Tag Archives: fibromyalgia

Current Events and Forthcoming Appointments

Life goes on, as it is wont to do. Sun rises, sun sets; minutes, hours and then days past.

My life tends to blur at the edges. Without a set schedule, going to bed and then getting up whenever I want to is decidedly a luxury. The only downside of this arrangement is that I lose track of the days and am always vaguely amazed that the weekend has come around again. If it weren’t for our appointments, I would never know what day it was. I keep the date on my computer specifically so that I can determine day of the week as well as its numerical annotation for the month.

We have had relatively few appointments this past month. I went to the acupuncturist, my psychologist, and for some testing. (More on that later.) Beloved had a couple of extra appointments, but his main obligations are group therapy followed by his game night. He is the God of the dungeons, the Game Master (or Dungeon Master, depending on who you ask) for a group of 8-9 folks who gather to play his game of make believe. Everyone seems to be having a good time–and it’s really good for him. He needs the activity to give him something to do. He has to prepare the next session’s events during the week. He will print out the cards that show the items the group can find or buy. He has a book that has a rough sketch of each encounter, but he works with it, modifying and adding as needed. This game has also given him a circle of friends…which the gods know is not the easiest thing to do when finances are limited.

I continue to be very grateful for the people I interact and communicate with on Facebook. I belong to several groups and have Pages of my own that I share with the world at large. So between the groups and my own timeline, I stay pretty well up to date on current events and world happenings. Of course the major subject these days is the upcoming election. I will be so glad when it’s over. The anxiety of not knowing who will be the President is a real and bothersome thing for me. If the GOP candidate wins, Beloved and I are not in a position to ignore the consequences of his campaign promises. Any substantive change to taxes, Federally funded social services and the economy in general could be catastrophic for us. Like so many Americans, we live on the verge of poverty. We are both fortunate to have healthcare. Beloved is on Medicare because of his disability and I get mine from the Veteran’s Administration. Neither of us can live anything resembling a meaningful life without the medications we require. If they become too expensive for us, our quality of life will disintegrate. I have enough things to worry about without the political uproar…less than 40 days and the question will be answered. Now if I can just keep my head together.

I’m going to go through my various diagnoses–bear with me if you’ve seen this list before. I have as a major diagnosis, fibromyalgia; I also have degenerative arthritis specifically in my spine, in two main spots: the lumbar part (right where the waist twists, where you bend over, near the kidneys) and the worst example of this disease in the neck, where 2 of my discs have completely disappeared. I have some other minor physical issues: asthma, GERD, IBD. that sort of thing. I also have clinical depression and a stress-anxiety disorder. Both of them interfere with me almost more than the physical problems. Depression has been a pretty constant companion for years, although untreated until 4-5 years ago. The stress-anxiety disorder is rather new and really bothersome to me. I can no longer be among large groups, any place with a lot of noise, or lots of children running around being loud. It overloads my brain, so to speak–and I begin to freak out and cry. The irony of this is that I used to be out with large groups of people, with lots of noise and children running around and none of it bothered me “back then”.

I also tire easily, but that’s more or less to be expected with the decrease in activity and the pain and then the meds for the pain. But life isn’t all bad–it’s worse than it was, but I’d still rather be living this life than being alone. I can’t imagine being alive without Beloved being with me. I do think that part of my unexpected trip down the road of disability stems from that while I was still working, still being the only one paying my bills, I was pushing through signs of the upcoming storm–but when I found Beloved, a part of my mind said I could relax and not worry about the roof or the food and then, bingo!, there I was…busted and no warranty.

The VA has been amazing about taking care of me. I’m beyond grateful for them. I cannot imagine having to deal with Medicare (MediCal, they call it here) with all the things I have needed and the meds I take. I know that I would not be on morphine to deal with the pain–the public healthcare does not give out opiates. And I can’t imagine life without them.

So I think I mentioned in my last blog that I had gotten a new pain–and the X-rays verified an impingement in my right hip. I also think I told you that when I finished getting my neck MRI, the technician pulled me out of the machine and for some reason, I’m not sure what, the table dropped about 2-3 inches–and caught me right across the middle of the back. I think that has done something to that impinged hip, since the pain is worse since that day. I go see my PCP on Monday and we’ll talk about it. I’m due to have an MRI for my hip within this month, so we’ll be able to compare that to the X-rays and see if there is anything worse.

In the meantime, after my last visit to the doctor and based upon our discussion, I have been measured and trained for my new form of transportation. I am going into an electric wheelchair. I wanted the ease of a joystick rather than having to reach out and manage the mobility scooter. That got tiring and painful, using the parts of my body that hurt the most. I also decided that I’d rather save the energy that I currently use up walking in the house for other things, like being able to do more complicated cooking. And with the hip hurting, I am really sure that this is a good thing. I’m not upset about it and maybe I should be, but I have always figured I end up in a wheelchair.

The occupational therapist and I think the physical therapist–anyways, 2 people from the VA clinic came to the house last Thursday and brought a “training” wheelchair. I did a little driving around, learned how to manage the curb cuts (where a driveway goes out into the street) and seeing how I’d manage in the house. I could get into the bathroom, but not back out…not surprising considering its layout. They measured–our van’s back hatch, fully open. They got the numbers off of the crane lift I already have to ascertain the weight capacity of it. They measured me, to see how high my foot support had to be, which chair would work the best for my ass and back. Then we talked about accessories! I don’t know for sure what will or will not be added as extra, but I asked for a visibility flag, a backpack that fits on hooks behind me on the back of the chair (and the hooks, of course); if there’s a lap desk, I want one. I also got to pick out 2 colors–so I might get a purple wheelchair!!! If not, then it will be red. So the 2 therapists will fill out and submit the paperwork, and it begins its travels through approval and procurement–and then it will be built just for me. So I’m looking at about 2-3 months before it shows up. Of course I’m hoping for sooner rather than later, since I sure could be using it now. Until it arrives, I will limp around the house.

I have also gotten my shower bench! YAY! and a gel pad for the scooter (which will go in the wheelchair in its time) and a clothing assistance device—basically a dowel stick with a cup hook on one end and a larger hook on the other. I’m supposed to use it to help pull up pants, get sweaters on, and so forth. So far, I’ve used it to turn off or on the overhead light. LOL

I do admit that while I’m not unduly sad at going into the wheelchair, it is a reminder that not only am I already disabled, but that I’m not going to get better–and may get worse. A person in a wheelchair is very often not even seen, since they are below the average eye level. People treat the handicapped very differently than the able-bodied and not always in a good way. The folks around here are amazingly kind–but there is some personal chagrin when someone who is obviously in their 70’s asks me if they can help. It will be interesting–and educating–to see the difference between being in the mobility scooter and in a wheelchair, in how I am treated and what unimagined things may happen. But I do know that if there’s a real problem, it’s theirs and not mine. I do what I have to do, in order to have some semblance of a life. And if that means riding everywhere, then so be it.

Thank you for letting me share. Peace and blessings to you all!

Getting Poked and Mauled

I have mentioned going for acupuncture before–but it had been about 8 or 9 months since I had last seen R to be stuck with needles. I got my new referral and this one is more realistic: I have 48 visits and 365 days to accomplish them. At the current rate of twice a week, it won’t take me that long.

He made some changes while I was gone. He hired a massage therapist, C. So the new routine is to start with R, getting needles wherever needed. Then he paints me with the “Chinese Ben Gay”, points the heat lamps at my feet and wherever else I particularly need it and he leaves. I lay there and contemplate whatever comes to mind. After a while, C comes in and she smudges me with mugwort. (Smudges means she lights the herb on fire, then blows out the flame. The smoke that comes off is what she then lets “fall” on my body. Think of it as aroma therapy.)

Once she’s done that, then she takes out the needles and proceeds to give me a mini-message, from neck to hips–which is where I need it the most. Yesterday’s session went just a little differently at this point. Those of you who think like I do will understand; the rest of you just have to stop giggling over the New Age “Woo-Woo” stuff and try to understand.

C was massaging my back and she stopped, her hands still on me. “You want to be healed”, she said. Duh! She told me that most people just want to feel better. Then she placed her hands on me in several different places–the feet, the nape of my neck and the small of my back, and on my shoulders. She didn’t massage–she sent energy into me. I could feel things opening up that hadn’t flowed in a very long time. It’s the sort of thing that just happens and when you try to put it into words as I am doing, loses something in the telling.

It was profoundly spiritual. I am an empath, I heal others in this same manner. But I cannot heal myself. So to have this done for me, from her generosity of spirit, was a very emotional moment for me. I find it hard to even know which are the right words to describe what happened. It felt like she opened the doors to my own energy sources and set them free again. I could feel the energy flow in from her and then…I could feel my own energy moving around.

I am using the words I know and I am sure not everyone who reads this will understand what I am trying to convey. For those of you who follow a more “mainline” religion, think of it as a healing from the Spirit. More of a response to a request than a miraculous rising from the dead, but still, as I said, very spiritual. A sacred moment, indeed.

There were hugs all around when I came out of the treatment room. I told R that hiring her was the best thing he had done–and he agreed. I went out to the car where my beloved was waiting and tried to explain to him what had happened. He understands it, in a more secondhand way–he does not see or feel energy the way I do. All he does within the Craft, he just does without conscious focusing. But he got it. And then, poor man, he had to listen to me burble and chatter from my energy high.

We went to get something to eat–getting centered and grounded again by putting food into me was a good idea. We went to the local Mexican restaurant and I ordered a grilled chicken salad. The food was amazing. Not that it was any different from any other time, but I could taste it differently, if that makes sense. All of my taste buds were …enhanced?…more awake? Whatever it was, the meal was especially delicious to me. I managed to eat a lot more than I usually do.

And per R’s suggestion at some time in the sun, we rode out to the beach. We opened up the windows and just sat in the car, watching the waves. We had a seagull land on one of the big rocks (that separate the parking lot from the beach) right in front of our car. He stood there watching us for some time, before finally flying off to do some fishing.

That was yesterday and today I am still “buzzing” to a certain extent. It’s not that there is suddenly no pain. Pain has always been, and I’m fairly certain will always be, a constant companion. So I wouldn’t say there was some miracle cure for my body. But I feel better in my brain than I have in…forever. If all C can do is help drive out the depression or at least shut it down so that it doesn’t ooze over all of my thoughts, I will consider it a blessing and more than I could have ever hoped for.

The change is internal, within my mind and heart. I see them again tomorrow and it will be interesting to experience what else can happen when you have two people who are both walking a path very much like mine own. Their world view coincides with mine, so we are, as the saying goes, in simpatico. It always amazes me how I am led to those who understand me when I talk about the esoteric things like energy flow and my connection to the Universe–and thereby, my connection to everything and everyone within that Universe.

Let’s see if I can explain that a little better. When I first met R, it was like greeting an old friend. There was no hesitation, no guarded speech; just the meeting of minds that think very similarly. Likewise with C. I don’t have to be “discrete” about my Pagan life. (Like with my parents. We never talk about it because if we did, they would have to question their own religious views–or — and this more likely, just shut me down because I’m going to Hell.) His office and treatment rooms are very welcoming to me, with Pagan symbols and “rocks” (chunks o’ crystals) all over the place. He has music going all the time, best described as “New Age”. You’re not going to hear anything you really recognize unless you listen to the same sort of music.

Apparently I’m still burbling. Let’s just bring it down to this: I went and had acupuncture and massage and I’m feeling clearer and better in my head because of it. I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s session.

Namaste and Peace!

Summer Stream of Consciousness

So here I am, in my usual position of sitting at my desk and being on the computer. I am so grateful to those who created this electronic marvel that lets me interact with others who are, quite literally, all over the world. If I didn’t have a computer, and Facebook, I cannot for the life of me imagine how I would be living.

I have already been careful to add non-computer activities to my life. I am still coloring pages. It’s such a nice, relatively mindless activity–almost like a meditation, with no thought beyond what I am doing at that moment. (Stay in the lines, stay in the lines!!)
IMG_20160713_110848I have FINALLY learned how to make an origami crane (and a 4 point box). I need to go find another pattern to learn. This is also a very focused activity, another type of meditation. Now I have a stack of cranes and boxes…which I am leaving, like a trail behind me, when we go out. I leave a crane on the bill tray or the table. I haven’t been in the grocery store lately, but when I do go, I’m going to put cranes in all sorts of places for people to find.

I’m still working on the loom knitting, doing that when I’m watching a movie. I have some pictures (in my head) that I would like to make happen through Fresh Paint, the newer “Paint” from Windows that lets me do oil painting. I can also do watercolors, colored pencils and crayons/pastels?. But I have always wanted to do oil painting, and this works out very well for me. I can stop at any point, I don’t have tubes of paint and (spill-able) cleaning solutions. Of course, there is the irony of printing it out. Although I have heard that you can actually get canvas that will accept printing. If I paint the next Mona Lisa, I’ll look for it then. In the meantime, I have them on my computer and I share them on FB.

The sister-in-love (and her sweetie) visit went well. They spent a lot of time doing tourist things, so we’d meet up with them for a meal each day. I told my Beloved I was caught between “I thought she said she wanted to see US” and “Thank the gods I have time to rest between visiting without having to say that I have to go rest now.” I’m glad that they were able to see so many things; I am jealous that they got up to Agate Beach. I found about it when I was doing my research prior to our move and I wanted to go there very much. The reality is, I can’t ride my scooter and I can’t walk on an uneven surface. Helll’s bells, I can’t walk on an *even* surface very well.

Speaking of walking, which leads to my general health: my neck shot didn’t work this time. And apparently that means it can never be used again. I had 6 months of freedom from the pain, for the first time in many years. The pain management doctor showed me the X-ray he took and it looks something like this:
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&%^
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Where “&%^” is the lack of discs. It really was just a black blob on the film. No wonder it sounds like a string of firecrackers (quietly, inside my head) when I turn my neck. The doctor is sending me to a neurosurgeon to discuss possibilities for surgical repair. I don’t know how that would work, because the usual procedure for fixing this type of problem in the back is to attach metal rods to the good discs above and below the bad one(s), giving the patient excellent posture. Unfortunately, after about 10 years, according to my sources, that begins to fail. Which makes sense. If your spinal column has problems due to degenerative arthritis, it’s not going to stop just because you put metal rods in. So eventually, the discs that the rods were in also deteriorate…you see where this is going? And doing this in my neck makes me VERY nervous. There’s not a long stretch of back to work with, only the neck. The neck, with essential blood vessels and nerve paths (like, oh I don’t know, the SPINAL CORD??!??). Would it also “freeze” my neck, like the sections of back are locked into place? Would I not be able to turn my head at all? Unless the neurosurgeon can convince me that this is the only way to go and the risks are not as bad as I think…I would rather not have surgery. I am very willing to wear a fitted (specifically to me) cervical collar to help support the floppy neck. (No, it doesn’t really flop. But the muscles of my neck are as tight as a violin string all the time. It tires out the muscles to do the work the support beam structure (spinal column) is supposed to do.) I’ll let you know what happens.

Otherwise physically, we are maintaining the status quo. The cortisone shots in my back, for the sciatica, seem to be efficacious, although the left leg still screams at me down the L3 nerve path if I stand too long. (That nerve path goes from the spine at hip level in the back, around the hip and down the leg, from the outside of the hip to the inner side of the knee.) There is still always pain; there has been for pretty much all of my life, and barring some incredible medical breakthrough, will always be mine. The morphine works. I’m still taking bupropion (Wellbutrin) for depression; hydroxyzine pamoate for anxiety; duloxetine (Cymbalta) for fibromyalgia; trazadone (Tramadol) for sleep; omeprazole (Prevacid?) for reflux; and lamotragine (Lamictol) for mood stabilization. My psychiatrist also added B12 and Vitamin D supplements, which I take daily. The last set of lab work I had came back with nothing bad, which is always what you want to hear. My A1C (blood sugar) is still a bit high, but until I am officially diagnosed as diabetic, I’m not worried about it. Diabetes comes down both sides of my family (to me) and I expect that I will probably get it eventually. I am hoping the eating organic will slow down or prevent that.

I make a conscious effort to either stay off of FB on really bad days (for me), or restrain myself from posting on any political item. You know that I am verbose, and there’s so much I want to say about the election situation…but I find that I am repeating myself and that’s just too much involvement for me. I make a point of looking at all the non-political posts for a break in the anger and fear–not just mine, but those in the articles or other posters. Hooray for kitteh pictures. And for friends who post thoughtful, spiritual things. It’s still a while until the election; I cannot, will not, maintain the negative feelings that the whole thing creates in me.

I cook dinner when I can. My last masterpiece was a pork tenderloin roast, wrapped in bacon and roasted. The trick to putting bacon around pretty much anything is to make a “bacon blanket”, weaving the pieces together and then wrapping the “blanket” around the thing you are improving with bacon. Like this: PiggyinaBlanket

The pork was about 1 pound. It took 5 slices of bacon to cover it. I put spices (thyme, garlic and onion powders, salt and pepper, basil) on the roast and then wrapped it. It cooked at 340 (convection) for about 40 minutes. Because the pork we get is local and we know how it is raised, we can eat it at about medium-medium rare. And it was delicious and oh-so tender. We had it with rice, cooked in chicken stock.

My cooking these days is very different from how I cooked prior to becoming disabled. The hallmark of my recipes is simple preparation and easy cooking methods. I have a basic recipe for meat and rice in sauce, which I modify according to what I’m cooking. For fried rice, I use Chinese spices and ground pork; for meat and rice in a Continental style, like a la francais, I use the spice palette that matches it and cook it pretty much the same way as the fried rice. I can also make meat and curry rice this way. (And the way to do it is to saute onions and or garlic, then add the meat and brown it off, with the associated spices. Then add the ingredients to make your sauce; I generally use half and half or cream. For Chinese, I use a homemade blend of soy sauce, rice wine vinegar, fish sauce, a bit of water, and Chinese spices: garlic, ginger, Szechun peppercorns, coriander, cilantro, and so forth, picking what I want from that group.)

For those of you who love rice and eat it often: get a rice cooker. Spend the money on a really GOOD rice cooker. I don’t generally try to “sell” a product, but I have to tell you: we have a “Zojirushi” rice cooker. (Model NP-NVC10) It will make white rice, brown rice, GABA rice (sprouted brown rice), sushi rice, rice porridge (“congee”) and make any of them in your preferred texture: hard, normal and soft. We use it several times a week. And I will tell you that it *was* expensive. The usual listed price is about $800–but before you faint, I can tell you that I found ours on Amazon for $400-ish. (Free delivery!) It came with a cookbook that I (someday) will use, making rice dishes with some meats or vegetables cooked into them. And before you argue with me that your $30 rice cooker from Target is as good: no, it’s not. I used to have one. It made rice okay, but it was what Alton Brown refers to as a “unitasker”. And believe me when I tell you that for those of us who eat a lot of rice, the cost of having an excellent rice cooker is well worth it. We also only eat “hamali” rice from Thailand. It has a specific logo of a stalk of rice, drooping down with the rice (seeds) hanging off of it. It’s also known as “jasmine” rice because of its rich, slightly sweet smell. As far as Beloved and I are concerned, it’s the only rice because it’s the best!

We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.

Beloved is the Game Master (GM or Dungeon Master, DM, or God of all that happens) for about 8-9 other gamers and they are having a really good time, running through places killing and looting. He has (and continues to) worked hard on preparing for each game night. He is highly organized–and mildly (haha) OCD–so this is a well-run game. The players make a point of telling him how much they enjoy it. And that’s a good thing for him–he needs the positive reinforcement and recognition of his efforts. So he goes to that on Friday evenings and I stay home and listen to the quiet. Or to my music, really loud. Even though we’re not really joined at the elbows all day long–he has his computer stuff in the “office” (second bedroom) and I’m out in the living room–the house “feels” different when I’m home alone. Not better or worse, just different.

Nothing major is going on. We actually have a very clear calendar for this month. I do see my psychiatrist on the 18th, but that’s all we have scheduled other than Beloved’s group therapy and his game. We do have appointments to get our eyes checked–in October. I’m glad to not be going to a doctor’s office every week-whether his or mine. I think it means we’re okay.

That’s pretty much it for me now. Thank you for reading my blog, and I’ll talk to you next time!

Peace out!

 

Living in an Azure Haze

It’s been a while since I posted about what’s going on in my life, so let’s catch up.

I have joined the Communications Council for the local VA Clinic; we deal with the newsletter and the Townhall meetings. I take the minutes at the meetings and I set up the newsletter, adding the new content and etc before it goes to the printer. I offered to do the newsletter because it’s something I can do at home, in my own time–and it’s something I enjoy doing. I have done newsletters before and with Microsoft Publisher, it’s very easy. Since there are other veterans on the Council, everyone understands those days when I just cannot make the meeting.

I have also had a lot of diagnostic referrals–I’ve had a bone density scan done (thinning of the bones, but not quite osteoporosis). I had a chemical stress test for my heart, which looked normal. I had my two umbilical hernias repaired and in the course of the consult, pre-surgery stuff and so on with the surgeon, he has ordered an ultrasound of my legs to make sure there are no deep vein thrombosis. I also have compression stockings to wear, to help with the circulation in my legs and feet. I’ve been telling my doctor that the blood in my legs is black–and that my legs swell so badly I can make deep impressions that hang around for several minutes. None of that is good. The stockings help, but I will be interested to see what the ultrasound shows.

I have also gotten a hospital bed, which quite frankly, I have wanted for a long time. I have acid reflux, so I have to sleep with my head elevated…and those swollen legs also need to be elevated. And you can only do just so much with pillows. I am sleeping fantastically! It also makes for a pleasant way to watch movies or play video games, since I can sit up straight enough to do so.

Our weather hasn’t quite made up its mind to be spring-like. It’s been raining, a lot, and the days it doesn’t rain tend to be overcast. That does not help with the state of mind. I’ve had a change in my medications (we’ve increased the Cymbalta) and a concurrent decrease in my anti-depressant (Welbutrin). I had to titrate off it slowly and now that I’ve been off of it long enough for it to be completely out of my system…I’m completely “blah”. I don’t want to do anything, I can’t focus and everything is seen through a dark blue fog. It’s not quite the depths of black despair and complete lack of function…it’s a bit lighter than that, but still a dark enough color that I have a terrible time getting anything done. I see my psychiatrist in a couple of weeks and we’ll talk about my going back on the Welbutrin or on some other anti-depressant. But I need something more than I’m taking, that’s for sure.

My one constant activity is that I am coloring. I have 3-4 “adult” coloring books and I am slowly but surely working my way through them. I was given a box of 50 markers (so many color choices) and they are beginning to run out of ink. I also have crayons and watercolors, so there’s some mixed media work going on. I watch something on Netflix and color, probably 2-4 hours each day. Imagine what I could get done if I had the energy to do something worthwhile like clean house, with that amount of time. It’s a fairly mindless activity: stay inside the lines and make the color arrangement interesting.

I’m also back into playing “Star Wars: The Old Republic” online. I have actually got a level 65 (highest level possible) character, run up from the starting level 1. Major accomplishment! Too bad it doesn’t pay… I have a stable of about 12-14 characters, various job skills, most of them Sith (Empire) that I can play. Talking to my Beloved about this last night, I realized that I prefer to play the “evil” side because it’s more interesting. The characters seem more real, as opposed to the Jedi side, where there is never self interest or greed…there is no passion, there is only peace. These characters just don’t seem like real people, don’t act like a human being and I get bored doing only the “right thing”. I have actually created and am working with a “Dark Jedi”–which is someone on the “right” side who does “bad” things. MUCH more interesting and I look forward to finding out just how far this can go.

On the whole, life goes on much as it has. Nothing terrible, some good (out of the ordinary) stuff… The weather affects both of us, and I am an empath, so I’m not sure how much of the “blahs” is really mine and how much is what I’m picking up off the hubby, who broadcasts. He has started running his own D&D game (he’s the Game Master, or Dungeon Master, depending on the player’s experience with D&D). He put an enormous amount of time and effort getting it all set up and now he has about 5 players that meet with him on Friday evenings to kill things and gather booty. This is something he’s talked about doing since I met him (6 years ago) and I’m very glad that he is finally able to see it happen.

So that’s about it for me. Nothing earth-shaking going on…which I am thankful for. Now if I can just adjust the dark blue up to at least azure…I’d be happier (really!).

 

Summertime in Eureka

The grey clouds and slight chill have gone; there is summer here in Eureka, which is gloriously beautiful. The temperature hovers at about 70 degrees and we have sunshine galore. We have California dandelions as our lawn. They have a different leaf shape than the ones in VA–I first thought I had a yard full of thistles. But then they began to produce flowers…the standard bright yellow dandelions I’m used to–except that each flower grows on a single tall stalk. We have trees around the yard, so our dandelions are about 18 inches tall. And they track the sun, closing up at night.
IMG_20150719_114617[1]So we have this pretty array of flowers, even if they are weeds. I am a little concerned about snakes, which live in similar conditions. Hopefully the landlord will come and cut the lawn before very long. Or I’ll have to see if we can let Cooper, the horse I told you about in the last blog, graze and take some of this down. It’s not a new idea–the baseball diamond near the house shares space with the CA National Guard’s armory and they have 2 sheep and a goat that graze their way around them. Only in Eureka.

Speaking of which, I was at the nail salon getting my nails done (duh) and they had HGTV on, with some show about people wanting beach houses but having a small budget (like $350,000 budget; amazing what some people consider “small” and why on this green Earth they would describe themselves as “bargain hunters”). I wasn’t paying a lot of attention until I caught the “bargain hunter” looking at the fence on the property; it wasn’t a solid thing and she made some comment about having to change it. The realtor said, “It’s Eureka, nobody cares.” That sums up the people pretty well…do what you want (within legal limits, of course), wear what you want, be who you want…and nobody cares that you’re different. And trust me, around here? It’s damned hard to tell who is “different” when there is so much personal expression.

On a side note, they were looking at the house and it must have been summer, like today. Bright and clear, the “bargain hunter” kept talking about how open everything was, how the windows and sliding glass doors “let the outside in” and what beautiful views of the water there were. I was highly amused and wondered if the realtor explained to her about fog, rain, and chill. Probably not, since she wanted to sell the house.

I am not quite as sunk in a funk as the last time I blogged. My referral for acupuncture came through and I have a new man in my life. He’s wonderful. He pokes me and I feel better. And of course I am referring to my acupuncturist. It’s amazing what having 35-50 needles stuck in you will do. It helps but as my Beloved says, it’s still a very thin layer on top of the pains so I have to be very aware not to overdo, since it would be so terribly easy to push beyond the limits I know. I also enjoy the fact that he points an infrared lamp at the soles of my feet to help keep me warm, as I lay face down on table–and another at the “especially painful” area, usually my neck. He also has something he refers to as “Chinese Ben Gay”. It looks like shellac or lacquer in a jar, and he applies it with a paint brush. It smells…well, Chinese…but I like the smell and it works very well indeed. I have purchased a smaller bottle of it to have at home–even share with Beloved, who has his own share of aches.

We must have caught up on our doctor visits, as we haven’t had many appointments in the past several weeks. We have added a new weekly event–we are playing a Dungeons and Dragons sort of game, called Pathfinder. My character is a cat who has been Uplifted–made as intelligent and capable as humans. His chosen class is a Hunter, which gives him an animal companion. Mine is a wolf. Beloved’s character was most foully murdered in her bed and he’s having to figure out the replacement. Yes, my character is a male and Beloved’s is a female; I guess that makes us cross-sex players.

(Mentioning sex players reminded me–there is a place up in Arcata called “Pleasure Time” and it is for adults only. I wish we were up to finding out what that’s all about. <grin>)

Anyway, we go to the Dungeon/Game Master’s house every Tuesday night and play make believe with dice. It’s social, we’ve met 4 new people and it’s an activity that we can partake without too much toll made on us. One of our players is VERY pregnant–like, she might not be there this week, but almost definitely not next week. Dunno what that will do to the game if she has to drop playing. You know, that whole newborn baby thing.

We haven’t done much in the month since you and I last spoke. We both have new CPAP/BiPAP machines, woo hoo! I’ve been watching movies on Netflix and finally saw “Lost Boys”. I’m still playing a lot of flash games–match three’s, bubble shooters, sims…something that doesn’t require a lot of attention and can be played or left alone. I’ve also been spending a lot of time on the Pathfinder stuff–had to write a back story for my cat, have to keep track of all the various points I have (or could have) and make sure they correct for the new level the adventuring party has reached.

So nothing extraordinary, either good or bad. Quiet days, some better than others. Going out when we have an appointment or need food. We’re still working on that trip to Costco. We’ll have to eventually because that’s where we get our toilet paper…so when we run out…
Just touching base with you, mostly. Nothing deeply profound to share…just a nudge to let you know that I’m still breathing.

Namaste!

 

The Circle of Life (With a Disability)

Forget Area 51. Don’t worry about crop circles or anal probes. You need not look for UFO’s or any other-worldly phenomenon. The aliens are already among your population. You just haven’t recognized them.

What do they look like? Well, pretty much any person who has a disability is an alien. Anyone who cares for the disabled is maybe an alien, maybe human but definitely controlled by the alien for whom they care.

And I’m not completely joking when I say this. People who are disabled will get what I’m talking about instantly. Those who are fully able will not have a true understanding simply because they cannot begin to fathom a life lived within the confines of disability.

We’ve talked several times here in this blog about how life revolves around our individual disabilities. Everything, and I do mean EVERYTHING, has to be passed through the disability filter before it can be acted upon or allowed. Some things seem obvious: a blind person cannot drive; a paraplegic cannot be a ballerina; an amputee cannot do the usual things a person with all their limbs are able to do. Medical science and technology have come a long way with a variety of devices or treatments that allow a semblance of “normal” to many obviously disabled people.

However. There is a hidden population of people with less obvious, maybe even invisible disabilities. My dear readers, you probably know pretty well what I am talking about. Diseases like lupus, fibromyalgia — and yes, it IS a disease, don’t let some ignorant person tell you differently, not even your own healthcare provider — diabetes, narcolepsy, the list goes on. And on. Far too long, far too many diseases that are disabling the people they affect.

And it’s this hidden group that has the hardest time trying to fit into “normal” society because the rest of the community fails to see the disability. They cannot accept it, cannot understand how it is just as debilitating as losing a limb, eyesight, or any other of the visible disabilities. These hidden folk also have the added burden of trying to continue to function in society as if they were not sick–and frequently paying a dear price for that masquerade.

We grow up thinking that we will always be able to do the things we want to, the things we must do, without any thought about how a myriad of daily activities can be accomplished when the body fails us. Pretty much everyone I know that has any disability goes through the stages of grief as described by Dr. Kubler-Ross: anger, depression, denial, bargaining and acceptance. She originally used these stages to describe the mental processes of someone dealing with death but they are just as applicable to those with disabilities. The catch is, someone with a disability will go through these stages more or less continuously their entire life. They can begin on any step, miss one (or more) to the next step…and just when they think they’ve found the final acceptance, something changes and the cycle begins again.

Anger. Depression. Denial. Bargaining. Acceptance.
Anger at just having this disability, or the group of symptoms that adds up to disability. Anger at your body failing you, anger at not being able to do the things you used to and by association, anger at not being able to make the most casual of social plans (let alone maintain a work schedule) without careful planning and fall back plans. Anger at the cost of disability: doctor visits, medications, peripheral assistance devices (like a scooter or a cane), time missed from work — if you’re even holding down a job. Anger, pure black blind rage, destructive and yet wholly justified. It will eat you alive if you don’t learn how to let go of it and not let it rule you.

Depression. Denial. Bargaining. Acceptance. Anger.
Wow. Depression is a BIG one. First, anger (see above) turned inwards, towards yourself, leads directly to depression. And depression is not the same as sadness. Or feeling blue. It’s not a monkey on your back…it’s more like a 300 pound gorilla. (Which is the average weight of a wild male gorilla–not some random number.) It’s a different shade of black than anger. It’s black like a tar pit, or the utter bleakness of lonely place on a cloudy night. It’s drowning in molasses: slow, messy but inevitably leading to death. It’s being totally ostracized from all society except those who are also disabled with depression. Yes, it is one of the invisible disabilities just by itself–but it frequently hitchhikes on the back of another disability.

Denial. Bargaining. Acceptance. Anger. Depression.
Denial…oh no, not me, uh-uh, no way no how. Can’t be about me, can’t be me. There’s the all too obvious denial of the disability, of the disease/s straight out. But there’s other, more subtle denials. One of my favorites is not accepting how truly limited I am, trying to do something and paying for it in pain the next day. There is always a price to denial and it’s usually a fairly expensive price. Denial is also the failure to explain to the people around you just what life with your disability is like, to help them understand the reality of your disability and to be compassionate when you cannot be who you used to be, B.D. (Before Disability)

Bargaining. Acceptance. Anger. Depression. Denial.
Bargaining is never a good choice when your collateral is…well, negligible. And bargaining directly with your disability is a sure way to lose it all. Bargaining can mean setting a limit on the restrictions…”Okay, I’ll take it easy, not lift and move all those boxes today…then I will go shopping with my friends tomorrow.” I have news for you, Sunshine. You can take it easy, rest up, trying to bank energy against a future activity…and still be too disabled to attend the function, do the task, whatever you were resting up for.

Acceptance.
It is a tremendous blessing to be in a place where you have truly accepted this life of being disabled. It’s a place where you do what your body permits, without pushing the limits. It’s the gentle refusal of an invitation to anything that would smash the limits of your disability and leave you in a state of panic, depression…or just so damned worn out that you must leave and you’ve only been there 30 minutes. Acceptance is the graceful (and grateful) allowing others to do for you things that you cannot do. And knowing that you will (always) be the one who receives and not the giver. “It is more blessed to give than to receive”, we’ve been taught. Well, someone has to do the receiving or there’s no way to give. Acceptance is a balanced, spiritual, sacred–and even happy–state of mind. It only shows up minute by minute, so it’s worth watching for, to be in the state of acceptance whenever you can identify it.

Because…

Anger. Depression. Denial. Bargaining. Acceptance.

It’s a cycle, never-ending but always changing so that you can, perhaps, find ways to skip the first four, acknowledging them but not letting them take charge of your life, to be in the state of acceptance for as often as is possible for you.

Disabilities affect us at pretty much every level of our lives, from being able to dress ourselves through unimpaired functioning at work, through attending gatherings (which strengthen the tribal bonds). Like everyone else, we have lots of choices throughout our day…but ours generally are of a particularly mundane level. Can I take a shower? Can I go out? What do I want to eat, or what can I eat? Am I able to concentrate and focus enough to do a craft, read a book, surf the Interwebs? Can I load the dishwasher, sweep the floor, wipe the counters? We the disabled have to consciously make choices that most people make without a single thought of whether they will be able to do it…or not. Everything we do requires some amount of conscious thought, a directed choice process, always and always weighed against the limitations our disability has bestowed upon us, a cursed blessing that is part and parcel, sometimes an entirety, of the disease/s we suffer from. We do suffer…but we don’t have to stop living–even though some do make that choice, based on all that we have discussed above.

Making it personal now, I will tell you that it has been a bad week for me, state of mind-wise. I have been very depressed (not directly suicidal, but feeling hopeless and without any way out). It hasn’t helped that my body has been particularly achy…or right out painful. I am at the edges of where I can be with my Vicodin…but there’s been no word from the pain management team in San Francisco (our main medical center and not where I receive care) about my getting a Fentanyl (Duragesic) pain relief patch–3 days of level pain reduction and not the roller coaster I ride now. You know, take a pill, wait for it to work, it works then begins to fade out, take another pill, wait for it to work…ad infinitum.  So I am essentially not properly medicated for pain–which technically is against the law, a law I am so thankful for every day of my life.

The weather has been nice, which sort of helped. Beloved made it his mission to help me get a bit out of myself by taking me out to eat. You know, the requirement to dress, get out of the house, be around other people (which is not always a good idea for me, with my social anxiety problems). I can tell you that we’ve had some interesting things happen. Just yesterday, there was a horse, eating the dandelions from my lawn. I don’t live out in the country. I don’t own a horse. I was not aware of any stables nearby. But there it was, big as life (well, of course it would be) and nibbling my lawn. I got to pet Cooper and talk to his rider–and forgot to get a picture. Only in Eureka can you find a man walking his turkey, a horse eating your lawn, “Captain America” doing the walk of shame after a costume party the night before. It’s never boring, that’s for sure. At least, not outside of my own personal funk.

I would definitely describe myself as “at step 2: Depression”, thank you very much, Dr. Kubler-Ross. I am wallowing in the inescapable truth that I am even more limited than I admit to being. I resent the fact that I have to push every decision, every choice or possibility through the triple damned “disability filter” before I can do anything. I am grateful that breathing is NOT one of those choices and I hope that remains true.

Things are being accomplished. I had my intake appointment with my back-up, urgent or acute care doctor–my husband’s care provider and not part of the VA system. We’ve both got referrals out in the medical ether–me for cardiology and acupuncture, him for dermatology. He’s gotten his appointment with same, but not me. Yet. I am in the process of getting the medical notes from the independent evaluation back in March–the office will not, cannot issue those records directly to me. Seems the contract the doctor signed from my insurance company specifically forbids it. BUT they can be released either to my lawyer or my doctor. Guess what? Both of them are requesting the records. I want them in my records because they are part of the history of my disability. My lawyer wants them for further evidence as we move through the SSDI application maze. And either my lawyer or the VA will give me a copy because I want to know what the doctor found and wrote about–especially since it made the insurance company give me a “total disability” status.

I have also been the very grateful and very gleeful recipient of a Microsoft Surface Pro 3 (tablet). My father loves me a lot! It’s really good for watching movies or Kindle. I’m still getting used to the touch screen, but I must be successful because when I come back onto my laptop, I try to touchscreen things…and then get mad that they don’t move…duh. Uses a mouse, it does! I’m looking forward to a day that we feel up to it, and go to the coffee shop to spend some hours there. My Surface will go with me and I can cruise the Interwebs from there.

I’ve even been doing some cooking–got a recipe for Turmeric chicken that will be a more or less steady item on the menu. Same goes for a recipe of a Szechuan peppercorn marinade, really nommy on pork ribs (country style, no bones). Figured out how to make pumpkin-cranberry bread in my breadmaker. And that will also be repeated–as soon as I can clean out the pan for the breadmaker. We’ve gotten a replacement for the rice cooker we lost in the move and are cranking out rice pretty often–at least once a week, sometimes two.

So I’m blue at about the azure stage–not navy blue. But definitely more blue than pastel blue. And I know that eventually this will pass. I truly suspect a lot of it is based more on the anxiety of pain unrelieved and the “normal” anxiety of income and making the bills. I think that if I can get my pain better controlled, a lot of the side symptoms may leave. I hope.

So thank you for reading this, and I hope that you’re in a good place, a good state of mind.

Namaste!

 

Road Trip to Redding: The Return Home

Welcome back, gentle reader.

The wheelchair-able vehicle showed up at 12 noon, on Tuesday the 31st. We loaded up and headed East. I swear to the gods that POS had no shocks and certainly had NO padding on the seats. I tried all three seats in the back (since Beloved got the shotgun seat) and I couldn’t say that this was too soft, this was too hard, this was just right. They were all too hard and nothing was just right.

Have I mentioned that Redding is East of Eureka, through the mountains? It is, and with all that “going through the mountains” holds. The driver was obviously not real familiar with the road and seemed surprised at the “30 mph, 270 degree” turns. The various zig-zags also apparently startled him. How was the ride? Well, it was just like riding a not-too-well trained horse…I had to lean left and lean right and brace myself for almost every turn.

But wait! There’s MORE! And it only gets better! Highway 299 is undergoing a long term construction project to widen the road and make it safer where they have rock falls of a somewhat frequent nature. I knew this from examining Google Maps. This was also a shock to the driver (and to the company –“Access on Time” — who hired him) since neither of them thought about leaving a bit early to make up for time spent sitting on the road, waiting for the one lane road to be in our favor.

If you have to stop for 5 – 10 minutes before being able to continue upon your trek, no big deal, right? What if you have to do that 5-7 times? That adds up. What had been advertised as a 3 hour tour ended up being 4 hours of hell. And since my appointment with the doctor had an arrival time of 3:15 to complete paperwork and prepare for the actual examination at 4:00 … that meant that I entered the office at 4:15. Oops. Thankfully the only comments made pursuant to my lateness was concern that something had happened to us. (Even the driver’s company had called, looking for him.) But enough of that bad memory.

The doctor’s staff was kind and efficient. I had my blood pressure taken (a bit high, but who could blame me with a pain level of about 8 and the anxiety of the visit itself?), temperature measured and I got weighed. Oh happiness–somewhere in the 2 months since my last visit to the VA clinic, I lost 10 pounds. I can only hope it doesn’t pull a Lassie on me and travel from the clinic back to me!

I got put into the exam room and waited for the doctor–a penance happily accepted as my due for being late enough that almost anywhere else I’d have been told to reschedule. He came in and we began the evaluation. He hit me with a hammer, which felt like being hit with a hammer even though it was just the reflex tester. We talked about when my pain started (in 1975, as I so facetiously put on the form I gave them) and how it manifests. We talked about what I can–and cannot do. He poked and prodded, had me demonstrate a knowledge of where my body parts, in this case hands, were in space without being able to see them.

He also inquired quite closely about my employment and how long it had been since I had worked. We finally worked our way back to the starting point for his questions: he said, and I quote, “So the company is trying to not have to pay you something?”. And I replied, “Oh yes. It’s the long term disability insurance company trying not to pay me disability pay” … which was what I thought the premiums paid to that company were for. Silly me. He really did take an hour to make his evaluation–and had apparently really gone through the paperwork I had brought–a 2 inch tall stack of paper, not terribly impressive but still a lot to have leafed through. Makes me wonder if he has photographic memory.

He thanked me and I was turned loose–but I do have to say, that comment about the company not wanting to pay out something…gives me some hope that he will tell them there is no doubt about my being disabled. He had touched about 8 of the trigger points which I had jerked back and then begged not to be touched…says he, “Oh you definitely have multiple triggers–and you cannot fake triggers.” So I am not faking being disabled…really? This is what I’ve been trying to tell the LTD insurance company for almost 3 years.

It was a real relief to come out of his office. Regardless of his evaluation, whatever he tells the company…my part in this hellacious process is done. I have done all that I can, produced all the doctor’s notes and lab reports to back up my assertion that I am, indeed and so help me all the gods, disabled. The decision, good or bad (and of course, I am hoping for good!), is now out of my hands–and this will be the absolute ultimate decision. No appeals, no repeals, no other line of inquiry to follow up. So there is a definite loss of anxiety about this. There’s still some for the decision itself–but of course!–but I cannot do anything more to convince this company of my real physical condition. To say nothing of the mental condition…

So I come out of the doctor’s office to find our transportation is on site (I didn’t need to call and request it) and we get into another wheelchair-ready vehicle…and the seats are padded! Too bad it was only about a 15 minute drive to the hotel, but there we are. We stayed at the Win-River Casino and Hotel, because apparently it had the cheapest rooms in town. I am okay by that, since the hotel portion was only completed in 2014–so it’s not as old as our tenure here.

It’s (obviously) run by one of the tribes of The People; lots of Native art and colors used in the decorating. We were greeted by a porter, who was all smiles and helpfulness. Check-in was a breeze, and then up to the room. Nice room, lots of small amenities one does not expect to find in a “cheap” hotel. We had to walk through the casino to get to their “Elements” restaurant. I’d have to wear my earplugs to be able to play the games–too much noise, too many lights, too many people in one space. The one thing there wasn’t? Smoking. The WHOLE place is NO smoking allowed. So there went my chance to go back to the room smelling like an ashtray.

The restaurant was separated by a well-designed and attractive half-wall (well, almost 3/4, but you know what I mean), so the noise and lights were really just a faint background intrusion. I could hear the “Jackpot!” buzzers when they went off…but otherwise, I could just block it all out by not looking out beyond that attractive wall. We had looked at the menu online and Beloved’s parents had spotted us money for food (the one thing we paid for on this medical journey), so we tried several things. He had their buffalo chili, declared it good; we got the smoked trout spread appetizer which was nice. I had a cup of the enchilada soup, also very good. For dinner he got a buffalo burger, topped with pastrami and horseradish cheddar cheese. I got fish’n’chips. I had a glass of the house Chardonnay with dinner which was so good, I took a glass to go when we headed back up to our room.

(BTW, my friend is a real oenophile and I wish he had been there because we could have gotten a bottle of La Crema for almost $20 less than he paid in NoVA. The liquor prices are lower because The Peoples do not pay all those nasty taxes!)

We lounged for a little while, I drank my glass of “to go” wine and then we fell into bed. The only really bad part about the hotel was their beds…ack. Neither of us slept very well and my bed had a decided squeak, loud enough to stir me from sleep every time I moved. Sigh. I guess that’s what you get for a night’s free stay!

Up in the morning, Beloved took advantage of a shower that is larger than our 31″ phone booth shower stall. I began gathering stuff up and it was a good thing we were as far in our preparations to leave as we were. At 10 am, the front desk called with our transportation back to Eureka; the itinerary I had said pick-up time would be 11 am. Oh dear. Better quality wheelchair van; same company as the good ride from the doctor’s office–and they are considering expanding into Eureka, which I would love. Older driver, who makes that particular run about 5 or 6 times per month, so he was very familiar with the road and managed to “straighten out” some of the worst curves. The ride was very different going home…

I have to tell you about this driver: old, white male. Obviously gets his news and other personal stances on topics from Fox. We tread dangerously onto thin ice with discussion about the ACA, “Easterners don’t like guns” and the such like. Since we were trapped in this hurtling vehicle, which he controlled…we just politely agreed and then changed the subject. He did have a lot of incidental information about the route itself, which was cool. He could name the various rivers and mountain ranges we were going past. Beloved got to see some of the really tall Rockies, complete with snow on top! You just can’t get a good perspective on the mountains without actually being in them and realizing that what you thought was about 100 feet is more like a 1000.

The one unabashed compliment I’d have to pay this driver was this: he had the most incredible, best use of side hair, comb-over I have ever, ever seen! The hair strands were about 6-8 inches long and most artfully trained up over the bald pate in curls and swirls and hairsprayed into an inch of their lives, giving an incredible illusion of a full head of hair. The only reason I got to looking closely was his repeated fluffing and checking the location of the illusion he was perpetrating.

The one thing I’d use to describe his overall personality would be this: he told us that he and his wife had bought a car–a Corvette. He had a picture of it on his phone, which he showed us. He proudly told us that he had put on an additional $17,000 in frou-frou additions, like a special paint job, “wings” instead of steering wheel, and he showed off the electronic key–which has a “real” key hidden within to get into the trunk. As Beloved pointed out  to me later, that type of key makes him extremely attractive to hackers who would like to take a Corvette for a spin. I felt vaguely unhappy with this confession of car buying until I realized that it was not just buying a car. It was buying a $40,000 car, adding $17,000 of bullshit accessories–so a vehicle that was worth almost $60,000. That only seats TWO people. That has naught of any storage type space, so it can’t carry cargo, not even an overnight case. And since he admitted that when he drives the wheelchair van, he stays in the fast lane and does 5 mph over the limit…I can only imagine how fast he takes that ostentatious consumerist vehicle when he’s driving it. If he can afford that kind of car, he probably can afford the speeding tickets.

And I am deeply offended by that kind of wasted spending–and the selfish desires behind it. Not just the money to pay for the car, and the money for accessories. It’s specifically designed to use fossil fuels; it emits pollution, it’s made of plastic and polymers, which is another use of fossil fuels. And the sheer amount of money it actually cost him? Could have been used for something much more generous, much more usable…donation to the local homeless shelter, a grant to the local primary school, given to the library to buy more books, upgrade their computers…the list is only limited by your imagination. I realize that it’s his money, he can buy whatever he wants…but I try to follow the concepts of Buddhism, which includes generosity without thought of recompense, giving to those who need when you have the means to do so. I consider that big of a compensation for small penis size…self-centered and completely unable to see the needs of people who are not part of “his” people, not part of Us, they are “Them” and as such, don’t need and worse, don’t deserve any relief from their troubles.

(Author’s note: the reference to small penis size is not meant to denigrate or in any way make fun of those who are not hung like a horse. The average vagina is 3-4 inches deep; the average penis is 5-6 inches. Plenty of happy action there. It’s trying to compensate with external and meaningless gestures, like buying the type of vehicle that is supposed to scream “Look at me, I am SOOOOOO manly”…which makes most woman automatically subtract 4 inches from estimated penis size…then balance that against what must be his bank account’s size. Fellas, take what Nature (or God, if you want to involve him in this discussion) gave you and learn how to actually use it–or how to compensate with other (oral or digital — meaning fingers, not electronics, you dirty minded perv) forms of pleasure for your partner.

Nobody NEEDS a Corvette. Trust me, I think they are some pretty awesome speed beasts. But my son pointed out the basic truth about ‘Vettes when he was high school: “Mom, how’s come only old guys own Corvettes?” Now talk to me about a 68-69 Chevelle and you will see me trying not to salivate. Love me some muscle cars…LOL.

Back to the trip: We got home about 2:30ish, making the actual travel time from our house to Redding at 4 hours, not 3. Got in the house, did some mild unpacking and then fell into bed for a good long nap. We are both exhibiting the physical signs of stress and anxiety relieved. My mental state is actually a bit clearer feeling than it has in a while–but I am at the verge of weeping. I’m finding my hand tremors are terrible–worse than ever. Beloved suggests I might be actually overdosing on the Gabapentin, so that is something I will follow up with my doctor whenever I actually get to see whomever is going to be my primary care physician. I have a list of things I want to talk about–some of it VA-specific, some of it just about me.

So now we settle back into our usual routine. Beloved has pool therapy set up for about twice a week through the end of April. I am waiting to find out if the VA will re-approve me for my therapy. Just getting into the nice warm pool and bobbing about without gravity on my back is wonderful. I’ll do that for 6 or 8 months and then we can talk about adding some small stretching or exercises. Maybe.

I made an appointment with my psychologist, who I haven’t seen since before Beloved’s hospital stay and his parents’ visit. Lots to report to the headshrinker! And Beloved’s birthday is in 23 days…and this is a “freak-out” milestone: he turns 40. BFD says I, from my vantage point of 53, going to be 54 years old in August. Guess I’d better find him some denture cream and a walker…LMAO.

So that’s what happened, and that’s my story–and I’m sticking to it. I ask you all to have lots of good thoughts and positive energy that the doctor in Redding will make a positive (for me) evaluation and I will start to get my LTD benefits again. (And that would make me really happy, as they owe me a butt-ton of back pay. We could sure a butt-ton of money!)

So peace out, talk to you all soon.