Category Archives: health

Coleus, marbles, medical appointments

When we think about moving elsewhere we often pause because of medical care. After all, I can walk to my dentist, to my PT, to the bone scan place. My PCP is a mile down the road, other specialists are very nearby and excellent.

But. Today was a heads up of a sort. And, it’s starting to feel fucking typical.

My orthopedic surgeon’s practice has had two names, two portals, and three physical sites since I met with them less than a year ago. So I cut myself a little slack when on Monday I went to a follow-up appointment at the wrong building.

Doctor not available to reschedule until December, so I agreed to see his PA at week’s end (today).

Text chimed in at nine this morning: “electricity out in the building. We will call to reschedule.”

They called. It was a robot telling ME to call and reschedule.

I called to reschedule and after fourteen minutes of electronic selections was connected to a person.

And guess what? Now I’m seeing the PA on December 23. And, in the building I hate driving to. And, it’ll be rush hour.

So my husband was correct to wonder out loud: is this access to medical care so great?

Meanwhile, if the government weren’t shut down, this could be a telecall.

PS I object to AI. I really object to the energy and water it consumes. Hate its output. Hate what it’s doing to media, literature, etc. But over the weekend, I copied and pasted my MRI results into it and then asked for exercises and got two PDFs. Most were exercises I’m already doing but a couple were more focused on my spine and flank.

And lo! Since starting them, my right leg is feeling better. It’s the first improvement since the surgery in March. Not trivial.

So, my goal is to be asymptomatic by December 23.

(And I was half-kidding when I quipped, “asymptomatic and cancelling my appointment on December 22).

Placekeeping

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Stopped the oxy five days ago. Got my bowels back. Graduated from walker to single crutch. Took a shower by myself today. Cooked a couple meals (with Ken’s help). All good news.

Still, I get tired (and sometimes a little discouraged) and sleeping is difficult due to how painful it is to change positions in bed.

A spring-like breeze is sweeping the neighborhood this afternoon. Whistling.

Things I wished they’d told me:

You don’t need a toiler extender if you’re five feet or under (picture me hopping UP to the seat, then legs dangling!)

The post-surgical bruising will be extensive, ghastly-looking, and normal. I did not know this. The blood’s working its way down my leg: inner thigh to knee and calf, and this morning, a purplish foot!

Viewing from the couch:

Perfect recovery TV show: Bad Monkey on Apple. Based on a Carl Hiaasen novel, so you get some of his classic trademarks: South Florida and the Keys landscape, high jinx, and humor. There’s a bromance, a romance, a sociopath, a suspended detective, a Voodoo Queen, and lots of twists and turns.

Favorite movie seen recently: The Secret Life of Bees. How did I miss this one? A traumatized Southern white girl ends up at the household of three Black sisters, one an accomplished cellist, another a locally-famous beekeeper (played by Queen Latifah). The girl, played by Dakota Fanning, runs from her abusive father and searches for information about her long-dead mother. The image of a Black Madonna is the clue that leads her to the beekeeper’s house.

Although I had a little problem with all these Black women focussed on saving the poor, scrawny white girl, a lot of tropes were avoided and a good story told.

Thanks Tina, for recommending Winner — a bio pic about Reality Winner. I learned more about her story than I’d known from reading the news.

Last night, we watched a movie based on much older national events (the end of the Cold War and the war in Afghanistan): Charlie Wilson’s War. Learned a lot. Tom Hanks plays Charlie Wilson, Julia Robert’s a Texan socialite, and (my favorite character) Philip Seymour Hoffman plays a schlubby, super-smart CIA agent.

We finished re-watching the HBO series John Adams and it is timely to say the least and not in a good way. It made me grieve even more the epic destruction of our country. When you see what people sacrificed to gain our independence and to craft our foundational documents, you have to wonder, what are we being asked to do now and will we succeed? They didn’t know how things would turn out and neither do we.

I’m ending with a studio tour slideshow/video that I posted on Instagram because I want it for later. Meant to celebrate son #2. All photos are posted around the basement/studio space. 57 seconds

Pix and hip notes

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Because my creative time has been hampered of late, I am sharing some double exposures created recently in my phone using the Diana photo app. This process is satisfying to me — part collage, part Tarot reading. You never know what’s gonna show up. And, even though the actual process of combining the images is facile (performed with thumbs!), there can be an element of artistry to it, depending on the images. Often, they are of quilts and paper collages — photos of work, in other words, where time and thought and effort were expended.

The first one, above, combines a slave quarter photo from Charleston with a close up of a stitched silk pennant I made as part of Mo Crow’s Love is the Answer collaborative project. This is from years back for those of you who were around then.

While stitching on the gown silk provided by Mo, I was at a point in my novel research when I was thinking a lot about our history of slavery (posted about here), so this particular random pairing produced by my app made sense.

This next random pairing could be an illustration for my book (The Weight of Cloth). Swamp photo taken at a preserve west of Charleston. The profile was a Paris Collage Collective prompt and the image a double exposure using a paper collage.

Spoiler alert: the picture could represent Cane Creek, a maroon community established by runaway slaves and others where three of my enslaved characters head at the end of the book.

Women’s March Boston 2017, plus screen grab of dickhead, plus photos of a quilt and neighborhood trees. He looks appropriately malevolent. Not human.

These I share just because I’m enamored with the collage I made using that mirror photo. Or enamored again. The last one includes a gel print I made of a Vanity Fair photo of Benedict Cumberbatch.

A few notes about my hip replacement last week:

Saltines are a blessing.

The orthopedic surgeon is a rock star, the anesthesiologist plays percussion, the nurses and OTs/PTs sing back up and then there’s a huge crew of roadies. It’s amazing how many people were required to replace my joint. I’m grateful.

Least favorite moment: being woken by an alarm triggered by empty saline bag and not being able to find my call button. It went on and on. I called “Hello?” over and over and no one came and still it went on and on. I finally used my phone to call downstairs and they paged a nurse.

I didn’t love throwing up after I got home either. A few times.

Progress: discernible with increased mobility and decreased pain.

Favorite moment today: reading in the sun outside and having to take off my sweater it was so warm!

Finn is a little confused, especially by the walker but also by being banned from the couch, but look how sweetly he stays by!

It went well

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Thanks everyone for thinking of me today and checking in! I really appreciate it.

It went well. Ken brought tulips. And lucky me, they decided I could spend the night. I got to order lunch and dinner from an extensive menu (prep was not terrible). And I’ve been the beneficiary of a stream of reassuring check-ins by staff. I can’t believe how many people were involved in making this new hip happen.

My favorite intro, by the way, was this one: “Hello! My name is Jackson and I’m your helper.”

Watching a fun movie now and looking forward to a good night’s sleep.

Blessings and elevator scare

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The blessing of ice. Of a good night’s sleep.

How a simple sandwich can make a day. Or a good book.

Finding the ground beneath me by turning on the iron — a good thing, long overdue.

The infinite varieties of sun and shadow speak. You are alive, they say. With eyes to see!

Stray dogs can break your heart and so can a cadre of wrecking balls. So much wreckage! The scared little beagle we saw two days ago still has not been reunited with his owner. Will we ever know what happened to him? The courts are working triple time thank god but still we must wonder, what will happen when Mango Mussolini defies a court order. What then? The commentators ask. What then?

The lost and the ruined cannot be neutralized by a club sandwich or a prize-winning novel but I still feel gratitude. I don’t know how to sit with things. If this isn’t already a constitutional crisis, I also don’t know what to say.

And life keeps rolling on.

Today I went to PT and the elevator I was riding from four to ground stuttered suddenly and yanked to a stop. Screech! Clunk! Weird wobble. Somewhere between floors three and two.

The other passenger and I gasped, looked at each other wide-eyed. Are we gonna die? She hit the alarm button. Once. Twice.

I was carrying crutches. The ones my PT had just adjusted for me. The ones I’ll use after my hip is replaced next week.

And you know, it’s been a year. A year since I asked for an MRI (and got an order for an X-ray instead, which added about four months to the process). But never mind that — it’s been doctor visit after doctor visit, a year of PT, two cortisone shots, and finally an MRI and then another X-ray. And another. A cardiac work up. PCP sign off. Surgery scheduled. Cancelled. Rescheduled.

And I couldn’t escape the irony. What if after ALL THAT, I died in a heap of malfunctioning metal and cables, dust settling on crutches never put to use?

Noting irony is better than feeling terror, but I do wonder: Was that weird of me?

We heard the other elevator whisper in its adjacent chute. Senses on triple alert. What would happen next? Would anyone come to save us? Could they? Save us?

Then ours resumed. We held our breath. We held our breath. But it was as though nothing had happened. The doors opened to the lobby and we both walked out into our day. I, to grocery shop, she to who knows what.

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