Finding my voice: three years of blogging

Today marks the third anniversary of my blog--the "leather" anniversary, according to my friend Jayne, who celebrated hers last week.

This is a welcome time for an anniversary. I have been posting only every couple of weeks, and lately when I begin a draft it turns out to be about the weather. Granted, weather has been a worthy topic this summer, but my drafts weren't contributing to the discussion.

Checking my early posts, I found a bit of inspiration. Three years ago, I was writing without readers, hence without conversation. At least a few posts from back then are clamoring to be reintroduced, this time to a group of lovely people whose opinions and contributions I value greatly.

This blog has been an exercise in finding my own voice after a long career of writing in other people's voices. I wrote endlessly in the "institutional" voice on behalf of three colleges and universities. I wrote letters and speeches for college presidents, and a book in the voice of a long-time baseball player, and they all said I captured them well. But what about me?

Before I could start blogging, I had to persuade myself that I had something to share, and then I had to develop a writing style that conveyed what I wanted to say. I wanted to speak directly, from me to you, and before long I began to incorporate a bit of my casual conversational style. Briefly, I also tried out some of the sarcasm I enjoy when other folks do it, but I couldn't make it work for me. I learned to keep things short (sort of) and to write about more topics than just my grandchildren. I still work on my posts, but I no longer labor over them. Blogging feels much more comfortable now.

This summer, while recuperating from a broken leg, I was feeling that the best thing about blogging is reading others, not writing my own. But I think it's only fair to give back by writing and commenting, and I feel the energy returning. Thank you for everything that you share--ideas, comments, encouragement, wonderful bits of thought that make life richer.

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.