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[Nov. 12th, 2009|07:52 pm] |
Ah back to the somewhat more sedate pace of the Live Journal. Live has picked me up like a dog with a rag toy and shaken me about, but I seem to be coming through in one piece, though perhaps a bit dizzy.
( The Pain Story So Far... ) |
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| (no subject) |
[Sep. 29th, 2009|09:05 pm] |
First off, my life is great. My little house is still a wreck, torn between moving in and faire, but it’s gradually coming closer to something livable. The work part of work oscillates between good and bad, but my bosses are dear to me and all in all things are good, gifted you might say. I’ve been spending some time with an old friend which has been spectacular, and I look forward to spending more such time.
As this has become something of a pain journal, I don't see any reason to stop journaling about it now. My knees have been killing me. Since I was a child my knees hurt - I complained to my parents, I complained to doctors, I lamented the pain in my knees. Doctors told me it was growing pains, and my parents didn’t really know what to do.
Faire brings out the pain in my knees. All the walking, the heat and activity, there is no stretching that is enough. Usually the left is the worst offender, but this year the right has been my bane, locking up and shooting pain into my foot and my ass. Good times. First weekend I didn’t think anything of it, braced it, and ignored it. Second weekend I had no choice but to pay attention, and this last weekend we had many long chats (admittedly most of my half the conversation involved cussing). I’ve had my right knee braced and have fallen into a rolling gimp walk to save it some pressure.
Flashback to high school, when my knees blew out but good for the first time… saw a doc, who examined me and poked and prodded my knee caps. He stuck his fingers up under each and I damn near kicked him each time from the pain. He smiled and nodded, and ordered an xray… the film was taken and before I could have it read we lost our insurance. He told me before I left that I had petalla femoral syndrome; the muscles and tendons pulling too tight on the outside and the inside bits pulling too little, causing the knee cap to do wonky things.
See, your knee cap is supposed to go up and down happy and in a more or less vertical direction. It floats in a channel between the bones of your shin and thigh and, in theory, lives happily there. Unless the full force of your outer leg muscles pull it to the side, then the little bastard floats up and down and out, and grinds against the channel. Good times.
Told Doc Dan about my history, the partial diagnosis, the pain, the gimp, etc etc. We looked at some anatomical drawings and he pointed out where things can go horribly wrong with your knee joint. We talked about what to do now and what to do about the long run. He did a quick and dirty test, laying my lower leg across his knees and gently guiding my knee cap as I pulled it up and down with my muscles… my patellas pull sharply to the outside on both legs which is really kind of impressive – confirmed for him the partial diagnosis.
Got my back adjusted (yay!) and then he taped my knee and my feets, sort of a refresher on the short term treatment I’d started after my first initial doc visits in high school. I’ll be taping the arches of my feets to help keep them from pronating, and taping my keens to force the patellas to track more correctly. It’s a charming look, I assure you.
So this weekend I’ll be taping everything up, bracing like the best of them, and carrying on with my rolling gimp. I foresee being in few walk-about gigs, saving up my walkies for Flirting With Boy. At least the Old Dun Cow and the Coughing Sheep make pleasant places to rest, since cruising faire site is low on my list of smart things to do.
So there it is then, the Knee Cap Capers. Good night, my lovley friends, and enjoy.
ps. Flirting With Boy? Fabulous. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 7th, 2009|10:56 pm] |
Blech, feeling craptastic, physically. The weather here in the City just doesn't seem to want to settle... classic SF weather and it's really taking a toll on me. The constant switch between fog, sun, and rainy weather just sucks for my joints... aches and pains, general icky all around.
It's sapping my energy and emotional fortitude... It's exhausting to be pained all time, and that constant drain really wears me down. It's hard to motivate to do *anything* because of that drain. I'm trying to keep my spirits up, but it's hard... there doesn't seem to be anything I can do to make the pain or discompfort stop; advil doesn't really work, and I'm hardly going to take heavier pain meds to kill general aches and pains. The tramadol doesn't really help with this situation anyway, and I don't have anything else. Going out and about just means being out and about in pain, which is misery, instead of home in pain, which is at least tollerable. Charming.
One of the reasons I didn't go to Valhalla with Mr. B this weekend was because I couldn't imagine being out in the wet woods like this... I'm having a hard enough time being warm, sleeping on a good bed, and swaddled in heating pads - the idea of damp and an air matress is hardly appealing.
I've got some new names of PM&R docs, and I'm gearing up for the next round of medical calls and appointments... I need to find a way out of this black hole of suck.
Tired now... sleeps soon I think. Sleeping has it's own dread for me, because I find myself waking up in the night uncomfortable and again, unable to do anything about it. I get this feeling in my knees and hips like a buzzing... it's not pain, though I register it as pain. It's like the whole joint is vibrating on the cellular level, and it's distinctly unpleasant. I'll be half asleep tossing and turning trying to find something that's comfy, but nothing is... because there's nothing inherently wrong with my body position. When I sleep on my left shoulder wrong, it hurts like a mother, I roll over, and it gets better... when my hips are buzzing like ants are having a party in my joints, there's nothing to make it better. Endless lame.
So yeah... ready to make this stop. Time to get on the phone with docs again... I hates it, but it's good for me.
Still lack a monkey. |
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[May. 16th, 2009|12:10 pm] |
Heading out to the store soon to pick up some vitamins... Food in my belly, shower accomplished... hell I feel almost human! My shoulder hasn't been hurting as much a) since the tramadol, but b) since it's had time to recover from Dr. A's exam. Haven't taken any pain meds today, and my goal is not to. I can't help but think that the reduction of pain has reduced the tension in my shoulders, and by and large has let everything settle down... even my hand isn't so numb, which gets worse when I'm tense.
Other than that, some freelance work to do today... Spent the morning watching horrible funny things and playing terrible fabulous games at AdultSwim.com. Worth an hour if you've got one to spare. |
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| (no subject) |
[May. 7th, 2009|07:59 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | 11846-restricted-107 E N | ] |
Shoulder Part 2
So! Interesting stuff on the front of the shoulder awesome. I report here for those interested, but as much to keep a running journal of the whole exprience.
( The (new/old) story so far... ) |
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[Apr. 27th, 2009|08:23 pm] |
Stress and over thinking == one sore little girl. My shoulder locked up today in the way it does that makes me worry it's truely damaged - started up with horrid pain, then knoting muscles, then a gradual loss of feeling in my hand as the inflamation takes over. Stretching doesn't help and elicits crunching, grinding sounds and feelings.
All in all, a great way to start the week. Came home early becase of it to try to relax - my computer set up is better at home than work, and helps the whole body thing. My hand is still numb, and there's a disturbing and annoying tingling / buzzing feeling down the whole thing, but the pain has eased.
I'll be taking pain killers to work tomorrow in hopes that if it gets bad, geeking out on synthetic opiats will allow me to keep working. *sigh* Some people like taking pain killers as recreation... I take pain killers to stop gasping and squirming, so they are not associated with fun for me. We're running low on our carefully hoarded stash though...
The doctor who cut my hand open is also a shoulder guy. I really like him, and more than that, trust him... he's in the middle of moving his practice though. It's worth waiting until he lands though, because having a doctor you trust is critical... For my shoulder alone, I had several doctors who were totally indifferent to my situation, one doctor who yelled at me and made me cry because I wouldn't answer his questions with yes or no answers (I actually thought about my answers and qualified them - OH NO), doctors who's version of pain control was to just take two pills instead of one (on top of perscription ibuprofen, gee just what I needed, perscription drugs that I can get at any local corner store). Point being, a doctor who will listen to you, who you're comfortable with is worth their weight in gold.
Bla bla bla. Another year going by all jacked to hell. Being old and arthritic is going to be *awesome*. |
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[Mar. 15th, 2009|11:16 pm] |
What these fingers have done over the years. They've pulled music from countless instrumnets, drawen elegant line and shadow in charchol, pencil, and ink, they've crafted clay pots and carved wood into shapes and forms useful and pretty. They've pulled beauty out of logic with a keyboard, function mingling with delicate turns of brackets and syntax.
This stupid, needless surgery has cast all that function into question. While I'm very glad I had it - it potentially saved my hand - there was no cause for it... I didn't stick my hand through a rusty fence, I didn't cut myself open on an old can, I wasn't bitten by a bug or a dog or a cat.... I was fine and then I wasn't and then I had surgery. Stupid and needless in terms of causality. There was no cause there was no trigger. One day fine then BLAMMO they're cutting open my right hand.
In my quiet moments I have great fear. I still fight to straiten my finger, and it still doesn't want to bend completely. Both hurt. Both pull and push, they fight to happen, and you can see in the color how my hand doesn't want to work right anymore. The surgery scar is so sensitive, brushing it against the pages of the books I read can cause me to gasp and curl my arm into my chest. There is nothing I do with my right hand that doesn't remind me that something is deeply wrong with the way that digit works.
And I know logically that it will be ok, that I will get through this, that the scar tissue will fade. I know that I won't think of it much by the end of the year. But right now...
Right now...
My finger is slightly miss-shapen. No longer the sturdy graceful thing it was, it's got a knobby bend to it. Nothing anyone but me would even see, mind you. No one will look at my hand and thing "Oh my god... what happened there?" But I will always see it.
Making a fist feels funny. Stretching my fingers wide feels funny. Pulling my hair back into a tail feels strange. I cannot hold a pencil the same way anymore, though I keep trying. Typing even feels a bit odd. I wonder about Henrietta my accordion, and I wonder about the clarinet and the saxaphone and the piano and the violin and the penny whistle and the flute and ...
I know in my head that it will get better but good lord how I fear... I have so much fear. It's terrifying. When simply making a fist doesn't feel right, how could you not fear? I want my hand back I want the promise of music back I want it all back.
And I also know it will never be the same... that it might be as good, but never the same. And that's scarey too.
I want my hand back, the life I built with it back. I want those twenty years of playing music back. I want my lifetime of simply moving my hand back.
And how god-damn thankful I am it wasn't worse. You can't play saxaphone with three fingers and a thumb, can't play clarinet with three fingers and a thumb can't... I can't even think on it.
But I still want my hand back. Knowing how bad it could have been doesn't make what I've got any better.
I want my hand back, and god, I'm affraid. |
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[Mar. 11th, 2009|08:19 pm] |
Some of you may know a great man and performer in our community - Ace. You may know him as Fagin at the Dickens Christmas Faire, one of my true and sweet performers, who has done and given more to the cast than few others (he ties with a couple notables in the self-less giving department). He does a great gig as Jack Spareribs, a Jack Sparrow comedy knock off who does everything from high end juggling and clown comedy to ventriloquism, to spot-on character reenactment.
He happens to be up for Best of Bay Family Fun in the Bay Area, which is voted on by all y'all, link below. If Ace's antics have ever touched your hearts, his warmth ever heated your hands, or his amazing freaking talent ever blown you away as it has me, please take a moment to vote. This is one of our deserving community that we have a real opportunity to support and give props to for all their freaking awesome.
If you know him, and have seen him, and have been even momentarily impressed, visit the site below and take a few minutes to salute his amazingness!
http://baylist.sfgate.com/pirate-4-hire/biz/173762 |
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[Mar. 8th, 2009|09:17 am] |
Life over the last few months has been hecktick, to say the least. The last couple of weeks has been no exception.
I've had a few epiphanies in the last little bit that could dramatically change a few things over the next few months - good stuff, hopefully, though stuff I need to keep under wraps for a while. If I should meet you for a beer at some point, gentle readers, I'll be happy to tell you about it.
In the mean time, I've decided to buckle down and brush up on some programming skills that have gotten rusty, or have gone flat out ignored. I've decided to start studying Java again, a language I hated when I had to learn it. There's much to be learned and gained from it, so while I sort of dread digging into it, I'm sort of excited too. It will certainly round out my skills as a coder for the web.
Likewise, I should get back into Flash... that's a platform that's got a lot going for it, and while it doesn't necessarily apply to what my primary skills are, it's damn fun and useful.
I've also considered looking around for short freelance jobs again. Save some money, pay off some debt, pay off these medical bills. I don't really need any more stress in my life, but who couldn't use a little extra cash? It would be nice to finally get some of the furniture and what not we need around here to turn our apartment from a frat house into a home - propper furniture with drawers and cabinets for the fish tank and supplies, a better entertainment center that holds more than the space it takes up, a bit more focused storage for my otherwise busy and impacted office.
Well, time to start the day... a bit of laundry, a bit of study, a lot of relaxing. A bit of calling a neglected friend (I feel like a shmuck, which is totally repairable by simply picking up the phone). |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 22nd, 2009|06:50 pm] |
| [ | music |
| | Oren Lavie - Her Morning Elegance | ] |
Another long quiet day. A good day in many respects, but the winding into evening leaves the house very quiet.
I've pinged a few folk... got a lovely response from J-dawg, which helped me not throw my printer out the window. It was touch and go there for a minute. Other than that, though, no answer... how easy to feel cut off and adrift when night falls and a few hollars into the dark go unanswered.
I have music to comfort me, at least... wrapped up in strings and deep rich voices familiar and strange. I love turning it up enough that my desk buzzes just a bit with the bass... I feel a bit bad for my neighbor when I do that, but hell... it's a rare event.
These weeks when Mr. B is gone are difficult... he's gone just long enough for me to start quietly going mad, but not long enough to get used to it. I'm no good at going out, never have been, and by the time I realize I can go hang with people, it's generally a bit late.
Ah well. Say lah vee, and all that. |
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| (no subject) |
[Feb. 21st, 2009|10:28 pm] |
Another quiet day, alone in the house.
The electrical plug behind my desk died, so I cannot have both the computer and the television on at the same time until we figure out what's up. I've chosen my computer obviously... the house has been very quiet since last Monday. I find myself easily wrapped up in strange persuits online, be they futzing with games, or going through various entries in a stranger's blog... eaten by the web.
I find myself once again looking with longing at my artistic tallents, trying to drum up the focus to apply myself to them. I am in a terrible place where I have let many of my skills lapse, so I can't just sit and play music, I'd have to reaquaint with the instrument again, or in the case of some of the instruments I haven't played, learn them. And all I want to do is just sit and play. Music is realy the thing that pulls me hardest, tugging and murmering, but my attempts to let it out become frustrated. I need to find that place of stillness where even the frustrated effort provides satisfaction.
I need to stretch more. I have neglected my body as well as my art, and it shows. Too much going on in my life spun me around so much it was easy to say, "I will think of this later." Only now it's later, and I'm still spinning, and my joints ache from my being too stiff. *sigh*
I think, really, that there are some things out of ballance in my life. Work and theater took over mid last year, and now theater has quieted, but work still chases me around at all hours. I'm off kilter in my insides... And I need to find that ballance. I need to recconect with my hamstrings, and bend my ear to chords. I need to find that part that is me, and not just struggling for the next thing. I need to uncover me under all this other stupid life that is done because one must, nto because one can.
I wish I had a piano. A real piano, not a keyboard... for some reason, there is something compelling about sitting at one. I am a terrible piano player, and barely got through my required classes in school. I may play decently on day, but I will never be good I think. Even still, there's an immediacty to the piano; when you stroke the keys sounds come out. The notes are all laid out for you to see, and if you know what the patterns of black and white mean, those keys whisper to you. |
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