I think I'm depressed.
I'm retreating into myself, constantly berating myself over my appearance, my actions, or my intelligence. I am struggling in Orgo, which isn't helping. I need to memorize chemical equations but I got behind and now I need to catch up. I got a 28% on the last quiz.
Of course it didn't help that I was a real idiot last weekend. See, Thursday was Valentine's Day, and I agreed to spend Thursday night with Ryter so we could have a really good Valentine's Day. I decided I really didn't want to lie to my professor and take a make up quiz, so instead, I studied for an hour before, went in for the quiz, and then went back to Ryter's. So I didn't get enough studying in and as a result, spectacular fail. It was dumb and I knew it was dumb and I did it anyway because I wanted to spend time with Ryter, and while I enjoyed that time, it was still a bad decision.
And I wound up staying there the whole weekend, because I had originally intended to go back Saturday night and study Sunday like usual, but Ryter's dad invited us out to sushi, and turning that down would be sacrilege. In retrospect I should have gone back Saturday and had him pick me up to go for sushi but my judgment seems to be impaired. Luckily I don't think that was too bad a problem.
The trouble is that I want to seek out my friends, who I feel like I haven't seen much of, and hang out with them; I want to go do things and hopefully have that help pull me out of my funk. But I'm so withdrawn right now that I don't do anything unless someone asks me; I can't seek people out or plan things on my own. Ryter invites me to come see him all the time; sometimes Cellamica invites me to dinner or Libentra asks me to grab lunch with her. But I really want to spend time with Vivacia, and with Mack, who's at UNH now (he finally transferred, and even got on-campus housing), and Closer, too. I want to be out there and doing things with them, because I feel like I'm losing or have lost them and I really don't want that, especially not with Vivacia. I bought her a little potted rose bush for Valentine's Day and left it at her door (she was out), but I think it might have upset her, because I forgot to leave a name (dumb) and she was concerned it was a creepy stalker or something, and then had to explain to her residents that no, she did not have a secret admirer who was going to make Closer jealous.
And I can't even reach out to her, or to anyone really, so I'm just kind of hoping she'll call me or IM me or something. I hate this state I get into. I'm perfectly amicable and normal when I'm with people (except Ryter, he's been getting dumped on a bit more than is fair lately), it's not like I'm being emo all the time, but at the same time, I can't seek it out, it has to come to me, and as a result I spend most of my time daydreaming and staring off into space or quietly sitting here and thinking about how stupid and useless I am.
Meanwhile my joints are hurting constantly, especially my bad knee, and I joined a gym which is showing me just how terribly out of shape I am plus isn't helping with the joint pain (it's not serious pain and I know when to stop, so it's not like I'm going to hurt myself).
I'm not at the level, yet, of needing medication again because I can still pay attention in class (even if I don't study enough) and I'm not doing anything that will really hurt me; I'm trying extra hard to take care of myself, in fact, because I'm hoping that if I get healthier I'll have a little more energy and get out of this. But still, it's kind of sucky. I need to push past it, but I feel like I'm Sisyphus right now.
Wish me well...
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pain. Show all posts
Monday, February 18, 2008
Saturday, September 15, 2007
I say the pickled cauliflower was weirdest. And that's what he KEPT.
Last night I went over to Ryter's. He's been doing increasingly poorly the longer he has to deal with the tic and the pain, which really sucks. I'm trying to just be there for him, there's not much else I can do, and he can't really do anything either until he sees the neurologist except handle the pain as best he can.
Today, randomly, I started cleaning his fridge. I don't really know why I did it, but I was feeding Jesus the Lizard for him and instead of putting Jesus' veggies back I started pulling out the old veggies and dumping them out in the compost bin. But it was an experience, certainly. There was clumpy milk and gray cheese, pumpkin beer over a year old and a hot dog that was completely solid. He had a liquefied squash and something we couldn't identify in a plastic bag, and the V8 had a fuzzy white thing floating on it. But now his fridge is clean, so if he feels up to it and goes to see his dad tomorrow (for laundry and a Costco trip), he can put the things he buys somewhere. Plus I won't go to pull out Jesus' blueberries and almost put my hand in a strange off-white substance with a green shimmer that has pooled at the bottom of the fruit drawer.
Boys.
I also did all his dishes, but that's mostly because I'm the one who asks that we use them-- he just eats with his hands or disposable packages half the time, and reuses dishes many times before cleaning them-- and his OCD means he has issues letting things soak, because of the dirty standing water. I don't mind doing that sort of thing-- Ryter's always worried that I'm going to get sick of dealing with that stuff and break up with him because of it, but I mean, come on. I'm hardly going to fault the guy for a liquefied squash and a few dishes, especially not when he's got all this other crap to deal with (and cleaning fridges is actually kind of fun, sort of like how I imagine forensic scientists might enjoy their job. I always like seeing what weird things people put in their fridges and forget about). Part of the dishes was giving him one less thing to have to deal with-- at least he'll have something to clean to eat off of if he needs to and he won't have a whole pile of dirty dishes laying around getting in his way.
I'd clean his whole apartment if I thought it would improve his mood, but I think the only thing that would do that is going to the neurologist and having them say, "Oh, we know exactly what is causing every single one of your problems. Take this one pill once a day for six weeks and then you'll be cured of all these problems for the rest of your life, and be happy and productive until you're 80."
And then he comes home, and wins the lottery.
Oh well. Things will get better, at least, if the neurologist can handle the tic and help with the pain. Which seems very likely.
He told me when he dropped me off that he didn't want me to worry about him. I replied, "I'm your girlfriend and you're suffering, of course I'm going to worry. But I won't drive myself crazy over it, I promise." He settled for that.
One and a half weeks until he can see the neurologist. Only one and a half weeks...
Today, randomly, I started cleaning his fridge. I don't really know why I did it, but I was feeding Jesus the Lizard for him and instead of putting Jesus' veggies back I started pulling out the old veggies and dumping them out in the compost bin. But it was an experience, certainly. There was clumpy milk and gray cheese, pumpkin beer over a year old and a hot dog that was completely solid. He had a liquefied squash and something we couldn't identify in a plastic bag, and the V8 had a fuzzy white thing floating on it. But now his fridge is clean, so if he feels up to it and goes to see his dad tomorrow (for laundry and a Costco trip), he can put the things he buys somewhere. Plus I won't go to pull out Jesus' blueberries and almost put my hand in a strange off-white substance with a green shimmer that has pooled at the bottom of the fruit drawer.Boys.
I also did all his dishes, but that's mostly because I'm the one who asks that we use them-- he just eats with his hands or disposable packages half the time, and reuses dishes many times before cleaning them-- and his OCD means he has issues letting things soak, because of the dirty standing water. I don't mind doing that sort of thing-- Ryter's always worried that I'm going to get sick of dealing with that stuff and break up with him because of it, but I mean, come on. I'm hardly going to fault the guy for a liquefied squash and a few dishes, especially not when he's got all this other crap to deal with (and cleaning fridges is actually kind of fun, sort of like how I imagine forensic scientists might enjoy their job. I always like seeing what weird things people put in their fridges and forget about). Part of the dishes was giving him one less thing to have to deal with-- at least he'll have something to clean to eat off of if he needs to and he won't have a whole pile of dirty dishes laying around getting in his way.
I'd clean his whole apartment if I thought it would improve his mood, but I think the only thing that would do that is going to the neurologist and having them say, "Oh, we know exactly what is causing every single one of your problems. Take this one pill once a day for six weeks and then you'll be cured of all these problems for the rest of your life, and be happy and productive until you're 80."And then he comes home, and wins the lottery.
Oh well. Things will get better, at least, if the neurologist can handle the tic and help with the pain. Which seems very likely.
He told me when he dropped me off that he didn't want me to worry about him. I replied, "I'm your girlfriend and you're suffering, of course I'm going to worry. But I won't drive myself crazy over it, I promise." He settled for that.
One and a half weeks until he can see the neurologist. Only one and a half weeks...
Friday, March 9, 2007
Here is a Bad Idea:
First, make sure you are very sick for several days, ensuring a complete lack of desire to get out of bed and go eat. Subsist on Ramen noodles and hot tea.
Then get better, but maintain your sore throat despite feeling perfectly fine, so you don't feel sick but you can't swallow easily. Proceed to pick out soft foods like eggs for breakfast, but make sure that you're eating in a cafeteria that can't seem to fully hard-boil the damn things so you can't finish them without triggering your gag reflex. Also make sure you have weird dietary restrictions on the eating of meat, limiting your lunchtime consumption to vegetarian chili. Subsist on hot tea, juice, and vegetarian chili.
Then decide to break your near-fast with Asian food that you've never tried before and have no idea how your stomach will respond to it. Decide you dislike the taste and be too obsessed with making a good impression to ask for something more substantiative, like solid food.
At this point you will feel perfectly healthy except for the fact you've eaten an anorexic's fare for the past week or so and don't actually have any of the proper nutrients in your system, except for iron, because of the stupid pills you're taking and probably peeing out because the body needs vitamin C to absorb iron and you haven't had anything vitamin C except for cough drops.
Your stomach will fill with gas, feel like it's about to explode, and bloat. Your first impact will be to get your knees as close to your chin as possible in an attempt to fix this problem (why does this work? I don't know. But I always cure stomach pain with contortionist practice). And if you're like me, your pain threshold is fairly high, so you're going to sit there all evening ignoring the fact that you're pretty sure your stomach has begun digesting your liver.
Oh, but you're gonna complain about it. Oh yes. Because that's what blogs are for.
That said, I totally can't complain as much as Mistake, who has pneumonia. As far as I know, it's not even the walking sort, and yet, she's been walking about for a couple of days now, because she is NUTS.
Then get better, but maintain your sore throat despite feeling perfectly fine, so you don't feel sick but you can't swallow easily. Proceed to pick out soft foods like eggs for breakfast, but make sure that you're eating in a cafeteria that can't seem to fully hard-boil the damn things so you can't finish them without triggering your gag reflex. Also make sure you have weird dietary restrictions on the eating of meat, limiting your lunchtime consumption to vegetarian chili. Subsist on hot tea, juice, and vegetarian chili.
Then decide to break your near-fast with Asian food that you've never tried before and have no idea how your stomach will respond to it. Decide you dislike the taste and be too obsessed with making a good impression to ask for something more substantiative, like solid food.
At this point you will feel perfectly healthy except for the fact you've eaten an anorexic's fare for the past week or so and don't actually have any of the proper nutrients in your system, except for iron, because of the stupid pills you're taking and probably peeing out because the body needs vitamin C to absorb iron and you haven't had anything vitamin C except for cough drops.
Your stomach will fill with gas, feel like it's about to explode, and bloat. Your first impact will be to get your knees as close to your chin as possible in an attempt to fix this problem (why does this work? I don't know. But I always cure stomach pain with contortionist practice). And if you're like me, your pain threshold is fairly high, so you're going to sit there all evening ignoring the fact that you're pretty sure your stomach has begun digesting your liver.
Oh, but you're gonna complain about it. Oh yes. Because that's what blogs are for.
That said, I totally can't complain as much as Mistake, who has pneumonia. As far as I know, it's not even the walking sort, and yet, she's been walking about for a couple of days now, because she is NUTS.
| I Should Be a Science Fiction Writer |
 My ideas are very strange, and people often wonder what planet I'm from. And while I may have some problems being "normal," I'll have no problems writing sci-fi. Whether it's epic films, important novels, or vivid comics... My own little universe could leave an important mark on the world! |
Saturday, February 17, 2007
"Do not be overly judgemental of your loved ones' intentions or actions."
The doctor says my knee pain is somehow related to the patello-femoral thingy where my kneecaps don't line up right. Of course, she hasn't actually seen me since then or gotten any new information about the pain, so I think she's going with the "don't know what it is and this is a problem we know the patient has, so let's go with it" explanation.
She also says that the anemia is slightly better-- very slightly, but better. But that my overall blood count is really, really down. So either I'm being systematically drained by vampires in my sleep or I might want to consider a multivitamin with iron. Great. I hate pills. This does not bode well for my future in medicine, as as far as I can tell most doctors think every little problem should be solved with one pill or another.
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Today Libentra and I were walking back to Hubbard, down the stairs past Dimond Library, and the stairs (which haven't been shoveled, just sanded) were pretty slippery and hard to walk on. Libentra came up with a solution: she handed me her backpack, walked over to the steep, clear hill between the stairs and the library, flopped out on her belly and slid penguin-style down the hill.
It was HILARIOUS.
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I managed to loose my purse. I think it's in Philbrook-- which doesn't open until Sunday night. Great. Luckily I have all my important stuff, as it was all in my coat pockets. No, I don't know why I bother to have a purse if I put all my stuff in my coat pockets. I doubt I would have noticed that it was missing at all if I hadn't been looking for it to bring stuff home in.
I'm at home now, but just overnight. My sister and I returned to celebrate Mummy's birthday. I don't have a gift, since last weekend I wasn't really eager to go to the mall on crutches, but I'll get her something tomorrow, wrap it, give it to her, and then hopefully get back to UNH tomorrow in time to go to the Open Mic that the Writer's Circle is putting on.
We went out to a nice restaurant and the wait staff sang and gave her a cake with a candle in it, but I think that my mom wouldn't really care as long as we all came home and spent time together when she didn't have to work. I don't think Mummy ever really realized how much of a presence Shrewd and I really are before we were both gone... and while she appreciates less hair in the sink, she's basically got empty nest syndrome and the Brother hasn't even left yet.
She also says that the anemia is slightly better-- very slightly, but better. But that my overall blood count is really, really down. So either I'm being systematically drained by vampires in my sleep or I might want to consider a multivitamin with iron. Great. I hate pills. This does not bode well for my future in medicine, as as far as I can tell most doctors think every little problem should be solved with one pill or another.
--------------------
Today Libentra and I were walking back to Hubbard, down the stairs past Dimond Library, and the stairs (which haven't been shoveled, just sanded) were pretty slippery and hard to walk on. Libentra came up with a solution: she handed me her backpack, walked over to the steep, clear hill between the stairs and the library, flopped out on her belly and slid penguin-style down the hill.
It was HILARIOUS.
--------------------
I managed to loose my purse. I think it's in Philbrook-- which doesn't open until Sunday night. Great. Luckily I have all my important stuff, as it was all in my coat pockets. No, I don't know why I bother to have a purse if I put all my stuff in my coat pockets. I doubt I would have noticed that it was missing at all if I hadn't been looking for it to bring stuff home in.
I'm at home now, but just overnight. My sister and I returned to celebrate Mummy's birthday. I don't have a gift, since last weekend I wasn't really eager to go to the mall on crutches, but I'll get her something tomorrow, wrap it, give it to her, and then hopefully get back to UNH tomorrow in time to go to the Open Mic that the Writer's Circle is putting on.
We went out to a nice restaurant and the wait staff sang and gave her a cake with a candle in it, but I think that my mom wouldn't really care as long as we all came home and spent time together when she didn't have to work. I don't think Mummy ever really realized how much of a presence Shrewd and I really are before we were both gone... and while she appreciates less hair in the sink, she's basically got empty nest syndrome and the Brother hasn't even left yet.
| If I Was Dead Meat, I'd Be Duck |
 Exotic and unusual, I am a bit of a rare bird - literally. I'm known for being soft and succulent, though at times I can be a bit greasy... weirdest quiz ever. |
Thursday, February 8, 2007
"Win as if you were used to it, lose as if you enjoyed it for a change"
For a cool read, check out Slightly Drunk, a blog about the misadventures of a guy whose life seems to be most unfortunate-- but very amusing to those who don't have to live it themselves. Not entirely sure he doesn't deserve some of it, but regardless, you should check him out because it's funny, unusual, and contains few grammatical errors. I love it when bloggers know how to write.
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Deandron amuses me. He's seen me like four times since I got the crutches, and the first time I was headed down the hall towards my room. Deandron's in the lounge, so his door faces straight down the hallway, and his desk is right there-- so he heard the "tch-tch" noise as I headed down the hall and glanced over, went back to what he was doing, then did a total double take, stared at me, then waved. I waved back.
I've passed him a couple times since then and it's always just "hi," like usual, then today he stopped me in the dining hall as I hobbled around on one crutch to get some juice. "Hey," he said, "I'm not sure what the tactful way to say this is, but what's with the crutches?" I made my best effort not to laugh at him, since I knew this whole time that he was curious about the crutches but I figured he just wasn't able to stop and talk. It's kinda funny to know that he was looking for the "tactful" way to ask about them. Is tact really necessary when asking why a person is on crutches? I mean, how does one ask that in a non-tactful manner? "Whoa, what'd you do, fall on your ass on the sidewalk?" That might not be tactful. Or, "Man, you must be reeeeeally clumsy!" But honestly, coming from Deandron, that would just make me laugh.
Maybe, "Haha, you're on crutches, sucks to be you!"
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What's really annoying about the knee is that this morning? It didn't hurt. Like, a little, but not that bad. After it was such a pain (literally) since Friday, I spend less than a day on crutches and it decides to get better? As much as I'd love to
attribute it to the amazing healing powers of hobbling about, it started to hurt as soon as I started putting more weight on it and less on the crutches. Thus I have decided that that particular limb called in sick despite the fact that it is perfectly okay and just wants to have a week's vacation, so it may sit back and go fishing or something without having to do silly, mundane things like dance or do yoga or bear weight. At this point the right leg has figured out this sweet deal Left Leg's come up with, and it's starting to complain about how the extra work is SO HARD and it's gonna need to call in sick soon, too, it's feeling a little poorly.
Meanwhile my arms are just demanding to know why the heck they have to work overtime just because Left Leg's on vacation.
I missed the call from the doctor today that would have told me the results of the X-ray and the anemia test that they did while I was there, and while I'm not really worried-- I think I'd feel it more if it was a break, even if it was just a fracture, and I actually haven't taken my iron pills in months so I will be stunned if the anemia magically went away-- I find it annoying that the confidentiality business means they can't even leave me a message saying "You're fine!" Instead I have to call them back tomorrow-- not today, they have annoying hours-- and meanwhile my inner hypochondriac is saying "You broke your kneecap! You dislocated something! You have bone necrosis like in your mom's hip and will need a new knee! You have... uhm... cancer! Yeah, that's it!"
That's why I strongly dislike my inner hypochondriac and try to smack him around whenever he acts up. Pesky little bugger.
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Today was my first group therapy session for the semester. The group's very different this semester-- The guy who runs it says that there's three of us who are coming from the last group, but the other two were both missing today and may or may not come next week. The group seems less likely to gradually loose members like last time, at least-- everyone seemed really into it, and willing to talk, and I'm pretty sure only one or two of us were pressured into it by psychiatrists and/or police officers (It's frustrating because I signed a confidentiality notice so I'd feel bad talking about some of the... characters I've met, even with no names or identifying features). Seriously, though, everyone seems nice, and very talkative for a group about difficulty communicating.
The problem is, once again, everyone's there because they have issues saying no, or issues talking about their feelings, or resolving conflict. I mean, I'm not the only one with issues with small talk and general sociability, but I'm one of maybe two. And while I have issues talking about serious matters so people don't get offended, seeing as I have the social sensitivity of a partially digested sock, my main problem-- just getting up the nerve to talk to people at all-- will likely not be addressed sufficiently. Plus there's the fact that once again, there are attractive guys in the group-- more than last time, even-- which means that I can't mention the fact that the only thing worse than small talk is small talk with attractive guys.
I at least brought up my inability to make eye contact or say hi with people unless they address me first, so everyone will understand why I don't greet them if they pass me on the sidewalk. I forgot to do that right away last semester and I'm pretty sure I insulted someone by not acknowledging them. This is the only place I can declare my social fallacies before they affect my social interactions and I totally intend to take full advantage of that fact...
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Deandron amuses me. He's seen me like four times since I got the crutches, and the first time I was headed down the hall towards my room. Deandron's in the lounge, so his door faces straight down the hallway, and his desk is right there-- so he heard the "tch-tch" noise as I headed down the hall and glanced over, went back to what he was doing, then did a total double take, stared at me, then waved. I waved back.
I've passed him a couple times since then and it's always just "hi," like usual, then today he stopped me in the dining hall as I hobbled around on one crutch to get some juice. "Hey," he said, "I'm not sure what the tactful way to say this is, but what's with the crutches?" I made my best effort not to laugh at him, since I knew this whole time that he was curious about the crutches but I figured he just wasn't able to stop and talk. It's kinda funny to know that he was looking for the "tactful" way to ask about them. Is tact really necessary when asking why a person is on crutches? I mean, how does one ask that in a non-tactful manner? "Whoa, what'd you do, fall on your ass on the sidewalk?" That might not be tactful. Or, "Man, you must be reeeeeally clumsy!" But honestly, coming from Deandron, that would just make me laugh. Maybe, "Haha, you're on crutches, sucks to be you!"
---------------------
What's really annoying about the knee is that this morning? It didn't hurt. Like, a little, but not that bad. After it was such a pain (literally) since Friday, I spend less than a day on crutches and it decides to get better? As much as I'd love to
attribute it to the amazing healing powers of hobbling about, it started to hurt as soon as I started putting more weight on it and less on the crutches. Thus I have decided that that particular limb called in sick despite the fact that it is perfectly okay and just wants to have a week's vacation, so it may sit back and go fishing or something without having to do silly, mundane things like dance or do yoga or bear weight. At this point the right leg has figured out this sweet deal Left Leg's come up with, and it's starting to complain about how the extra work is SO HARD and it's gonna need to call in sick soon, too, it's feeling a little poorly.Meanwhile my arms are just demanding to know why the heck they have to work overtime just because Left Leg's on vacation.
I missed the call from the doctor today that would have told me the results of the X-ray and the anemia test that they did while I was there, and while I'm not really worried-- I think I'd feel it more if it was a break, even if it was just a fracture, and I actually haven't taken my iron pills in months so I will be stunned if the anemia magically went away-- I find it annoying that the confidentiality business means they can't even leave me a message saying "You're fine!" Instead I have to call them back tomorrow-- not today, they have annoying hours-- and meanwhile my inner hypochondriac is saying "You broke your kneecap! You dislocated something! You have bone necrosis like in your mom's hip and will need a new knee! You have... uhm... cancer! Yeah, that's it!"
That's why I strongly dislike my inner hypochondriac and try to smack him around whenever he acts up. Pesky little bugger.
---------------------
Today was my first group therapy session for the semester. The group's very different this semester-- The guy who runs it says that there's three of us who are coming from the last group, but the other two were both missing today and may or may not come next week. The group seems less likely to gradually loose members like last time, at least-- everyone seemed really into it, and willing to talk, and I'm pretty sure only one or two of us were pressured into it by psychiatrists and/or police officers (It's frustrating because I signed a confidentiality notice so I'd feel bad talking about some of the... characters I've met, even with no names or identifying features). Seriously, though, everyone seems nice, and very talkative for a group about difficulty communicating.
The problem is, once again, everyone's there because they have issues saying no, or issues talking about their feelings, or resolving conflict. I mean, I'm not the only one with issues with small talk and general sociability, but I'm one of maybe two. And while I have issues talking about serious matters so people don't get offended, seeing as I have the social sensitivity of a partially digested sock, my main problem-- just getting up the nerve to talk to people at all-- will likely not be addressed sufficiently. Plus there's the fact that once again, there are attractive guys in the group-- more than last time, even-- which means that I can't mention the fact that the only thing worse than small talk is small talk with attractive guys.I at least brought up my inability to make eye contact or say hi with people unless they address me first, so everyone will understand why I don't greet them if they pass me on the sidewalk. I forgot to do that right away last semester and I'm pretty sure I insulted someone by not acknowledging them. This is the only place I can declare my social fallacies before they affect my social interactions and I totally intend to take full advantage of that fact...
| I Am 92% Pure |
 I'm so innocent, it's almost like I'm not human. Taking this test is probably the naughtiest thing I've done in a while. Well, this is depressing. |
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
"He who hurries can not walk with dignity"
Today is sacred to the god Favonius, the gentle western wind. His Greek counterpart is Zephyrus. He was associated with plants and flowers. I have no idea why he has a holy day in the middle of February.
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So... it didn't go away. The knee pain, that is. I went to the doctor today. Got there about seven minutes early and expected to wait, but they ushered me right on in, and I got into the exam room before 11:15. This is good, I thought. I'll be able to get out of here and eat lunch before Bio lab.
But, no. Heaven forbid a Wednesday go well for me. No, I waited there for twenty-five minutes before the doctor came in. Then she looked at my knee, determined that it was swollen and tender, and then bent it-- and it released this "cr-cr-cr-crACK!" noise that sounded like a very loud version of cracking knuckles. Meanwhile the kneecap itself popped up, a few millimeters higher than it had been previously, and then settled down into the groove again. The look on her face was priceless-- she'd never felt that happen before. "Well, that's not normal," she declared.
She said that while that felt like a ligament snapping, the soreness and swelling seemed like a sprain or something. So in other words... she has no idea. Great. I'm supposed to ice it and take Motrin for the swelling, and they x-rayed it just in case, and I've got the ace bandage to stabilize the joint and crutches to keep off it in the hopes that it will heal if I don't pester it. I can handle all of that except the crutches. I take back what I said yesterday about limping around campus being miserable-- it's nothing compared to trying to cross slush-covered sidewalks on crutches. Besides, the crutches hurt my arms, and I'm usually exhausted by the time I get there... And then there's the stairs. I have grown to hate stairs in a very short amount of time.
Also... dining halls. The dining halls are not exactly handicap-friendly. Have you ever tried to carry a tray while on crutches? Yeah, not happening. I managed dinner today, using just one crutch, but I was precariously balancing things and holding the tray in one hand, petrified it would all fall. So tomorrow I need to get up at 6:30 to make sure I can go to breakfast with Loquatia, this one time-- Friday she doesn't have to get up to work, and this weekend I'm planning on getting a whole mess of Ramen/cereal/milk-type supplies so I can eat in the dorm if I can't find anyone to escort me to the dining hall. Fabulous.
And I had to call my parents, to let them know, lest I arrive home this weekend or next on crutches and offer them an unfortunate surprise... Mummy seems much more concerned about this than I am, naturally.
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Oh, and I found this. It amuses me muchly, since it's basically a mockery of religion... "WikiWrit: The Holy Book Anyone Can Edit!" Of course, this is funny because humans have been "editing" their holy books for years, which is why you really have to read them in the original language. This joke religion is just a little more obvious about it. It's fun. There are enchanted hobos.
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So... it didn't go away. The knee pain, that is. I went to the doctor today. Got there about seven minutes early and expected to wait, but they ushered me right on in, and I got into the exam room before 11:15. This is good, I thought. I'll be able to get out of here and eat lunch before Bio lab.
But, no. Heaven forbid a Wednesday go well for me. No, I waited there for twenty-five minutes before the doctor came in. Then she looked at my knee, determined that it was swollen and tender, and then bent it-- and it released this "cr-cr-cr-crACK!" noise that sounded like a very loud version of cracking knuckles. Meanwhile the kneecap itself popped up, a few millimeters higher than it had been previously, and then settled down into the groove again. The look on her face was priceless-- she'd never felt that happen before. "Well, that's not normal," she declared.
She said that while that felt like a ligament snapping, the soreness and swelling seemed like a sprain or something. So in other words... she has no idea. Great. I'm supposed to ice it and take Motrin for the swelling, and they x-rayed it just in case, and I've got the ace bandage to stabilize the joint and crutches to keep off it in the hopes that it will heal if I don't pester it. I can handle all of that except the crutches. I take back what I said yesterday about limping around campus being miserable-- it's nothing compared to trying to cross slush-covered sidewalks on crutches. Besides, the crutches hurt my arms, and I'm usually exhausted by the time I get there... And then there's the stairs. I have grown to hate stairs in a very short amount of time.
Also... dining halls. The dining halls are not exactly handicap-friendly. Have you ever tried to carry a tray while on crutches? Yeah, not happening. I managed dinner today, using just one crutch, but I was precariously balancing things and holding the tray in one hand, petrified it would all fall. So tomorrow I need to get up at 6:30 to make sure I can go to breakfast with Loquatia, this one time-- Friday she doesn't have to get up to work, and this weekend I'm planning on getting a whole mess of Ramen/cereal/milk-type supplies so I can eat in the dorm if I can't find anyone to escort me to the dining hall. Fabulous.
And I had to call my parents, to let them know, lest I arrive home this weekend or next on crutches and offer them an unfortunate surprise... Mummy seems much more concerned about this than I am, naturally.
--------------
Oh, and I found this. It amuses me muchly, since it's basically a mockery of religion... "WikiWrit: The Holy Book Anyone Can Edit!" Of course, this is funny because humans have been "editing" their holy books for years, which is why you really have to read them in the original language. This joke religion is just a little more obvious about it. It's fun. There are enchanted hobos.
| I Am 50% Weird |
 Normal enough to know that I'm weird... But too damn weird to do anything about it! |
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
"You are a Person of Culture."
If you get a chance, go over to Mistake's blog and offer your condolences. Her grandmother passed away a few days ago (I was going to mention it yesterday, but I wanted to wait until she actually posted something about it in case there was some reason she didn't want me to).
It's always hard to loose someone you love, and we all need a little extra support when it happens.
--------------------
Have you ever wandered around a big college campus wearing an ace bandage on your knee, making it hard to bend that joint? Because I have. And it is MISERABLE. Plus the snow has turned to slippery slush, and since I have limited mobility, I'm petrified of falling and actually hurting myself, as opposed to this silly fake-hurt that I still totally expect to be gone by the time I show up at the doctor's tomorrow, though it hurt like crazy when I walked to the shower this morning.
Anyway, yes. Petrified of falling and hurting myself, so I was wearing my snow boots, for the traction, so with my knee mostly mobilized and my ankle almost completely so, that leg was pretty much useless, and I was dragging it around all day. The only thing worse would be crutches, because I'm on the third floor. And there's no elevator. Maritima suggested I take the dumbwaiter if I have issues with stairs, but then we thought about it, and besides the fact that I don't think the dumbwaiter is even turned on except at the beginning and end of the semester to move heavy stuff, I'm pretty sure that would be ridiculously scary. I mean... it's not even approved for humans.... I'm pretty sure I'd be better off risking the stairs.
It's always hard to loose someone you love, and we all need a little extra support when it happens.
--------------------
Have you ever wandered around a big college campus wearing an ace bandage on your knee, making it hard to bend that joint? Because I have. And it is MISERABLE. Plus the snow has turned to slippery slush, and since I have limited mobility, I'm petrified of falling and actually hurting myself, as opposed to this silly fake-hurt that I still totally expect to be gone by the time I show up at the doctor's tomorrow, though it hurt like crazy when I walked to the shower this morning.
Anyway, yes. Petrified of falling and hurting myself, so I was wearing my snow boots, for the traction, so with my knee mostly mobilized and my ankle almost completely so, that leg was pretty much useless, and I was dragging it around all day. The only thing worse would be crutches, because I'm on the third floor. And there's no elevator. Maritima suggested I take the dumbwaiter if I have issues with stairs, but then we thought about it, and besides the fact that I don't think the dumbwaiter is even turned on except at the beginning and end of the semester to move heavy stuff, I'm pretty sure that would be ridiculously scary. I mean... it's not even approved for humans.... I'm pretty sure I'd be better off risking the stairs.
| My Life Is Worth... |
 Hey, that's only like seven years at the lowest possible salary I'll have as a physician! |
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Today I learned that rugs are EXPENSIVE
My trip home was mercifully brief; I say mercifully because my brother got his wisdom teeth out yesterday and was in pain (and still groggy from the anesthesia), my mom was recovering from a bug and was in pain, and my sister had her teeth cleaned and was in pain because of premature tooth decay or something. Anyway, all that pain under one roof is not my preference. Besides, I really didn't want to start out the semester going home.
So last night Shrewd picked me up and took me shopping for clothes- I needed PJs and exercise pants- and then we all watched a Jake 2.0 marathon on SciFi (Shrewd and I have decided that Jake is exactly like all our male friends would be like if they got superpowers). Our family bonding time tends to be dorky things like watching science fiction television shows that were vastly underrated. Or just science fiction television shows. We're not that picky.
This morning we went to TJ's for breakfast (sans the Brother, who is on soft foods only) and then Daddy and I went shopping. After a quick stop at Staples (where I got a new bookshelf, on which I can showcase my literary nature and look like a total bibliophile- SWEET) it was Rug Buying Time.
I have never bought a rug before. This is said in my defense. I arrived there wight a vague idea of the shape and layout of the room and measurements of the area I wanted to cover, not thinking that- duh- they're going to have rugs in set sizes, and I shouldn't assume that my size was one of them. I wanted an 11'by 4' rug. Yeah, that was going to happen. After much debate we settled on a 5'x8' rug and a smaller runner for the door, and then I pointed to the one I liked, and Daddy pointed to the price, smiled, and said, "Let's keep it under $150." Which I did. The rug I got was $80. You can see the pattern (if not the shape) at left. That purchased, I got my stuff from home and we left. There was supposed to be a windstorm this afternoon and Daddy was worried about getting caught driving in it. We managed to get up here, wash the floor (that was... ew), and confirm that the rug fit okay early enough that it wasn't bad weather when Daddy headed home.
I didn't forget anything at home this time. That was awesome! Then I realized that I forgot something in Daddy's car (poster board) and the didn't-forget-anything bubble was burst. Bummer. Oh well, I can get poster board at Brooks, and Novocaine-boy can use the stuff I got. I just wanted to put some backing on my character sketches and put them up on the wall. Not because I think they're like, amazing or anything (which I totally do. No, just kidding. I like how they came out, though), but because I want something on our walls. I already put up my X-men poster but they're still very white and boring.
And I can even make more character sketches to fill up more space, because I found my awesome sketching pencils. Nice.
So, ignoring the scathing angry email my mom just sent me regarding the state of the bathroom back home, a pretty good day...
So last night Shrewd picked me up and took me shopping for clothes- I needed PJs and exercise pants- and then we all watched a Jake 2.0 marathon on SciFi (Shrewd and I have decided that Jake is exactly like all our male friends would be like if they got superpowers). Our family bonding time tends to be dorky things like watching science fiction television shows that were vastly underrated. Or just science fiction television shows. We're not that picky.This morning we went to TJ's for breakfast (sans the Brother, who is on soft foods only) and then Daddy and I went shopping. After a quick stop at Staples (where I got a new bookshelf, on which I can showcase my literary nature and look like a total bibliophile- SWEET) it was Rug Buying Time.
I have never bought a rug before. This is said in my defense. I arrived there wight a vague idea of the shape and layout of the room and measurements of the area I wanted to cover, not thinking that- duh- they're going to have rugs in set sizes, and I shouldn't assume that my size was one of them. I wanted an 11'by 4' rug. Yeah, that was going to happen. After much debate we settled on a 5'x8' rug and a smaller runner for the door, and then I pointed to the one I liked, and Daddy pointed to the price, smiled, and said, "Let's keep it under $150." Which I did. The rug I got was $80. You can see the pattern (if not the shape) at left. That purchased, I got my stuff from home and we left. There was supposed to be a windstorm this afternoon and Daddy was worried about getting caught driving in it. We managed to get up here, wash the floor (that was... ew), and confirm that the rug fit okay early enough that it wasn't bad weather when Daddy headed home.I didn't forget anything at home this time. That was awesome! Then I realized that I forgot something in Daddy's car (poster board) and the didn't-forget-anything bubble was burst. Bummer. Oh well, I can get poster board at Brooks, and Novocaine-boy can use the stuff I got. I just wanted to put some backing on my character sketches and put them up on the wall. Not because I think they're like, amazing or anything (which I totally do. No, just kidding. I like how they came out, though), but because I want something on our walls. I already put up my X-men poster but they're still very white and boring.
And I can even make more character sketches to fill up more space, because I found my awesome sketching pencils. Nice.
So, ignoring the scathing angry email my mom just sent me regarding the state of the bathroom back home, a pretty good day...
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