Staying Inside Until Spring
Dad would have been 91 today—Happy Birthday, Dad.
I honored him by performing a stunt unique to the elder set. I slipped on the ice while taking out the recycling and landed rather ungracefully on my keester on the cement. Everything appears to be fine, despite the stiff soreness. I believe my tailbone remains intact and parts are working as they should; though there is one part of me that I really cannot describe in public that feels as though it had something jammed up there. Ahem.
The upside is, since I went backwards and basically did a graceful butt-back-shoulder roll (in order), my knees completely avoided any contact with hard surfaces. Small blessings.
But I've decided there is no reason to venture out until spring thaw. Nope. None. Not even for mail. Until it melts, I'm staying inside where it is safe. (Do not mention this to the cats, lest they get the idea of becoming moving speed bumps.)
The project mentioned 20 days ago is nearly ready to launch. Stay tuned.
Labels: family time, injuries
Fangs A Lot!
That's what my cat Jake is probably going to say when I pick him up from the vet in a couple of hours. Poor guy.
At 10 PM Wednesday night, the night before Thanksgiving (of course), I went to pet his head as he lay on the back of the couch.
He snarled, hissed viciously, and nearly took my arm off.
Jake's not the most personable cat, but even for him this was extreme. When he turned to look at me, I freaked a little. The right side of his face below his eye was puffed up and it looked like his nose wasn't on straight.
I thought OMG OMG OMG WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY CAT?!?!?
Wouldn't let me get near him. Best I could ascertain was that there was no discharge of any kind, and everything else looked "normal", so... maybe he got bonked? He looked like a prizefighter. I thought maybe his jaw was broken or something. Except, he ate just fine.
I called the vet at home, described it all. He said,
probably an infection or allergic reaction. Keep an eye on him overnight, if it's worse by 8 AM, come on in.
At 8 AM Turkey Day, I called to let him know the cat looked better, the swelling had gone down, and he was allowing me to touch him now. We determined he could hold off a bit before coming in.
So we went today. I took Zander along too, because he's been losing weight. My vet will give a kind of 2-fer deal. Bring in one cat for the $35 visit fee, and the second one gets a physical for $20.
My formerly corpulent Zander, who topped out at 23 pounds, is down to 16 pounds. The funny thing is, he's now at a healthy weight. (He's a behemoth.) He got a clean bill of health, and as long as he maintains this weight, he's fine. He's just not an obese pig anymore. So, Zander got to ride home.
Jake, on the other hand, is healthy except for the issue. His right upper fang has abscessed. Not fun. He's having it removed, under sedation, and I'll be picking him up at 5:30. The vet said this is one of those things that'll happen as they age (he is 8, after all; Zander is 10; the "kittens" of blue are 4; and Ophelia, my eldest is 14!) and brushing isn't going to do that much to change things. He'll get along fine without the fang. (Ophelia doesn't have any of hers anymore and she's fine.) And I'm thankful that it's just a dental mishap that is easily and for the most part inexpensively handled. But I'll miss the fang. Poor guy.
Happy Fangsgiving...
Labels: cats, injuries
You Should See the Other Guy
The other guy is totally unharmed. Because the other guy is a wheelbarrow.
I'd take a picture, but I'd rather not post my naked protruding belly online until I've had the chance to whittle it down a bit. But take my word for it.
When one is hustling a wheelbarrow across a yard to a burning, smoking manure pile in hurricane winds; and when said wheelbarrow (the deep kind) contains a load of heavy, wet manure measuring approximately 2 feet by 2 feet by 1 feet and weighing approximately 20,000 tons; one should ensure the smoothness of the traveling surface before deciding to move double-time (despite the imminent threat of rain).
One should also keep in mind that it is best to move in harmony with said wheelbarrow. This means that when said wheelbarrow decides to snag its wheel on a yard divot and come to a sudden and complete stop, one's physical presence should also magically come to a sudden and complete stop, because failure to do so may result in the acquisition of a bruise the size of a muffin and the color of fresh plums, courtesy of drilling the wheelbarrow's large wooden handle firmly into one's belly.
That's OK. I was done using that ovary.
Labels: injuries
Sock Yarn Contest
No, not my contest—MeanGirl's. She is having a contest. Visit her blog,
144 Inches of I-Cord, and leave a comment about your favorite holiday tradition. Winners will be chosen by random drawing and the prize is SOCK YARN. (I knew that would get your attention!)
In other more boring news, I spent 12 hours spackling, sanding, then touching up the paint in my old house (2-story, 3 BR, 1.5 BA, large eat-in kitchen, large LR), as well as caulking the tub fixtures and surround, fixing the dimmer switch (again) and having an actual plumber check for leaks then fix the hot water stop valve on the kitchen sink and replace the faucet for me which I could have done but hey he was reasonably priced, one less to do on my enormous list. This involved much bending, twisting, gripping, wax on wax off (Karate Kid reference), and numerous trips up and down two flights of stairs (second floor bathroom, basement fuse box, second floor bathroom).
Today I am SORE AS SH**. Not to mention the paint fume migraine from two of the colors. Let me repeat that.
SORE.
As.
SH**.
Did you get that?
Good. I am off to take a third Tylenol, buy my milk and lottery ticket, and commence an evening on the couch with self-motivating lapwarmers.
Once again. Sore as... aw heck. At least it's DONE. All that remains is putting my toys (tools) away and tidying up the space. Which
photographed pretty well, I might add.
Finally finished.
Go enter Jen's contest. NOW! :-)
Labels: boring household crap, breaking news, injuries
OK Now That Is Interesting
Daily Horoscope
For 28 October 2007
A family matter, relocation or contract on a property that tied in with events about a five weeks ago*, will be important in the organisation of events during October 28-November 7. Routines tie you into activities with others during October 28-November 1, creating a sense of familiarity and comfort. Relationships are strengthened then. Well. That's interesting. Events relating to relocation/property of about five weeks ago? That would be around when Rocker Boy arrived. HMMMMmmmmmmm.
In other news: ankle is much improved. I'm bustling around like normal except for the occasional reminder when I step funny that "oh yeah, I hurt it". I think it's safe to say that it's a sprain. Thank you for all of your concern and, I'm assuming, many happy healthy ankle prayers/vibes.
My schedule is all whacked out. First, I got
Cubase (music recording production software for the computer). I went with the Studio 4 version rather than the full or the limited—right smack in the middle. But it's pretty powerful stuff.
Next, I finally overcame my fear and discovered the magic of
MIDI, which opens up entire new worlds of possibilities for recording my music. Yeah, it scared me. It sounded too techie for me and I was put off by concepts like algorithms and programming. GUI interfaces changed all that, though (meaning it's visual).
Then I decided I needed
Groove Agent, which is... hard to explain. It's like a glorified drum machine for use with Cubase. It rocks. I got the previous version at a discount from my local music store—would that be an LMS?—with upgrade potential. It's amazing.
Plus I made the happy discovery that my ancient
BOSS DR-5 Dr. Rhythm Machine that I bought in, oh, 1995 (state of the art then) is still paying for itself since it can be used easily as a MIDI controller. In layman's terms, I can tap out my drum parts (or any other instrument really) on it and "play along" with the song in real-time while the computer records me, then go into the MIDI file and nudge things around. Unbridled. So if I decided I needed more cowbell *wink* and forgot to add it, I can just click spots on the MIDI grid on the proper voice and voila. Instant cowbell. Or if I don't like the 1950's drum kit sound I can change it to techno-house, baby. Or for fun, assign a Sitar to it and see what noises it makes.
This MIDI is crazy shit, mon.
THEN I read in the Cubase manual that there is a feature for scores—actual music notation—within Cubase, AND it can read .mid and .xml files produced by music notation software. Well, I had an old version of Finale NotePad floating around—freebie—so I experimented with that, then went searching for the upgrades to that.
Enter
Finale Allegro. Yes, my friends. It makes composing your first symphony in four movements as easy as typing an email. Plus they have a 30-day trial version (I had to geek tweak the URL to get to the link, though—it's mislinked). I'll probably wind up buying this, too.
So guess what I did last night? and early this morning? and was still doing at noon?
Yup.
Back in 1987, I took a course at the college in Composition (music). Final project: compose an intricate piece of music that would be performed live at a class recital. Being I have a fascination with neo-classical virtuoso guitarists such as Yngwie Malmsteen, Steve Vai, and so on, I decided to compose a piece for a chamber ensemble, featuring the electric guitar as the solo voice. Yeah, the classically-trained music students in the ensemble looked at me cross-eyed. (The jazz guitar major was psyched, though.) But I forged ahead, and I composed an 8-part theoretically-correct piece loftily entitled "Emotion Trines Venus: Mood et Variations in A Minor". Transcribed and transposed the entire thing, master score and individual parts, by hand.
OY.
Last night, I dug it out of my pile of old music, blew off the dust, and re-transcribed it in Allegro. Yeah. All night. Like 12 hours I sat there note by note, measure by measure, part by part. (I've heard tell there are scanners that'll do this for you, but... eh, I was on a mission.)
Then, I exported the XML file. And imported it into Cubase. And assigned each part a more realistic-sounding "voice" (except the guitar—it's gonna have to be recorded by an actual player, unless Steinberg's Virtual Guitarist is worth purchasing because I sure as heck doubt I can play what I wrote, LOL!—and the guitar tones in the VST instruments don't sound like guitars really... but they'll "do").
Then I sat back and listened to it, and I was shocked. First, I was shocked that I'd spent nearly 16 hours in front of the computer with no food, very little tea, and no sleep, transcribing non-stop. Then shocked to think that technology allows us the ability to do this. Finally, shocked that I had actually composed a symphony piece, and IMHO (take it for what it's worth), it's pretty good.
I'll tweak it and upload it one of these days. The mixing and panning part is next on my list of things to learn and explore.
So my bedtime wound up being 1:30. Pee Em. Yup. It was so grey and rainy today it didn't really look like daylight anyway, so... slept until 7 ish. That's a good six hour nap. Got up, ate, read the paper, got the mail, did the dishes, cleaned the kitchen, talked to W on the phone, called Rocker Boy (left msg)... totally whacked my circadians again but OH WELL.
Let's just be honest here. I'm a
musician. Always have been, always will be, I love me some fibrosity and some horseflesh but my #1 has always been music. Did my best to avoid the inevitable. Did my best to ignore the calling. For what? Why? If it's who I am. Let me be me. Maybe it didn't fit in with my Mother's grand vision for me, but I am under no obligation to make her happy anymore. It's ME time. I'm back on musicians' hours and I've never felt better.
Now if Rocker Boy would just follow suit. I'm pretty sure his own ignorance of the Call of the Strat is what is making him depressed. (We're a lot a like, in good and bad ways.)
Off to de-compose...
Oh—what—knitting? Uh... yeah. About that. Haven't knit a stitch since Rocker Boy left. Uh... maybe I should admit defeat and just start a musician's blog instead.
Labels: injuries, music, ron
Ankle Update I
Since it's not an emergency, I'm seeing the doctor at 2:15 PM Thursday.
I can walk. I can also, apparently, drive, though I wish now that I hadn't. But I was receiving a large cosmic nudge to head to the music store for a software app called Groove Agent (the virtual drummer) and absoposi had to go
rightnow. Ouch.
You know it's sore when your cat lays on the floor at your feet, casually flops one delicate hind leg next to your ankle, and you flinch.
OK. I promise. I won't move any more furniture today, nor will I drive, nor will I lift heavy bins full of comforters, nor will I engage in tap dancing lessons. I'm done. Going to bed. I think.
Or I might stay up and create some wicked beats.
Or maybe not *yawn*.
Labels: injuries, music, nothing important
Fear Not
Fear not, for I have decided to see my doctor in the—I was gonna say morning, but let's be honest and just say during the daylight hours.
I've had the thing propped up and Ace bandaged all night (old pro at that, after all the mishaps I've had), been taking it easy, watched Cavemen/Carpoolers/House/Behind the Music: Vixen, called a friend, watched When Harry Met Sally and have basically been off it all night.
Somewhere between the friend call and the beginning of WHMS I took a Vicodin for the pain. I should feel nothing right now. OK I feel... verrrrry drowsy and out of touch with my body, but I can feel two distinct spots that are definitely ouchie and I know that's not right. Besides, I need to make sure that was bronchitis I had (and not allergies to dog, smoke, or Rocker Boy) and get a prescription filled so it's time.
Xrays cost less if the doctor orders them than if I went to the ER. But I'm going. This hurts a little more than it should. Although I'm not nauseated. Which I was when I broke all the cartilege in my knee two years ago. So I dunno. Better safe than sorry, though...
Nightie night...
Labels: injuries
The PAIN, the PAIN!
Dear Social Life,
The reason for my sudden absence from you is because I am currently immobile.
Went out to run a couple quick errands. Drop off books at the library. Drop the mail in the box. Which I could have done at the library drop-off thingie if I'd been thinking about it but I wasn't and besides I had to go in to p/u a book. Anyway. Over to Barney's/BP for milk and lotto tickets.
I'd better effing win.
Because I effing twisted my mutha effing ankle in the mutha effing parking lot on a mutha effing UNEVEN SPOT in the pavement that should not have been there and now it mutha effing hurts all the way up my leg.
OW OW OW OW OW.
It's my right ankle. Yes, I drove home. Using my left foot. Shoulda been there. I need practice. VROOM screech VROOM screech VROOM screech VROOM screech VROOM screech.
I can walk on it. Sorta. It's still relatively close to its normal size. It's developing puffy spots and slight bruising. I heard a snap or pop or something when it happened and I did it REALLY hard. The kind where it flips in under you? Yeah. It was either a bone or a ligament—not sure which.
My ankles are weak. Plus being 188 whopping pounds doesn't help, with my skinny ankles, and do you know how narrow and tiny my poor feet are? Made to support someone long lean and lithe, not a heffalump like me.
So now I've got it Aced up and I'm contemplating between Ibuprofin or something stronger (leftover Darvies, perhaps?). I refuse to go to the ER. Besides. Who's gonna take me? I mean I can take me, but... if it IS busted, and I get a cast... they may not let me drive home even if I am rather accomplished (VROOM screech) with my left foot. I only have one friend in town—everyone else is a half hour away at best—and this happens to be the night she's up in Toledo.
Is it fair of me to be really snottily pissed off at Rocker Boy right now for abandoning me to live in Florida? (Oh. Yeah. For those who aren't caught up in the drama, he left to pursue better job opps elsewhere. It was amicable. He was basically on a long-term visit, anyway, not actually
living with me permanently. Plus we're still talking about meeting up down south somewhere once I am ready to move, which might be a month or so. Or more. Depending on this ankle situation. So it's all good. Except for right now because I'm in pain and pissy and hungry.)
How do I tell if it's broken? Can you walk on it if it's broken? I want my mommy.
I'm so mad. It was PJ's night at InsanKnitty.
Signed,
Gimpy
Labels: breaking news, injuries, knit night, ron
Grilled
The burns are better. Yes, I can knit. The worst of it is an ugly hard white blister at the base of my middle finger and a rough spot below that, but otherwise the rest of the burns are greatly improved and really don't hurt today. I can't get over how weird the skin there feels, though. When I open my hand, the burned areas feel tight and stretched. Strange.
Not much went on around here today. I drove down to the gallery to pick up my piece from the Spring Show, a good hour's drive down then another hour back. The gallery owner showed me an old loom that someone had donated—it's in pieces, and it looks fairly old, but for one missing treadle I think all the parts are there. He said the person who donated it claimed it cost $9,000 originally. Looms are rather expensive, when new or when used but in good condition, but I think that was long ago and far away for this loom.
The gallery owner wants to sell it to whomever will make an offer because nobody at the gallery has any idea how to use it, let alone put it back together. Somehow I managed to leave with my pocketbook intact. Having a car that is too small to hold it helps, too. But it was interesting. I only looked at it briefly but didn't find a brand name. Some of the structural parts are metal but the rest is wood and it looks solid.
I'm half-tempted to make a low-ball offer and bring it home and see what it might be. It could always be auctioned off on eBay. Except I think he thinks he can get some "real money" for it, and honestly? It's in pieces. It has a treadle missing (unless it was in one of the boxes of parts). It may not be repairable. I'd give him $50 for it to take it off his hands. If he wants more, he'll have to find someone to reassemble it and see if it's salvageable.
Hmm. I wonder if he'd take fifty for it?
Like I have room. Or time.
I had a hankering for grilled burgers when I got home and since the store FINALLY restocked the Black N Blue burgers last week, I decided to try my hand at it. I'm proud to announce my virgin foray into the world of grilling was successful. It took three tries before I got the thing lit properly—it kept going out and cooling off so I added more lighter fluid (I know, I know, I was careful) and relit it and on the third try I think I overdid the lighter fluid because it caught, and the flames were a tad higher than I was comfortable with, but they eased off and finally, I had a grill going.
Though I was considering the
green bean casserole in honor of Crazy Aunt Purl's cat Roy, the call of the grill was too loud. The casserole will have to wait. Instead, I had a Corona for Laurie and a yummy BnB burger with grilled onions, green & red pepper strips, and grilled corn on the cob.
I'm so proud of myself. Hey, Dad, I did it. I grilled burgers on your grill. All by myself.
Labels: injuries, loom, nothing important
Burn!
So I went out to the barn today to meet the new holistic vet. My mare was in the pasture with the other two mares, one that is around six years old and one that is a yearling. I learned an enormous lesson or two today.
- First lesson: I've become too complacent thanks to boarding at the old barn, which was full of old nags (seriously) who had been trained to death and rarely gave you any trouble.
- Second lesson: my savvy needs a tuneup.
- Third lesson: young horses behave differently than old nags—or rather, they don't behave unless they've been taught to, so don't expect them to be polite and respectful of humans like the old ones do.
- Fourth lesson: if it's your first time in a new pasture, best to let the unfamiliar horses get a whiff of you AND have your leadership established BEFORE entering the paddock to retrieve your mare.
- Fifth lesson: when holding the rope, remember that the hand should close slowly, open quickly, not the other way around.
- Sixth lesson: my leadership is what "controls" the horse, not the rope.
- Seventh lesson: the hand holds the rope loosely not clamped down on it for dear life.
- Eighth lesson: always take the Carrot Stick™ with me in case I need it.
- Ninth and final lesson: LET GO OF THE ROPE, DUMMY.
My mare is in season. The yearling charged her the moment I snapped the lead rope onto her halter. My mare pulled back hard and semi-reared up trying to wheel away from yearling. Yearling also charged at me. I had turned when she pulled and saw it coming, so I wisely backed up fast out of the way (ran backward, are you kidding me?) and deflected yearling but not before I got the rope burn to end all rope burns on my right hand.
LET GO OF THE ROPE, DUMMY.
OK. So I'm typing slowly and I've been hit over the head with a Gunsel* Stick today. On top of the injury, I received my first golden shower too. Boy the search engines are going to light up over this one, eh? As my mare wheeled, her butt aimed at me and I got doused with mare juice. Pee, I think. Whatever it is they squirt out the back end to try to tease the boys and dominate the mares. I don't think she meant to aim it at me—I was just lucky enough to be in the path.
Eeesh.
Great way to start the afternoon.
From the looks of things, I've got a second-degree rope burn on the middle and ring fingers and two placed in the palm of my hand. The biggest one covers the two joints of the underside of the ring finger near the palm. Finding a bandage big enough to cover it was a neat trick. Thanks to my dear old Dad who had quite the stash due to his own fragile skin, I was able to cobble together a pretty good coverage. Neosporin is my friend. I have yet to determine if I can still knit or not. I can hardly type, so we'll see.
As for my mare, she got a very thorough treatment. Chiro, Reiki, stretching, something called a VOM activator (Veterinary Orthopedic Manipulator), a massage in spots, and some new herbs and holistic stuff to add to her diet. The diagnosis is that she was completely out of alignment in her lower neck, spine, right hip, and left shoulder, has a few pinched nerves, and a slight liver malfunction. I've had her adjusted before, but those were like Cliff's Notes adjustments compared to what this vet did. She also has all over muscle soreness and knots galore. The herbs and stuff will treat that, loosen her up, calm her anxiety, give her a super antioxidant detoxification (say that three times fast), and treat inflammation, circulation, the liver, the kidneys, any arthritis, and so on. She'll get another adjustment in 2-4 weeks after the herbs etc have had a chance to loosen up her muscles.
I saw yet another expression on my mare's face that I've never seen. Her eyes changed. She looked relieved. It's hard to explain unless you know what it looks like. Mostly she has had wide anxious eyes, occasionally there has been a slight hardness from pain, and the best I've seen is focused and softer. Today, her eyelids drooped, her eyes got big and soft, and her face totally relaxed. I've only see her look a bit like that when she's been sedated. After the treatment, it was like that but fully awake and aware.
She's walking better. She feels better. I can see it. She was splashing in the water trough, which I've never seen her do. This is all good. I guess it's worth a little rope burn and pee if she winds up feeling good again.
*Gunsel: in Parelli terminology, it's someone who don't know squat about horses and is like to get hisself kilt because of his stupid behaviorLabels: horses, injuries
Staples are a Cat's Best Friend
He's fine. It's just a cut. Silly cat tried to slice himself open on something. So I'm relieved on that front, but now I'm frantically scouring the room trying to figure out what he cut himself on!
He did have to have stitches—staples, rather. So he spent the day in the kitty hospital and B picked him up for me because I had to move my horses today. The barn manager gave me an ultimatum about my mare last week:
shoe her, move her, or else.Since it goes against my principles as a former student of AANHCP Natural Hoof Care (I almost became a trimmer) to put shoes on a horse (because AANHCP trimmers take an oath never to nail a shoe to a horse's foot ever again and are promoters of the Iron-Free Hoof movement), that left me with
Move Her or
Else. I dunno 'bout you, but I don't think I wanna know what "else" is. So I chose "move".
But I did it stealth. Less confrontation that way. No, we didn't swoop in under cover of darkness or anything like that. I just didn't tell anyone I was moving until AFTER we were already gone. The day after the ultimatum was issued, The Universe heeded my call and brought me a fantastic barn. Small, private, run by a young couple who are so into natural horsemanship (and holistic care) that the girl, who has trained her own horses and competes (for fun), said "teach me!!! Promise me you'll teach me Parelli."
Well, technically I'm not authorized to teach, but I can certainly share all my study materials and equipment with her and be an enabler. ;-)
And so, today we arrived at the barn on the hottest day so far this year (95 whoppin' humid degrees), loaded up my tack, my feed, and my accessories, then loaded the horses (who went in like a dream, I might add) and bailed. The place was deserted when we arrived and nobody came in or anything the whole time.
What surprises me is looking at the flip side—how easy would it have been for anybody to drive on in and just pick a horse and leave? Luckily it never happened (while I was there). The old barn is on a busy road in a major tourist area. The new barn is off the beaten path.
I scrawled a note on the bulletin board in ink:
Cheerios & Shaveya have relocated. Bye, y'all!
No, I'm not telling them where we went. They wanted me out, they got their wish. (But I got mine, too. And the holistic vet will probably come out next week. Yay!)
I'm so happy. SO relieved to be out of the old and into the new. SO relieved my poor blue cat is basically OK.
What a Monday. Time to go eat, shower and sleep now.
Thanks for the support! Sammy Blue says... well, not much. He's kinda feelin icky. :-) He gets a private room in the little bathroom tonight.
Labels: breaking news, cats, horses, injuries, positive thinking
There is a Hole in My Cat
For 18 June 2007
Health issues can be a dominating factor in Cancerian lives during June 18-21. Any problem that arises now should be given due attention and not be brushed aside.
I thought they meant me. But they meant my cat Sam (Blue). Tonight, he was upside down doing the couch surf. I leaned over to reprimand the paws, and saw something near his hoo-haw that didn't look right. Blue knew he was being reprimanded and shot off. I caught him and flipped him over to have a look.
Egads.
I thought at first glance that his hoo-haw was inflamed because I saw reddish-pink. Well, it's not his hoo-haw. It's his SKIN.
There is a very strange open wound on his belly right above his hoo-haw that is about a half-inch long. It wasn't bleeding. Nothing was coming out (like innards, they all appear *knock wood* to be where they are supposed to be). But it looks like his skin just split open. It looks "healed". And there's an indentation like a pocket. The pocket is pink skin, no fur, and a tad reddish, like it's slightly irritated.
He realized I was staring at it and got stressed and started complaining. I didn't dare touch it. It's strange because it looks like it should be bloody and torn, but it's neat around the edges. Like a belly button.
Can cats have huge belly buttons (innies)?
I noticed this at 4:00 AM. The vet opens at 8:00. The cat carrier is ready. It's not (I don't think) an emergency requiring waking the vet four hours before he has to be at work. I think we can hold on another 2.5 hours. Blue doesn't appear to be in much pain and the wound isn't changing. It's like a wound that is not a wound. He is still high energy, careening around like usual. He has an appetite, and I saw him drink water. He looks fine, acts fine, which is why when I saw this thing, I freaked. For all I know, it's been there for awhile, but he never complained or revealed himself to me to see it. And it's not like I go around checking near my cats' hoo-haws for bizarre alien openings.
It does NOT look like any tumors I've ever seen. It's like a hole that healed.
It brought to mind this horrendous story (with Thank God a happy ending) I read a few years back about a guy who learned his lesson about leaving the dishwasher door down with dishes in it and leaving knives pointing up. His cat leaped from the counter to the floor and just grazed the tip of the knife, practically eviscerating herself. But she lived. He found her, uh, well, you can imagine... rolled her up in a towel and got to the vet. They put her back together, stitched her up, and she was just fine.
So that leaves me wondering:
What IS this thing on my beloved blue cat? and
How on Earth did it get there?Of course the internet is not my friend. The cat web MD sites do the same thing as the people version does—create worry about dread awful things. But there are other things not so bad, fixable, 100% recovery. That's what we're going for, here, people. So send us some positive vibes for a full recovery and a big WHEW! from me when the vet gives his diagnosis. I'm just going to stay awake until dawn and be the first one in the door.
Y'know, this WOULD happen on what will be a big day for my horses. (More on that story—positive story—later... after the fact.)
Wish us all luck!
Labels: breaking news, cats, injuries
They Came
They just left. I stood on the porch and watched the U-Haul as it disappeared down the road, carrying inside of it some of my parents' treasured pieces. I feel agonizing loss mixed with utter relief over being able to finally reclaim some free space in the house.
NOTS (Niece of the Socks) and HDPH (her dear Painter husband) drove in from Indiana last night. They have been charged with the task of collecting things for my sister and other niece (Allergic One) in PA. They will store the stuff until they can rent another U-Haul and complete the task this summer.
(I did suggest several more logical and less-costly solutions, but as you'll come to understand, I'm wasting my breath when I do that. Hell, I'm
not paying for it, so I guess I really shouldn't bother worrying about it. Right?)Neither Sister nor Allergic One can manage a U-Haul, let alone lifting heavy objects. NOTS can't lift, either. (What IS it with this family?) No, it was me and HDPH doing the grunt work. Yes. Sprained knee and all, I helped carry out then lift onto the U-Haul a couch, two dressers, several boxes, my bookcases that I rescued from my storage unit, a box spring, a queen-sized super thick mattress, and the foam crap mattress from the sofa bed that had been stored since July.
Sprained knee and all.
(The truck had a ramp. Several times I suggested pulling out the ramp. Each time I got "well, no, it's manageable, let's just lift it up into the truck." *sigh* OK, you won't mind waiting on me 10 years from now when I'm recuperating from back surgery, willya?)Then, naturally, I walked my injured knee right into the hitch, or as it came to be known, the Trailer Fucking Hitch. That's the least ear-burning phrase I uttered all day.
There is more dust in this house than I ever imagined. It's measurable. In inches.
And so, it is finished.
Well, not really. It's only just begun. But I have space. I have room in my storage unit, in the deck room, in the living room, and in the china cabinets. This week, I can rent my own U-Haul and empty out what's left in my old house. Finally, I can put it on the market and eliminate that albatross from my life.
After the truck disappeared, I turned to go back into the house and paused; the snow has melted away from the front flower bed. All throughout the bed are these little fresh green shoots popping up everywhere. They weren't there yesterday.
Fitting that the first sign of spring would emerge on the day that marks the beginning of the real transition—moving out the old to make way for the new. It's like I'm going through a rebirth, and the world is responding in harmony with that.
Labels: estate nonsense, family time, injuries
Ooops Forgot the Title
The doctor reviewed the X-rays. There are no fractures (whew!) visible but there is some arthritis (yeah, I knew that). He's diagnosed it as a sprain. He said if it doesn't heal up within a couple weeks or gets worse, we can do an MRI. I doubt it will come to that.
It actually feels surprisingly better today than I expected it would—last night it was so stiff and painful I thought I'd be out of commission for weeks. Today I can hobble fairly well. Should I be ashamed to admit this next part? That despite technically being able to walk, I still took advantage of Dad's handicapped tag and the crutches and boldly parked in handicapped today in the lot right in front of Parking & Traffic, then crutched my way to class. Well, I did. And the lot monitor guy sat in his truck and saw me do it. And he left my car alone. I guess I passed.
I imagine by next week I'll be back to risking my life dashing across the busy street, but for tomorrow at least, I'm doing the Big Blue Spot.
I think I learned my lesson when I hurt the right knee in 2005; I was in classes then, too, and did a lot of walking, and found hopping along with crutches was too tiring on the arms and too darned frustrating. After five days of lying prone on the couch in a lovely Vicodin-induced haze with the knee in the air being iced religiously, I took tentative steps, discovered I could walk, and ditched the crutches but left the knee brace on. A month later I was having an MRI because I was still in horrible pain and essentially crippled (I was mobile, but had very limited range of motion, it felt like something was loose inside, and it just felt "wrong"). That's when they found, er, gee, ahem, the cartilege is all broken, and there's a loose piece floating around in there. (Oh, really?) It took another month to get into the specialist's office to get my first-ever cortisone shot and a scrip for therapy. I'd say it's been operating at about 95% since then, which I'll take over being barely mobile.
Oh, this is weird—it just occurred to me that I hurt the right knee mid-month on a Wednesday (Nov. 16, 2005) and the left knee mid-month on a Wednesday (Feb 21, 2007) and snow/slipperiness was involved in both incidents. Huh. Perhaps this is a good excuse for moving to a warmer, snow-free climate. Anyway...
I say I learned my lesson because I stopped babying my knee the moment I could put weight on it, against what the doctors would have wanted, but I couldn't see the point of lying around all day when I could, essentially, walk again. It probably didn't help my knee to do that. So I'll baby the left one. Except, a week from tomorrow, the relatives with the UHaul are coming and I'm expected to be on the other end of a couch, two dressers, a coffee table, and other sundry items and of course, it's the ONLY weekend they can come until mid-July.
Bright side, bright side... nothing's broken (so far), I lived, I was able to park in handicapped...
Labels: injuries
Accident Prone
Prone is what I may become after my latest accident. What is UP with me? I was never like this. I don't think so, anyway. I dunno. Maybe if Mom were around to ask... I just never thought of myself as clumsy. That title belongs to the niece of the socks. Not me.
So why am I on crutches for the third time in a year and a half?
Because I bunged up my OTHER knee today.
It's like this. I have to cross a fairly busy street to get to campus from the church lot where I park (it's bonafide student parking every day except Sunday) and vice versa. There are no shoveled crossing spots. The only way to get to pavement is by taking the long way round, which anyone who has ever done the mad panic dash to an exam would be familiar with. Needless to say, most opt to jaywalk and pile-jump (as did I). There are two types of snow piles between the sidewalk and the street: the tall ones and the small ones. I've been scaling mountains all week. Today after Econ, I decided to go for a small pile, thinking "It will be safer".
I was oh so very wrong.
Almost dead wrong.
Had it not been for the fact, nay, the Saving Grace that at that precise moment, this busy street had zero zip zilch traffic on it, I might not be writing this tonight.
I looked both ways. It was clear. I stepped into the small pile and then took a step into the street. Honestly I don't know how it happened. All I know is that suddenly I was on the ground, with my head in the street facing what would have been oncoming traffic, and my left knee was bent way too far for its own good and underneath me and there was PAIN.
I squawked and hurled myself back into the snow pile and off the street then laid there in the snow clutching my knee praising all the highest Heavens above that there was a miraculous moment of no traffic just when I needed there to be no traffic.
Another student who'd been about to cross at the same time asked if I was all right and offered to help me up. I said "give me a minute". He did. Then he helped me up. This would be a great story if, when I stood up, I looked into his eyes and fell eternally in love, but, sadly, it didn't. Still, it was nice to be helped. I felt like a little old lady. He helped me up then helped me get down into the street and across safely. Then we parted ways. I hobbled the long block to my car. Then I sat there and sobbed. It hurt, and man, did I want my Mommy. I had a boo-boo and no Mommy to fix it. First time. It sucked.
Anyway. I drove myself home (TG for automatic transmission), called my insurance company (they changed my stuff, I now have a really high ER co-pay, a high deductible, and absolutely no doctor co-pay). They advised I get the doctor to order x-rays (cheaper). Called the doctor—another miracle! An opening! I went over right away, then to the hospital for x-rays.
Then, I went back to campus (with crutches) and hobbled into surface design. Did not get much done (couldn't stand up long enough). Went to weaving instead (same instructor) and finished up all my samples. Love that double weave!
So now I'm in waiting limbo. It hurts like a son of a emmeffing beeyotch! It's quite swollen. The doctor didn't want to say sprain or torn ligaments until he sees the x-rays. Of course, in my experience, x-rays don't always show it. My broken cartilege in the right knee went undiagnosed for over a month (despite my invalid state) until the MRI. Oh God. That just reminded me of the cortisone shot. OH. GOD. NO. I'd rather have a toe severed than undergo that again. Not that I want a severed toe, just sayin'.
Well, here I am, laid up yet again, with nobody around this time to wait on me hand and foot and commiserate. And it's exam week. And spring break is in another week. And the relatives are coming next weekend (not this one, next one) expecting ME to help them move furniture.
Oh, ha ha ha ha ha.
I didn't even get the good drugs this time. Darn it. Ibuprofen just does not cut it.
Photos tomorrow.
Labels: injuries
A New KAL
In honor of my devotion to Showtime's phenomenal drama "The L Word", I've decided to host a Knit-A-Long for Season 4, taking my cue from the Knitting With Grey's Anatomy KAL. The object is to knit something pink during the season and jabber about the week's episodes. The KAL will end with the last episode.
I'm debating having a contest/give-away associated with it—Showtime offers some great L Word swag. What do you think about this issue? Are KALs more enticing when there is a firm deadline and prizes at the end? Or is it enough just sharing WIPs and FOs and having a place to commune with like-minded fans? Feel free to post your insights in the Comments section here.
For those interested in joining, the URL is:
http://thelwordkal.blogspot.com/No more typing for me today—I got a splinter in my index finger and it's throbbing something fierce. All my index-finger letters are being typed with my middle finger—not an easy task! Things are coming out like:
Tkis is a post de,onstratinmg how difficilt it is to tupe witj uoir imdex finmger oit of comm,ision.
See you tomorrow after a jealtjy dose of Neosporin and a good noght's sleep. (argj!)
Labels: injuries, L Word KAL
