1. I had another PT appointment today and got some excellent news-- mobility has improved 50% in one joint and 65% in another. Painful stretchy exercises may be painful, but are also EFFECTIVE. I will likely complain less about them now.
2. My favorite uncle, to whom I am very close and who is also my godfather had a biopsy last week (my family must do this sort of thing in clusters), and the results are NEGATIVE!! :DDD I am taking full credit for starting a non-cancerous trend.
3. Mom gave Tora-kun and I a Wii and Wii Fit as a (slightly early) anniversary present. We have had it for FOUR days and the Wii died. Iz ded. Dedder than ded. We are not happy round these parts. Four frickin' days! I mean, COME ON.
...somnambulicious, how're we doing getting this month struck from the record?
Posted via LiveJournal.app.
The bad news: The PT exercises I have to do hurt like a motherfucker. Seriously, by the time I did my final round of exercises (I have a page of them, and they are to be done 6-8 times a day), I just wanted to cry. Partially because it hurt, and partially because it just shouldn't be this hard to bend your finger, and it was frustrating as... a really, REALLY frustrating thing.
The muscles of my entire arm, all the way up to my shoulder, ache. A lot. Ow.
Speaking of which, I'd better get started on the first round of reps this morning. Everything tightened back up overnight. :(
This is bound to be short because the way my splint holds my finger now is so totaly NOT keyboard friendly. I have to turn my right hand to the side and type with my ring finger. Fun times! It is both frustrating and kind of weirdly exhausting. So here's what's going on:
- I am reading damn near everything I can lay hands on.
- I have a sunburn on my back and shoulders because I'm a moron.
- I have a new haircut that is very "one-hand-friendly" (translation: VERY SHORT)
- I start physical therapy Friday.
- Biopsy results came back and I am very officially cancer-free. \o/
- I am not going to the IGA Conference (a very hard decision to reach, and I am putting off the formal cancellation a bit longer)
- I miss agility lessons. :(
Well, the good news is that insurance covered more of my surgery than I thought.
The bad news is that I'm going to have to decide this week if I ought to cancel my trip to the IGA conference. I think the responsible, adult thing to do is respectfully withdraw. I just hate having to be a responsible adult. I have a few days to ruminate, at least.
Got stitches out Friday, and had splint re-fitted. It's now more uncomfortable than before, which I did not think possible. Physical therapy starts in earnest 5/22, so that's something.
Still crazy-tired all the time, which sucks. A lot.
-- Post From My Phone
The doc told George that the tumor (which he said looks not at all cancerous, JOY) had eaten away at the bone so much that it was "like eggshell" when he went in to clean it out. They broke open the bone, scraped out the tumor (which was, collectively, about grape-sized), packed it up with bone graft material, stitched it up, and bandaged it to hell and back. It was to stay in that dressing for the rest of the day, and I had an appt at a hand rehabilitation center the next morning to be fitted for my splint.
Once home there was much sleeping to be had, and I was pretty out of it until about 7 or 8, when the local anesthetic started wearing off. And then lortab became MY BEST FRIEND. Slept better than I thought I would, since my hand was bitching like crazy. Next morning, we were off to the PT clinic.
Holy mother. I have never, and I mean NEVER, experienced pain like that. Never.
They took the dressing off, and that wasn't so bad-- I got to see the inision and stitches, and it was gross. But the actual fitting involved touching my finger, and positioning it correctly for the splint. FINGER DID NOT WANT TOUCHING AND BENDING, PLEASE AND THANK YOU. I was squeezing George's hand so tightly that one of my knuckles cracked (of my right hand, obv.)
When that was over, my darling hubby took me to Starbucks, because goddammit, I had EARNED a raspberry mocha. He then took me home where I slept off my adventures while he went to work.
Sleep is pretty much what I've been doing a lot of. And Twittering. And watching Angel, but refusing season 4 entirely (oh, Joss, how could you?)
Hand is feeling a little better every day, though today it's bothering me a bit, if only because today I've been more active than I've been in days, and if you can believe it, just typing this out is pretty tiring. Got slight swelling in my other fingers (possibly due in part to this thing being very HOT), and I've been trying to combat that with ice. I get stitches out this Friday (HUZZAH), and that is pretty much the state of affairs at the moment. I am already tired of doing things one-handed, and I would give anything just to be able to do my hair properly, but I'm coping :)
And now? Pictures!
( Cut, because one of 'em's kinda yucky. )
I've got a lot to do before Thursday, mostly because I'm trying to get certain things taken care of before my hand is all splinted up. Cleaning house is at the top of my list. I also have to call the insurance company to see if they're going to cover the brand of glucose meter we bought. The testing strips are ridiculously expensive, so I'm really hoping they'll cover the brand we got. *crosses fingers*
Going to board the dogs from Thursday to Saturday, I think, because I suspect I'm going to be doped up on pain meds most of Friday. I really need to call the doctor and see if I can find out more details about the procedure. I have no idea how long it's even going to take, or I'm going to be put under for the procedure (I rather imagine I will be, since they are going to be opening up the bone, and I have no desire whatsoever to be conscious for that, but I don't want to assume).
Must also get all caught up on laundry. Should probably vacuum, too. These things probably fall under the rubric of "house cleaning."
Our yard looks like utter crap, and I'm going to call Mr. Landlord today. The guy he's paying to mow our yard is supposed to come every two weeks, and I'm pretty sure we're going on week three or four since he's been by. This wouldn't be SO bad, except they sprayed for weeds last week, so we have clusters of brown, dying weeds making the yard look totally trailer-trashy. And it just looks bad. And part of our rent is paying for this idiot to mow the lawn (and, oh, he IS an idiot, believe you me). So that's got to be taken care of.
Conference paper is back to a place where I'm working on it. Typing will be slower with my hand splinted up, but I should be able to type, period. I did open it up the other day and hated it instantly, so I did a little editing and am working on a new introduction and hopefully that'll be moving at a smoother clip again.
I think I'm moving away from my I HATE EVERYTHING mood, and no one will be happier to see that go than me.
And in other news I discovered a maple flavored black tea that has made me reconsider my opinion on flavored black teas.
And in other OTHER news, I would like very much for this paper to magically write itself.
... What? A girl can dream!
Oh! And in other other OTHER news: TORA-KUN FINALLY FOUND HIS WEDDING RING THAT HAS BEEN LOST FOR SEVERAL MONTHS NOW. THE LOST WEDDING RING THAT I DIDN'T TELL ANYONE ABOUT BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT TO EMBARRASS HIM FOR BEING A BONEHEAD AND LOSING HIS WEDDING RING.
T minus 17 days and counting until surgery.
I feel like a pretty huge wimp complaining about this stuff, especially when folks on my f-list have had far, far worse health problems, and deal with far worse pain than this. And I really think the thing that aggravates me worse than the pain and stiffness is the fact that I really, really hate having to ask for help with things. I absolutely hate it. Hate being dependent on other people. So. Much.
And I hate not being able to hold a goddamn PEN! The car needed an oil change, and I was sitting in the waiting room, reading and trying to take notes for my IGA paper, and my handwriting is by this point damned near illegible and I was so goddamn frustrated I just wanted to take my pen and stab someone with it. Except I'd have to do it left-handed, and then I'm pretty sure my aim would be off.
Ice doesn't make it feel better, heat doesn't make it feel better, and Advil, Tylenol, and aspirin barely make a dent anymore.
Whining doesn't make it feel better either, but it's either that or tequila.
Kidding, I'm kidding. Mostly.
I hurt my hurty finger making lunch today and now have it taped to my middle finger, all wrapped up in sports tape. At least until it stops huting to touch it. (Swear to god, last time anything hurt this bad.... it was this same finger, actually. I SAW STARS IT HURT SO BAD.)
I am starting to get an idea of how much fun typing is going to be when this thing is splinted for real.
While we, as a group, understand and appreciate your newfound zeal to give the finger to Metabolism, and Ass and Waist are totally on-board with this endeavor, a few of us feel the need to speak up.
You don't even LIKE celery. The Teeth are bitching about the damn strings caught between them, Stomach has no idea what to make of that particular deposit, and we're all pretty sure you've given Tongue and Tastebuds a case of PTSD. Chop it up in tuna-salad if you must, but don't you dare attempt to eat it straight, ever again, or there will be consequences. The Commonwealth of Girlbits are particularly distraught; they've been sending you very clear signals for chocolate and salt, which you are steadfastly ignoring, which is really just pissing them off.
We demand two (2) oatmeal cookies and one (1) cup of English Breakfast tea with milk, tyvm. You know how Brain gets when the rest of us are cranky, and do you really want to start the taxes under less than ideal conditions? We thought not.
Hand over the sugar and the caffeine and no one gets hurt.
Love and Kisses,
Except now I'm back to goddamn square one. And I'm not terribly happy about that. So I'm going to have to figure... something out. I have no idea what. So I'm not really sure how I feel about this most recent development.
I also apparently have a bone cyst on my right index metacarpal joint, which is -- as far as I'm concerned -- far better news than degenerative arthritis would have been (which is what I'd been bracing myself for). They want to schedule an MRI for the finger aaaand then... uh. I don't know what next.
- Increased sensitivity to cold
- Pale, dry skin
- A puffy face
- Hoarse voice
- An elevated blood cholesterol level
- Unexplained weight gain
- Muscle aches, tenderness and stiffness
- Pain, stiffness or swelling in your joints
- Muscle weakness
- Heavier than normal menstrual periods
- Brittle fingernails and hair
A... number of these apply to me these days. So you know what?
SCREW THE POSSIBLE THYROID DISORDER.
I took a NAP.
I am TURNING UP THE HEAT.
And I am making COOKIES*.
Am so tired of being tired and cold and feeling constantly like I'm depriving myself.
*Cranberry Oatmeal, and I'm feeling generous so I'mma share the recipe!
( Recipe behind zee cut! )
...Why is it on the mornings you aren't allowed to eat anything, that's when you're the most ravenous? Haet 12-hour fasts.
So, my day as follows:
And then I have a regular to-do list that I have to tackle. Which is... on my phone. Which is... um. Not here. Okay, so finding the phone is also high on the list. Possibly before the shower, even.
Have toootally been slacking on eat_shoot_post, and will probably just start fresh today. Bleh -- getting that stomach bug last week threw me for a loop.
ETA: BACK FROM MEDICAL HELL.
Good idea: getting bloodwork and x-rays done the same morning b/c facilities are right next-door to each other.
Bad idea: not breaking the mandatory fasting AFTER the bloodwork and BEFORE the x-ray, resulting in something like an 18-hour fast. Oh my god I'm fracking starving.
On the upside, I got to wear my scarf today.
*getting something to eat nao yes omg*
And yet, am still overweight.
In fact, since upping the dog-walking distance from one mile to two, and cutting out the fats, I have in fact gained weight.
One of the few times in my life when I was anywhere near my ideal weight was during my first year of grad school when I was barely eating enough to keep a gnat alive, and would skip dinner in favor of falling into bed at night, completely exhausted. During my undergraduate years, I went to the gym regularly -- would get up at 6:00 AM for the sole purpose of going to the gym... and I was still overweight. When I was 19, I was -- again -- barely eating enough to keep a gnat alive (I was going through some emotional stuff), walking 1-2 miles a day and horseback riding. So apparently, for me to lose weight, I have to be on the cusp of developing an eating disorder.
I went to the doctor today -- just a routine new-patient appointment. I have an excellent resting pulse (64 bpm), very good blood-pressure (117/78), and -- aside from the weight issue (and the hand thing) -- am perfectly healthy. I left with a slip to get my right hand X-rayed (FINALLY, yes, I know), and a slip to get some blood work done.
He wants to see if I have a thyroid problem.
My grandmother had a thyroid problem, and I did not know about this until I got home and was telling Mom about the appointment.
I have one question:
Why the hell was this not addressed sooner?
*It occurs to me that it says very good things about Whataburger that someone who does not eat fast-food can eat there and not experience a gastrointestinal uprising.
1.) Guarantees I actually eat something during the day.
2.) Increases the likelihood that the something I eat is ... actually pretty healthy (which saves me the embarrassment of admitting that I either skipped lunch [bad] or did something like have a cinnamon bun for lunch [worse, so much worse omg]).
3.) Increases the likelihood that what I eat will be pretty.
Well, that's how it worked out for me today, and today will be my first day posting. So.
That's pretty much all going on here -- I'm hugely behind on some schoolwork, and so am trying to catch up on that. But I stopped to eat some lunch, and then laughed at myself for arranging it so very prettily~ on the counter.
This is not really what you'd call normal for me, and I had an eye exam less than a year ago, so I know it's not eye strain.
Methinks I will be buggering out of class tonight. Or possibly paying even less attention than usual and sendng more text messages to people. YOU ALL KNOW WHO YOU ARE.
Tora and I are going to start walking the doggies first thing in the am -- like 6:30 am -- which ... should be... fun? And then I'll walk them in the afternoons. I've been taking them for walks together, and it hasn't been too much of a headache, except for when Darwin gets it into his head that he wants to wrestle with Sydney WHILE WE'RE WALKING.
I have been catching up on my sleep lately, and no longer feel like complete ass, which is such a relief.
Also? I have managed to keep a houseplant alive for a whole month now. This is big stuff, believe me. I have the brownest of the brown thumbs, and this thing is STILL ALIVE.
I think I may have to break down and see a doctor about my hand. I was pretty certain what was wrong with my index finger was the beginning stirrings of arthritis, but I want to make sure, because if it isn't, and there's something I can do about this, I really want to do it. Because I hate the fact that holding a pen to sign my name can actually hurt. WTF.
However, this led me to do a little more digging about a few other things. See, I cannot drink Cointreau -- at all. I also cannot drink what I lovingly refer to as "cheerleader beers" (those fruity malt beverages for people who don't like beer). I have allergic reactions to both -- I get flushed, dizzy, lightheaded, and my heart beats really hard and fast. It doesn't last very long, say a half hour at most, and if I drink a lot of water, it passes a little more quickly. I used to think it was limited to liquor, but then I'd had some Ocean Spray ruby-red grapefruit juice and had the same reaction.
Soooooo evidently I'm sensitive to sulfites. I'm not sure just HOW sensitive, since I'm okay with most of the food and drink on various lists online. But apparently my reaction is a fairly rare anaphylactic reaction: "Anaphylactic reactions are much less common
Occasional patients exposed to sulfites, experienced symptoms similar to anaphylaxis with flushing, fast heartbeat, wheezing, hives, dizziness, stomach upset and diarrhoea, collapse, tingling or difficulty swallowing."
Anyone know anything about the sulfite levels in Cointreau and malt beverages? Because it's something I should probably educate myself on.
Picture it: 8:30 am, after a night of liquid overindulgence. The dog has been taken out for potty and fed. The usual routine that follows is that everyone then sleeps till about 10 or so, and then Darwin nudges or licks one of us or jumps on the bed or SOMETHING. But no, an hour after being fed, he jumped on the bed. I muttered at him to lay down, and he did. For about fifteen seconds. Then he popped up and jumped off the bed and... just started acting really weird. He would lay down, and the jump up and dart forward, like something startled him. He, quite literally, could not relax.
So, I was mildly concerned at this point and phoned the 24 hr. emergency vet. They said it didn't sound like anything to get too worried about, but to keep an eye on him and possibly bring him in to his regular vet on Monday. I thanked them and hung up, and then was giving Darwin a little bit of a pat-down when realized something really disturbing.
He didn't like me touching his stomach. In fact, when I pressed lightly against his tummy, he arched his back like a cat and scrambled to get away from me.
So I called the ER vet back, told them that, and they were like, "Yes, you should probably bring him in then." Because Darwin's got a barrel-chest, it increases the possibility for bloat, which was what we were both afraid of.
An hour and a prohibitively expensive office visit later, we discovered Darwin was having gas pains.
What the hell, dog.
He's been pretty stressed all day, and it wasn't until about 4 pm or so that he started to unwind and was able to relax long enough to fall asleep. Tora and I have been awake (but exhausted), keeping an eye on him to make sure he doesn't start showing the symptoms of bloat.
I am. So. Tired.