Zapppppp

Back in 2009 I had rotator cuff surgery.
Well, rotator cuff and bicep reattachment.

I'm sure you've heard about how painful shoulder surgery is. I'm here to tell you, everything you've read about it is meaningless compared to the actual critter.
Although the pain has long since faded, and the scars are tiny little white lines, the memory of the agony will probably never go away.

The ACL replacement was worse.
I've never felt anything so horrible.
For weeks.

Of course they didn't listen to me when I told them it wasn't right. By the time I got someone to listen and do an MRI, it was too late.

Part of my hamstring was taken to form a new ACL. Big old holes drilled in my knee, an extra large calcium based screw was added, none of it worked.

The graft failed.

Now there's nothing but bone in both knees.
No cartilage in either one. The right knee had to do a whole lot of extra work while I was laid up and recovering, and that one's been operated on, too.

I've been walking around on ruined knees for ten goddamn years.

I still send wishes that are literally dripping with hatred to the fuckfaced asshole work comp lawyer  (aka the man in the smeg-colored suit) and his ship of morally bankrupt fools whose job it is to shit on injured workers. Of course it's just my opinion that he is a fuckfaced asshole. He may actually be the Mother Theresa of work comp lawyers.

Can you imagine? Their only job is to further harm people who have already been hurt. They work really hard at it and they make a metric fuckton of money.

They make their living hurting people.

Much like politicians.

So yeah. I hurt all the time. I'm not alone, I know.
Many have it much, much worse. I'm grateful that I can still work and do stuff.

But right now, it's windy. It often is out here in the mouth of the gorge.
I'm not terribly fond of wind, it agitates me for some reason.

Also, when it's windy, my pain levels are much worse. Not enough aspirin and other stuff in the universe on some days. And if it's under 40 degrees and windy, it's really bad.

Even that is interesting, though. You know how I always say that everything is educational, right? It really is.

Which is why I have developed this theory.

You know your body runs on electricity, right?
You're nothing but a big battery.
Several interesting articles out there.
Google was helpful in my little search.

From this article:

Electricity is everywhere, even in the human body. Our cells are specialized to conduct electrical currents. Electricity is required for the nervous system to send signals throughout the body and to the brain, making it possible for us to move, think and feel.

So, how do cells control electrical currents?

The elements in our bodies, like sodium, potassium, calcium, and magnesium, have a specific electrical charge. Almost all of our cells can use these charged elements, called ions, to generate electricity.
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I had months of physical therapy for both of those big injuries.
One of the more interesting and least-painless parts of therapy involved the use of a thing called an Acuscope.

It was explained to me briefly pre-surgery, and a couple weeks later after I'd been sliced and diced, the topic came up again.

Shawn, the PT guy, wheeled a big cart into the treatment room, plugged in the machine and asked, "Do you remember how this works?"

I told him that the human body runs on electricity. And that healthy tissue has a very specific electronic signature. When you hook up the acuscope, the electrodes that are attached where the healthy tissue is pick up that signature and mimic it in the injured tissue which is between the other electrodes. The idea is that the injured tissue will electronically change while the correct frequency is applied and eventually heal, hopefully faster than it would have otherwise.

He stared at me.
I thought I'd said something wrong or incredibly stupid.
So I said, "What?"
He said he had therapists on his staff that wouldn't have been able to explain it so well.
Apparently that was intended to be complimentary.

I do think the Acuscope was helpful in the healing process.

Okay, so back to my theory.

Have you ever seen a video of a big spark jumping between someone's hand and a vehicle door? Or a spark in the middle of the night when you're adjusting your blankets and you've built up a good static charge without even knowing it? Or, have you done it on purpose? My Aunt Jeanne and Uncle George had shag carpet back in the 70s and every time my brother and I were there for a family gathering, we stayed in our socks and chased each other around trying to zap.

When the wind blows here, it builds up a great deal of static. Getting into your car can be an adventure. At my school, the static came indoors. Our concrete floors were full of electricity. My larger rugs, when I was rolling them up, would often shock me. I could feel my hair standing up, and when I stood the rugs up to make sure the roll was tight, the static would discharge rather painfully through one of my big toes and into the floor.

So I think the static and other stuff generated by the wind plays holy hell with my body's electrical field. Which causes me more pain in my knees and other parts of my body. Mostly knees, though.

So this week is supposed to be warm and windy.
Guess I'll be hobbling around a little more than usual.

I ought to be glad the electricity leaves my hair alone.

Learning New Stuff

So I called my attorney this week.
The money owed to me hasn't all showed up and I wanted to know why.

Guess what? Once the court case has been won and the screaming stops and dust settles... *I* am responsible for letting everyone know where the bills go!

So there are a ton of outstanding bills out there. All still unpaid. Because evidently hiring an attorney doesn't take care of everything.

It would have been nice if someone said to me, "Okay, you won your case. Here's what you need to do next."  And then informed me of all the rest of what needed to happen.

Jesus. It's going to be interesting trying to handle all this stuff.

I had a medical professional who was not involved with my injuries tell me that if she were hurt at work she would lie and say it happened at home. That paying the insurance deductible would be preferable to the extreme bullshit that is work comp.

And it's a little late for me to lie and say I got hurt at home, I guess.

Jesus again.

Pass the goddamn Xanax, willya?

I don't kneed this.

Ha, did you notice what I did there? Kneed. Ha ha.

So a week from today (today being Thursday) I am to attend a hearing regarding the compensability of my right knee injury.

I really don't know what to expect. At all. Of course I'm apprehensive.

I keep telling myself that other than the comp insurer's attorney wanting me to quit my job, I've been treated with respect by everyone else involved in my case. The IME doctor. The physical therapist who examined me to decide whether or not I was impaired and whether or not I could use crutches to get around post-acl repair.

The medical arbiter doctors (THREE OF THEM) in a tiny little room deciding if I still had some minor disability with the post surgery knee. They were polite and also found in my favor.
Well Duh!!!

I am not, and will never be, the type to play games and be an asshole who tries to collect disability payments by fraud.

When I first wrecked my right knee in January, I went around and around with the original treating physician about being allowed to work at all. He wanted  me home, off the knee, and safe. He expressed concern about the possibility of me falling. When the physical examination of my knee hurt so much that it made me cry like a baby, he was stunned when I was still adamant that I did NOT want to be away from my job.

It was only after I solemnly promised to wear the immobilizing brace, sit as much as possible, use my crutches and call him immediately if there was a change in my condition or pain level that he agreed to let me return to work.

It was... hmm. No way to make it look pretty. It was fucking hell. It hurt so much that I bit bloody little grooves into my bottom lip when I was forced to be up and about for long periods of time at work. I couldn't keep up with the kids, I couldn't give 100% to my job, Diana* had to take up the slack... moving tables and setting up the majority of our program every afternoon.

I didn't sleep a full night for WEEKS. What's worse is, I STILL do not sleep a full night without the knee waking me up at least twice.

Kids, that ain't arthritis. Which is what the comp insurer wants to say.
As in, 'well, you're fat and you have arthritis.'

Bunch of Einsteins, they are.

I could have collected disability all summer long, really. Could have said how much it hurt and sat on my ass all summer. Could still be complaining constantly and faking it.

Am I?

Shit no. Worked all summer, although I wasn't able to go on any field trips. Which I hated to miss... I always enjoy them so much. The kids expressed disappointment, too.
In fact, Rachelle* was talking about one of the field trips yesterday afternoon and told me that she wished I'd gone so I could have led the singing on the bus to and from.

(Yeah, I know. But it's like, my only talent. Shut up.)

So let me sum up here.

I get that there are people who milk the system.
I have not done that.
I will not do that.

Along with my work ethic, I have integrity. A lot of it. And I think what bothers me the most about all of this isn't the pain of two surgeries and the possibility of a 3rd. Not the months of rehab. Not the anxiety over my grateful company yanking my health insurance benefits while I was healing from the first surgery.

Nope. Now mind you, all those things sucked, and I was and am still aggravated about all of it.

But these people (Statesman and Philanthropist) are questioning my integrity. And that? That REALLY pisses me off.

They have no idea who I am. No idea about how hard I work, the dedication I have to my kids, the hours I put in at home surfing the net for project ideas. The amount of money I spend out of my small salary to buy stuff for my kids. The professionalism I display on a daily basis, the relationships I've built with the staff at my school, my co workers and my area manager.

I'm a babysitter. But I am a goddamn good one, I'm an asset to my company (even though I hate corporate bullshit worse than almost anything) and there are no words to describe how angry the questioning of my integrity and honesty makes me feel.

My knee hurts like hell in ONE specific spot. The dull ache of the arthritis isn't actually that uncomfortable on either side, and I do pretty well in that respect. But the hot, thin bladed knife that stabs my right knee in the same place every time? And more when I take a misstep like I did this week? That's NOT arthritis.

Know what kills me? The medical experts paid for by the insurer both said that I have a tear in that knee, caused by a work injury.

And they've denied it.

Which is why the attorney. And the hearing. And the angsting and anxiety and worry and aggravation.

Which I've just poured out here so I can sleep tonight.

On the good side, I am going to take a hot bath before bed.
On the iffy side, I am not at all sure I'll be able to get up and down out of the bathtub.

That ought to provide entertainment to the guys from 911, huh?

'K. Let's settle.

I got a letter from my attorney this week.

Apparently the comp insurer's attorney is talking settlement.

If I resign from my job.

How crass is that? I mean, there are other words I can use.
And many of them went through my mind after reading the letter.

Really?
You want me to resign from my job?
Where I got hurt over and over, saving small children from dragons?

Okay, maybe there were no dragons. And maybe I didn't think before taking out the trash, hauling a box of stuff, moving a book case. I get to work and just... go. Lots to do.

But with no modesty whatsoever, I tell you... I am really good at my job. I am an asset to the company. I'm seriously dedicated, too.

And it really pisses me off. A BUNCH. To think about what I've gone through that I shouldn't work there anymore because I got hurt doing my job?

After this last injury, the comp doctor wanted to pull me off the job. He was afraid I was going to fall because the knee was totally unreliable. I had to argue with him to be allowed to return to work that afternoon. And again when I saw him a week later. He did NOT want me working.

So I could have had paid time off. Disability pay. Which is not taxable. I could have sat around healing and collecting money.

To me, just the fact that I refused to do that should be to my credit.
I have not spent the better part of two goddamn years on crutches for personal gain.

There has to be a much easier way to make money than going through two years of pain and suffering and narcotics and sleepless nights and anxiety and stress and depression and anguish and obsessing and hurting and hurting and hurting and being awakened by pain at least two times a night for most of that time.

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So big anxiety often manifests as intestinal stuff... I start tossing ballast. Not fun. Not predictable. Definitely  not convenient when dealing with a bunch of kids who need constant, well, dealing. 

I am usually unable to eat when I'm very upset, too. I made breakfast for myself that day and could not eat it. Tossed it in the refrigerator for 'later'. I ended up eating about six bites of a potato and four bites of bbq beef ribs that evening. Nothing else. All day.

So what I really need, I guess, is extreme anxiety for about 8 months. Oughta take care of things nicely.

My angst/anxiety was worse and harder to suppress/process because I opened the letter about 20 minutes away from walking out the door to go to work. Remember that whole thing about how I try to present the same person to the kids every day?

It is not always easy to do that. :)

Made it through my shift with no one having any idea I was all flummoxed and aggravated.

And I wondered the whole time if they didn't want me there. If I were just working until they could find someone to replace me.
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When I got home, I called my attorney to discuss the letter.

She said that the request for my resignation did not come from my employer. Which is a consolation, because I tell ya, when I got that letter, I freaked out.
So of course I said no to the terms of the settlement.

I didn't even ask how much money they were talking about, although I did comment that if it were anywhere near a million dollars, I'd go for it and start my own day care center.

Something I've contemplated before, and dismissed because of the whole money thing.

So they've fired a shot across the bow. (which I typoed as 'shit'... rather more apt, don't you think?).

My next step, after they deny my right knee claim for further damages, which my attorney says is imminent, is to make an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon that I must pay for out of pocket. There is still something really, really wrong with the right knee. I don't care what the MRI showed. I have talked to a couple people involved in my care, and they agree with me. Something more going on that has not been diagnosed.

So I'd be stupid to sign off.

Instead, I'm going to be a pain in the ass and refuse to play along with the whole settlement thing.

I did talk with Georgia*, my area manager, on Friday.
I decided I had nothing to lose by telling her what is going on. Either she is in on it or has no idea and could possibly be an ally.

She knows what I think about my job. That there's nowhere else I'd really rather be right now. It's an almost perfect fit except for my tendency to get hurt trying to save small children from dragons.

So she said she had no idea, and that getting rid of someone they don't want is an easy process. There are literally hundreds of ways to do so. And that she hopes I don't want to go anywhere.

Also, there's a part of me that thinks the more people I tell about what the comp insurer is trying to do to me, the better.

And now, I am taking my sore knee and tired feet to bed. To dream about the millions of dollars I hope to make with relatively minor injuries. The bed of cash I'll be sleeping on soon.

Fucking assholes.

Send bubble wrap.

I plan to wrap all my extremities and maybe even some of my less than extremities with it. And STOP getting hurt at work!

My god.


I'd love to tell you that I got hurt defending my small charges from a very large dragon, who was intent on eating them for an afternoon snack.

It attacked, I fended it off with only Legos, construction paper, and a pair of child sized scissors.


That it was utterly cowed and demoralized and cried sadly as it flew away, thwarted yet again by fierce, mama bear-ish me.


But I'd be totally lying. Everyone knows I have real scissors.
:)


What really happened was that Grace has struck again. (I visualize Grace as my personal bad fairy, ala Fractured Fairy Tales)

Grace visited me while I setting up my program. I have a large rolling bookcase (about four feet high, 3 feet square, holds a lot of books. I park it against the wall of the cafeteria by the air intake vents that are built into the floor.

I went to move it a little after setting up chairs, and one of the wheels stuck in the grate.
So I grabbed it and pushed off with my leg a bit and made the knee pop.

Oh. My. God.

Did not fall, but only because my fingers were still hanging on to the bookcase.

And the knee really hurts.

The doctor I saw for the 2nd opinion on my other damn knee this week prescribed me some medication to help me with the discomfort I am still having when I try to sleep... and the new knee pain even gets through that.

So I saw a company doctor on Wednesday. He's the same doctor I saw for the Other. Two. Damn. Injuries.

And instead of let's see you in a week, he said, "Hmm. I think you need to go and get an MRI."

Which doesn't strike me as a very good sign.

Besides, I don't like MRIs.

I guess Grace figures I'm just not claustrophobic or anxious enough.

So that happens today.

Tune in later. I'm sure it will be really, really exciting.

White Trash Fruit Salad and T-Day

Deb at San Diego Momma  had a funny post up a couple days ago.
(you have to go read that post... it sure reminded me of my dad... and a couple other dads I've known)

After I commented that I make our family's version of white trash fruit salad every year, she emailed me and asked about the recipe.

I don't really have one. But here's what I sent her by return email:
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I drain two big cans of fruit cocktail.
Get a jar of maraschino cherries (I love them, not everyone does...) and cut them in half. Save some of the juice for the dressing.

Slice a banana or three, sort of thick... how much do you like bananas? Add them until you feel happy.  :)

Add some little itty bitty wedges of apples... both red and green, and this part drives my mother insane, but I like to add a little bit of celery for the crunch.

Mix all that together. Get creative... add diced pears or mandarin oranges or your favorite fruits... live a little.

Here's the part where most people go EWWWWWWWWWW, because most people just add their favorite whipped topping... cool whip or whatever.

I mix about a cup of miracle whip, a quarter cup of sugar or so and whisk in enough milk to make it a little runny (add some of that red cherry juice, too) and pour it over the salad.

About half an hour before serving, I add a bunch of mini marshmallows. However many I like. And after they melt into the salad overnight, I have to add more the next day. My son eats this with me. My hubby and daughter won't touch it.

If you try it, let me know how it was.
I do it once a year... 'cause it's really horrible stuff for you... but it's a taste of childhood for me.

It's the way my great grandmother made it for our family dinners. And eating it takes me right back to the stack of encyclopedias on the dining room chair and the candles in the middle of the table and everyone holding hands for grace.

Hope you have a lot to be thankful for this year... I know I do. I try to remember to appreciate what I have more than once a year, but this time of year really makes me ponder and become a little more introspective.


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And that was the email. Now that I am pondering, I have no trouble thinking of things I am grateful for. What the real problem would be is listing all those things here. It would take ages.

Near the top of this year's list, after the usual things, is this:

I can cook dinner. I can roll out the pie crust, I can lift the turkey out of the refrigerator, I can put it in the pan and into the oven all by myself. Last year,this was how we managed dinner. It was delicious and really easy for me, since I didn't do anything.

Well, that's not true. I sat in a chair or slept in a chair and wore a sling to immobilize my right shoulder and took Oxycontin and Percocet.

I don't really want to spend any more holidaze like that.
This year I can do it all, and I plan to.
run on sentence alert!! run on sentence alert!! run on sentence alert!!
From the crazy last minute trip to the local grocery store/emporium galorium after I got off work Wednesday afternoon with all the other people who forgot a few items for dinner to boiling the eggs and rolling out the crusts and baking and stuffing and slicing and dicing and serving and watching my family enjoy the turkey (which I cannot eat because I am allergic to it and that's fine with me because I think it tastes like shit) to the cleanup... I can do it, will do it, will be happy to do it and will go to sleep after doing it all day long and feel warm and relaxed and grateful for everything we have.

I can look at all the crappy things that happened this year (shit happens, y'all know that) and all the really amazing things, balance them on an imaginary scale, and clearly see the good side of the scale being MUCH heavier than the bad.

And for that, I am sincerely and eternally grateful.

Here's hoping your scales balance in a similar way.
And that your turkey dinner is... creative.

   

Knee Update

I just now hyperextended my knee while doing my endless exercises and it did not hurt much.

My joints go a little past straight, Shawn says... and when I get that hyper thing back without pain, it's good.  :)

I saw my doctor last week on Tuesday. He said my knee 'looks great'. Obviously he wasn't looking at the outside.

Because when gazing at the scars and bumps and mostly healed incisions, 'great' isn't the word I'd choose. Not that it matters. At almost 50 years old, I have scars from all kinds of things and I have them in all kinds of places internally AND externally. And I find that it really doesn't matter.

But my knee only looks great to a surgeon. :)

This past week was the first week since the surgery that I've actually believed that I may eventually heal.

In some ways, it's been harder than the rotator cuff surgery, although at least I was able to sleep in my bed after this surgery.

After the rotator cuff surgery, when my shoulder was hurting a lot, I could just stop using the arm.

Not so with the leg. I sort of use it all the time. And I don't like to whine too much, seeing as how there are so many people with much worse things to deal with, but if you really think about it, I've been in some regular to serious pain for 18 months, been on narcotics for a good portion of that, and you know what? It sort of wears a person down and affects the old attitude.

So I am glad things are suddenly a little better. And I'm appreciating the hell out of that fact.

I've noticed an increase in the stability of the knee joint, too. The school I work in is full of ramps, and going up and down them has been a wobbly adventure for more than a year.

Suddenly, I no longer must grab the hand rail and be ready to check my fall by smacking into the wall.
This is progress. Measurable and, well, nice.

I'm still bringing my cane to work. I do still need it a bit. But more and more often, I lean it against the wall upon arrival, and there it stays until I leave.

I'm looking forward to being able to leave it home, but I know that some of the kids will be disappointed, since I use it to threaten them on occasion.
Which delights them.
Makes them laugh.

Kids are weird.

Gonna try again...

We had planned an anniversary trip last year for late November.

Instead, I had shoulder surgery on November 10th, and was in no shape to go anywhere.
For ages.
I slept in a recliner for 91 nights, as a matter of fact.
Not that I counted or anything.

::sigh::

However. November 1st this year is our 30th wedding anniversary.

Can't let an occasion like that go by without doing something, right? (I mean besides the usual... ha)

So on Friday evening, I called my parents. They have a time share and I thought if my little brother and his family didn't use up all their points this year, it might be fun for us to go.

And we're going to be at the coast for two nights near the end of October. My debit card was charged the grand total of $16.52. Which, if you're as great at math as I am, you can divide by two and figure out that we're spending $8.26 per night for a condo on the beach.

That ought to leave us a little extra to do some shopping. Bookstore browsing. Whatever.

I'm smiling.

Told ya

Didn't I say there were more things in my head?
Yep.
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 It's not enough to have whiskers on my upper lip and chin. Not enough that my eyebrows are getting craggy like my grandfather's did.
Oh hell no.

I have Haireola.
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Grocery shopping. I don't love it. It's cheaper for me to go to the grocery store alone and plan meals for the week. We always spend more because I shop with Mr. Impulse.

But it's good. We have a nice time together. This week we went on Saturday evening, and I had to drive one of the store scooters to do the shopping, but even that has its fun side. Think of all the jokes a smartassed man can make about grannies and old people and scooters. Multiply by 11.

Although I really wish the scooter went a little faster, I suppose that might be dangerous to the general public.
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When I worked in the rehab place, we sometimes got scooters in for repairs. Some of those suckers were so hopped up they'd jump a curb! Some of the juvenile (brains... not chronological age) repair guys would fix them and then race around the warehouse just to make sure they were working properly. It was a lot of fun to watch, but safer to watch from a high shelf than from floor level.
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Getting up when no one else is awake.
I like it. 

But then, when people start waking up, I get sleepy and want to nap. How come everyone can't live on my schedule? Of course if they DID live on my schedule I wouldn't be getting up when no one else is awake.

Do YOU ever think in circles?
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There are two numb patches on my leg since the surgery. One is pretty small, about the size of a quarter.

One is pretty large, about the size of a salad plate. It's really, really weird to be scratching my leg and run into one of those spots.

Shawn says that usually a person does get the feeling back, but that nerves grow very slowly and it will probably take a year or two.
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Scars. I'm not vain. And it's a good thing, too, since I don't have anything to be vain about.

But wow. The scars on my knee are pretty weird looking. Sort of... twisted up. Knotty. I know they'll fade, and I'm not upset about it, but it's still disconcerting to look at them. They still take me by surprise... oh yeah, I had knee surgery July 6. Almost forgot.

The scar on my shoulder is just a thin white line now. The smaller ones, where the camera and assorted power tools entered the shoulder are just teeny little things.
The incision was about three inches long, and the smaller ones (five of them) were about a half inch each.
It's all practically invisible.
So I know the knee scars will eventually be fine.
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My parents celebrate their 51st wedding anniversary on the 20th. I am going to go pick up their present this week and send it to them.

Going to go to Costco and get them a digital camera. By the time this posts, I may have done it already. I may end up at Target or Sprawlmart... or just order it shipped to them... hey, there's an idea!

Theirs is at least 10 years old. It's a piece of crap. Time to upgrade to go with their new computer.
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Saturday, on one of the local news websites, there was a story about a missing woman. She is 61 years old and suffering from dementia. She left home to go visit her son (also local) and hasn't been seen or heard from since.

Now I sort of understand wanting to preserve the dignity and independence of the older adult, and to allow them to continue to take care of themselves and drive while they still can.

But it seems like every few months this is a local news story, leading me to wonder if it's just Portland. I'm thinking not. And wondering why people don't stop their treasured older person from going out alone.

I haven't seen a story update, so I don't know if she's been found. I sure hope she has.
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It reminds me of my grandfather Don (of craggy eyebrow fame... go read that and get to know him just a little, he was so wonderful and gee, I miss him...) and his eventual loss of independence.

He spent many years visiting my grandmother in the nursing home. She was no longer able to live at home because of her dementia. He visited her three times a day, every day, starting in 1982.

I took the kids and visited Colorado in 1998. We rode with him one afternoon to the nursing home. All I can say is, it's good that he lived in a small town and stuck to the back roads.

Two years later, he drove out to the airport to pick up my aunt, and crashed through the barrier arm that drops across the road until you pay for parking.

She suggested that he might need to stop driving. He got angry. She asked him, "What if that had been a child running out in front of your car?" and he was positive that he'd have seen a child... because the child would be MOVING.

After my grandmother died in 2000, my aunt talked him into moving to Southern California to be close to her. And when she came to get him, he asked how he was going to get his car out there.

He was really angry when she told him that he wouldn't need his car. He felt tricked, which he sort of was... but it was the only way she could think of to accomplish making sure he would no longer be driving.

It's just a miracle he didn't run over someone or get in a horrible accident in those last few years.

So how do you take the keys/independence away from someone like that?

I can sure understand how it would be hard, but when the person is losing it, putting up with anger to ensure his or her safety seems like a fair trade.

I just hope I never have to make a decision like that for anyone.
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Okay. Enough brain droppings.
Happy Wednesday, y'all.

 

On my mind today...

Adhesives.

There are occasions for good, strong adhesives. But I hate it when labels, stickers and other items leave residue upon removal.

A few years ago, we picked up a filing cabinet at a warehouse store downtown. It's a great cabinet, VERY sturdy and old. It was once owned by Meier and Frank, a famous department store, at least famous in this area. I had plans to paint it, but after trying to get all the adhesive off the front where the label used to be, I sort of tabled the idea indefinitely.

I hated the adhesive on the steri-strips from my recent surgery wounds. Was picking it off for days. Ditto the November shoulder surgery... they put this weird stuff on me that resembled marshmallow. A thick, gooey white pad to protect and cushion the wound. Great until I had to take it off. What a pain in the butt! I was pulling chunks of that stuff off for more than a week.
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Speaking of pain in the butt. Another thing on my mind that's driving me insane... when will underwear manufacturers come up with panties that don't grab a person's delicate hairs and twist them all up in the leg bands? I HATE that... especially when I'm in a hurry to pee and go in and pull my pants down only to yank out a hair or two. SURPRISE!!!!
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rude neighbors are on my mind, too. Remember my neighbor's Chihuahua? Well, Thursday night none of them were home, so they left the little shit outside until after eleven. Where it yapped and yapped and yapped and yapped. Which sucks when it's night and really, you just want to go to sleep.

Eric volunteered to go shoot it. He was willing to go across the street in his underwear and take care of the problem. It was hard for me to say no. Really hard. I thought it was a great idea, actually. But I was afraid he'd get caught. If we can think of a way he could get away with it without anyone finding out... well, never mind.
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The heat. I hate the heat. It's not horribly hot in the house, for which I am grateful. But forget going anywhere. Makes me feel like shit to get out and about when it's hot like this.

Too humid. When I am in Eastern Oregon and it's hot, it doesn't bother me much. Too dry. But seriously... when it's over 90 here, it physically makes me ill to be out in it.

As I write, it's nearing 9:00 pm. We're going to go do our grocery shopping here in just a bit. I'll have to wear my leg brace, which will not help with temperature control.

Ugh.
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Razor burn.
No matter what kind of shaving foam or gel I have tried, no matter what kind of razor I use, I always get razor burn under my arms. Occasionally I get it on my legs, too.
This is not fair.
And I want it to stop.
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Whiskers.
My own.
Certain times of the month seem to help them grow. And I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, strongest reading glasses on my face, pair of tweezers in my hand pulling them out. And when I can feel one and can't quite get enough of it to pull, I gouge it until it submits.
I don't like having a hairy face.
I am not a monkey.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fathood.
A lifetime of fathood.
Lost and gained and lost and gained the same 30 lbs over and over. And over and over.
Fuck.

Fuck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Driving. Specifically, Miss Lyssa. We need to get her behind the wheel and driving, much as I hate the idea.
It just about killed me to get Matt driving. I have no reason to think it will be any easier to let go of my baby and have her out driving around.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blogging.
I have posted every day for almost three years.
At the end of those three years I am going to stop.


Not forever. Just not going to blog daily unless I feel like it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Work.
Gearing up for Fall. First week crunch. Looking forward to meeting my new kids. Reconnecting with the ones who are returning. Love my job. I have to get out to the school sometime between the 23rd and 27th to meet the new principal. At least I'm familiar to the school staff and have established that I'm reliable and not flaky, and that I'm running a good program. Hope I get along with this principal as well as I did with the one who retired this year.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Religion.
I am fine with everyone's beliefs as long as those beliefs don't cause harm to others.
But don't knock on my door and offer me 'good news' or pamphlets or to invite me to church. And when I point out the no soliciting sign, don't be stupid and obtuse and tell me that since you're not selling anything, it doesn't apply to you.
Yes you are.
Yes it does.
Go away.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So that's what's on my mind today.
Along with showers and housework and knee pain. Elderly dogs, fish tanks with one inhabitant, dirty floors, papers to shred, craft supplies to gather, tie dye supplies to have ready (gonna help kids dye shirts on Monday) and sleep... which I did not get enough of last night due to hormones, knee pain, hormones, and knee pain. As well as a little knee pain. And hormones.

What's on your mind today?  

Doctors. Snot. MRIs. Birthdays.

So I visited the surgeon yesterday. (Monday.)

He's ready to send my shoulder case back to the claims adjuster to sign off.

Says I'll have a permanent partial disability.

I don't know.
Things are improving all the time.

I have someone who knows comp claims inside and out to discuss all of it with before I sign anything, and will act accordingly.

Nice to have an advocate and someone who won't bullshit me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Had the 2nd knee MRI today. It was a spur of the moment thing, the doctor asked me if I had time to get it done today after my appointment with him, and I shrugged, why not... and so the office scheduled me for 11:15. I was out of there by 12:00, which was nice.

Did okay with it, didn't have my head in the machine, which makes it a lot easier.

Couldn't use my own MP3 player, so asked for classical music (figuring I couldn't go wrong with classical... no words, nothing to agitate me...) in the headset.

But!! The station they had on was having PLEDGE WEEK so they kept interrupting the damn music to ask me to phone in my pledge.

By the time the MRI was over, I was ready to pledge to go down there to the station and slap me some smug, boring announcers. As many times as they droned the number in a monotone, you'd think I'd remember it or the call letters of the station, but no.

Dammit.

Because I'd sure like to give them a call.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I will see the surgeon again in one week, at which time we'll evaluate the knee, go over the MRI results and schedule the surgery. At this point, it looks like it will happen the first week in July. I won't do it before Matt or Lyssa's birthdays, and the doctor will be on vacation until the first week in July after that.

So yeah.

He seemed to think that I'll be ready to get back to work when school starts in September, and that I'll be pain free (or mostly so) by then.
If I made it back to work only 8 weeks post shoulder surgery, I'm thinking I'll manage one way or the other.

I'm ready to get back to regular life.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Q.How do you get a kleenex to dance?

A. Blow a little boogie into it!

Allll my kleenex are dancing.

I'm still sniffling, but now the stuff coming out of my nose is not so boring.

It's now more of a yellow-green.

Sort of like spring grass and little flowers, except with the consistency of rubber cement.

Sorry if you're visual.

I stocked up on tissues at the grocery store. It's a good thing I did, I've gone through a box and a half. Ugh.

Do you remember when they used to make tissues in different colors? We made flowers out of colored kleenex in 2nd grade.

Wonder why all tissues are white now.
Hmm.

:)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lyssa leaves for my parent's house on Friday afternoon. I'm taking the afternoon off work to drive her on the first leg of her journey. That won't take the whole afternoon, so I guess I'll come home and, oh, I don't know... DO NOTHING for awhile.

I don't have to worry about keeping my hours up right now as we all go on seasonal leave very soon, and it won't count against me if I don't keep my 25 hours a week from now until August. Actually, won't matter into September, as our seasonal leave continues through the first week of September, too.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thursday I'll be baking an early birthday cake for Lyssa and we'll be giving her the birthday present I've had stashed for so long.

I am pretty sure she'll like it.

If not, I know at least 15 kids who'd take it... half the kids at work think it's the 'best present EVAH' and would like to see the look on her face when she opens it.

They all like her now that she came out to my job to help with the tie dyeing.

:)

I'm pretty fond of her myself.

And definitely looking forward to seeing the look on her face when she opens her present.
:)

I'll try really hard to capture a picture of the event.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So that's what's up at Casa Mental.
What's going on at your house and in your life?

Different headache, different day

NOT another migraine, thank goodness.

It's a sinus thing... came down with a cold starting on Friday afternoon.

Of course.

So I spent the weekend running a low fever and resting a bit.
Read a book.
Played with my computer.
Did some laundry.

9.5 hours until I have to go to work as I write this.
Two more full weeks... 8 days at my regular site and 2 at summer site helping set up.

After that, I'm off work until surgery. I asked to be. I need to get ready.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monday morning is my appointment with the surgeon to sign off on the shoulder. Now I am not signing something that says I'm completely healed, however. I'm just signing a paper releasing him as the primary care provider at this time so we can get started with the knee.
Get a surgery date, do the new MRI... blah blah.

I will tell him about my aggravation and confusion after our last appointment and I'm hoping he'll listen.

I'm not holding my breath, but I at least have to try.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eric and I did our weekly date on Sunday afternoon.

I have always had a hard time with general busy-ness and crowds. (always... this is not a new thing, although the past, hmm, eight months or so have taken it to a whole new level. ::sigh::)

I'm not sure how to describe it adequately, but I seem to pick up on people's moods and emotions. I feel battered and confused when there are too many people around me and not enough room to maneuver.

Add the layer of noise in a crowded store from the PA system as well as the layer of scent* that so many people are wearing, and I just end up completely overwhelmed and in a horrible mood by the time we're done and heading home. And after we get home, I need time to decompress. It's not easy for me to deal with all that stuff... silly as it sounds.

*I believe the predominant scent on this particular Sunday afternoon was Eau de Urinal Cake.
Bleah.

And we did our weekly shopping and I was fine. Not upset. Not nervous. Not angry. Not... anything.

Sad that I need medication to help me with that, but I'm glad it's starting to work.

I do feel better.

Well, except for the gallons of snot I'm blowing into boxcars of tissues...

And the damn rain.

Oh... and forgot when posting this last night, today is MY day at the LOL blog... go over and act like you know me, willya?
This Post For Women Only « Laugh Out Loud

Support

I am not alone, I think everyone (or almost everyone) has things going on... right?

There are a few bloggers that tell you way more than you need to know... and I'm fine with that. I'm just not one of them. The voyeur in me really likes learning about all sorts of things and peeking into people's personal lives, and I've learned a lot. Way more than I need to know sometimes... I spit water in my lap (don't want to wreck my laptop...) when I read this yesterday, for example. Go read it. This post needs a little levity and that will definitely provide it.

But that's not what this post is about.

My friends know that I've been going through a pretty big bunch of stuff just recently.

Well, okay... for the past year or so, but it's ratcheted up a notch or two in the past, hmm, month. Completely over the top in the last week.

I'm on a series of highs and lows and highs and lows and highs and lows and, well, you probably get it. My story isn't all that different than anyone else's, really, just different characters and locations.

But how many of you hyperventilate when things come crashing down?
It's irrational and just... weird.
And I have no control over it.

Yeah.

And in the past few weeks, it's been tough.
It's much tougher than I am and has left me gasping and crying and angry and desperate and hopeless and back around the course over and over.

But because my friends care about me, it's easier.
No one judges me.

I have support from every direction.

People care. My friends, who all have lives and things going on take the time to let me know they care about me. They call. They email. They talk to me. They listen to me.

And I'm grateful for all of you. You know who you are.
:)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So I did go see my doctor yesterday.
I love my doctor.

She's warm, kind and compassionate. She cares about her patients. It's why she continues to struggle in private practice... so she can develop relationships with the people she takes care of and care for the whole person, not just treat symptoms, take their money and go on to the next patient.

And she's not above sharing things that have happened in her life that have a bearing on what's going on in mine.

I told her a large percentage of what's going on. (I don't think there's anyone who knows all of it except me... no matter how much I love someone, there are still things that I just can't talk about.)

So we talked about the obsessive circles my mind goes in while I am supposed to be sleeping and what I'm obsessing over. The fact that I haven't had a full night's sleep in about eight months.

The internal lack of control I'm experiencing that's actually starting to manifest externally, like screaming at other drivers and feeling just a teeny bit homicidal. (well not really, but doesn't that give this little post some drama?)

I've even been aggravated at my work kids, not that I yell at them or anything, but by the time the last one goes home, I am just holding on by a very thin thread. I'm so very relieved when the day is over... and remember, this is a job I love.

Of course, it's nearing the end of the school year, and they know they're just marking time. They have to serve their full sentence, and they're not happy about it. It shows up in the way they're behaving and the way they're treating their friends, which doesn't help my patience level either.

It's a feeding frenzy, really. And there are a few sharks and a LOT of minnows. I never have liked that, but right now? Right now I loathe it. Although I will not, I really want to yell at some of them and make them see how awful they're being.

We do have quite a few conversations over their behavior, but I'm pretty sure it's not going to do a bit of good. They're just.... done.

Oh shit. I've digressed. I need to write a whole post about work, I think.

So back to the point.

We decided to try some medication for awhile and see if I start feeling better.

I'm guessing I probably will, as I have gone that route before.

When I confessed to a feeling of weakness over needing to take medication, she told me that she likes this example:

When a diabetic comes to her and learns he needs insulin, she would never tell him to just suck it up and deal... because his body is not producing what it needs to keep him in balance.

And that right now, that's what's going on with me. She touched a little on a bit of scientific explanation regarding the fact that the chemicals in my brain that have to do with pain are the same ones that have to do with depression/obsession, and that it's not a wonder they're a little out of whack considering all the injuries/surgeries I've had and the stress of dealing with everything in between.

(Yes, my shoulder still hurts. Yeah, my knee does, too. Shoulder is... better-but-not-great... it was pointed out to me by a few people that the shoulder surgery rearranged my anatomy. Nice thought, huh?

Knee will get better after I get it fixed. I know it. Knowing doesn't help much right now, though, because I'm also anticipating a lot of pain. The meniscus surgery I had a little less than a year ago was horrendously painful, but of short duration. I understand that having the ACL repaired is equally awful, and hurts longer. Great.)

She reminded me (as Ellen did a few weeks ago) that we've also tossed hormonal activity into the equation and that things are... changing.

Those changes don't help, and really, now that I mention it, the timing sort of sucks, too.

And she said that most of us have been taught since childhood to keep going, and just DEAL with things, and that when the brain isn't producing what you need, that's the same thing as telling someone who needs insulin to just... balance on his own.

Not going to happen for him, and won't for me, either.

So yeah.

That's how I'm spending my 3 day weekend.
Resting up a bit and starting some medication that maybe, just maybe, will help me feel better.

I could use 'better'. It sounds great right about now.

MCD and Me.

Now I didn't know it... but this whole last week was PMS week.

All together now... "It's called PMS because MAD COW DISEASE was TAKEN!!!"

Otherwise it would be abbreviated MCD.

Yeah.

I'm in interesting hormonal territory.
Things are moving along in directions I don't really like much.

For example, my cycles are getting closer together.

Great.

I can get taken by surprise on occasion, as you will know if you clicked on that link. Click on it. You know you want to. Go on. You only have to read half of it. The first half. And it's funny. So read it.

Then come back. I'll wait.

So yeah. I got taken by surprise again on Wednesday afternoon.

But it does help explain the migraine that's flapping around my head and threatening to take root and the fact that I'm just a teeny bit edgy.

As in screaming at other drivers. (Windows up. No gestures.)
Crying over stupid things. (Like close harmony in music. And seeing kids be nice to each other.)
Craving something salty. (Had a handful of sunflower kernels and put the jar away but omg, did I want more?? Oh yeah.)

And let's not forget wishing for solitude and a lifetime supply of clean laundry because WHY THE HELL AM I THE ONLY PERSON WHO CAN WASH IT, DRY IT, HANG UP THE THINGS THAT WRINKLE AND PUT IT AWAY!!!???
HUH???

What the hell is the matter with everyone?
HUH????!

And. Could you fill up the fucking soap dispenser?
And when we're out of toilet paper in the bathroom because you used the last of it, would it KILL you to bring in another roll from the big package that's stored in the laundry room.

Oh, and grab some paper towels. They're in there, too. Right next to the TP and the FUCKING LAUNDRY YOU DID NOT PUT AWAY.

I long for the days that a surprise like this would be a reason to celebrate another month with no babies.
Hmph.

I'm sorry. What were we talking about?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So I had this big post planned for tonight. But I'm too tired to write it.
So I'm going to bed.

Won't promise a great post any time in the future.

I got the report from my PCE. It says I'm not faking. And that I'm not at 100% yet. (No... really? Huh. Go figure.)

And that I can use 'crtches, cruths, cruthchs, and crutchs.' Never once does it mention crutches.

Interesting, don't you think?

So next step is to contact the orthopedic doctor's office and set up an appointment to sign off on the shoulder and transfer care to a different doctor so I can continue with PT. Because I'm not at 100%. Not even close, really. It's not been an easy thing, that's for sure.

I'll be seeing Dr. Dirtball on Friday and we'll talk about sleep troubles and anxiety and sleep troubles, as well as trouble sleeping and being just a teeny bit anxious while lying awake and NOT SLEEPING.

Oh. And scheduling a mammogram for me soon.

Can my life get any more exciting??

Someone told me where to go! And I worry. Shocking, isn't it?

When we got the mail on Saturday afternoon there was a letter from the PT clinic I was sent to on Friday.

Enclosed was a little map and directions on how to get there.

It probably would have been more helpful to me if it hadn't been sent on Friday... for all I know after my visit.

::shrug::

So it's now late Saturday night. Almost 10 pm.
And guess what?

My friggin' shoulder still hurts!
Ditto the knee.

Evidently I did much more than I should have yesterday.

Oh how I wish I'd had a little adviser sitting on my shoulder telling me when to stop.

I'd kick myself in the butt over it, but I'm afraid I'd hurt myself.

Again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sat in training for 3 hours and 15 minutes Saturday morning. It wasn't the most boring training I've ever attended, and it wasn't exactly the same as the other four? five? that I have been to with this company... but I really didn't learn much that's new or helpful.

Seriously.
There were maybe three new faces there.

The rest of us are veteran staff members and with the exception of Brashley, we know how to deal with kids just fine, thanks.

I doubt I'll be working much this summer, if at all, so it was probably a waste of my time and their money for me to attend, but whatever.

If the opportunity arises for me to work a bit, I'm officially trained.
Or maybe they said officially untrainable.
Can't remember.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My brain is now set to wake up at 5 AM. After I got up and went to the bathroom, I could not go back to sleep because I'm obsessing over all kinds of stupid things and just could not get my brain to turn off.

I have an extensive list of things to obsess over.
When I've resolved one issue, I usually have two more to replace it with. It's something I've done all my life.

What's interesting to me is that I've actually confessed to a couple people lately that I obsess.

And guess what?
I'm not the only one!

My brain, while certainly unique and maybe a little skewed, is not the only brain out there obsessing!

Imagine what the world would be like if we could harness all that wasted energy and channel it into something worthwhile.

Want my obsession list?
(if not, stop reading.)





Don't say I didn't warn you.



Are you sure you really want to know?


Okay then.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lyssa is going to visit my parents for a bit soon. She is very close to my mom especially, and the lovely memories I have of my own grandparents make me happy for her.

I value those relationships more the older I get.

So I'm glad she can just go when she wants to.

But I worry while she is gone. It's a mom thing, as I'm sure you'll understand.

She needs to have an oral surgery to do a titanium screw implant in her lower jaw so she can have a permanent tooth there.
It will be traumatic.
It will be expensive.
I can't think of a good time for us to do it.

There are also worries involved with any kind of surgery, and I hate the idea of taking her there once again, (we've done it twice before) giving her a hug and walking out of the room to wait while strangers do things to my baby.

I'm worried about Matt trying to do too much.

Work and go to school and try to find time to sleep. He is now carrying his own health insurance, and has to keep 20 hours a week to do so.

He's talking about taking a crazy class load in the fall, and although I suggested that his plans may be a little ambitious, I'm thinking he will probably ignore me and do it anyway.

Which is, of course, how people learn.
But I hate it when my kids are hit with a painful lesson.
It always makes me feel bad and want to fix it, although I can't.

I worry about Eric's job. He had a salary cut in December just before Christmas, and while we're doing just fine with the lower pay, I do have concern for the future.

Lots of people without jobs or prospects, despite the (mis)use of my tax dollars to bail out the assholes who got us into this mess. Nothing is certain except uncertainty, I guess.

I am worried about one of 'my' kids, too. Something's going on with her, and I don't know what it is. She's not acting like herself, and I've caught her more than once with tears in her eyes.

I took her aside last week after seeing it again and asked her if she was okay. And she said, "I'm fine."

But she isn't.
And she's a 5th grader, so will be leaving my care permanently in a few weeks. Any opportunity I have to listen to her or help her with whatever's bothering her will have to happen soon.

I have a million and one things to do to close my site for summer. My assistant is not physically able to help with some of those things, so the majority of it will have to be done by me in my non-existent spare time.

I already work off the clock at least 2.5 hours a week now.
I'm unwilling to add more unpaid work time to my busy days.

There are some other, more personal things on my mind as well.
Sometimes I'm able to talk with a friend about them.
Mostly I just keep them to myself.

Despite several layers of my natural reserve gradually wearing away around people I trust, it's difficult to open up and really talk about what's in my heart sometimes.

And it's hard to start talking about some of those things without tears.
And I HATE to cry in front of anyone.

It leaves me vulnerable and that's hard.

So yeah.

Bedtime.

More of the same. Only different.

I think that if you're going to force someone to go to a physical capacity examination, you should, at the very least, make sure you're giving them the right address.

Because when you send people to the wrong address, it can be stressful.

Of course some people are obsessive to the point of, well, obsession. And they leave their houses early so they can make it on time.

Which I did.

The address I was given?
A parking lot.

To be fair, the PT clinic they sent me to used to BE at that address.

Two years ago.

The physical therapist who conducted the exam was... okay. Not very warm, but quite professional.

I'm pretty sure he had his sense of humor surgically removed.

I have sung this refrain before:
I don't need to be his friend.
I don't want to go to his family weddings.
I don't want to invite him to ours.
I don't want a Christmas card from him.

It's not important in the general scheme of things for him to be warm and friendly, and until or unless I am sent for an exam after I heal from the knee surgery, I probably won't ever see him again.

But really.
He had the personality of a bowl of cornflakes without the sugar.
Without the milk.
Spoon not included.

It was a long two hours.

I did various physical tests.
Had all kinds of range of motion evaluation.
Lifted a crate of heavy stuff several times.
Carried it around the area.
Did some manual dexterity stuff.
Tried crutches.

I was not able to do several things he wanted me to do because of the knee. Can't squat or kneel... even if it weren't specifically against the instructions from my doctor, I still could not do it. Hurts.

Anything he asked me to do that caused pain past a certain level, I stopped.

To aid me in communication (not that I've ever needed help with that) my knee was quite vocal Friday morning, popping frequently and LOUDLY. It doesn't always do that as much as it did.

It was sort of funny.

But of course Mr. Cornflakes didn't even crack a smile.

And as I write this on Friday night, my shoulder is singing. A body-part symphony of the Anvil Chorus, I think, since my knee is just as noisy as the shoulder right now.

But I got through it and he thinks I can use crutches now.

Since things can only improve over the next month, (and as I update Saturday afternoon, I tell you that my shoulder HURTS right now. Really hurts. ::sigh::) I'm hopeful we can get the surgery scheduled and over with according to my wishes.

Okay, not according to my wishes, 'cause I'm wishing I didn't have to do this.

But according to my personal timetable at least.

There are more details, but it's late and I have to get up and go to summer training on Saturday morning about eight hours after this will post.

I am hoping for time to write up the latest in my series of dreams about the same little girl so it will post Sunday.

But don't hold your breath. I may opt for a nap on Saturday instead.

Okay. Happy Weekend, y'all.

Semi coherent thoughts

Excedrin PM really works.
I slept like a brick last night.

Didn't even wake up until 4:30, which is quite unusual lately. And I managed to go back to sleep until five... unheard of.

The downside? Excedrin PM takes 12 hours to wear off.
I was sort of groggy until nearly 10 Thursday morning.

Had to drive nearly to Butthump Egypt through a HUGE hailstorm (physical therapy day) right after I got off work and although I did not doze off or anything, I know I didn't really have it together as well as I should until the drive home.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kids at work are driving me insane.

Can't write it all up right now... took two Excedrin PM about an hour and a half ago and it's all I can to to type without bonking my head on the keyboard because I fell asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today is the PCE.

I'm not looking forward to it, but Shawn tells me that he thinks it's actually a good thing for me.

Hm. We'll see.

If I am able to get rolling with the knee thing, then yes, it's a good idea.

I'm really tired of being preoccupied and in pain.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After I get home from the PCE, if I have time, I'll update here.

If not... this is your post for today.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's Friday. I am hoping for NO MORE bird incidents, but I have to say that the hail had one good effect out at my school.

The large, cheerful splatters of birdshit that are all over the walkway outside our room have been scoured away by the rain and hail.

I like that.

PCE and MRI and a whole lotta BS

Got a call last week from a medical case manager who was hired by the compensation insurance provider to 'coordinate my care'.

I think that would be more plausible if this weren't the first time I've heard from her. Considering I hurt myself in August and all...

She made an effort to sound friendly and engaging, but I know she's not my friend or my advocate.

She was hired by the insurer.

She wasn't hired to protect my interests, but that's okay. I'm aware of it and will act accordingly in protecting them myself.

I have to show up for a PCE or physical capacity evaluation of my shoulder on Friday morning at 9 with someone I don't know in a location I've never visited. I am not thrilled with this.

Apparently I'm to expect it to take approximately two hours.
It may take longer, because I intend spend a few minutes talking to the physical therapist who will be conducting the evaluation before he touches me.

I have a short list of conditions for him.

I'm sure you'll be amazed to learn that at the very top of that list are these two words.

No surprises.

I'm also asking for copies of all reports and paperwork regarding the exam to be sent to me at home.

That way, I can make sure anyone who needs it will get a copy, because I'll be bringing those things with me if I am sent somewhere else.

Remember my surgeon not having copies of the things he needed and me spending three damn weeks trying to make sure he had it all so I could get some help with my knee?
Yeah.
That was special.

The case manager did not start out on my good side because she went ahead and scheduled an appointment for me without consulting me as to what time would be best or most convenient.

And when she called me to inform me of the appointment, I told her it would not work for me and gave her some alternative times and days that would work. To her credit, she changed the appointment immediately.

Not that it will be convenient at any time.
I hate shit like this.

My short term goal is to sign a paper releasing my surgeon as my primary care physician regarding this injury and get my continuing rehab care transferred back to the doctor who treated me immediately post-injury, as I know he will work with me to make sure I'm continuing to get appropriate treatment and care.

I am not at 100% yet, although things continue to improve.

Long term goal? To keep working on strengthening the shoulder so that someday it will be back to where it was before I got hurt.

It would be really awesome if the damn thing would stop popping on occasion, too, but I guess if it doesn't hurt too much I can live with it.

The surgeon is done with his part in my recovery, but won't proceed with the next surgery until that paper is signed.

According to the last call I had from his office, I'll need to have another MRI on my knee before I see him.

Terrific.
Can't wait.
I'm sure it will be a memorable occasion.

I want to be able to get the knee surgery scheduled and over with so I can start recovering from that. I'd like to be mostly healed by the time school starts in the fall.

And let's not forget that having knee surgery will mean that I probably won't be working with Brashley over the summer.

Almost worth it.

Drive me... bugshit.

This post utilizes the F word. Repeatedly.

If that offends you then why the fuck do you read my blog?

;)

Well, in the annoying yet endearing way he has, Eric has pissed me off while trying to 'help' me.

Starting on Tuesday, I will have to drive way across town to go to the clinic where Shawn will be based now if I want to continue with him as my physical therapist.

(The shoulder, he said a couple weeks ago, is at about 95%. I've worked hard to get it there... but I have to give him a little credit, too. Team effort. Rah rah. Ouch. Pop! Go team. Yay. Pop! Repeat on an endless loop for about, oh, six months.)

And after me pitching a fit with my doctor's office, he's now been given a PT order to help me rehab the knee for surgery.

He's taken good care of me for a long time and I trust him.

Other considerations are a distant second to the whole trust issue.

I'll really miss seeing Julia on a regular basis, though.
She's just a total sweetheart.
I need to write that girl a nice note and bake her some cookies.

But I wanted to make sure I know exactly where I'm going on Tuesday, because it's going to be cutting it sort of close to make it there on time from the school where I work.

I'm all the way out of town in the OTHER direction. It's at least a 40 minute drive, people. And that's if the traffic has died down from the morning rush and there aren't any duck fuckers on the road between here and there. (And there's always at least one. It's like a national law or something.)

I get off work about 8:30 and need to be at the clinic by 9:30, preferably a few minutes early.

::sigh::

So. I asked Eric if he'd drive me down to the new location Saturday.

Bad idea on each and every level.

First of all, there were several protests scheduled downtown as well as a couple events here and there that caused a large amount of
S-L-O-W traffic on our overburdened freeway system.

All the brake lights flashing ahead were causing many people to swerve in and out of traffic, thinking it would help them get there faster. Idiots.

There was construction going on on I-205, which intersects with I-84. So traffic was backed up quite a ways out our direction because of it.

By the time we got on I-5 N, Eric was impatient. And took a different, earlier exit than the one I need to take.

When I protested, "You're gonna get me lost! I'll be all confused. What the hell did you do that for?"

"Oh it's fine," he assured me. "This way is better anyway. You just have to go a few blocks West, then North at the next intersection."

The man drives over sixty thousand miles a year, most of them in the Portland Metro area. He knows just about every back road, shortcut, alternate route and freeway entrance.
He knows all the 'better' ways to get somewhere.
He knows... I do not.

That's great.
If he's going to chauffeur me everywhere, I can just plan on sitting back and not worrying about it. But he's not gonna do that... we don't have time for that shit.

So why couldn't we just follow the goddamn directions... you know, so I'd have a teeny little clue where I need to go on Tuesday?

Oh. And just so you know? If you're ever going to give me directions to go somewhere, don't FUCKING tell me to go NORTH, SOUTH, EAST or WEST!

Tell me to turn right at the 2nd light. Or left at the big tree on the corner. Or just past the blue building with the bear on it. You know... landmarks and regular directions.

I don't know fuck-all about North or South or Southeast. Do I look like I have a compass built into my.. what.. Ass? Ears?? Arm?

(And before one of you smartasses reading this suggests a GPS... If you're not gonna send me the money to buy one and enough extra to pay off my bills so I can justify having it, then STFU.)










(t-shirt available at ThinkGeek.com... which is where I swiped the picture.)

Most of the time I find my way wherever I need to go. And back home again.

And I should have trusted my instincts and just driven down there on Tuesday morning and not worried so much about it.

I used to work down there anyway, and I knew basically how to get to the location.

Now I've seen the actual building and the parking lot and how to get back to the freeway and all that.

I'll be fine.

It was made much more complicated than it needed to be by my 'helper', though.

And although I'm not mad at him now, it didn't really contribute to serenity of spirit and calmness in my soul for the rest of my Saturday.

More answers.

After I saw the doctor last Monday, and left feeling like I hadn't been listened to, I fumed and fretted a bit. (I'm just full of surprises, aren't I? Imagine me stressing, obsessing, or worrying over something like that.)

I was aggravated. Thought about writing the doctor another letter like I did last time he pissed me off. I even printed out an expanded version of the post I wrote about Monday's visit. Stuck it in my backpack and pondered giving it to him the next time we meet.

Dismissed the idea. It was effective when I used the letter method before, but the situation seemed to call for something else. Not sure what.

So I called and left a message asking for someone to call me back so I could clarify things. I couldn't figure out why he wouldn't listen to me, basically.

I said that it wasn't urgent for me to receive a call back. I'm really not trying to be a pain in the ass, I just needed some answers.

I finally got a call back today. (Monday)
The nurse who works with my doctor called.

I was polite. I was friendly. I was humorous. I explained that I still need to get through nine more weeks of school with my knee. That it's waking me up at night. That it hurts. It's not stable. I am not willing to just toss meds at it. I'm doing the PT exercises Shawn had me doing before, but I'm just not getting the results I did. I'm not sure what's different.

So I asked if I could please go back to physical therapy for a few visits to try and get the knee to calm down enough for me to make it through the rest of the school year.

We were on the phone about 10 minutes. She did listen. Repeated the salient points back to me and said she'd talk to the doctor and get back to me.

We'll see. At least my call was returned. I was starting to worry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sent the following email to my claims adjuster on Friday morning:

Hi Chris,

You can answer this one via email or call me, whichever works for you.

I'll try to be brief.

You may recall that when I was out for the shoulder surgery in November, the first thing my grateful company did was to yank my health insurance benefits because I had not worked full time long enough. Never mind that I'd worked for them for five years on a part time basis. Never mind that I got hurt AT WORK. Never mind that I'm a dedicated employee and I do a damn good job. None of that mattered.

Assholes.

But that's not what this is about. I just had to vent.
;)

During summer break, none of us log the requisite 25 hours per week we need during the school year to keep those same health benefits. Most of the site directors work during the summer, but we get about 12 to 15 hours a week if we're lucky.

To 'fix' that, our company places us all on seasonal leave, meaning we retain our health benefits, we just have smaller paychecks from which to pay them.

So my thinking was that I'd manage to get through the school year with my knee hurting like hell and get the surgery done after school gets out in June, giving me this summer to do rehab and recovery and get back to my site in September when school starts. I'm soooo ready for all this to be over.

When I was out for the shoulder surgery, I hated leaving the kids and the parents hated having me gone.

(Remember, I'm not in a prestigious or high-paying line of work and qualified people aren't exactly breaking down the doors to do my job.)

Sometimes the person or persons the company has handling things aren't, well, professional.

They're certainly not me.

Although I'm good, not God.

So I am trying to avoid leaving again during any part of the school year.

BUT If I'm already on seasonal leave, and the knee surgery takes place during that time, how does that affect my disability payments?

Obviously an employee on seasonal leave makes less money, which would reflect in the disability payments, too.

And if I'm not going to get disability payments based on the 30 hour a week average I have going right now, then I'm going to suffer with the knee EVEN LONGER and take time off during the 2010 -11 school year to have the knee repaired when I am back to my 30 hours a week. I care about my work kids and I care about my job... but not at the expense of my family again.

So, can you shed any light on this?

I was shocked to get a phone call from her within about 15 minutes. She's not ordinarily that quick.

She told me that the hours I may or may not get over the summer have no bearing on the amount I'll receive while on disability. Disability is figured as a certain percentage of the money I made over the last year and whether or not I'd be working over the summer has no bearing on the process.

So I won't be working this summer much (if I do at all it will be near the end of the summer... I will have quite a bit of painful recovery to get through, unfortunately) and someone else can have the hours I'd be getting.

I'll be getting enough through disability to pay for our health insurance premiums AND have grocery money. Don't forget, I don't have to pay taxes on disability... which also helps.

So things may work out okay for me over the summer at least. And hopefully I'll be able to return to work on September 6th with no restrictions and have a decent school year this time.

I'm so ready to be done with this.
And really, aren't you tired of it, too?