social thinker? You know, only when I'm with friends? They're thinking. Why shouldn't I be thinking, too?

She tells me thinking can be a serious problem and I shouldn'd make light of it. "One think is not enough and two is too many." She's right on the money on that one. I become someone else entirely once I start to thinking.

I promise her I can quit. I'll go cold turkey. I won't think any more. She just shakes her head and tells me it'll never last.

She urges me to take a look at how thinking is affecting my life. My work. I love her. I trust her. But I don't know if I can give up thinking - forever??

In blogdom, she said, I'll meet other thinkers just like me. Thinkers who will share their experiences with thinking. She tells me I'll get better if I share what thinking has done in my life.

I don't know if I believe her. But, for her and the ones I love, I'll try.

I've got to get my thinking under control!

Thank you, friend, for telling me I'm a problem thinker.

Note: I mean no disrespect towards those who think, who have a problem with thinking, or who are trying to quit.

Post Script

Just an update.

My good fortune pain-wise didn't continue. I was sore by the end of the day yesterday and sorer still today. I worked part of the day from bed, part of it sitting. I got through the sitting but paid for it afterward. It's just faster to work on a regular computer than a laptop. (More comfortable for my right arm as well.) The pain goes away when I lie down but it's usually pretty aggravated by the time I do so it takes several minutes.

That's okay. I enjoyed it while it lasted!

Just Like Donald Trump

... or You're Fired!

I fired my doctor yesterday.

Her office called yesterday to cancel our appointment today. She had called in sick. They wanted to reschedule my appointment with another doctor but it would remain at the same time. I agreed and hung up.

But I was frustrated. She's taken two separate one-week vacations in the last six weeks (she's entitled), she's missed appointments (not rescheduled, missed), and the last time she was on vacation her substitute wouldn't refill my prescription (inconvenient, to say the least) and e-mails that I was advised by her staff to send were not read.

So, I called back and said it was not okay to reschedule me with the substitute doctor. I wanted to consult with the doctor who's been handling my case before I HAVE SURGERY. Granted, this is not a life threatening situation but it's important to ME!

Her first available appointment was January 28 which is one week and one day before the surgery date. I told her that was unacceptable. I'm supposed to be off some of these drugs by then (a surgery requirement) and I wanted to discuss the time frame for getting off the rest of them. Besides, my prescription will run out on the 21st and narcotic drugs not easily refilled, as previously alluded to.

Not to mention, I've received my lab results which indicate my liver is now damaged. I don't think it's serious or life threateing. I believe it's entirely related to all these drugs, but the indicators are high enough that we should discuss it.

What if she misses that appointment? I'm screwed!

She countered with the 27th.... Argh.

I asked if there was a waiting list. There is not but I am welcome to call back.

Then, I want a different doctor. Not a substitute doctor, a new Primary Care Physician. I would rather not get someone else up to speed but I have been unhappy about the way my case has been handled since the very first day I called for help and the soonest they would schedule an apointment was a full week later. This was the last straw and I had finally reached my limit.

I understand she is a popular doctor and it is difficult to get an appointment with her but that's just not going to work for me. (Oh, and my Patient Advocate? Never heard from her again.)

So now I have an appointment with the top dog at the clinic - the Chief, no less - on the 20th. I feel good about this resolution. I'll meet Dr. Chief and size him up a little. I can pick someone else if I want to but I'm done with my current doctor.

Turns out I'm not as decisive as The Donald and it sometimes takes me a long time to come to the realization that a situation is unacceptable. But I usually figure it out sooner or later.

*This Gives Me An Idea

*(From previous post)

I had an idea about doctors and the TSA. You have to get undressed for both, so why not combine them? Think about it! Get a bathrobe, a colonoscopy and a boarding pass.

(The TSA guy is already wearing rubber gloves, come to think of it.)

There has to be enough savings in there somewhere to fund universal healthcare. The facilities and parking are already in place, not to mention public transportation (with our without pants).

Travel agents would come back into vogue as they could schedule your healthcare appointments to coincide with your travel arrangements.

If you could add a salon to the airplane, we'd be all set. (Except for that rule about chemicals... Bah.)

Thinking No More

...Doing

A funny thing happened on the way to work today. Nothing.

I woke up this morning and felt pretty good. But I faked it until my coffee cup was empty and my husband left for work before I got out of bed.

I felt pretty good yesterday too. I had to go to the doctor's office to get my pre-surgery lab work done which was a whole lot of sitting. A lot more than I've done in, well, months to be honest. I rode in the car and had lunch with my hubby. I was getting a little uncomfortable at that point but I ate everything on my plate. (My appetite has been a little off.)

Two more pills, and off to the doctor's office where there was maybe another hour of sitting in various exam rooms or waiting rooms. I wished I had come in my bathroom as I had to undress twice and thought it would have been more efficient if I hadn't dressed in the first place*. Even though I had dressed, I was mindful of Buttons On The Underwear because I had to have another x-ray.

Then, back in the car, and home. I was still feeling okay so I thought I would work from a chair instead of the bed and so set up my office in the dining room as hubby was using the den. I worked for a few hours, made dinner, and ate it. (Lasagna, yum.) Hum drum for you maybe. But wild and crazy for this girl.

So this morning I thought I would take a chance and go to work - across the hall to the den. I got dressed and everything. (Not everything. I figure when you work at home, underwear is optional.) And, I worked there all day.

I took a rest at the end of the day, lying down to read my favorite magazine, Real Simple. I'm up now and I'm experiencing some intermittent tingling down my right leg. Not sure what that's about. I'm just hoping it goes away. That could happen, right?

It was a good couple of days but I know better than to get my hopes up for anything more. I've already cried Wolf too many times. I'll have my dinner, and swallow my pills, go to bed, and leave it at that.

*This gives me an idea.

It's The Thought That Counts

I've been meaning to blog. Does that count?

Smoking Is Lonely

I was going to eat a cookie today over the sink to catch the crumbs. Do you ever do that? But the house cleaners came today and these ladies are professionals. My house has never, ever been so clean. I thought I was a pretty good housekeeper, myself, until these ladies showed up. After seeing what they could do, they proved me to be the amateur that I am.

My stainless steel, double basin kitchen sink was gleaming before me as I went to eat my cookie and I couldn't do it. I didn't want to mess up the sink. Not with crumbs. Not even with water. I have to go outside to eat my cookie now. It's cold out there. It's windy out there. This is what smokers must feel like, shunned from the world of INSIDE.

If I'm not careful, they'll start sweeping outside and make me keep a 25-foot radius from any door or window. It's only a matter of time before I can't eat cookies at all! What is this world coming to?

2%, Skim, Soy....

... or Got Milk?

I don't have any in the house. Milk, that is. I need it from time to time for cooking or baking so I keep a box of powdered stuff for that because usually a recipe will call for quantities smaller than you can typically buy. I suppose it's nasty if you have to drink it but I don't think you can tell if it's in my cake batter.

So, riddle me this: If I use half as much water to mix it up, does that make it 2%?

ha HA!

I just lost my connection to my remote connection to my office computer. Guess who's Avoiding now????

You Are What You Wear

I had a doctor's appointment with the neurosurgery department a few days ago and it was decided that surgery is the way to go.

The appointment went as most appointments go. Wait in the waiting room until my name is called and fill out some forms. They're the same as the forms I filled out last time. No, I was told, they're slightly different so I have to fill them out again.

Then my name got called and I went into an exam room just barely larger in each direction than my arm span.

I started off with a nurse who asked me a bunch of questions which were on her computer screen. How much do I weigh, how tall am I, what seems to be the problem today. I get worried when she asks me how to spell glute. As in, gluteus maximus. I guess I have to give her a break because it turns out I don't really know either. Is it glut or glute? In any case, I thought she should know.

Later I was visited by a Physicians Assistant. She introduced herself as Kathleen, adding that she likes to go by Kat. I immediately liked her because I have a cousin named Kathleen-but-goes-by-Kat. She's wore the requisite white lab coat, paired with a fantastic pair of red patent leather pumps. The heel isn't a "sensible height" either. Those shoes were awesome which served to distract me from, at the same time confirming, my suspicion that she is all of 25 years old.

Finally, in walks the surgeon. Nice enough guy, Dr. Lee. Seemed confident, assuring. But he kept pointing to my left side while explaining how he would be operating on my right side. This concerns me. I made sure all the paperwork is correct. Do I need to write instructions on my back? Should I leave the quarter and the dime there so he knows what it should look like?

Just as we were finishing up he turned away from me to make some notes on the computer and that's when I saw the label on his pants. The brand label was on the outside of the pants like they are sometimes with jeans. His slightly casual khakis were from OLD NAVY. They cost - what? - $15?

Hold the phone. Hold everything! Bring me the surgeon wearing Armani. Maybe Gucci or Hugo Boss. Is Prada in the house? Even Ralph Lauren for crying out loud! But OLD NAVY? I decided I had better try some physical therapy exercises again in a last ditch effort to get better before February 5!

I looked up his bio today. He got his PhD and MD from University of Chicago in 2000 and 2001, respectively. He did his neurosurgery residency from 2001-2009 at University of Washington.

Ten years may seem like a long time to this young guy, but to me it's practically yesterday. He's only been out of school for less than a year. He must have exorbitant loans to repay which accounts for the cheap slacks, right?

He went to school in Chicago which means he's tough so I'll cut him some slack(s).

(Sorry.)

Pink

I saw the sun come up this morning. Well, not actually, but I knew it was out there.

I have a skylight above my bed and above that floated a pink cloud.

Nice.

W**k

It had to happen sooner or later, right? I'll try to make some time for Avoiding later.

I guess if one makes time for Avoiding then, by definition, it isn't really Avoiding after all, is it?

Does this count? A little?

31 Days To Go

It could actually take longer than 31 days to get relief or I may get no relief at all. But I'm scheduled for surgery February 5 and I'm daring to be hopeful. I only have a few minutes so I'll have to fill in the details later.

I was told I have a better than 50/50 chance of getting some relief from this procedure. About 70% or so. If my symptoms presented more like "sciatica" with pain radiating down my leg, then my chances would be in the 90's somewhere.

I was also told that if 50 people had the surgery and 50 people didn't, all 100 people would be roughly in the same place pain wise a year from now. So, it's still possible that this would get better, given enough time.

I'm not a patient patient. Not patient enough to wait it out another year anyway. I scheduled the surgery.

I have a list of things to do before then. I've already read the materials they gave me about the procedure itself and it's very interesting. I'm looking forward to filling you in on the details. I'm hoping to find some good pictures I can put up so you can see what they're going to do.

But, I've run out of time. Gotta run.

Hard day pain-wise. Pretty good day news-wise.

From The Field

...aka posted by phone.

News bulletin! I'm scheduled for surgery on Feb 5. I'll fill you in on the details later.

Time To Eat!

Well, almost. The fact is I eat every couple of hours because that's my "dosing schedule" and I feel less nauseous if I take these pills with some food. You would think that being home all day, avidly avoiding, that I would have a bag of Cheetos in bed with me. A sultry idea, if it wasn't for the fact that it would turn my fingers orange - and therefore the keys on my laptop and probably everything else. Now, potato chips ... a salty idea... Oh, never mind.

Actually, if it wasn't for the fact that my legs are probably atrophying I would say that I'm in the best shape in my life. I'm developing a beautifully sculpted right shoulder from typing on my left side, my right arm supported by nothing but my sheer will and stubborn persistence. Of course, one would also have to ignore that persistent pain in my caboose.

I snack all day on carrots, apples, celery, prunes, yogurt, or raisins. And, I drink lots of water. Which means by dinner, I'm not terribly hungry. Turns out it's a pretty healthy diet and even allows for an occasional cookie or two. (The toffee, sadly, is all gone.) You might think that I'd be turning into Augustus Gloop. Instead, I've lost five pounds. (Time to rethink the Cheetos idea.)

Tomorrow, I'll meet with someone in neurosurgery and they will look at my file and determine whether I'm a candidate for surgery. I think I've used the words "pledge" and "not ever" before, so you would think I would qualify as a candidate of some sort.

At least I don't have to worry about feeling too good. I had a couple of good days after I dropped one anti-inflammatory drug in favor of Advil in the cocktail mix. It seems any change in the mix is deconstructed and rejected by my body within a couple days. It starts off good, I get hopeful, and then my body just absorbs it. I don't know how to explain it. I feel like the drugs aren't working so I get prescribed more or different drugs which only momentarily confuses my body. It quickly catches on, though, and we're back to the status quo.

Good news, depending on how you look at it, is that I'm getting some w**k done. I'm probably a little behind schedule but I'm making decent progress. I'd be able to w**k much faster if I could just sit at my desk.

If this condition lasts much longer, I will eventually have to build a horizontal w**kspace at the office so I might was well try to rig one up at home. I can figure out what w**ks and what doesn't before I have to do it for real at the office.

At least I have an office with a door that I can shut so clients won't wonder what in the heck I'm doing! Maybe I should design the whole office to appear as if it's rotated 90 degrees. I can just say to the client, "What's wrong with you?"

And Now, The News

Some unmentioned activities may be on the increase or decrease in this unknown location:

Theft from motor vehicle: 10:44 a.m., 600 block of 8th Street Northeast. Persons unknown vandalized three vehicles in unknown ways, resulting in undisclosed damages.

(more or less here)

01/02/2010

I'm surprised 76003.1414 didn't pick this up and it wasn't caught by its usually astute regional staff. Yesterday's date was a palindrome. It works as 01/2/10 also. I guess everyone was busy Avoiding.

Anyway, Happy (belated) Palindrome Day! (Are there any merits awarded for Procrastination?)

My Best Friend

...actually, my second best friend (right, Honey?) is my little Acer Aspire One netbook. It's my connection to the outside world, the one outside my bedroom. It does have this unpleasant hobby of just freezing from time to time. Annoying, really. Monitor freezes. Keyboard freezes. I have to turn the thing off, then on, to fix it.

I don't know why this does this or have any idea of what to do to prevent it. I e-mailed Acer and they told me to run it in safe mode. I did this and it ran coutinuously for four days. And, then just as I said Eureka!, it crashed. I e-mailed Acer and never heard back. I should follow up with them. I will. Someday.

But, I've dropped it several times - it falls down the crack between the bed and the night stand - and lost the Enter key (which I was able to find and press back on). And I carry it from room to room when I want to change my view by lying down in front of the fire in the living room or upstairs in front the TV pretending to take an interest in sports.

It's not really good for remoting (verb? hey, winningest is a word) into work. The screen is great but if I really want to be productive I need a mouse and a ten-key number pad. Two monitors would be even better but at that point I might as well go to w**k.

I've discovered it's good for reading the paper.

I have always had a subscription to the local paper - The Seattle P-I, before it ditched the paper and went online only, and now, the The Seattle Times.

I've never liked getting my news oline. I don't know why. Maybe because it's endless and I could never possibly read it all. I don't like department stores for the same reason - too big, overwhelming. Sure, it got my hands dirty but there's something cozy about it with a cup coffee.

But when I gave up walking as a viable mode of self-propulsion, the papers starting stacking up outside. (Honey gets his news online and he wasn't about to go out in this weather to get it if he didn't have to.) So, I decided to put my subscription on hold for a little while until such time as I'm more likely to actually read it. In the process, I stumbled upon Seattle's Times e-Edition. As a regular subscriber, all I had to do was sign up.

I love it! It looks just like the paper version complete with photographs and advertisements. (Yea, I know, welcome to the 21st century.) It has all the sections of the regular paper. I can search, preview, and "turn" pages. Read articles as they appear in the paper, or read as a text document. I can e-mail them, print them, or save them. I can read back issues. The only thing I can't do is share it (as in, You want the Sports section, Honey?) - although I haven't tried logging in on two computers simultaneously. And, I can't wrap my coffee grounds in it.

I like it so much I think I may cancel the paper edition. I'm actually thinking about it. I'd be saving trees and money. (Factoid: U.S. "paper" currencys is made of 25 percent linen and 75 percent cotton so I'd be saving that too!)

I like the e-Edition better than Seattle Times' website.

I recognize that both the e-Edition and the paper edition are static. Often by the time I read the paper (in either format) the news has changed. There's new news and updates to the current news that I can't get until the next edition.

But this a slippery slope, I know. Just in writing this post, I've rediscovered the P-I's website. It's vastly improved since it first went live. And it's layout is appealing to me. (Although the food column they used to have still isn't on their online version.) It still feels bottomless to me compared to the static version but I'll give it a try.

I've already "googled" e-books and taken a quick look at what e-books are available at the library. Egad! I could be on to something here!

Pinch Me

I'm not sure what's going on here. I'm dreaming, or high, or both. I've been up for about an hour and a half. Up, as in not lying down. What's going on here? I got up and fussed around with a few chores: took the sheets off the bed and started the laundry. Cleaned up the breakfast dishes and decided today was the day to completely disassemble and clean my coffee maker and grinder.

Then I thought I would really put myself to the test. I sat down. I've been sitting for about an hour now and the laptop is actually on my lap.

Am I crazy? Why am I trying to refute this recent development? Because I don't trust it, that's why.

The drug mix is exactly the same as it was yesterday. I felt good yesterday, but I wasn't ready to believe that it was any more than marginally better than the day before.

But here's the caveat, I think. I'm pretty high. The only thing I remember about getting high (as in, I never inhaled - which was a long, long time ago btw) is that I didn't like it. I'm don't feel quite that high but I feel - I don't know - different.

That doesn't concern me so much as the fact that I'm sweating and dizzy. These are usual precursors to passing out. Be assured, I am sitting so if I do pass out I don't have far to fall. And, I'm not in a room with hard wood floors.

I could have worked up a light sweat just doing those chores. I could be dizzy just because - well, that probably is the drugs. I have (almost) passed out before after taking the percocet. High levels of pain can make you pass out as well. (That's number 10 on the scale.)

So now what? I don't mean to complain here, but a neurosurgeon is not likely to recommend me for surgery if I show up with a silly grin on my face and tell him "I feel great!"

I hurt. Don't get me wrong. But it seems to be at a tolerable level.

Percocet (which is what I'm taking) is a combination of oxycodone and acetaminophen. Percodan is a combination of oxycodone and aspirin. Combunox is a combination of oxycodone and ibuprofen. The point is, maybe it's not the oxycodone that's not working for me. Maybe it's the acetaminophen.

Anyway, if this keeps up I'll ask my doctor about it.