June 23, 2008
Pins and needles
I'm back from my "procedure." (Nice euphemism, isn't it? Sounds a lot better than "We're going to schedule an appointment to stick a really big needle in your spine...")
So, I got stuck with a really big needle in my spine. It wasn't too bad, really. I'd had this done before, so I knew it really wouldn't be. I'm a bit sore and it was uncomfortable at points, but mostly it's a mental game: the trick is keeping your mind otherwise occupied so you don't think about what's going on. Oh -- and keeping your eyes front and center so you don't see what's going on in the X-ray image that guides the doctor during the sticking. That's seriously weird. Given that I'm the woman who passed out during the brain surgery scene in Master and Commander, I can't be too careful. (I think the scene ran something like this: [ship's mate]: "Coo, wa's that? 'Ere, are those his brains?" [Doctor Maturin]: "What, that? Oh no -- that's just a bit of dried blood. THOSE are his brains -- hand me that spoon, would you?" *loud thunk as I hit the theater floor*)
It's always a mental game with these sorts of things. I didn't start getting nervous until last night, then I dreamt about it at least three times. After the third and most vivid dream, I woke up thinking, "Well, thank heavens that's over wi-- oh. Shoot." So by far the worst part of this morning's ordeal was being kept waiting for an hour and a half before they finally ushered me into the "procedure" room. After all that time for anxiety and nerves to build up, I'm feeling drained and peevish. I hereby give myself license to lie around all day and eat chocolate!
So, I got stuck with a really big needle in my spine. It wasn't too bad, really. I'd had this done before, so I knew it really wouldn't be. I'm a bit sore and it was uncomfortable at points, but mostly it's a mental game: the trick is keeping your mind otherwise occupied so you don't think about what's going on. Oh -- and keeping your eyes front and center so you don't see what's going on in the X-ray image that guides the doctor during the sticking. That's seriously weird. Given that I'm the woman who passed out during the brain surgery scene in Master and Commander, I can't be too careful. (I think the scene ran something like this: [ship's mate]: "Coo, wa's that? 'Ere, are those his brains?" [Doctor Maturin]: "What, that? Oh no -- that's just a bit of dried blood. THOSE are his brains -- hand me that spoon, would you?" *loud thunk as I hit the theater floor*)
It's always a mental game with these sorts of things. I didn't start getting nervous until last night, then I dreamt about it at least three times. After the third and most vivid dream, I woke up thinking, "Well, thank heavens that's over wi-- oh. Shoot." So by far the worst part of this morning's ordeal was being kept waiting for an hour and a half before they finally ushered me into the "procedure" room. After all that time for anxiety and nerves to build up, I'm feeling drained and peevish. I hereby give myself license to lie around all day and eat chocolate!
June 21, 2008
Aunt Jenny
Margaret turned me on to reading James Lileks' very funny columns and blog years ago. His column in the Minneapolis Star Tribune has been since discontinued (more's the pity), and I stopped visiting his site some time ago. Some article or blog post -- perhaps at Inside Catholic -- made reference to him yesterday, though, so I thought I'd drop back by this morning and see what he's up to.
Today he has up some bit about "Aunt Jenny", the fictional spokesman for Spry Shortening from 1937 to 1956, whom he featured in his first book The Gallery of Regrettable Food. (This, if you haven't come across it, is a not-so nostalgic compilation of some truly horrible dishes from the 1950's, particularly those based heavily on canned or otherwise "convenience" foods. Meat Pie with Meat Crust! Baked Peppers with Creamy Marshmallow Sauce! Yeowch.)
Anyway, here's his take on the character:
But now, on to more auntly things. As I think must be officially documented somewhere in the Auntly Handbook, the chief duties of any aunt are: 1) to thoroughly spoil her nieces and nephews with gifts and affection, and 2) to digitally document their every waking moment spent in her presence. I am therefore presenting for other aunts, grandparents, and great-grandparents (and, oh yes -- the mother) the following:
(I could just eat these children up. Somebody bring me a spoon...)
Today he has up some bit about "Aunt Jenny", the fictional spokesman for Spry Shortening from 1937 to 1956, whom he featured in his first book The Gallery of Regrettable Food. (This, if you haven't come across it, is a not-so nostalgic compilation of some truly horrible dishes from the 1950's, particularly those based heavily on canned or otherwise "convenience" foods. Meat Pie with Meat Crust! Baked Peppers with Creamy Marshmallow Sauce! Yeowch.)
Anyway, here's his take on the character:
Aunt Jenny always struck me as someone in the mold of the nice manless lady who ran the Hooterville Hotel – certainly more country, but more sensible than that nattering old hen Ma Clampett.Well, my children, there you have it -- I shall endeavor to live up to my namesake: to be nice, sensible, and manless, and I promise never to natter. (The "country" bit I won't promise to.)
But now, on to more auntly things. As I think must be officially documented somewhere in the Auntly Handbook, the chief duties of any aunt are: 1) to thoroughly spoil her nieces and nephews with gifts and affection, and 2) to digitally document their every waking moment spent in her presence. I am therefore presenting for other aunts, grandparents, and great-grandparents (and, oh yes -- the mother) the following:
(I could just eat these children up. Somebody bring me a spoon...)
June 18, 2008
test
I'm just playing around with my photo-posting options; if you happen to see this, enjoy it now! I'll be taking it down soon. ...isn't he just so precious.....
June 17, 2008
Update
I saw the neurosurgeon today. (I went yesterday but they told me I can only see the doctor on the day that I have an appointment for, so... Ahem.) So, here's the deal:
1. ...well, make this preliminary comment a: that turn for the worse I took on Friday has gotten no better. Maybe a tiny bit better. 'kay. Onto the meat.
1. I have degenerative disk disease: "your disks, which are like jelly donuts, are beginning to dry out inside, making them hard and brittle and liable to crack in places." The three lowest disks in my spine are dried out; the topmost one is bulging (herniated) into the spinal column, causing pain down my legs. The bottommost disk is torn, leaking out "disk jelly", (which is apparently very nasty stuff, as far as the rest of my body is concerned), causing severe inflammation and the pain in my low back.
2. There's no cure. My options for treatment are, in order of aggressiveness: another course of steroids, epidural steroid injections (which do the same thing only more so), and surgery. Because there are three disks involved and a lot of damage, it would be major surgery: they would fuse the lowest three vertebrae together, probably very much like they did for Dad 10 years ago. Recovery time for the surgery would only be about a month all-told, but they wouldn't be able to get me in until September, thus wrecking complete havoc on my studies and clinic work.
3. Not surprisingly, we voted for option #2, at least to start out with. I have the first injection next Monday, and I can have up to a total of three, probably 1-2 weeks apart. If they don't work, we'll go to surgery. So we're still in a holding pattern, in a sense: I could be back in DC starting my new externship in August, or I might have to rework my entire doctoral program schedule. Time will tell! All we can do is wait and see.
At the moment, I don't have much of an emotional reaction to all of this. I wish I could get some definite timetable, especially since big changes will start happening awfully fast if I'm unable to meet certain deadlines. Meanwhile, Dad bought me this and this. Now, at least, I should be able to get back to work and finish those papers and projects. Yay! ...yay?
1. ...well, make this preliminary comment a: that turn for the worse I took on Friday has gotten no better. Maybe a tiny bit better. 'kay. Onto the meat.
1. I have degenerative disk disease: "your disks, which are like jelly donuts, are beginning to dry out inside, making them hard and brittle and liable to crack in places." The three lowest disks in my spine are dried out; the topmost one is bulging (herniated) into the spinal column, causing pain down my legs. The bottommost disk is torn, leaking out "disk jelly", (which is apparently very nasty stuff, as far as the rest of my body is concerned), causing severe inflammation and the pain in my low back.
2. There's no cure. My options for treatment are, in order of aggressiveness: another course of steroids, epidural steroid injections (which do the same thing only more so), and surgery. Because there are three disks involved and a lot of damage, it would be major surgery: they would fuse the lowest three vertebrae together, probably very much like they did for Dad 10 years ago. Recovery time for the surgery would only be about a month all-told, but they wouldn't be able to get me in until September, thus wrecking complete havoc on my studies and clinic work.
3. Not surprisingly, we voted for option #2, at least to start out with. I have the first injection next Monday, and I can have up to a total of three, probably 1-2 weeks apart. If they don't work, we'll go to surgery. So we're still in a holding pattern, in a sense: I could be back in DC starting my new externship in August, or I might have to rework my entire doctoral program schedule. Time will tell! All we can do is wait and see.
At the moment, I don't have much of an emotional reaction to all of this. I wish I could get some definite timetable, especially since big changes will start happening awfully fast if I'm unable to meet certain deadlines. Meanwhile, Dad bought me this and this. Now, at least, I should be able to get back to work and finish those papers and projects. Yay! ...yay?
June 14, 2008
Amazing progress and a set-back
The past several days have been low-interest from a posting-standpoint, but good ones. No spectacular sudden recovery, of course, but each day my back pain continued to steadily decrease, my walks got steadily longer, and the length of time up and about each day grew. I may go on record as the first Cabaniss to say, wholeheartedly, "God bless Prednisone!" (Though Uncle Ned, who's visiting right now, developed an eye condition while he was here and was prescribed Prednisone eye-drops. Steroids in the eye. What a weird thing this is.)
Yesterday was my first physical therapy appointment down here, and I chalked it up as a success. My therapist seems competent, kindly, and knowledgeable, but with that look all good therapists have that says, "I promise to cause you pain, and you will take it and thank me for it." He explained why my first therapist's approach was understandable but completely wrong given my acute state; (this is becoming a given for me -- physical therapists never agree with one another. They're like chiropractors that way.) He laid out a new plan of attack for me: starting out very slowly, trying to change the direction of the pressure on the herniated disk to allow it to go back to its normal shape, then gradually adding strengthening exercises. He was very confident that we can make excellent progress by my August 1st deadline: "Plenty of time, plenty of time," he reassured me.
...so WHY did I suddenly have terrible back pain yesterday evening that was unaffected by two Percocets and which greeted me this morning with added pain radiating down my leg? This can be a normal reaction to starting PT, of course. But the exercises he gave me to do -- gently and slowly! -- seem to make it much worse. We're putting (ever-so-gentle and slow!) pressure on the disk, and the disk seems to be having none of it. After a few tears of frustration and worry and some prayers for patience and trust, I'm back on the couch in the sunroom, drinking coffee and reading blogs. Time will tell, I see the neurosurgeon on Monday, and this might all be gone by then. In the meantime, extra prayers would be greatly appreciated! Very possibly I'll put up a post tomorrow saying everything is fine.
Yesterday was my first physical therapy appointment down here, and I chalked it up as a success. My therapist seems competent, kindly, and knowledgeable, but with that look all good therapists have that says, "I promise to cause you pain, and you will take it and thank me for it." He explained why my first therapist's approach was understandable but completely wrong given my acute state; (this is becoming a given for me -- physical therapists never agree with one another. They're like chiropractors that way.) He laid out a new plan of attack for me: starting out very slowly, trying to change the direction of the pressure on the herniated disk to allow it to go back to its normal shape, then gradually adding strengthening exercises. He was very confident that we can make excellent progress by my August 1st deadline: "Plenty of time, plenty of time," he reassured me.
...so WHY did I suddenly have terrible back pain yesterday evening that was unaffected by two Percocets and which greeted me this morning with added pain radiating down my leg? This can be a normal reaction to starting PT, of course. But the exercises he gave me to do -- gently and slowly! -- seem to make it much worse. We're putting (ever-so-gentle and slow!) pressure on the disk, and the disk seems to be having none of it. After a few tears of frustration and worry and some prayers for patience and trust, I'm back on the couch in the sunroom, drinking coffee and reading blogs. Time will tell, I see the neurosurgeon on Monday, and this might all be gone by then. In the meantime, extra prayers would be greatly appreciated! Very possibly I'll put up a post tomorrow saying everything is fine.
June 8, 2008
Another great post
(Not mine.)
Sister Mary Martha usually has something good going on over at her blog, but I thought this was particularly good. Note to self: "Get holy. Shut up." ...and tell everybody else about it on your blog. This is going to be hard.
It reminds me of the little "Litany of Humility" fiasco we had in the Novitiate once upon a time: Sister Faustina Marie was in charge of cleaning the upstairs Novitiate bathroom and decided she'd do her part for the spread of piety by posting the litany on the inside of the door to each stall. This led to a long lecture by the Novice Mistress during our weekly meeting about forcing personal devotions upon the helpless and unsuspecting. Sister Faustina Marie was very humiliated indeed, and we were hugely entertained, so we figured the thing had been a success all-round.
[Preempting Fr. Barry's response: "Convent humor. Good times."]
Sister Mary Martha usually has something good going on over at her blog, but I thought this was particularly good. Note to self: "Get holy. Shut up." ...and tell everybody else about it on your blog. This is going to be hard.
It reminds me of the little "Litany of Humility" fiasco we had in the Novitiate once upon a time: Sister Faustina Marie was in charge of cleaning the upstairs Novitiate bathroom and decided she'd do her part for the spread of piety by posting the litany on the inside of the door to each stall. This led to a long lecture by the Novice Mistress during our weekly meeting about forcing personal devotions upon the helpless and unsuspecting. Sister Faustina Marie was very humiliated indeed, and we were hugely entertained, so we figured the thing had been a success all-round.
[Preempting Fr. Barry's response: "Convent humor. Good times."]
Baby steps out of the house...
Four days ago, I decided to try to take a little walk. I didn't make it out of our yard; I made two laps around the roses and my back informed me that that was plenty for our first trip. No sense getting too ambitious, it said.
Three days ago, I took a strong stance: "Today, we're going to go down that driveway." My back hemmed and hawed and made worried noises about the hill, but I ignored it. We made it to the end of the driveway. Pleased with my success and the pleasantness of the evening, I nudged it along to the next-door neighbor's house with the promise of seeing some fireflies. One appeared in the Leech's front yard, then my back promptly demanded we go back, complaining all the way.
Two days ago, I lost the argument altogether. My back and I kept an uneasy truce lying on the couch in a semi-drugged state most of the day. We grumbled at each other.
Yesterday, I became brave again. "Down the street," I said, speaking to it firmly. "Besides, I need the sun." The 95 degree heat was more than enough excuse to take it easy. Walking at a very gentle pace (and wondering the whole time how this whole "walking" mechanism was supposed to work -- is it step first, then swing the arm? and should my hips be moving more than this?) I was surprised to discover we'd made it all the way down the cul-de-sac and back. My upper back was pleased to chime in at this point and remind me that swinging the arms takes effort, too, thank you very much, and could we please not get too far ahead of ourselves?
Today, I got my whole self out the door without argument. Down the street and back, then down to the next street before heading around for home. I am positively flushed with success. Also, just generally flushed. (Ye gods, it's hot out there!)
Three days ago, I took a strong stance: "Today, we're going to go down that driveway." My back hemmed and hawed and made worried noises about the hill, but I ignored it. We made it to the end of the driveway. Pleased with my success and the pleasantness of the evening, I nudged it along to the next-door neighbor's house with the promise of seeing some fireflies. One appeared in the Leech's front yard, then my back promptly demanded we go back, complaining all the way.
Two days ago, I lost the argument altogether. My back and I kept an uneasy truce lying on the couch in a semi-drugged state most of the day. We grumbled at each other.
Yesterday, I became brave again. "Down the street," I said, speaking to it firmly. "Besides, I need the sun." The 95 degree heat was more than enough excuse to take it easy. Walking at a very gentle pace (and wondering the whole time how this whole "walking" mechanism was supposed to work -- is it step first, then swing the arm? and should my hips be moving more than this?) I was surprised to discover we'd made it all the way down the cul-de-sac and back. My upper back was pleased to chime in at this point and remind me that swinging the arms takes effort, too, thank you very much, and could we please not get too far ahead of ourselves?
Today, I got my whole self out the door without argument. Down the street and back, then down to the next street before heading around for home. I am positively flushed with success. Also, just generally flushed. (Ye gods, it's hot out there!)
June 6, 2008
Away
After posting several times a day when I first started this thing, I've noticed that I haven't touched it for a week. The thing is, I mostly created this as a way to make contact with the world outside my bedroom -- to keep in touch with the folks I was away from, and now I'm back home. So suddenly the urge to write has fizzled. ("Why do I need to write about what I'm doing? I've been rescued! Mom and Dad are sitting on the other side of the room...") Of course, everyone I left behind in DC (or Baltimore or Boonsboro) is now "away", and there are still those who are always "away" from me. So I will try to haul myself up by my bootstraps and get back to writing!
I'm spending most of my time now lying on the couch in the sunroom, surrounded by large windows looking out over the sunny, leafy backyard, listening to the potted ficus plants whispering in the breeze from the air conditioning, drinking coffee, and reading blogs. It's all very peaceful and cheery. Dad picked up a few books from the library for me that I've been wanting to read; they're stacked on the end table on top of the books I brought home for my dissertation, ready to hand and conveniently blocking the others from view.
Mom has been very busy with errands and appointments since we got home, so Dad and I usually spend the day lolling about together. Periodically I'll pull him away from his computer in the den for a game of backgammon or go lie on my back on the carpet by his chair to chat about this and that. The cat seems to approve of all this lying about; she occasionally leaves her hiding spot under a couch or in the sunbeam by a window to rub against a leg and be petted before disappearing again.
I have also rediscovered food, as you will all be happy to learn, thanks mostly to Dad's amazing cooking and my steroid medication. I get three ready-prepared meals handed to me every day, and Dad fills the plates himself -- with about three times what I would normally eat, and I'm surprised to see how quickly it all disappears. If I do not go back to DC at least 15 pounds heavier, it will not be his fault.
...which gets me to the more technical part of this update. The day before I left DC, Mom went with me all over town, meeting with doctors, picking up X-ray films, and filling prescriptions. We were able to meet with my GP, who explained the MRI results better than the back specialist had (thus reinforcing my perception of specialists: if the tests don't show anything terribly out of the ordinary, it's hard to get them invested in your case. Eight weeks of debilitating pain? "Meh. Cry me a river. Tests say you're fine.")
My doctor explained that there's a tear in one of the disks in my spine, which means that spinal fluid seeps into the sac (...or, out of it ...or something), causing all kinds of intense inflammation and irritation. It can't heal until the inflammation goes down, which (I think) explains why my pain has continually gotten worse rather than better. So he put me on steroids to reduce the inflammation and help it to heal, along with two kinds of pain medication. So far I haven't felt any improvement, but I am so pepped at the thought of actually treating the problem, I expect relief right around the corner! Once things calm down a bit, I'll go back into physical therapy.
I will also be meeting with a neurosurgeon next week to cover all my bases, but I don't expect much more interest from him. (Let's hope so, anyway. "Interest" from him would mean surgery, which I am decidedly NOT interested in.) Meanwhile, the pain medication makes me almost perpetually happy and sentimental; if you have a sob story you'd like someone to listen to with rapt attention and a few gratifying tears of sympathy, I'm your woman!
I'm spending most of my time now lying on the couch in the sunroom, surrounded by large windows looking out over the sunny, leafy backyard, listening to the potted ficus plants whispering in the breeze from the air conditioning, drinking coffee, and reading blogs. It's all very peaceful and cheery. Dad picked up a few books from the library for me that I've been wanting to read; they're stacked on the end table on top of the books I brought home for my dissertation, ready to hand and conveniently blocking the others from view.
Mom has been very busy with errands and appointments since we got home, so Dad and I usually spend the day lolling about together. Periodically I'll pull him away from his computer in the den for a game of backgammon or go lie on my back on the carpet by his chair to chat about this and that. The cat seems to approve of all this lying about; she occasionally leaves her hiding spot under a couch or in the sunbeam by a window to rub against a leg and be petted before disappearing again.
I have also rediscovered food, as you will all be happy to learn, thanks mostly to Dad's amazing cooking and my steroid medication. I get three ready-prepared meals handed to me every day, and Dad fills the plates himself -- with about three times what I would normally eat, and I'm surprised to see how quickly it all disappears. If I do not go back to DC at least 15 pounds heavier, it will not be his fault.
...which gets me to the more technical part of this update. The day before I left DC, Mom went with me all over town, meeting with doctors, picking up X-ray films, and filling prescriptions. We were able to meet with my GP, who explained the MRI results better than the back specialist had (thus reinforcing my perception of specialists: if the tests don't show anything terribly out of the ordinary, it's hard to get them invested in your case. Eight weeks of debilitating pain? "Meh. Cry me a river. Tests say you're fine.")
My doctor explained that there's a tear in one of the disks in my spine, which means that spinal fluid seeps into the sac (...or, out of it ...or something), causing all kinds of intense inflammation and irritation. It can't heal until the inflammation goes down, which (I think) explains why my pain has continually gotten worse rather than better. So he put me on steroids to reduce the inflammation and help it to heal, along with two kinds of pain medication. So far I haven't felt any improvement, but I am so pepped at the thought of actually treating the problem, I expect relief right around the corner! Once things calm down a bit, I'll go back into physical therapy.
I will also be meeting with a neurosurgeon next week to cover all my bases, but I don't expect much more interest from him. (Let's hope so, anyway. "Interest" from him would mean surgery, which I am decidedly NOT interested in.) Meanwhile, the pain medication makes me almost perpetually happy and sentimental; if you have a sob story you'd like someone to listen to with rapt attention and a few gratifying tears of sympathy, I'm your woman!
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