Tempting the Laughing Gods

Me: The people organizing the Olympics opening ceremonies invited Keith Moon to come and play the drums. I guess they forgot that he died in 1978.

Augie: Can you get to the Olympics on an airplane? I’ll ask my Mom and Dad to take me there, because they need a drummer.

And in other news…

I’m free! After two months, I can throw away all the devices I relied on to get around, and walk on my own two feet.

Farewell, Cadillac splint!

I have jettisoned the bulky fiberglass splint I wore for a month. (It’s called a Cadillac splint. When I said it didn’t feel much like a Cadillac, the orthopedist said, accurately, “You’ve never tried the other kind.”) I have put away a bag full of elastic bandages that held the splint in place, and the lace-up and wrap-around boot that braced my ankle for three weeks after the splint. We’ve hung up the crutches and returned the rented wheelchair.

That only leaves me with an elastic band for ankle-strengthening exercises, and some overall exercises to get back my energy and muscle tone. Amazing how they ebb away when one is sitting around being a good patient. My fibromyalgia acted up during that time, too, but when I finally recognized the symptoms I stopped eating so much sugar and restarted some vitamin and mineral supplements I hadn’t needed for a while, and I started feeling better.

Then I got a nasty surprise. I found a couple of red marks on my lower back, each with a slight bullseye pattern. I hadn’t been anywhere associated with ticks, but Lyme disease is the last thing I need, so I saw a doctor that same day. She ruled out Lyme and thought it might be pressure sores from sitting around so much. But she also decided to test for shingles. Shingles? She thought it very unlikely. The tests came back. Shingles. I hope I’m not tempting the Laughing Gods of Retribution by saying that it's a very minor case, compared to what I see on the Internet. My only discomfort is a few tiny shooting pains (like electrical charges) and some fatigue. I started on acyclovir early, so the doctor says I may avoid the pain that many people get long after the little red marks have disappeared. I hope she’s right. (She also says the shingles vaccine doesn't guarantee that you won't get shingles but it might help reduce the severity. I was going to get the vaccine after my leg healed. Don't need it now.)

The weather is better (slightly lower temps and much lower humidity), and now that I can walk I am able to begin tending a garden that needs, at the very least, some major weeding. The Olympics are about to begin, and we have some nice family activities planned. Life is good.

I hope the same is true for you.

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Welcome to my midsummer garden

My garden begins quietly in early spring with snowdrops, crocuses, bleeding hearts, lily of the valley, and columbine among the ferns and hostas. Then come azaleas, shrub roses, a few day lilies, and peonies.

In late June, there is a lull, blossom-wise. This is my time to be out dead-heading the spent spring blossoms so the plants don't waste their energy producing seeds. I also get really anxious for the next phase.

And one day in early July, the hot-summer show begins. Abundant purple coneflower, glorious yellow daylilies, spiky liatris, rosy-pink phlox...I love the spectacle. Bees and butterflies seem to be enjoying it, too, and of course they add to the experience.

This summer I'm enjoying all this mostly from my office window, because although my leg is mending nicely I still don't get around so well on uneven ground. And because it's like an oven out there. So instead of showing new photos, I'm sharing this one from two years ago (oh, and the one in the header). Let's pretend we're sitting in the garden enjoying a cup of tea. We can also pretend it's, you know, 80 degrees (F) with low humidity. Have a lovely day!

Falling out of a shampoo chair: not as much fun as it sounds

June 2012 has been (check all that apply):

   ___ a memorable experience

   ___ a colossal waste of time

   ___ a learning opportunity

I’m checking all three.

On June 1, I fell. I’ve taken to telling people I fell out of a shampoo chair, but the prosaic truth is that I fell getting out of the chair. The right leg of my jeans caught on the chair’s footrest, and as I tried to step away it held, throwing me off balance. My left leg twisted and I went down, hard, on top of it.

I had no idea it was broken. The greatest pain was from what now appear to be a severely strained and maybe slightly torn muscle and from several sprained ligaments at the ankle. I rested and iced, took ibuprofen, and wrapped my leg in an ACE bandage for a couple of days. Then I tried to carry on. I accompanied Peter and the kids to the park. I limped to both kids’ preschool classrooms to say goodbye to the teachers on the last day of the year. I went grocery shopping alone, leaning heavily on the cart. I used an old pair of crutches for the long trek from the car to our seats at the ballpark, though I lacked the strength to swing myself so I was still walking.

After 10 days, the leg felt no better, the swelling and bruising looked a bit worse, and none of our limited supply of drugs was helping. (Either Vicodin doesn’t deserve its reputation or it loses its effectiveness after a couple of years.) So I hobbled to the new Urgent Care service at my HMO clinic where, after a series of x-rays, I learned that I had fractured my fibula. Oh yes, and there was “some displacement,” meaning I had probably made it worse by walking on it.

They built me a fiberglass splint, which I’m still using, and told me not to put weight on the leg. Over the next week we made three trips across town, twice to see the orthopedic specialist and once for an MRI which, I’m happy to say, confirmed that I didn’t need surgery to put pins into my ankle. The doctor said to keep taking ibuprofen for the inflammation, and the second time I saw him he said I could put weight on it “as tolerated.” I interpreted that as “continue sitting around watching the Game Show Network and using the iPad.”

Here’s the thing, which you may already know if you’ve been through this: walking on a healing leg may feel fine at the time. But that night, when you are trying to get to sleep, the leg may decide not to be so tolerant. It may ache, or it may set up a tingly feeling that makes you crazy. In the last week it’s gotten better; one dose of ibuprofen at bedtime usually lets me get to sleep.

To those, like Peter, who live with chronic pain, I must say I am sorry. I hope you have found a way to cope with the pain better than I have…to focus on the things that are meaningful in your life and not seek escape in ridiculous 30-year-old game shows featuring “guest stars” you never heard of.

I had a lot of big projects planned for the last three weeks of June, once the grandkids were no longer coming for daycare. But I’ve been distracted by the pain and discomfort, and it’s hard to focus. My activities have been passive. I have faithfully read your blog posts, and often even commented. I’ve checked Facebook more often than usual. I happily play Dragonvale when the kids come to visit. I’ve just about finished tossing out a foot-high stack of old Newsweek and other magazines, something that requires perusing each issue just in case it contains Something Really Valuable. I’ve watched Olympic trials in swimming, diving, gymnastics, and track. And, of course, game shows.

The leg is clearly healing, but still it bothers me. Much of the time, it needs to be in the splint and elevated. But sometimes, it feels mostly okay to walk. I need to kick this invalid mentality. I need to undertake some activity that will energize me and keep my leg healing. I need to start cooking dinner again, to free up Peter for the projects he’s trying to handle on top of his heavy workload. The garden, largely ignored for the past month, is beginning to beckon.  

And now I’ve finished my first blog entry in a month. Sorry if it sounds whiney. I just needed to record this so I can kick myself into gear and move on. I wasted enough time in June; now it’s time to learn from my memorable experience.

What would Princess Leia do?

ViolaMae is four years old today. She is wearing her new princess dress and behaving with royal aplomb and new maturity. Well, not every minute, but much of the time.

Vi is learning that a princess can be strong and assertive--think Princess Leia rather than Disney characters, pretty though they may be. Now that she's four, Vi knows that a princess can get more of what she wants with a declarative sentence ("I'd like more orange juice, please") than pretend baby-talk ("Thirsty!") or whining. A princess can wear a ball gown and play hard. 

Best of all, Vi could give other princesses lessons in being loving, kind, and generous. She nurtures dolls and toy animals and friends and relatives, and she dispenses hugs and kisses freely and sincerely. 

She enjoyed being center of attention during her special pre-birthday week here at Wild Rumpus Daycare. She and I spent a day playing with her new princess paper dolls, decorating the dresses with stick-on gems and having the princesses try them on. (I was impressed that today's paper dolls are made of sturdy cardboard, and the dresses have magnets behind them. But the dresses still slide off, just as the ones with little paper shoulder-tabs did when I was a kid. Go figure!)

Another day, as we buckled in for the drive to preschool, Augie asked, "Why are the bongo drums in the car?" With that, Peter handed the bongos to Augie, pulled out new maracas for Vi, and cued up the Rolling Stones' "Sympathy for the Devil." For a few weeks they've been pretending to play along to the salsa beat, and this time they played real instruments. It was an awesome "Sympathy" symphony. (The lyrics are awfully dark; I think we will find other tunes that call for maracas.)

The big gift that Vi asked for is Olivia's house, the crown jewel of the Legos "Friends" series. These are the first Legos designed expressly for girls. They are attractive, but they are meant for kids with bigger hands, so Grandma does most of the building, and then Vi does most of the playing. A good balance, don't you agree?

Her party was this morning, and I had to miss it. I managed to fall yesterday afternoon--at the hairdresser's!--and twist my leg, which hurts like crazy from hip to toe. This coming week is our last week of daycare for the season and I want to be mobile for it, so I'm resting and icing. ViMae and her mom came to see us after I got home on my sore leg last evening, and she gave me lots of hugs and kisses to help make it better. They said if I had to miss the party, they'd understand. That's the kind of princess they both are. 

Happy Birthday, ViolaMae. May the Force be with you.

By the way, I just noticed that posts on Vi's second and third birthdays also show her in princess garb. She is consistent!