An oddity about me that is currently relevant: I usually garden barefoot. I *like* getting dirty, I like feeling the soil and smelling it. I like the sweating and the work.
I do NOT, however, like ... STEPPING ON A THISTLE. I got lucky, I only caught it with my big toe, but mother of mercy, that STINGS. Ow. Ow ow. More Roundup to be used liberally tomorrow. I hoestly can't believe how anyone could let a lawn get this bad. The yard is a fabulous size, and the idea of being unable to freely move through it is just mind-boggling. Half the attraction of this house is the size of the yard. I *NEED* to go barefoot in my yard. NEED it.
Earth mother. Hedgewitch. Tree-hugging dandelion sniffer. Oh, I've heard them all at some time or another. ;) I think it's funny, because it's all somewhat desperately true. There are few times and places where I'm happier than just being out in the fresh air, covered in dirt and making things grow.
No place closer to heaven than having the heavy earthy thick scent of tomato plants. Tomatoes are all right, I like them, but don't really NEED them or seriously crave them. The plants, however ... the vines. God speaks from them, I tell ya. I picked up two patio tomato plants today, and could hardly keep my nose out of them. Memory lane. That smell was a part of my childhood, watching my grandfather and his wonderful garden. Just brushing past the tomato plants released that smell, and it can bring tears to my eyes if I'm a bit sensitive at the time.
My green thumb came through him. Another oddity, considering there is no shared DNA. I'm adopted, and yet, some of my strongest personality traits have come through association with him. Poppie. He's been Poppie for longer than I can remember. Fields of heavy red and purple poppies along the fence of his yard, brilliant and gently fragrant. Roses of every colour and variety, the sweet tiny tufts of antique tea roses, climbers, and showy masterpieces. Pansies, petunias, lilies, flowers I can no longer even begin to name. I learned plant ID from this man. I learned to identify flowers, weeds, noxious things to avoid, the shapes of certain bird species, and the names of the birds themselves. This man has forgotten more about the world around us than most modern children will ever be able to learn.
When we lived in Washington, I didn't do much with vegetables. Strawberries mostly, but zinnias everywhere, marigolds, roses. Huge fragrant lilacs that filled my house as well as my yard when they bloomed. The scent of the lilacs lingered for a wonderfully long time when cut. My babies.
The military moved us back to Texas, and that put us in range of Wonder Man again. As we went down to Houston for the obligatory family adore the children visit, I carefully went through his yard with him at my side, picking choice stems from rosebushes to cut and root. Not a one died.
Moving here, to an apartment, killed me in a way. I was out of touch, there was nothing to help ground me, nothing to soothe.
I have a confession to make: I love weeding. I really do. Yes, it's mindless and tedious, but it's something that Always Needs To Be Done. Gently easing the weeds from around tender sprouts and watching the sprouts cheerfully grow stronger is a wonderful feeling. Doing something so basic and easy is intensely calming for me. I don't have to worry as much about fighting my body, and the distraction manages to ease the pain, at least for a little while.
Okra itches. So does crookneck squash. The spines scratch and sting. I know that feeling intimately, having wandered through the garden in search of ripe vegetables that my grandmother would promptly cook for us. And I don't mind it at all. I've an obsession for yellow squash to this day, cooked the way she did it: onion, sliced squash, cracked black pepper, butter ... and a touch of sugar. I'm drooling again, darnit.
But the garden is no longer there.
Age is catching up with the man who once caught me as I leapt from the top of a persimmon tree, convinced that I could fly. Age has taken away the man that carried me through woody fields on his back, picking The Perfect Blackberry as I pointed them out quite imperiously from his shoulders. A series of strokes have crippled the Superman of my childhood, the man who, when told by my mother not to let us go in the lake, casually turned aside as we "accidentally fell in."
It's hard to visit now. So hard to see Poppie unable to do the things he loves so much. His mind is still sharp as a whip, but his body has betrayed him. Another thing we hold in common. We raced with our canes one afternoon while visiting my aunt. He won. Go figure. Our bodies are fighting us, but for the first time in my life, I see something beating him. It hurts, oh God it hurts to see him like that. He has had to hire someone to even mow the lawn.
With our new house, I pick up the torch.
My children will learn, as I had learned. They'll absorb the appreciation for life and growing things, and learn which plants you can eat, which can hurt you, which ones need to be pulled. They'll learn how to prepare the soil, how to plant, how to pick and the joy of taking food you have grown yourself into the house and having it for dinner.
I miss him. I miss the man he was, and still deeply love the man he is. My children never knew him before age took its toll, but they already know that Poppie is the man that taught Mama to ease the seeds into the ground and coax food out of them.
Poppie, thank you.
Monday, April 14, 2003
Sunday, April 13, 2003
Green Thumbs and Red Pookas
All three packets of zinnias are coming up nicely, sweet little heart-shaped leaves reaching for the light. Another few days, and I should be able to start thinning them out some. I hate that part of gardening, though. I always want to try and save every little sprout, even when I know they have to be thinned to grow well. I may see if I can't pull a pixelpusher and do some creative potting and have bunches sitting on the porch itself.
... do you have ANY idea how #@*$&#!* fast birdseed sprouts? ARGH! I'm fighting it all over the flower bed. I may end up just hoeing off areas and replacing with bagged garden soil to try to control the rampant sprouting.
I have to admit, though, that there is one nice thing about the birdseed. The sunflower seeds that were in it are also sprouting very well. The ones I tried to start just don't seem to want to take, but those are going wild. Trimmed out some of the best and have them in small starter pots to move when we get the next section of garden along the fence dug up and ready.
The roses that were here when we moved in are rather sad. I don't know if they've ever bloomed or been trimmed. I DID find my rose Miracle Gro though, so hopefully I can spark them into brilliantly fragrant life. I don't even know what colour they are.
I swear to God, the weedier grasses in the yard grew three inches since this morning. We've been talking to the landlord about our attempts to reclaim the yard, so maybe we'll get some help.
Most of the trees in the back need some serious pruning. Lots of dead branches. Then there's the hard thatch in the grass (oh, thank you SO much, stupid root grubs) that's going to need to be cleared out, the lawn reseeded, serious weed n feed time, and always the thistles.
The blackberries really took a battering with the hail. More thunderstorms on the way so I'm a little worried about them. Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll take. Mmm, blackberry wine next summer ....
After Sorcha, TMF, and Roomie took off early this afternoon, I hauled myself back out into the glories of my backyard.
Deviation: I missed this. I really, really missed this. My hands are an absolute disaster. You can totally write off my right thumb and index finger, the nail bed is just gone and there are heavy tears, new calluses, and blisters. I'm still getting over my sunburn which friggin itches like MAD. Yes, I am a giant freckle now. I don't know if the dirt will ever come out from beneath the few fingernails I have left.
And good Lord, I'm happy. I caught myself HUMMING of all things while I was out there this afternoon. I'm sure I looked like a total fool, sprawled out on my porch, dirt all over it, me, and the assortment of pots, sweaty and muddy and generally a human disaster area. I feel more centered again.
We desperately need to get our hands on a tiller so I can get the rest of the actual garden started. I've got the zucchini in a huge pot right now, but it's not going to last long. Another week or two tops. Gotta get the ground broken, dammit. Since we're running so slow right now, without a truck to transport the tools, I went ahead and started a lot of the seeds in leftover plastic pots from other plants already in the ground. Beans, yellow squash, okra. Then the zucchini.
Had to replant most of my strawberries today, too. The little pot I had them in was already overwhelmed. I thinned them out and put 2/3 into a much larger pot, leaving the one that had been in the top (a small version of a strawberry jar) in place.
Bluebonnets didn't make it. After that hailstorm, and since they tend to be picky and delicate, I knew they didn't have much of a chance. I think we'll try to seed start a bunch of them for next year so we don't have to worry about transplanting like that.
One of the wisteria is doing quite nicely, the other is just thinking about it. Time to fertilize both of them, and the azaleas as well. I knew I should have picked up more than two. Ah well.
I'm starting to think that the front yard is next to hopeless unless we go out and actually buy cut sod to try to salvage it. Man, that's a mess.
And of course, the fire ants. So far, no one has been bitten, but it's only a matter of time. Got to get stuff and get them the hell out of my yard.
June bugs everywhere last night. Harley was going totally nuts over them. Then again, the poor kitten has been having issues the last few days anyway. She is a *serious* talker now, and man, she's loud when she has something to complain about. Silly kitty.
Note: Things 2 & 1 do NOT like june bugs one bit, no sir. Total girly freaking out.
... do you have ANY idea how #@*$&#!* fast birdseed sprouts? ARGH! I'm fighting it all over the flower bed. I may end up just hoeing off areas and replacing with bagged garden soil to try to control the rampant sprouting.
I have to admit, though, that there is one nice thing about the birdseed. The sunflower seeds that were in it are also sprouting very well. The ones I tried to start just don't seem to want to take, but those are going wild. Trimmed out some of the best and have them in small starter pots to move when we get the next section of garden along the fence dug up and ready.
The roses that were here when we moved in are rather sad. I don't know if they've ever bloomed or been trimmed. I DID find my rose Miracle Gro though, so hopefully I can spark them into brilliantly fragrant life. I don't even know what colour they are.
I swear to God, the weedier grasses in the yard grew three inches since this morning. We've been talking to the landlord about our attempts to reclaim the yard, so maybe we'll get some help.
Most of the trees in the back need some serious pruning. Lots of dead branches. Then there's the hard thatch in the grass (oh, thank you SO much, stupid root grubs) that's going to need to be cleared out, the lawn reseeded, serious weed n feed time, and always the thistles.
The blackberries really took a battering with the hail. More thunderstorms on the way so I'm a little worried about them. Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll take. Mmm, blackberry wine next summer ....
After Sorcha, TMF, and Roomie took off early this afternoon, I hauled myself back out into the glories of my backyard.
Deviation: I missed this. I really, really missed this. My hands are an absolute disaster. You can totally write off my right thumb and index finger, the nail bed is just gone and there are heavy tears, new calluses, and blisters. I'm still getting over my sunburn which friggin itches like MAD. Yes, I am a giant freckle now. I don't know if the dirt will ever come out from beneath the few fingernails I have left.
And good Lord, I'm happy. I caught myself HUMMING of all things while I was out there this afternoon. I'm sure I looked like a total fool, sprawled out on my porch, dirt all over it, me, and the assortment of pots, sweaty and muddy and generally a human disaster area. I feel more centered again.
We desperately need to get our hands on a tiller so I can get the rest of the actual garden started. I've got the zucchini in a huge pot right now, but it's not going to last long. Another week or two tops. Gotta get the ground broken, dammit. Since we're running so slow right now, without a truck to transport the tools, I went ahead and started a lot of the seeds in leftover plastic pots from other plants already in the ground. Beans, yellow squash, okra. Then the zucchini.
Had to replant most of my strawberries today, too. The little pot I had them in was already overwhelmed. I thinned them out and put 2/3 into a much larger pot, leaving the one that had been in the top (a small version of a strawberry jar) in place.
Bluebonnets didn't make it. After that hailstorm, and since they tend to be picky and delicate, I knew they didn't have much of a chance. I think we'll try to seed start a bunch of them for next year so we don't have to worry about transplanting like that.
One of the wisteria is doing quite nicely, the other is just thinking about it. Time to fertilize both of them, and the azaleas as well. I knew I should have picked up more than two. Ah well.
I'm starting to think that the front yard is next to hopeless unless we go out and actually buy cut sod to try to salvage it. Man, that's a mess.
And of course, the fire ants. So far, no one has been bitten, but it's only a matter of time. Got to get stuff and get them the hell out of my yard.
June bugs everywhere last night. Harley was going totally nuts over them. Then again, the poor kitten has been having issues the last few days anyway. She is a *serious* talker now, and man, she's loud when she has something to complain about. Silly kitty.
Note: Things 2 & 1 do NOT like june bugs one bit, no sir. Total girly freaking out.
Thursday, April 10, 2003
PTA or PITA?
Two acronyms that should *never* be used together:
PTA and RSD. Man, I'm flared up.
Can you just picture DG and I surrounded by PTA moms? Stop laughing. No, I mean it. Stop laughing.
Yes, we just endured a PTA meeting for the sake of Thing 2 and a school full of kindergartners that pranced up on stage and sang at us. Loudly. Enthusiastically.
From "Six Little Ducks" all the way through "You're a Grand Old Flag," some forty or so 6 year olds up in front of a full crowd for the very first time. And they did it very, very well.
And I must say that I have never in my life seen such a collection of certified card-carrying pasty-faced, four-eyed, plastic pocket protectored pencil-necked geeks outside of a Star Trek convention. You just know every one of those dads are bringing in more figures than a Playboy convention. White collar bastards. ;)
Unfortunately, they all think their children are exempt from things like manners.
I'm ... just going to leave it right there without another word. Otherwise, I might just go off in a rant and offend some sensitive goober who feels their little darling shouldn't have to wait for someone to move, that they have every right to push and shove at both adults and children alike, and that their openly kicking an adult in their way is just a cheerful display of spirit and individuality.
And for that sensitive goober, I have two important words that I'm sure will play an important role in their little darling's future: Death Penalty.
Never wanted a taser so bad in my life.
Let me clarify a bit here. Now I'm all for letting kids be kids. They're going to run and scream and play and have fun, it's what kids should be doing. It should NOT, however, be at the expense of anyone else, and should not endanger anyone else.
The child who kicked my cane because it was in his way did so with his parent sitting less than three feet away, watching him the entire time. Daddy saw me stumble when my support wasn't there. Neither child nor parent said a word about it.
The other little heathens that shoved and pushed through on the other side of me all but finished me off. Score one, and only one, for being as heavy as I am.
Isolated incidents? Not a chance. Even sitting down, I wasn't safe. No one else in the auditorium was either. I can't even try to imagine what these kids are like at home.
My children aren't angels, and I'll be the first to admit it. The Things, however, didn't push, or run and scream inside, said "Excuse me" when they needed to and hushed up when the program began.
Parents, if you're going to complain about the problems in the world, make sure you aren't part of them.
PTA and RSD. Man, I'm flared up.
Can you just picture DG and I surrounded by PTA moms? Stop laughing. No, I mean it. Stop laughing.
Yes, we just endured a PTA meeting for the sake of Thing 2 and a school full of kindergartners that pranced up on stage and sang at us. Loudly. Enthusiastically.
From "Six Little Ducks" all the way through "You're a Grand Old Flag," some forty or so 6 year olds up in front of a full crowd for the very first time. And they did it very, very well.
And I must say that I have never in my life seen such a collection of certified card-carrying pasty-faced, four-eyed, plastic pocket protectored pencil-necked geeks outside of a Star Trek convention. You just know every one of those dads are bringing in more figures than a Playboy convention. White collar bastards. ;)
Unfortunately, they all think their children are exempt from things like manners.
I'm ... just going to leave it right there without another word. Otherwise, I might just go off in a rant and offend some sensitive goober who feels their little darling shouldn't have to wait for someone to move, that they have every right to push and shove at both adults and children alike, and that their openly kicking an adult in their way is just a cheerful display of spirit and individuality.
And for that sensitive goober, I have two important words that I'm sure will play an important role in their little darling's future: Death Penalty.
Never wanted a taser so bad in my life.
Let me clarify a bit here. Now I'm all for letting kids be kids. They're going to run and scream and play and have fun, it's what kids should be doing. It should NOT, however, be at the expense of anyone else, and should not endanger anyone else.
The child who kicked my cane because it was in his way did so with his parent sitting less than three feet away, watching him the entire time. Daddy saw me stumble when my support wasn't there. Neither child nor parent said a word about it.
The other little heathens that shoved and pushed through on the other side of me all but finished me off. Score one, and only one, for being as heavy as I am.
Isolated incidents? Not a chance. Even sitting down, I wasn't safe. No one else in the auditorium was either. I can't even try to imagine what these kids are like at home.
My children aren't angels, and I'll be the first to admit it. The Things, however, didn't push, or run and scream inside, said "Excuse me" when they needed to and hushed up when the program began.
Parents, if you're going to complain about the problems in the world, make sure you aren't part of them.
Tuesday, April 08, 2003
Bless You -- Twice
Have I mentioned lately how bloody frustrating Texas weather is? No? It bloody well drives me nuts.
We get most of the work done, only to have it announced that there's a high possibility of it freezing tonight.
Grr.
So, the zucchini has been temporarily repotted and mulched, ditto for the strawberries. Berries have extra soil and mulch piled at the bases, ditto for the roses, azaleas, and wisteria.
I'm sure the zinnia seeds are just going to love it. Not.
Feel awful today. Worse than yesterday, if that's possible. Can't friggin breathe, I hurt, I'm wheezing and coughing and feverish. Yuck. Luckily the Things (knock on wood) seem to be fighting it off.
Pollen Count: 3285
Dear God.
Cigna has decided once again that my doctors know nothing. Instead of the diagnostics my neurologist ordered, they decide they'll only pay for one because obviously it's not worth working to find out what's wrong with me.
Insert neurologist's office into the equation. They aren't happy. They also have a solution. There's a diagnostic testing center that is currently Pissed Off at Cigna and several other HMOs. I'm going there now, even if it means having to do some driving to get to the place. Supposed to hear from them in the next 24 hours or so.
Instead of multiple appointments, all of my MRIs are going to be done in one single day. And cost me ..... NOTHING. Woo! No copay, no deductible. Nada.
Of course, it means that my appointment schedule is now tossed up in the air again.
It's kinda amusing. I get really quiet for a long time, and people wonder why. When I finally admit why, they get quiet. Works for me, man. It's a system, yunno, deliberately and carefully calculated.
Damnit. Something bit me when I was outside getting the plants ready. On my sunburned elbow, of course, and it itches like mad.
I must sneeze now.
We get most of the work done, only to have it announced that there's a high possibility of it freezing tonight.
Grr.
So, the zucchini has been temporarily repotted and mulched, ditto for the strawberries. Berries have extra soil and mulch piled at the bases, ditto for the roses, azaleas, and wisteria.
I'm sure the zinnia seeds are just going to love it. Not.
Feel awful today. Worse than yesterday, if that's possible. Can't friggin breathe, I hurt, I'm wheezing and coughing and feverish. Yuck. Luckily the Things (knock on wood) seem to be fighting it off.
Pollen Count: 3285
Dear God.
Cigna has decided once again that my doctors know nothing. Instead of the diagnostics my neurologist ordered, they decide they'll only pay for one because obviously it's not worth working to find out what's wrong with me.
Insert neurologist's office into the equation. They aren't happy. They also have a solution. There's a diagnostic testing center that is currently Pissed Off at Cigna and several other HMOs. I'm going there now, even if it means having to do some driving to get to the place. Supposed to hear from them in the next 24 hours or so.
Instead of multiple appointments, all of my MRIs are going to be done in one single day. And cost me ..... NOTHING. Woo! No copay, no deductible. Nada.
Of course, it means that my appointment schedule is now tossed up in the air again.
It's kinda amusing. I get really quiet for a long time, and people wonder why. When I finally admit why, they get quiet. Works for me, man. It's a system, yunno, deliberately and carefully calculated.
Damnit. Something bit me when I was outside getting the plants ready. On my sunburned elbow, of course, and it itches like mad.
I must sneeze now.
Monday, April 07, 2003
And now for something competely different
And to round off a perfect weekend ...
Thing 1 and I are sick. She got sent home from school today hacking up a lung and running fever. That's how I woke up. Shivery, coughy, feverish, and miserable. Phooey. You can hand my lung back now, thank you. I actually *needed* my inhaler last night. I haven't used that in ages. Might be time to switch from Allegra to something else, because this SUCKS.
I don't know if all the outdoor work with our horridly high pollen count just set our allergies off so bad that they moved in to stay and we got sick, or if we picked up some bug, but I haven't felt this crappy in quite a while.
Didn't stop us from making a noonish inspection of the plants outside.
Everything but the bluebonnets are looking pretty good. Her tree is happily budding out all over. One of the wisteria is a little puny, but they're so hard to kill that I'm not worrying about it yet. The bluebonnets may be history. Dammit. Stupid hail. Lost most of the azalea blooms, but that's no real big deal. They'll recover.
Need to get the dead undergrowth of ivy out of the front entryway. Personally, I'd rather just yank most of it out entirely. We'll see if I can get permission for that. Did yank some of the undergrowth out, but I didn't have my gloves or a rake with me at inspection time, and I'd rather not disturb any snakes or centipedes without something between me and them.
Kinda funny. I'm pretty ambivalent about insects and other creepy crawlies unless they're actively touching me. Then it depends on what it is, and how big. Small spiders, no biggie, just a casual soft brush to get them off. Anything that buzzes, stings, or is otherwise bigger than my fingernail is another matter entirely.
Things 2 & 1 and DG, on the other hand ...
Bwack bwack bwack! Hey, I smell chicken!
I'd like to breathe now, thank you.
This is going to suck. I've *got* to get the zuchinni plants in the ground ASAP or I'm going to lose them. Don't know how that's going to work when I feel like I got caught beneath the lawn mower and shredded.
And I hurt. My body is responding very well to the first Neurontin increase, but the break-through muscle seizures are a lot worse. Luckily they're very rare. And it seems to be helping me sleep somewhat now.
But I pushed really hard this weekend, and my LEFT leg of all things is tweaking and bitching when I walk too far, and my abdomen is complaining. Who needs crunches when you can sit and bend to reach parts of the flower bed while weeding?
Sunburn is still a bit too intense. Owie. My left thigh and left shoulder which is alarmingly scarlet actively hurt. The right isn't as bad, really, just annoying.
Birds are really starting to enjoy the feeders we put out. Positive ID made on male and female house finches, a dozen or so mockingbirds, grackles, crows, some sparrows, a crane, male and female cardinals, robins, and somewhere both an owl and doves.
Need to find the hummingbird feeders.
Oracle and Cassandra both went outside to play with us yesterday. Roy got to listen to talky little Oracle bitch and bitch. I think she had fun, though. Cassie is just a sludge beast and clung to Thing 2.
We've let Zam out once, and he just thinks the backyard is the coolest thing in the world. Harley thinks the backyard is super neat -- until you open the door and take her out, whereupon complete panic reigns. She'll go wild catching the mosquito hawks that make it inside, but the outside world itself is just a little too overwhelming for the little girl.
Dammit, I wanna go outside and play!!!
Thing 1 and I are sick. She got sent home from school today hacking up a lung and running fever. That's how I woke up. Shivery, coughy, feverish, and miserable. Phooey. You can hand my lung back now, thank you. I actually *needed* my inhaler last night. I haven't used that in ages. Might be time to switch from Allegra to something else, because this SUCKS.
I don't know if all the outdoor work with our horridly high pollen count just set our allergies off so bad that they moved in to stay and we got sick, or if we picked up some bug, but I haven't felt this crappy in quite a while.
Didn't stop us from making a noonish inspection of the plants outside.
Everything but the bluebonnets are looking pretty good. Her tree is happily budding out all over. One of the wisteria is a little puny, but they're so hard to kill that I'm not worrying about it yet. The bluebonnets may be history. Dammit. Stupid hail. Lost most of the azalea blooms, but that's no real big deal. They'll recover.
Need to get the dead undergrowth of ivy out of the front entryway. Personally, I'd rather just yank most of it out entirely. We'll see if I can get permission for that. Did yank some of the undergrowth out, but I didn't have my gloves or a rake with me at inspection time, and I'd rather not disturb any snakes or centipedes without something between me and them.
Kinda funny. I'm pretty ambivalent about insects and other creepy crawlies unless they're actively touching me. Then it depends on what it is, and how big. Small spiders, no biggie, just a casual soft brush to get them off. Anything that buzzes, stings, or is otherwise bigger than my fingernail is another matter entirely.
Things 2 & 1 and DG, on the other hand ...
Bwack bwack bwack! Hey, I smell chicken!
I'd like to breathe now, thank you.
This is going to suck. I've *got* to get the zuchinni plants in the ground ASAP or I'm going to lose them. Don't know how that's going to work when I feel like I got caught beneath the lawn mower and shredded.
And I hurt. My body is responding very well to the first Neurontin increase, but the break-through muscle seizures are a lot worse. Luckily they're very rare. And it seems to be helping me sleep somewhat now.
But I pushed really hard this weekend, and my LEFT leg of all things is tweaking and bitching when I walk too far, and my abdomen is complaining. Who needs crunches when you can sit and bend to reach parts of the flower bed while weeding?
Sunburn is still a bit too intense. Owie. My left thigh and left shoulder which is alarmingly scarlet actively hurt. The right isn't as bad, really, just annoying.
Birds are really starting to enjoy the feeders we put out. Positive ID made on male and female house finches, a dozen or so mockingbirds, grackles, crows, some sparrows, a crane, male and female cardinals, robins, and somewhere both an owl and doves.
Need to find the hummingbird feeders.
Oracle and Cassandra both went outside to play with us yesterday. Roy got to listen to talky little Oracle bitch and bitch. I think she had fun, though. Cassie is just a sludge beast and clung to Thing 2.
We've let Zam out once, and he just thinks the backyard is the coolest thing in the world. Harley thinks the backyard is super neat -- until you open the door and take her out, whereupon complete panic reigns. She'll go wild catching the mosquito hawks that make it inside, but the outside world itself is just a little too overwhelming for the little girl.
Dammit, I wanna go outside and play!!!
Sunday, April 06, 2003
The Discovery Zone
Was outside by noonish yesterday. Didn't make it back inside the house until it got dark and the severe storms started rolling in.
I am sunburned. Ow. Pooka is no longer purple, she's scarlet.
BUT ... I have reclaimed the flower bed along the back of the house. Think jungle. Think overgrown for at least three or four years. Think doing 2-3 feet and having to stop and take a break. Think that this is a task of herculean proportions.
My gloves, which were brand new, need to be replaced. At least three of the fingertips are completely gone after all that work.
Both azaleas are in the ground now. DG actually managed to find me blackberries in gallon tubs, so they're already semi-started and a lot better than just the canes we found. Four blackberries in the ground.
FOUND:
-- one very angry centipede
-- twelve pieces of broken red crayon
-- eight decent-sized pieces of shed snake skin
-- dozen or so small worms
-- five big fat earthworms
-- more #*$#& root grubs than I've ever seen in one place
-- egg sacs and egg cases to things I couldn't even identify
-- one poorly-buried phone cable (ahem, DG) that for some reason still works
-- big ole spider that scared Thing 1 absolutely witless
FOUND OUT:
-- despite "help," I got five times the work done when they went away
-- DG won't do garden work without scowling and glaring
-- if you give one child a job, the other will automatically scream "I wanted to do that!"
-- the job will never be completed anyway
-- getting all dirty and blistered and sunburned again feels GOOD
The bluebonnets are seriously wilting. Don't know if they'll make it now, but that wasn't our fault.
Last night, after Roy had come back with DG to do a porch cookout, storms rolled -- no, thundered -- into North Texas. "Super cell" they were calling it -- at least until it split into three storms of equal ferocity.
Pea sized to golfball sized hail with cell one. Heavy wind. Huge sheets of rain. Under that kind of pressure, only a few areas of the backyard really even attempted to flood. I feel sorry for the houses further down the hill though.
Second round brought a lot more hail, enough to turn the grass in the backyard white, and hard fast rain, even though the hail was smaller.
Third somewhat fizzled with mostly thunder and lighting and more rain.
Wisteria and azaleas made it through fine. Not a lot of hope for the bluebonnets now. My poor blackberries took some leaf damage, but the main plant seems fine.
We were lucky. Areas a bit to the south had severe high winds, lots of reports of funnel and wall clouds, and a half dozen or so unconfirmed reports of tornados spotted. Much roof damage, downed power lines, broken trees, car damage, the works. We dodged it. This time. It's spring in NorTex, man. Though really, you never get used to it.
Roy ended up spending the night because of the weather.
Around 10:30 this morning (and looking like a freckled strawberry), I was back outside to finish off the flower bed. Final weeding, mixing in of some good garden soil, breaking up dirt clods, etc.
Remembered the sunscreen this time. Hah!
Got three packages of zinnias seeded in the ground. Lilliputs, dahlia blend, and giant fantasies, yes, seeded in height order.
Sludged for a while on the porch with Roy till DG finally crawled back into the world of the living. Things went screaming through with water guns, and ...
... Roy offered Thing 2 a dollar if she'd squirt DG, who was still scowling and surly. I've trained my mercenary child well. She did it.
The snarling and growling and swearing didn't last long. Neither did the dry state of anyone's clothing. We've got staggered sizes of SuperSoakers, but Roy was the real fiend, as he turned the hose on. After a while, the three adults (snicker) were the only ones left in the backyard, and all of us completely drenched.
Tell ya, that water felt pretty damn good.
Another fireup of the grill for dinner, then DG took Roy home while I cleaned up after the mess. Got all three boxes unpacked and out of the kitchen (HAH! One intended goal for the weekend complete, take that!), well, except for the trash box that needs to go out now. Dishwasher unloaded and reloaded, box contents put away.
Even found time in there somewhere to do a couple more poses for a Poser package Burningham is going to be uploading to the market soon.
SO .....
... what did YOU do this weekend?
I am sunburned. Ow. Pooka is no longer purple, she's scarlet.
BUT ... I have reclaimed the flower bed along the back of the house. Think jungle. Think overgrown for at least three or four years. Think doing 2-3 feet and having to stop and take a break. Think that this is a task of herculean proportions.
My gloves, which were brand new, need to be replaced. At least three of the fingertips are completely gone after all that work.
Both azaleas are in the ground now. DG actually managed to find me blackberries in gallon tubs, so they're already semi-started and a lot better than just the canes we found. Four blackberries in the ground.
FOUND:
-- one very angry centipede
-- twelve pieces of broken red crayon
-- eight decent-sized pieces of shed snake skin
-- dozen or so small worms
-- five big fat earthworms
-- more #*$#& root grubs than I've ever seen in one place
-- egg sacs and egg cases to things I couldn't even identify
-- one poorly-buried phone cable (ahem, DG) that for some reason still works
-- big ole spider that scared Thing 1 absolutely witless
FOUND OUT:
-- despite "help," I got five times the work done when they went away
-- DG won't do garden work without scowling and glaring
-- if you give one child a job, the other will automatically scream "I wanted to do that!"
-- the job will never be completed anyway
-- getting all dirty and blistered and sunburned again feels GOOD
The bluebonnets are seriously wilting. Don't know if they'll make it now, but that wasn't our fault.
Last night, after Roy had come back with DG to do a porch cookout, storms rolled -- no, thundered -- into North Texas. "Super cell" they were calling it -- at least until it split into three storms of equal ferocity.
Pea sized to golfball sized hail with cell one. Heavy wind. Huge sheets of rain. Under that kind of pressure, only a few areas of the backyard really even attempted to flood. I feel sorry for the houses further down the hill though.
Second round brought a lot more hail, enough to turn the grass in the backyard white, and hard fast rain, even though the hail was smaller.
Third somewhat fizzled with mostly thunder and lighting and more rain.
Wisteria and azaleas made it through fine. Not a lot of hope for the bluebonnets now. My poor blackberries took some leaf damage, but the main plant seems fine.
We were lucky. Areas a bit to the south had severe high winds, lots of reports of funnel and wall clouds, and a half dozen or so unconfirmed reports of tornados spotted. Much roof damage, downed power lines, broken trees, car damage, the works. We dodged it. This time. It's spring in NorTex, man. Though really, you never get used to it.
Roy ended up spending the night because of the weather.
Around 10:30 this morning (and looking like a freckled strawberry), I was back outside to finish off the flower bed. Final weeding, mixing in of some good garden soil, breaking up dirt clods, etc.
Remembered the sunscreen this time. Hah!
Got three packages of zinnias seeded in the ground. Lilliputs, dahlia blend, and giant fantasies, yes, seeded in height order.
Sludged for a while on the porch with Roy till DG finally crawled back into the world of the living. Things went screaming through with water guns, and ...
... Roy offered Thing 2 a dollar if she'd squirt DG, who was still scowling and surly. I've trained my mercenary child well. She did it.
The snarling and growling and swearing didn't last long. Neither did the dry state of anyone's clothing. We've got staggered sizes of SuperSoakers, but Roy was the real fiend, as he turned the hose on. After a while, the three adults (snicker) were the only ones left in the backyard, and all of us completely drenched.
Tell ya, that water felt pretty damn good.
Another fireup of the grill for dinner, then DG took Roy home while I cleaned up after the mess. Got all three boxes unpacked and out of the kitchen (HAH! One intended goal for the weekend complete, take that!), well, except for the trash box that needs to go out now. Dishwasher unloaded and reloaded, box contents put away.
Even found time in there somewhere to do a couple more poses for a Poser package Burningham is going to be uploading to the market soon.
SO .....
... what did YOU do this weekend?
Friday, April 04, 2003
Sunset on the New House
I am gloriously, amazingly, disgustingly FILTHY! Hallelujia! I SO missed having a yard. Utter contentment.
I've got two purple wisteria in the ground to twine up over the arbor. DG found some very odd windchimes that sound absolutely lovely (they look like pan pipes), so they're now up in the middle of the arbor.
The two rosebushes in the bed next to it have been weeded, but still no buds yet. Need to get some mulch in there to help control the weeds. Saw an utterly stunning peach rose bush, but didn't cave since it wasn't cheap. Need to get some artwork sold, fast.
Have some weird climbers that I need to make pics of and see if anyone can help me ID them. Might yank them up anyway. Asked the neighbors along the back fence if they minded honeysuckle back there, since they tend to grow wherever the hell they want to. No problems with em, so now I just need to get the vines.
The dead jungle-y tree by the front door has been removed. Ivy needs to be trimmed back still.
One azalea in the front yard, a second in the back that needs to be put in the ground tomorrow. Might go back and get one or two more, because the corner I'm using in the back for them looks just gorgeous against the house.
Thing 1 brought home a bluebonnet plant, courtesy of the school garden and their nifty science teacher. Bluebonnets are now in the ground. The redbud she brought home last year for Arbor Day is now in the ground out of its pot, and going bananas. Happy tree.
Grass seed purchased to try to reclaim the front yard. The people here last ... well, let's just say they had black thumbs. Still need to continue thistle extermination. God, they're everywhere.
Seed purchased for beans, squash, zuchinni, and pumpkins so far. Going to take a lot of work to get the ground ready for them. Got a package of sunflowers, several zinnia varieties, and I've now totally forgotten everything else.
Oh man, I HURT, but it's The Good Hurt. I'm worn out, dirty, sweaty, and utterly content.
I've got two purple wisteria in the ground to twine up over the arbor. DG found some very odd windchimes that sound absolutely lovely (they look like pan pipes), so they're now up in the middle of the arbor.
The two rosebushes in the bed next to it have been weeded, but still no buds yet. Need to get some mulch in there to help control the weeds. Saw an utterly stunning peach rose bush, but didn't cave since it wasn't cheap. Need to get some artwork sold, fast.
Have some weird climbers that I need to make pics of and see if anyone can help me ID them. Might yank them up anyway. Asked the neighbors along the back fence if they minded honeysuckle back there, since they tend to grow wherever the hell they want to. No problems with em, so now I just need to get the vines.
The dead jungle-y tree by the front door has been removed. Ivy needs to be trimmed back still.
One azalea in the front yard, a second in the back that needs to be put in the ground tomorrow. Might go back and get one or two more, because the corner I'm using in the back for them looks just gorgeous against the house.
Thing 1 brought home a bluebonnet plant, courtesy of the school garden and their nifty science teacher. Bluebonnets are now in the ground. The redbud she brought home last year for Arbor Day is now in the ground out of its pot, and going bananas. Happy tree.
Grass seed purchased to try to reclaim the front yard. The people here last ... well, let's just say they had black thumbs. Still need to continue thistle extermination. God, they're everywhere.
Seed purchased for beans, squash, zuchinni, and pumpkins so far. Going to take a lot of work to get the ground ready for them. Got a package of sunflowers, several zinnia varieties, and I've now totally forgotten everything else.
Oh man, I HURT, but it's The Good Hurt. I'm worn out, dirty, sweaty, and utterly content.
Wednesday, April 02, 2003
Penny the Poked Purple Pooka
Why did the orange stop in the middle of the road?
He ran out of juice.
Ah, Laffy Taffy. Inane, and yet so accurate. Welcome to my day.
Neurologist appointment, check. Note on check-in that I had lost another 3 or 4 pounds, groovy.
Poked, prodded, stuck, forked, reflexed, pushed, pulled, teetered, wobbled, and generally abused in every basic diagnostic way. Tuning forks are fun on the side that works, marching fire ants on the bad one. Wee me. Nasty little pokesy things to test sensation SUCK. Or stick. Whatever.
RSD diagnosis fully confirmed, forehead to fingertips, forehead to knee on my right side.
Fibro ... is actually an Iffy now.
Immediately ruled out my medications as being a cause. One more scratched off the list.
Doc does a few tests, takes a look at my meds, has kittens over the amount of Neurontin. We're not doubling it. We're not tripling it (well, we are ... for a week). He ranted and muttered a bit about my low dosage. I'm now looking at a daily total of 1800 once we reach that point. Maybe I'll stop falling down all the time now. The muscle seizures long ago surpassed spasms.
Said that for my condition, muscle strength was good, once I could force my body to resist the pushing and pulling. Of course, I have no coordination or balance whatsoever. They just won't listen to what my brain is telling muscles and nerves to do.
Multiple referrals and appointments made.
Tentative initial diagnosis on top of the usual, Peripheral Neuropathy. Just consider that just a generic "We don't know what's wrong yet," but he agreed that something was very wrong with my nervous system. Noted the "to rule out MS" scribbled next to name on sign-in info.
I had blood drawn today for 9 different tests.
Next Friday, I have an MRI and full dye-injection contrast MRI of my skull.
That next Monday, full dye-injection contrast of my entire spine.
That Wednesday, nerve enduction and possible EMG.
I'm not a Pooka, I'm a medical guinea pig.
He ran out of juice.
Ah, Laffy Taffy. Inane, and yet so accurate. Welcome to my day.
Neurologist appointment, check. Note on check-in that I had lost another 3 or 4 pounds, groovy.
Poked, prodded, stuck, forked, reflexed, pushed, pulled, teetered, wobbled, and generally abused in every basic diagnostic way. Tuning forks are fun on the side that works, marching fire ants on the bad one. Wee me. Nasty little pokesy things to test sensation SUCK. Or stick. Whatever.
RSD diagnosis fully confirmed, forehead to fingertips, forehead to knee on my right side.
Fibro ... is actually an Iffy now.
Immediately ruled out my medications as being a cause. One more scratched off the list.
Doc does a few tests, takes a look at my meds, has kittens over the amount of Neurontin. We're not doubling it. We're not tripling it (well, we are ... for a week). He ranted and muttered a bit about my low dosage. I'm now looking at a daily total of 1800 once we reach that point. Maybe I'll stop falling down all the time now. The muscle seizures long ago surpassed spasms.
Said that for my condition, muscle strength was good, once I could force my body to resist the pushing and pulling. Of course, I have no coordination or balance whatsoever. They just won't listen to what my brain is telling muscles and nerves to do.
Multiple referrals and appointments made.
Tentative initial diagnosis on top of the usual, Peripheral Neuropathy. Just consider that just a generic "We don't know what's wrong yet," but he agreed that something was very wrong with my nervous system. Noted the "to rule out MS" scribbled next to name on sign-in info.
I had blood drawn today for 9 different tests.
Next Friday, I have an MRI and full dye-injection contrast MRI of my skull.
That next Monday, full dye-injection contrast of my entire spine.
That Wednesday, nerve enduction and possible EMG.
I'm not a Pooka, I'm a medical guinea pig.
Tuesday, April 01, 2003
Thursday, March 13, 2003
Moving
We are in the process of The Big Move.
If you don't hear from me for a few weeks, never fear.
I'm either:
A) ... rotting in a jail cell for strangling DG and beating his head in with a spork while hoping someone will post bail before my new roomie decides to make me her new bitch.
B) ... still trying to figure out where to hide the body.
C) ... or sitting on a beach in Brazil sipping fruity alcoholic beverages and being fanned by a very muscular mostly-nekkid cabana boy named Raul whose only English phrase is "How may I serve you?"
If C) turns out to be the case, please. Don't send help.
.
.
.
.
(PS: Ann, got a big bag of clothes for you to go through.)
If you don't hear from me for a few weeks, never fear.
I'm either:
A) ... rotting in a jail cell for strangling DG and beating his head in with a spork while hoping someone will post bail before my new roomie decides to make me her new bitch.
B) ... still trying to figure out where to hide the body.
C) ... or sitting on a beach in Brazil sipping fruity alcoholic beverages and being fanned by a very muscular mostly-nekkid cabana boy named Raul whose only English phrase is "How may I serve you?"
If C) turns out to be the case, please. Don't send help.
.
.
.
.
(PS: Ann, got a big bag of clothes for you to go through.)
Tuesday, March 04, 2003
Not dead yet
We have ... a house.
I'm still in a bit of shock here. We start moving in on the 14th or so. Of March. Like, this month. Move. To a house.
It's gorgeous. Everything we've really wanted. 3 bedrooms, 2 car garage, huge backyard. Stepford wife soccer mom SUV and minivan territory.
I'm nervous.
Finished up the last artwork for BTRC's "NeoTerra" module. "The Colonies" has been out for a while and is available at RPG.net among other sites. Professional illustrator. This concept still blows my mind almost as much as the idea of finally moving into a real house.
I'll get some of the pics up from NeoTerra and other new work in a little while.
Got my new laptop at last. Jeeze, that didn't take long, did it? (ooo, sarcasm, just another service we offer) She's definitely more of a workhorse than Nemesis, but she's not as multimedia friendly. The sound on Nem was just fabulous. This is the standard laptop tinny, but otherwise she blows Nem away. Mobile P4 2.2, 40 GB drive, DVD/CD-R, 768MB of RAM (which Painter chokes on, whee), the happy ATI Radeon card that I demanded ... Still, I'm keeping the enthusiasm down. My faith in this company is shot.
Still recovering from my fall. Shoulder still tweaks out, still having headache problems and the occular migraines are back.
I'm now cutting TWO wisdom teeth. 34 years old, and I'm cutting teeth. Houston, we have a problem. And they HURT. There isn't room for one of them, and it's coming in crooked and right now with the move, we just can't afford to take me in to cut the damn things out of my mouth. Oral surgery is a serious risk for me anyway with the RSD, and the bad tooth just happens to be on the side of my head that's affected. Yay me. Not.
Still doing the monthly ear infection thing. I'm *real* tired of Cipro drops and Auralgan. Since it's "surfer's ear" (the ugly brother of swimmer's ear), there's a lot of permanent damage inside my ear, which unfortunately tends to leave some nerve endings exposed. Put in drops, scream as they hit nerves, and pray it goes away faster than usual.
The cats are nuts as usual. Certifiably insane, ie, normal cats. They're going to love the new house, tons of mad dashing space and a large tile floor in the kitchen for maximum skidding power. I wonder how long it will take Zamboni the escape artist to get locked in the garage by accident.
The Things are anxious about the house. Finally, a bedroom each. About bloody time, because I think they're going to kill each other if we stay here much longer.
Thing 2 has been doing the ear infection thing, too. Bad high fevers, the barfing which she always does with fever. Missed way too much school. The doc keeps saying that her tonsils don't look bad, so I am at a total loss for how to figure out what is wrong with this kid. We've done the unknown fever thing before, complete with spinal tap and other hell. I'm hoping the new house helps. Maybe we have a hidden black mold problem in this damn apartment. It would explain a lot.
Uh. Did I miss anything?
I'm still in a bit of shock here. We start moving in on the 14th or so. Of March. Like, this month. Move. To a house.
It's gorgeous. Everything we've really wanted. 3 bedrooms, 2 car garage, huge backyard. Stepford wife soccer mom SUV and minivan territory.
I'm nervous.
Finished up the last artwork for BTRC's "NeoTerra" module. "The Colonies" has been out for a while and is available at RPG.net among other sites. Professional illustrator. This concept still blows my mind almost as much as the idea of finally moving into a real house.
I'll get some of the pics up from NeoTerra and other new work in a little while.
Got my new laptop at last. Jeeze, that didn't take long, did it? (ooo, sarcasm, just another service we offer) She's definitely more of a workhorse than Nemesis, but she's not as multimedia friendly. The sound on Nem was just fabulous. This is the standard laptop tinny, but otherwise she blows Nem away. Mobile P4 2.2, 40 GB drive, DVD/CD-R, 768MB of RAM (which Painter chokes on, whee), the happy ATI Radeon card that I demanded ... Still, I'm keeping the enthusiasm down. My faith in this company is shot.
Still recovering from my fall. Shoulder still tweaks out, still having headache problems and the occular migraines are back.
I'm now cutting TWO wisdom teeth. 34 years old, and I'm cutting teeth. Houston, we have a problem. And they HURT. There isn't room for one of them, and it's coming in crooked and right now with the move, we just can't afford to take me in to cut the damn things out of my mouth. Oral surgery is a serious risk for me anyway with the RSD, and the bad tooth just happens to be on the side of my head that's affected. Yay me. Not.
Still doing the monthly ear infection thing. I'm *real* tired of Cipro drops and Auralgan. Since it's "surfer's ear" (the ugly brother of swimmer's ear), there's a lot of permanent damage inside my ear, which unfortunately tends to leave some nerve endings exposed. Put in drops, scream as they hit nerves, and pray it goes away faster than usual.
The cats are nuts as usual. Certifiably insane, ie, normal cats. They're going to love the new house, tons of mad dashing space and a large tile floor in the kitchen for maximum skidding power. I wonder how long it will take Zamboni the escape artist to get locked in the garage by accident.
The Things are anxious about the house. Finally, a bedroom each. About bloody time, because I think they're going to kill each other if we stay here much longer.
Thing 2 has been doing the ear infection thing, too. Bad high fevers, the barfing which she always does with fever. Missed way too much school. The doc keeps saying that her tonsils don't look bad, so I am at a total loss for how to figure out what is wrong with this kid. We've done the unknown fever thing before, complete with spinal tap and other hell. I'm hoping the new house helps. Maybe we have a hidden black mold problem in this damn apartment. It would explain a lot.
Uh. Did I miss anything?
Tuesday, February 11, 2003
YOU, go to your room.
YOU, Time Out. Now.
YOU, lighten up.
YOU play nice. Don't make me come over there.
YOU, put down the lighter fluid and step away from the grill.
YOU are NOT taking that into your room. Put it up.
YOU ... well, I don't know WHAT you're doing, but stop it this minute.
I heard that. YOU go to your room, too.
YOU need to step away from the computer. Take a dandelion break.
YOU need more coffee.
YOU need a reality check. Yours bounced.
I don't care if SHE said you could, YOU can't. Face in the corner.
What the hell do YOU think you're doing with those scissors?
YOU go play in the microwave.
YOU, stop instigating. We've got enough of that already.
YOU, get a girlfriend.
YOU stop leaning on your elbow.
YOU stop trying to nuke the cats.
YOU sit down and stop walking on your damned ankle.
YOU, Time Out. Now.
YOU, lighten up.
YOU play nice. Don't make me come over there.
YOU, put down the lighter fluid and step away from the grill.
YOU are NOT taking that into your room. Put it up.
YOU ... well, I don't know WHAT you're doing, but stop it this minute.
I heard that. YOU go to your room, too.
YOU need to step away from the computer. Take a dandelion break.
YOU need more coffee.
YOU need a reality check. Yours bounced.
I don't care if SHE said you could, YOU can't. Face in the corner.
What the hell do YOU think you're doing with those scissors?
YOU go play in the microwave.
YOU, stop instigating. We've got enough of that already.
YOU, get a girlfriend.
YOU stop leaning on your elbow.
YOU stop trying to nuke the cats.
YOU sit down and stop walking on your damned ankle.
Monday, February 10, 2003
RSI Public Service Announcement
Attention, campers, Pooka has a few Rules of the Road for you to remember.
1) RSI is not a funny word. Repetitive Strain Injuries can be extraordinarily painful, detract from your quality of life, and impair not only your work but even your daily activities.
2) Any unusual signs of tingling in your limbs that aren't 'normal' like your foot falling asleep, and tend to repeat, need to be checked by a doctor. (especially to rule out something far more serious)
Tingling is usually the first warning that something isn't right on several fronts, though it doesn't always show up. Different people have different 'tell signs' that an RSI is occurring.
3) Early warning is just that. Watch yourself. Watch how you sit, how you sleep, how you type, even how you brush your teeth. Patterns of aggravation to RSIs are easily spotted. Breaking that behaviour is the hard part, but could prevent the injury from becoming serious.
Rearrange your work space. Adjust the height of your chair, your desk, buy a better keyboard. Watch yourself in the kitchen, how you cut food and stir.
4) Moonmama, stop leaning on your elbow.
5) Don't automatically take the word of the first doctor you see. Seriously. Some are cut-happy and want you on the table immediately. Consider surgery a last resort. Some won't take it seriously at first, oh, it's just a muscle strain, you slept wrong, it'll go away.
RSI does not "go away" without the cooperation of both you and your doctor.
You know your body. If you're tingling or hurting and you know it's normal for you, then you have a problem and you deserve a doctor that will take it seriously.
6) RSI is not the end of the world. It can be treated. Nerves can regenerate, muscle strength can be built back up. You don't have to give things up -- just change how you do them.
7) Anyone can develop an RSI. Anyone. Even Clark Kent. Being a perfect employee, a perfect mom, none of this matters to RSI. Equal-opportunity offender. Physical structure can play a large part in it as well. Particularly long pointy elbows? Guess what, you're at risk.
8) Moonmama, stop leaning on your elbow.
9) You aren't alone. There are RSI support groups, web sites and BBS, mailing lists, and book after book on the shelves that can help you on the way to recovery. If the condition is brought about in the workplace. there are people that will come out to your office, watch you, and point out changes that need to be made.
10) Non-surgical options don't work for everyone. The cause of the RSI is only one problem, and can be combined with several other difficulties.
Non-surgical alternatives wouldn't have helped me, even had I gotten in when it first started. Yes, I had classic behaviours that can cause an RSI. Yes, they were a large part of the problem. But they weren't all of it.
When my surgeon went in, he removed a large knot of tendon in my upper arm that had twisted and coiled around my ulnar nerve, choking it off. In addition, I have very sharp pointy elbows, and just normal movement with my arm caused the nerve to catch and slide over bone.
He cut the tendon section out, then removed the ulnar nerve from my arm. Muscles were then removed, and the nerve replaced, this time on the bottom closer to the cubital tunnel to allow more freedom for it to move. Muscles were then replaced over it.
I wasn't kidding when I said they rebuilt my arm.
By the time the stubborn Pooka went in, the muscle mass was already wasting away and I had almost no feeling in my hand at all. I couldn't turn a doorknob. I couldn't even open diaper tabs for Thing 2. I could run a pin through my pinky and couldn't feel it.
My hand was all but useless by the time my surgery date arrived.
After the anesthesia wore off completely, and the pain pills had lapsed ... I already had some feeling in my hand. I remember the day I reached for something and stretched over a lit candle. I burnt my arm slightly -- and FELT IT. It was amazing. I started crying in the shower once because I suddenly realized I was using both hands to wash my hair, and my left hand could actually feel the soapy spots.
I now have full range of motion back in my arm, and complete use of my hand. Only a small strip along the scar line that is still a little numb, which is normal.
If I seem a little militant on the issue ... well, I am. I've been there, and I screwed around and ignored it. It almost cost me my hand. Just another month of letting it go, and I might have had damage that couldn't be repaired.
Until they perfect cybernetics, you only get one body.
Use it wisely.
1) RSI is not a funny word. Repetitive Strain Injuries can be extraordinarily painful, detract from your quality of life, and impair not only your work but even your daily activities.
2) Any unusual signs of tingling in your limbs that aren't 'normal' like your foot falling asleep, and tend to repeat, need to be checked by a doctor. (especially to rule out something far more serious)
Tingling is usually the first warning that something isn't right on several fronts, though it doesn't always show up. Different people have different 'tell signs' that an RSI is occurring.
3) Early warning is just that. Watch yourself. Watch how you sit, how you sleep, how you type, even how you brush your teeth. Patterns of aggravation to RSIs are easily spotted. Breaking that behaviour is the hard part, but could prevent the injury from becoming serious.
Rearrange your work space. Adjust the height of your chair, your desk, buy a better keyboard. Watch yourself in the kitchen, how you cut food and stir.
4) Moonmama, stop leaning on your elbow.
5) Don't automatically take the word of the first doctor you see. Seriously. Some are cut-happy and want you on the table immediately. Consider surgery a last resort. Some won't take it seriously at first, oh, it's just a muscle strain, you slept wrong, it'll go away.
RSI does not "go away" without the cooperation of both you and your doctor.
You know your body. If you're tingling or hurting and you know it's normal for you, then you have a problem and you deserve a doctor that will take it seriously.
6) RSI is not the end of the world. It can be treated. Nerves can regenerate, muscle strength can be built back up. You don't have to give things up -- just change how you do them.
7) Anyone can develop an RSI. Anyone. Even Clark Kent. Being a perfect employee, a perfect mom, none of this matters to RSI. Equal-opportunity offender. Physical structure can play a large part in it as well. Particularly long pointy elbows? Guess what, you're at risk.
8) Moonmama, stop leaning on your elbow.
9) You aren't alone. There are RSI support groups, web sites and BBS, mailing lists, and book after book on the shelves that can help you on the way to recovery. If the condition is brought about in the workplace. there are people that will come out to your office, watch you, and point out changes that need to be made.
10) Non-surgical options don't work for everyone. The cause of the RSI is only one problem, and can be combined with several other difficulties.
Non-surgical alternatives wouldn't have helped me, even had I gotten in when it first started. Yes, I had classic behaviours that can cause an RSI. Yes, they were a large part of the problem. But they weren't all of it.
When my surgeon went in, he removed a large knot of tendon in my upper arm that had twisted and coiled around my ulnar nerve, choking it off. In addition, I have very sharp pointy elbows, and just normal movement with my arm caused the nerve to catch and slide over bone.
He cut the tendon section out, then removed the ulnar nerve from my arm. Muscles were then removed, and the nerve replaced, this time on the bottom closer to the cubital tunnel to allow more freedom for it to move. Muscles were then replaced over it.
I wasn't kidding when I said they rebuilt my arm.
By the time the stubborn Pooka went in, the muscle mass was already wasting away and I had almost no feeling in my hand at all. I couldn't turn a doorknob. I couldn't even open diaper tabs for Thing 2. I could run a pin through my pinky and couldn't feel it.
My hand was all but useless by the time my surgery date arrived.
After the anesthesia wore off completely, and the pain pills had lapsed ... I already had some feeling in my hand. I remember the day I reached for something and stretched over a lit candle. I burnt my arm slightly -- and FELT IT. It was amazing. I started crying in the shower once because I suddenly realized I was using both hands to wash my hair, and my left hand could actually feel the soapy spots.
I now have full range of motion back in my arm, and complete use of my hand. Only a small strip along the scar line that is still a little numb, which is normal.
If I seem a little militant on the issue ... well, I am. I've been there, and I screwed around and ignored it. It almost cost me my hand. Just another month of letting it go, and I might have had damage that couldn't be repaired.
Until they perfect cybernetics, you only get one body.
Use it wisely.
Tuesday, January 28, 2003
Stray Wheeeee
Note to self: Do not take Lortab with Testosterone before bedtime.
Hydrocodone makes Pooka hyper.
Hyper is not conducive to sleep.
Had to leave bed before DG tried to smother me with a pillow.
I'm talking to the big purple Cheshire Cat on my monitor ... and I think it's answering me.
Can't sleep, clowns will eat me.
Hair has finally gotten longer again. Makes trying to brush or wash it with my shoulder all hose a real bitch. Had the temptation to hack it off again, but after some of the reactions I got last time ... I may just shave it all off, hah!
Harley has assassinated Batgirl again. Out of all the action figures and toys on the shelf above my desk, Harley has singled Batgirl out for termination.
Giger is doing ... things in his cage. I think it's the rodent version of Tai Chi from what I can see of it. Man, he's tall when he stretches up on his hind legs.
.
.
.
.
Black hole.
Dammit, out of all the injuries from the fall, my knee is the only one that looks cool. Still haven't seen a bruise come up on my arm (apparently they're hiding deep inside the muscles so they can taunt me), and only mild bruising on my face. I mean, what the hell? Here I go and do this great fall, only to not get anything usuable out of the damage pics.
Mark ... finally got your email about the project. As I am a doofus, I'd been forgetting to check that one. Yes, I'm interested. Sounds fun. I like fun. Let's talk.
My new client for the second album cover is a riot. I swear, if this guy perks and bounces anymore, I'm going to be very very scared. I mean, with "Antipathy" as the band name, he's entirely too excited. :) They're wanting t-shirts out of whatever designs I come up with for them. Must get to work there.
Though can you see my fat wounded ass in their mosh pit? Don't think so.
Why is it 4:30 in the morning?
I'd like to go to sleep now. Can someone please page the Sandman? He missed part of this house.
Still no word from Compaq. Tommorow I call and the blood-feast will begin.
Hydrocodone makes Pooka hyper.
Hyper is not conducive to sleep.
Had to leave bed before DG tried to smother me with a pillow.
I'm talking to the big purple Cheshire Cat on my monitor ... and I think it's answering me.
Can't sleep, clowns will eat me.
Hair has finally gotten longer again. Makes trying to brush or wash it with my shoulder all hose a real bitch. Had the temptation to hack it off again, but after some of the reactions I got last time ... I may just shave it all off, hah!
Harley has assassinated Batgirl again. Out of all the action figures and toys on the shelf above my desk, Harley has singled Batgirl out for termination.
Giger is doing ... things in his cage. I think it's the rodent version of Tai Chi from what I can see of it. Man, he's tall when he stretches up on his hind legs.
.
.
.
.
Black hole.
Dammit, out of all the injuries from the fall, my knee is the only one that looks cool. Still haven't seen a bruise come up on my arm (apparently they're hiding deep inside the muscles so they can taunt me), and only mild bruising on my face. I mean, what the hell? Here I go and do this great fall, only to not get anything usuable out of the damage pics.
Mark ... finally got your email about the project. As I am a doofus, I'd been forgetting to check that one. Yes, I'm interested. Sounds fun. I like fun. Let's talk.
My new client for the second album cover is a riot. I swear, if this guy perks and bounces anymore, I'm going to be very very scared. I mean, with "Antipathy" as the band name, he's entirely too excited. :) They're wanting t-shirts out of whatever designs I come up with for them. Must get to work there.
Though can you see my fat wounded ass in their mosh pit? Don't think so.
Why is it 4:30 in the morning?
I'd like to go to sleep now. Can someone please page the Sandman? He missed part of this house.
Still no word from Compaq. Tommorow I call and the blood-feast will begin.
Monday, January 27, 2003
Ow
Superjuiced on what can only be called Lortab with Extra Testosterone, the day is a smoodge brighter.
Finally saw someone about the fall. Woman took one peek at my shoulder. "Ew. Ow. I am NOT touching this until we get xrays."
My kind of doc.
For those of you familiar with injury proceedings and the joy of xrays (which inevitably mean you have to move whatever is hurt into the most uncomfortable positions imaginable, ie, hurt enough to make Mother Teresa say Very Bad Things), you know that their main usage is in determining broken bones.
The muscle tears (by which I mean Many) were easily visible on the film. Joint was back in place by this point, but yowsa. If it's in my shoulder, it's either torn, inflamed, or both.
I have orders for small range of motion exercises -- ONLY, and I mean ONLY with Lortab with Testosterone in my system -- and a follow-up in a week to make sure the RSD isn't dinking with the healing and causing the muscles to start cratering on me.
Whoa. Spaced out there. That's it, I'm puttin the Pooka to bed.
Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.
Finally saw someone about the fall. Woman took one peek at my shoulder. "Ew. Ow. I am NOT touching this until we get xrays."
My kind of doc.
For those of you familiar with injury proceedings and the joy of xrays (which inevitably mean you have to move whatever is hurt into the most uncomfortable positions imaginable, ie, hurt enough to make Mother Teresa say Very Bad Things), you know that their main usage is in determining broken bones.
The muscle tears (by which I mean Many) were easily visible on the film. Joint was back in place by this point, but yowsa. If it's in my shoulder, it's either torn, inflamed, or both.
I have orders for small range of motion exercises -- ONLY, and I mean ONLY with Lortab with Testosterone in my system -- and a follow-up in a week to make sure the RSD isn't dinking with the healing and causing the muscles to start cratering on me.
Whoa. Spaced out there. That's it, I'm puttin the Pooka to bed.
Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.
Thursday, January 23, 2003
Fall down, go boom
My bad leg stopped working in mid-step. Just quit. Threw me sideways into the corner of the Things' doorway. Side of head and my right arm took the full impact.
Last thing I remember is thinking "Fuck, that HURT!"
I don't know how long I was knocked out. But my right arm was caught under my head, and all of the blood on my hand was dry. I figure I was out cold for a good five minutes.
Woke up to Thing 1 crying and tapping me in the head. "Mama, do I need to call 911? Mommy, please wake up." Somehow she found my cellphone and the charger to call DG. I have no idea what woke her up. Instinct, maybe. Happened too fast for me to scream.
Haven't been this nauseous from an injury since I got thrown off a horse. Really dizzy. Shaky. Felt frozen for hours. Took every blanket on the bed and then some to stop the shivering.
Top to bottom.
Line from right temple to jaw. Top cartilege hole now big enough for 3 earrings. The one in it had to be cut off. Back to it is still missing. Stone fell out because the prongs were too busy cutting into my ear. Nurse Voodoo assisted the removal procedure. Ear is really swollen. Lobe enlarged and a small cut there.
He also held my hand while DG cleaned it. Ow.
Thank you, Will.
Right arm. This is the bad one. I'm pretty sure it hit the wall first. Shoulder joint throbs and normal motion is not only painful, but nauseating. Swollen. Line of knife-edge pain down outside of arm along tricep. Possible cracked bone. Trying to wait it out in hopes of being able to move better. It is COLD here, and I can't move my arm to get dressed. Can't type with it either.
Right knee. Actually the best of the lot. I'm not sure what I hit with it. Skin is missing, like a rug burn. Hurts more than the impact bruise under it. Maybe it just kept folding and I landed on it. Puffy, but I can at least hobble with the cane.
Don't worry, Heidi. I'll get you pictures when the bruises finish blooming.
Ow. Ow.
Last thing I remember is thinking "Fuck, that HURT!"
I don't know how long I was knocked out. But my right arm was caught under my head, and all of the blood on my hand was dry. I figure I was out cold for a good five minutes.
Woke up to Thing 1 crying and tapping me in the head. "Mama, do I need to call 911? Mommy, please wake up." Somehow she found my cellphone and the charger to call DG. I have no idea what woke her up. Instinct, maybe. Happened too fast for me to scream.
Haven't been this nauseous from an injury since I got thrown off a horse. Really dizzy. Shaky. Felt frozen for hours. Took every blanket on the bed and then some to stop the shivering.
Top to bottom.
Line from right temple to jaw. Top cartilege hole now big enough for 3 earrings. The one in it had to be cut off. Back to it is still missing. Stone fell out because the prongs were too busy cutting into my ear. Nurse Voodoo assisted the removal procedure. Ear is really swollen. Lobe enlarged and a small cut there.
He also held my hand while DG cleaned it. Ow.
Thank you, Will.
Right arm. This is the bad one. I'm pretty sure it hit the wall first. Shoulder joint throbs and normal motion is not only painful, but nauseating. Swollen. Line of knife-edge pain down outside of arm along tricep. Possible cracked bone. Trying to wait it out in hopes of being able to move better. It is COLD here, and I can't move my arm to get dressed. Can't type with it either.
Right knee. Actually the best of the lot. I'm not sure what I hit with it. Skin is missing, like a rug burn. Hurts more than the impact bruise under it. Maybe it just kept folding and I landed on it. Puffy, but I can at least hobble with the cane.
Don't worry, Heidi. I'll get you pictures when the bruises finish blooming.
Ow. Ow.
Saturday, January 18, 2003
Unplugged
She earned her Nemesis nickname an hour after I took her out of the box.
Two weeks of blue screens, fatal errors, massive crashes, programs spontaneously deleting and uninstalling on boot. 16 hours on the phone with tech support. 4 complete fdisk reformats. No resolution.
I got pissed. I started digging. I solved the problem, not them. They shipped the damn machine out of the warehouse with a bad RAM chip. They replace, things improve.
Christmas Eve. Won't start. Dead. Nothing. Will not boot. Go through the hard boot, removing cords, battery, etc. Power gets TO the unit, but the unit won't use it to boot. Great. More phone time.
Send a box. Send the laptop in. Get it back, with a note that says it worked for them, oh well. They did .... NOTHING to it. Nothing.
Three hours later, it died again. Same problem, power to it, nothing happens. More phone time. Get a new box. Send it back in new box. This time, told that the heat spreader was dusty and they switched it out. Uh huh. They send it back.
Three days later, it's dead as a frickin doornail, RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE of a paid contract piece. Yes, it's ON at the time, and I lose everything because it died in the middle of CTRL-S.
Why, yes, it's phone call time again. I'm on hold 14 minutes while they try to get me a supervisior. By this time .... So I go through the whole sordid story, throwing names and dates and error messages and case numbers at the woman.
"Faces of Death" had nothing on this conversation. PookaMouse ROARED.
The solution?
Hurry up and wait. I SHOULD "get a phonecall" from a Quality Manager in 7-10 DAYS. Apparently only someone with a spiffy title is allowed to make any real decisions.
This is my second Compaq. It will be the last.
The first one I fell in love with. All of the problems I had with her resulted from physical damage (note to self: you still need to make that cat fur bikini for the kids). Despite bad things I'd heard about them, I had a wonderful experience.
So I bought another one to replace it when she finally died.
I'm waiting once again to hear Frisco tell me, "Shoulda bought a Mac."
Two weeks of blue screens, fatal errors, massive crashes, programs spontaneously deleting and uninstalling on boot. 16 hours on the phone with tech support. 4 complete fdisk reformats. No resolution.
I got pissed. I started digging. I solved the problem, not them. They shipped the damn machine out of the warehouse with a bad RAM chip. They replace, things improve.
Christmas Eve. Won't start. Dead. Nothing. Will not boot. Go through the hard boot, removing cords, battery, etc. Power gets TO the unit, but the unit won't use it to boot. Great. More phone time.
Send a box. Send the laptop in. Get it back, with a note that says it worked for them, oh well. They did .... NOTHING to it. Nothing.
Three hours later, it died again. Same problem, power to it, nothing happens. More phone time. Get a new box. Send it back in new box. This time, told that the heat spreader was dusty and they switched it out. Uh huh. They send it back.
Three days later, it's dead as a frickin doornail, RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE of a paid contract piece. Yes, it's ON at the time, and I lose everything because it died in the middle of CTRL-S.
Why, yes, it's phone call time again. I'm on hold 14 minutes while they try to get me a supervisior. By this time .... So I go through the whole sordid story, throwing names and dates and error messages and case numbers at the woman.
"Faces of Death" had nothing on this conversation. PookaMouse ROARED.
The solution?
Hurry up and wait. I SHOULD "get a phonecall" from a Quality Manager in 7-10 DAYS. Apparently only someone with a spiffy title is allowed to make any real decisions.
This is my second Compaq. It will be the last.
The first one I fell in love with. All of the problems I had with her resulted from physical damage (note to self: you still need to make that cat fur bikini for the kids). Despite bad things I'd heard about them, I had a wonderful experience.
So I bought another one to replace it when she finally died.
I'm waiting once again to hear Frisco tell me, "Shoulda bought a Mac."
Tuesday, December 24, 2002
Santa Thing
Thing 2: (rushes out into the living room with the exaggerated arm-pumping) "Gotta drink more CoRed! Gotta keep up my emergies! Can't let my emergies stop!"
(repeats rushing and exits, stage right)
Thing 2: (from other room) "What?!? Don't make me kick your rear!"
Me: (thankful she at least didn't say 'ass' this time)
Thing 2: "Ho ho ho, now shut up! I gotta put THESE over HERE. Move it, people!"
(loud crashing noise)
Thing 2: "I didn't do it!"
This is going to be a very long day.
(repeats rushing and exits, stage right)
Thing 2: (from other room) "What?!? Don't make me kick your rear!"
Me: (thankful she at least didn't say 'ass' this time)
Thing 2: "Ho ho ho, now shut up! I gotta put THESE over HERE. Move it, people!"
(loud crashing noise)
Thing 2: "I didn't do it!"
This is going to be a very long day.
... And Cancel Christmas!
Christmas is cancelled.
Come out this morning, my laptop is dead. D-E-D dead. No power. Nada. Flickers pathetically at me. Extended tech discussion (after my phone number popping up sends the techs into a DefCon 4 panic and the one with the shortest straw has to take my call without benefit of cyanide pills) resulting in the same bloody conclusion I came to half an hour before my total hysterics started -- Power Supply, 1 each, D-E-DOA.
Estimated time before box gets here: Saturday. Estimated time for it to be fixed: How does some time in 2005 sound?
All my client information is on that harddrive. All the documents. To work, I'm going to have to email every one of them, providing I can find all the email addresses somewhere in my brain, and ask them to resend.
The images and base files I had been finishing as Christmas presents for others are all on that machine. No presents now. Shit. I'm sorry, guys. Dammit.
The money DG and I were given as pretty much the total of our presents from the monster is Gone. Spent. Poof. All the little things add up. No presents for us.
Big freakin winter storm last few days. Pooka has no limbs, just these deformed objects that used to limbs and are now closer to nuclear meltdown. "Whoosh, into the ground. Like a big ole glowing gopher!" I couldn't sleep last night. Hurt too much.
Had my first severe asthma attack in months last night while failing to achieve sleep.
The weekend at the monster's was mostly awful. She started on me before I even finished getting out of the car. I'm not even going to go into that Hell. It's not worth the additional stress. At least the Things got presents.
Did see Two Towers with Klash and Lisa. Only bright point to the weekend. DG got pulled over for speeding on the way home.
We get home, to find out that Voodoo had another car wreck. At least he's safe and alive.
I feel like I'm in a twisted virtual reality version of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas," surrounded by mutant Whos.
We're here. We're together. We're alive.
It will have to be enough.
Come out this morning, my laptop is dead. D-E-D dead. No power. Nada. Flickers pathetically at me. Extended tech discussion (after my phone number popping up sends the techs into a DefCon 4 panic and the one with the shortest straw has to take my call without benefit of cyanide pills) resulting in the same bloody conclusion I came to half an hour before my total hysterics started -- Power Supply, 1 each, D-E-DOA.
Estimated time before box gets here: Saturday. Estimated time for it to be fixed: How does some time in 2005 sound?
All my client information is on that harddrive. All the documents. To work, I'm going to have to email every one of them, providing I can find all the email addresses somewhere in my brain, and ask them to resend.
The images and base files I had been finishing as Christmas presents for others are all on that machine. No presents now. Shit. I'm sorry, guys. Dammit.
The money DG and I were given as pretty much the total of our presents from the monster is Gone. Spent. Poof. All the little things add up. No presents for us.
Big freakin winter storm last few days. Pooka has no limbs, just these deformed objects that used to limbs and are now closer to nuclear meltdown. "Whoosh, into the ground. Like a big ole glowing gopher!" I couldn't sleep last night. Hurt too much.
Had my first severe asthma attack in months last night while failing to achieve sleep.
The weekend at the monster's was mostly awful. She started on me before I even finished getting out of the car. I'm not even going to go into that Hell. It's not worth the additional stress. At least the Things got presents.
Did see Two Towers with Klash and Lisa. Only bright point to the weekend. DG got pulled over for speeding on the way home.
We get home, to find out that Voodoo had another car wreck. At least he's safe and alive.
I feel like I'm in a twisted virtual reality version of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas," surrounded by mutant Whos.
We're here. We're together. We're alive.
It will have to be enough.
Monday, December 16, 2002
Dear Santa
Dear Santa,
Please ignore my age and any past suspicions that you weren't real. No one else is listening, and I think I've moved beyond the hope that prayer is going to do any good.
I want my body to work again.
I hurt so bad, Santa. The last two weeks ... I'm sitting here crying, Santa. Every day the pain seems to get worse. I can't even control my own hands. I'm shaking and aching and nothing is making it better. I have bottles of meds that do little more than dull the increasing agony.
I'm tired, Santa.
I'm tired of hurting, tired of disappointing my children and my family. I'm tired of waking up in tears because the pain is too much for me to stay asleep. I'm tired of having one of my children ask me a question, and suddenly going completely blank. I'm tired of going 3 or 4 days with only a few hours sleep total. I'm tired of waking up feeling more exhausted than I did before passing out. I'm tired of the drugs, I'm tired of the doctors, and I'm tired of being tired.
There's a wheelchair on my Christmas list, not because I want it, but because I'm slowly losing the ability to walk. The cane doesn't do me any good when my arms won't work. I have a handicapped placard for my car, the one that is permanent.
I want my mind back.
I want the brain cells that have been short-circuited to wake up. I don't want the fogs and confusion and frustration. I want to be able to do a damn crossword puzzle without bursting into tears because I can no longer remember anything.
I want to be there for my family. I want to be able to stand up long enough to make dinner. I want to be able to make bread again, or even something as simple as a cake. I want to be able to go to school plays and open house and go roller skating with my kids at parties.
I want to remember what my husband told me five minutes earlier without him having to tell me again. And again. I want the look of frustration and the growl in his voice to vanish. I want to remember being me, and I can't even remember what it was like.
I want to help my kids with their homework. I want to splash in puddles with them and chalk up the sidewalk and go to the zoo. I want to hold them in my arms, I want to be hugged, I want to be touched by them without crying because the pain of contact is too great.
I don't want my children to be afraid anymore. I don't want to hear "Is Mommy going to die?" I don't want to hear "Mommy, I hope you get better." I don't want my children to have to pick up after me because I can't hold onto anything and can't bend over to get whatever I knocked over.
I want to make love to my husband again. I want to be touched. For it to not hurt. I don't want to be scared of it.
It all seems so very selfish, but Santa? For Christmas ....
.... can you give me back to my family?
Please ignore my age and any past suspicions that you weren't real. No one else is listening, and I think I've moved beyond the hope that prayer is going to do any good.
I want my body to work again.
I hurt so bad, Santa. The last two weeks ... I'm sitting here crying, Santa. Every day the pain seems to get worse. I can't even control my own hands. I'm shaking and aching and nothing is making it better. I have bottles of meds that do little more than dull the increasing agony.
I'm tired, Santa.
I'm tired of hurting, tired of disappointing my children and my family. I'm tired of waking up in tears because the pain is too much for me to stay asleep. I'm tired of having one of my children ask me a question, and suddenly going completely blank. I'm tired of going 3 or 4 days with only a few hours sleep total. I'm tired of waking up feeling more exhausted than I did before passing out. I'm tired of the drugs, I'm tired of the doctors, and I'm tired of being tired.
There's a wheelchair on my Christmas list, not because I want it, but because I'm slowly losing the ability to walk. The cane doesn't do me any good when my arms won't work. I have a handicapped placard for my car, the one that is permanent.
I want my mind back.
I want the brain cells that have been short-circuited to wake up. I don't want the fogs and confusion and frustration. I want to be able to do a damn crossword puzzle without bursting into tears because I can no longer remember anything.
I want to be there for my family. I want to be able to stand up long enough to make dinner. I want to be able to make bread again, or even something as simple as a cake. I want to be able to go to school plays and open house and go roller skating with my kids at parties.
I want to remember what my husband told me five minutes earlier without him having to tell me again. And again. I want the look of frustration and the growl in his voice to vanish. I want to remember being me, and I can't even remember what it was like.
I want to help my kids with their homework. I want to splash in puddles with them and chalk up the sidewalk and go to the zoo. I want to hold them in my arms, I want to be hugged, I want to be touched by them without crying because the pain of contact is too great.
I don't want my children to be afraid anymore. I don't want to hear "Is Mommy going to die?" I don't want to hear "Mommy, I hope you get better." I don't want my children to have to pick up after me because I can't hold onto anything and can't bend over to get whatever I knocked over.
I want to make love to my husband again. I want to be touched. For it to not hurt. I don't want to be scared of it.
It all seems so very selfish, but Santa? For Christmas ....
.... can you give me back to my family?
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