Cabernet and an Allen Wrench

My goddess physical therapist always said, not if, but when, in reference to falling. I know she was right, but of late I have been walking so well with no balance issues. But every now and then, probably due to form, my prosthetic leg gets "stuck," causing me to trip, though I generally can catch myself before I fall. Not so Friday night. i was in the bedroom, on my way to the bathroom, when my foot got stuck on our beautiful Turkish rug. I was too close to an Asian chest against the wall, and I managed to hit the bridge of my nose full force on it. Pain and blood. A lot of both. I screamed pretty loud for Jerry, and he was there in a flash. I lay on my back for I'm not sure how long. He worked to comfort and clean me up, and I slowly made my way to the bed. I took a small dose of oxycodone, and with my head slightly elevated, I went to sleep. The next morning I woke to a very messy pillow. As I tried to get out of bed I realized I had pulled just about every muscle ...

As far as weekdays go, Friday is my only unscheduled day, so I thought I'd look through the Towson Y's schedule to see if there was a likely candidate to get me out of the house. I saw there was a late morning yoga class, so I thought I'd head over to the Y to watch it and see if it would work for me. I ran into a friend of a friend right before, who told me about a knitting group on Friday mornings. I thought great! I can knit for a while and then do yoga. The class had just begun when I walked in, and the teacher came to the back of the room. I told her I wanted to observe to see if it was right for me, to which she replied, we have chair yoga classes. That was not what I wanted to hear. I walked in using a cane, so she made assumptions. I stayed to watch the class, and became more angry with each passing minute. I could do just about everything the class was doing. My only need would be chair to help me get off the floor. But I couldn't help think, do I want to a...

Jerry and I got home last night from two wonderful weeks in France. A couple days in Paris to get acclimated was delightful. We stayed in the same hotel in the Marais as last time, so we knew the neighborhood and what to expect. They let us check in early so we got to take nap, which was great. The only downside was putting us in a room in a building with stairs and no railing. The wall and Jerry were quite helpful. We went back to the Musee D'Orsay and the babka bakery. A lovely few days. From there it was a train to Avignon. The train has reserved seating and our seats were up a flight of staris, but a railyway employee, when she saw me, wasn't having it. She found us seats on the lower level, and off we went. Because I screwed up dates, we arrived in Avignon the day before our food and wine tour started, but that turned out to be fortuitous. We checked into our hotel and had a day to explore the old town. We found a great place for lunch, and I got to practice my cobbles...

Last evening I went to Walking School. University Of Maryland Rehab holds this several times a year, open to all amputees. The first time I went I was still using a wheelchair and did not have a prosthesis. Last night, I was probably the most advanced walker there, but I had some questions and wanted to up my skills. I'm so glad I went. It has become obvious to me of late that I depend far too much on my "good" leg. When I get up or sit down it bears all my weight. When I'm standing still my weight is not evenly distributed. I knew I had to learn to trust my prosthesis more than I do, and I figured the folks at Walking School could point me in the right direction. The physical therapists and the man who runs the sessions, who is himself, an amputee, ran me through a whole series of exercises. Squatting, lunging, walking with resistance bands around my prosthetic leg. My leg did things I really did't know it could do. While I was there, I also worked on stairs, ...

Jerry and I flew down to Marathon, Florida a couple days ago for a wedding. The invitation said the dress code was "beach casual," but I was at a loss as to what to wear. I felt that showing my prosthesis would be distracting, but what did I have that would work? Nothing. So I did what any of us would do. i went online shopping. I found a lightweight, very plain silk dress, as well as a pair of wide leg trousers and a short-sleeved tunic made in Finland. i bought them all so I could have options. The day of the wedding I decided on the dress, which turned out to be a good decision, because while the temperature did not soar, the humidity did, and a dress would be cooler than trousers. The wedding ceremony was delightful. The officiant was a fellow physican friend of the groom's. He told wonderful stories and the vows were simple but quite meaningful. After the ceremony were appetizers and live music, followed by a forgettable dinner and even more forgettable wine. ...

Eight years ago on January 4, I had what is referred to as debulking surgery. My surgeon removed three very large tumors, my ovaries, fallopian tubes, omentum, 12 lymph nodes, and every speck of cancer he could see. I had already had my uterus and cervix removed earlier, so he basically cleaned out my abdominal area. I remember being so naive, that after the surgery I asked him if I was going to need chemo. He looked at me like I had just arrived from another planet, and he said, "Uh, yeah." So after healing and getting a port, I went through six rounds of chemo and two years of a maintenance drug, and besides a bout of a barely there bladder cancer, I continue to be cancer free, eight years later. Despite everything I have gone through since then, I have to consider myself blessed. Crazy, no? I am pretty certain I survived everything I have survived for a couple of reasons. First off, amazingly skilled surgeons. It is not all that common for someone with advanced ovar...

When I saw my orthopedist a few weeks ago, I told him my knee replacement revision was still painful, but it wasn't going to stop me from doing what I wanted and needed to do. He totally gotmit, and he discharged me from care. But yeah, it still hurts, and nothing I do seems to help. In addition, my quad in my residual leg is painful when I walk, and my right shoulder is not a happy camper either. For some time now, I have been alternating between acupuncture and myofascial release therapy. The latter targets the connective tissue surrounding muscles. It has helped some, but no, not enough. And acupuncture is relaxing and it has really helped my PE scar be less painful, so I keep going. I continue Pilates and water exercise, and while I know it is making me stronger, my guess is, it is making me hurt more. So what to do? Enter Voodoo. My acupuncturist sprays Evil Bone Water on my knee. Yes, you read that right. Evil Bone Water. Well, at least it smells good, so I decided to lo...

Jerry and I took two of our cats to the vet yesterday. Tilly has been tearing out her hair on her back, and Omar had visibly slowed down, continuing to lose weight and peeing and pooping outside the box. The vet prescribed steroids for Tilly, but there really wasn't anything more to prescribe for Omar. We had a decision to make. We knew he was not going to get better, and we knew he would continue his descent. In the three or four months he was with us, we tried to make his life as comfortable and joyful as we could. Yummy food and snacks, scritches on his head and neck. So we decided it was time to let him go. He didnt like to be in high places, so our vet got on the floor with him, gave him a dish with Churu and treats, and injected him with medication to make him sleepy, and then gave him another to stop his heart. I'm heartbroken we couldn't do more for him-- make him well, give him more quality of life. But I am grateful we could end his suffering and indignity....

In the amputee world, if you are an above-the-knee amputee, you don't call your prosthesis your leg; you call it your knee. It took me a while to figure this out, but in reality, I get it. The world of being an above knee amputee is a world of difference from those who got to keep their knee. Think about it-- your knee, and to a lesser extent, your ankle, are what keeps you walking, running, getting up and sitting down, sitting on the floor, kneeling-- you name it. I was fortunate enough that my prosthetist wrote a killer letter to Medicare to get me a really good knee. It has a microprocessor in it. It is intuitive, and yes, it is adjustable. I generally don't mess with the adjustments except when I'm doing some Pilates exercises so my knee won't bend. That has been incredibly useful. Also, I can put it in a kind of freewheel for cycling. Also useful. But what I had never messed with was the resistance, that is, how "difficult" it is for the knee to bend...

Jerry and I are in our hotel room in Paris, having a glass of wine after a day of visiting the Victor Hugo house, having a very late lunch and making a pilgrimage to Babka Zana for cinnamon babka and poppy seed brioche. Every day we increase the number of walked steps, but in the back of my mind I worry, is it enough? We head to Bordeaux tomorrow and I'm really not sure how much walking we will do every day, so I'm concerned. I wish I had had another week with my new foot before the trip. I'm still getting used to its springiness, and if I don't put full weight on it going downhill, my knee will bend too much. I'm still not brave enough going down these inclines without holding on to Jerry. But we are having a lot of fun. We ended up coming to Paris earlier than we had originally planned because of the impending French Air Traffic Controller strike. It was called off, but I'm still glad we didn't take a chance. And while I'm walking pretty well, I f...

Jerry left town Thursday morning. He was gone away before, but this is the first time I did all the kitty chores myself. Since the last time he was away we added two cats to the household: Omar and Tillie Flambe. Omar's name at the shelter was Blueberry Pancake; Tillie's name was Flambe. Omar was named after a character from the Wire, and I love the name Tillie, and I made her shelter name her last name. Both arrived way too skinny, Omar frighteningly so. We took him to our vet and it seems this 15-year-old tiny boy is in late-stage heart disease. He was prescribed three pills he gets twice a day. Since my accident Jerry has been in charge of all things cat. And his last couple of trips I got help. But I felt like I was really ready to take it all on. We did a trial run before Jerry left and I felt pretty confident. First thing in the morning I grind Omar's meds in the mortal and pestle and then find something yummy to mix them into. One day Churu, the next day Icela...

My residual leg is unattractive. It is covered in skin grafts. It's lumpy in weird places and it's full of scars. I keep it covered, even when I'm in the swimming pool. I wear long board shorts. I say, only half joking,that I don't want to scare small children. But I also think people might be a little freaked out by what they do see. I use a walker to get to the pool. I sit in the chair that will lower me into the water, then I remove my prosthesis and put it in the tote bag that hangs from my walker. What they do see is what is visible beyond my board shorts-- a metal rod with what looks like a bolt at the end. I know it's kind of weird, because most people who wear a prosthetic leg don't have that. But no one has asked me about that. Most choose to not speak to me at all. One woman did speak to me, and perhaps she was uncomfotable, because she said a string of the most inappropriate things I had ever heard. So now I ignore her. But what came to mind toda...

A friend told me about a series on Netflix about the four specialized Trauma Units in London, one of which is at King's College Hospital, where I was treated. She wasn't sure if I should watch it, so of course, I did. As I watched there was a little bit of triggering, a tad of envy, and a lot of understanding. The surgeons at these centers are nothing short of amazing. And just like my experience, they all introduced themselves to their patients using their first names. Talk about de-deification! One human,speaking to another, assuring them that they would do everything they could to help that person return to as close to a normal life as possible. Just like me, many of the patients in the series had brain injuries. For me, those patients produced the most PTSD in me. It is hard for me not to wonder what kind of longterm effect my brain bleeds had. My memory is not what it used to be, and at times I struggle to come up with a word. But I'm old, have had more anesthesia ...

I was enrolled in a Hopkins study for psylocibin for PTSD and I was pretty stoked. I had my fourth screening interview yesterday and got the bad news today-- I am no longer eligible for the trial. I admit-- I'm pretty bummed. I was one of those kids in the seventies who did her share of drugs, but never psychedelics. Too scary. But this would be two sessions in a controlled environment. Maybe it's because EMDR is working quite well for me my PTSD is not stressful enough for this study. So that's a good thing. I found a great therapist who is helping me work through all kinds of crap. And if I had been accepted in the study I would have had to take a break from my therapy sessions, so perhaps this rejection is really for the better. My disappointment is not about having the psylocibin erase my PTSD; it's about not getting to do the drug. Some day, psychedelics may become part of treatment for a host of disorders, and Hopkins is doing a number of studies using the...

After much back and forth, the director of the Towson Y promised me I would be accomodated at their pool, so I decided to see if his facility was as good as his word. It was. I got there early so I could shower and check out the private family changing rooms. While the floor around the swimming pool was not slippery, I wish I could say the same for the locker room. I was very glad I had my walker instead of my cane. Even with the walker, it was difficult. I slowly made my way out of the locker room and onto the far safer swimming pool area, and the teenage lifeguards were happy to help me. I got my shoes and prosthesis off, and they lowered me into the pool. The last time I was in a pool was a few months after I had returned to the states after my amputation, and the feeling was once again so freeing. It is no suprise that it is harder to walk with a prosthesis than with a "real" leg. I don't know if the prosthesis weighs more, but it certainly feels like it with n...

Our neighbors' anniversary and our anniversary are about a week apart, so we went out last night to celebrate. It was lovely. great food, wine, and company. We were there for three hours. The restaurant brought us little sweets and champagne at the end. While our actual anniversary is a few days away, yesterday was a very different anniversary for me. it was the anniversary of survival, of being strong, of surpassing expectations. Three years ago EMTs said they would have let me go had I not been so strong. These were the EMTs I talked to, told them my name, told them where I was, and finally asked them to knock me out because I was in so much pain. I remember little about the first two weeks; I remember a lot about the next six months, the toughest of my life. I am still recovering from the knee replacement revision I had nine weeks ago. But every day the pain is less and I get stronger. I am going back to Pilates this Friday. I decided to have another go at the YMCA. I wrot...

Maybe it is because I spent years working in hospitals, when I hear the word trauma, I think of severely injured patients-- broken bones, brain bleeds, mangled limbs. You know, kind of like me. But when I went on the hunt to find books to help me understand and work through my trauma, everything I found was related to emotional trauma-- psychological abuse, childhood abandonment. So I decided it was time to find a therapist to help me deal with the physical trauma I had experienced and continued to plague me-- reliving a moment that I wasn't sure how I could recover from, at least not on my own. I have had several therapy sessions, and the interesting thing I have discovered is how those two types of trauma, at least for me, are really the same. As I relive that "accident," I am left with guilt, depression, sadness over a life I once knew, that I feel has been lost. And isn't that, for the most part, what emotional trauma is? I think so. While I don't have a...

I had my two-week post surgery appointment today, and my surgeon is very pleased. He says I am ahead of the curve. But he also explained to me why I don't feel like I am. Despite only having to replace the worn out plastic spacers, he had to do a lot of looking around to make sure nothing else needed replacing. So lots of digging, exposing, which has resulted in lots of pain. But he is quite pleased with my extension and flexion, as are my physical therapists. Considering all I have been through, I really thought this recovery would be easier. I was wrong. And not having a knee and calf on the other leg doesn't help much. I can't get out of bed or off the couch myself, and even with help, it is excruciating. The surgeon wants me to continue to use a walker, which of course, I hate, but he doesn't want to risk a fall. Makes sense. He thinks I will likely be able to drive in a couple more weeks, and oh, how I hope so. Just being able to take myself to my own PT ap...

So surgery was Friday, I came home Sunday, and I had my first outptient physical therapy appointment today. Holy Sh*t! I know they needed to check my range of motion, but OMG! The pain was pretty outrageous. But the good part is knowing as my mobility comes back, the pain will decrease. And I will keep telling myself that. While oxycodone made me pretty darn sick, I'm taking another opiate in conjunction with an anti-nausea drug, and it does seem to reduce my pain, but it is making writing on the ipad... interesting. As I knew beforehand, all this would be a heck of a lot easier if I had two legs. But I don't, and I am doing what I can to adapt, which right now is having Jerry help me get up from bed or a chair. My hope is that this is temporary, and in day or three I will be able to do it on my own. I saw photos of the worn out pieces that were removed. Not only had the plastic thinned, but it had pretty well splintered. It was beyond time to have it repaired. So t...

I found Sophie 11 or 12 years ago when she was part of a community cat colony near my old condo in Baltimore. We were still living in California. Long story short, she was definitely not feral and likely had not been outside long. My friend Bart took her. A couple of years after we moved to Baltimore Bart's circumstances changed and Sophie came to live with us. Despite being well into her teens, up until a couple days ago Sophie romped like a cat less than half her age. It really hit home yesterday. As she lay next to me I could see her breathing was shallow and she was sleeping even more than usual. I called my vet this morning and they got her in. They took x-rays and one of her lungs is pretty much collapsed. It could be a tumor, but we are opting not to do anything invasive; she wouldn't survive it. We had a discussion with the vet. She is still eating and enjoying life, so we are going to take it day to day. It was important to me to get her in today, because tomorrow ...