Long time, no post, but that's because it takes too long to type one-handed.  I'm 3.5 weeks post-surgery on my right shoulder; all went well (I now hold the record for this doc's largest bone spur of the shoulder joint -- THAT was not a record I aspired to) and I've now got pictures of the torn rotator cuff, the screw in my humerus and everything all tied up like a Christmas turkey -- after the grinding away of the spur and debridement of the damaged capsule and removal of the shredded portions of the rotator cuff. I'm now in the passive physical therapy stage because I'm still in the humungous immobilizing sling/brace; gotta stay in it a total of 6 weeks. After that, the REAL PT/hell begins.

Still having to sleep upright in a recliner or on the couch propped up on 4 or 5 pillows. They had me on Dilaudid 4mg every 3 hours -- I quit taking them 3 days out. Don't like the way they made me feel; plus I itched all the time while I was on it, so now I'm just doing Tylenol and a Flexaril at bedtime.

I was progressing at a good pace until I had a mishap Monday night. I got up in the middle of the night and didn't turn on a light so as to not wake my mom (I'm recuperating at her house and the bathroom is right by her bedroom door). I somehow lost all spatial sense and banged my surgically repaired shoulder on the doorframe. I literally saw stars -- I always thought that was a figure of speech, but when I closed my eyes in agony, I actually saw little bursts of light behind my eyelids. And my efforts were all for naught, as the *wham* and associated mutterings escaping from my mouth awakened my mom anyway.

We're pretty sure I didn't undo the surgical repair, but the doc may order more xrays or another MRI in the next coupla weeks to make sure. In the meantime, I've read 5 books and started 2 more; I'm re-watching "Off the Map" and getting more pissed off by the day because I can't get in a pool until June 20. But hey... at least I'm not working...

(And no, I don't know why the hell this whole post came out underlined. I can't shut it off nor edit it away. grrr...)

 

 We got Mom through her cataract surgery three weeks ago and the vacant position at work was officially filled today, bringing an end to my 60-hour work weeks. So now it's time to get the first shoulder surgery done. I saw the ortho surgeon last week, and he sent me for an MRI this week; he was positive I had rotator cuff damage, but the MRI was to determine the extent of it and therefore give me some idea of how much time I'll be off work. He said the best case scenario for me would be a partial tear and 6 weeks off work...

His assistant called Thursday. No such luck. The rotator cuff is torn completely and I'm looking at about 4 months off. Even though I pretty much figured that was going to be the verdict, I still wasn't totally prepared for the news. Right now I'm still trying to wrap my head around what all I won't be able to do and what I'll need to get done before scheduling the surgery. Despite my insane work schedule, I've actually been making headway on my jungle of a yard. I've landscaped along the front of the house, and my latest project has been cleaning out the back fence row. Working outside is relaxing to me, but I guess all this comes to an end in a couple of weeks, and yard work will be relegated to my brother (grrr...) or whomever I hire (GRRR...)

At least READING won't require any strenuous exertion on my part, and I'm pretty sure I can still type with one hand, so I'll be around... In the meantime, I'm open to suggestions from anyone who has had this surgery. I'd like to know what to expect and when I can get back to doing normal stuff...

 
 

 Well, got Mom in to see her regular doc this morning, and he concurred that her heart is not the problem.  Seems she was having spasms of the esophagus along with severe reflux, and it can actually mimic a heart attack. So he's made her more conscious of her eating habits and tweaked her meds a little. We'll see if this does the trick.

 I attended an Oscar party Sunday night at the home of friends where we munched on Mexican food and enjoyed margaritas while cheering on our fave movie of the season, "The King's Speech." I hustled home shortly after the telecast was over because severe weather was forecast yet again (this makes the second time in 4 days we had storms roll through that spawned tornadoes in our area). I actually headed to my mom's house -- at  the age of 83, she has profound hearing loss and can't hear... you've heard the old adage about somebody being so deaf they can't hear thunder? Well, sometimes she can't. Literally. And she certainly can't hear the tornado sirens when they sound off, so I usually stay with her during inclement weather. Plus, she has a better basement than I do. We stayed up watching post-Oscar coverage and decided to call it a night a little after 1 a.m.

I was snoozing soundly on the couch when Mom came in and awakened me about 2 a.m. with one of the most dreadful phrases ever: "Wake up sweetie. I think I'm having a heart attack." Talk about going from zero to sixty in 2.3 seconds... I grabbed the aspirin and had her chew a couple while I dialed 9-1-1. The ambulance arrived in mere minutes, and they transported her to the nearest hospital (not my personal choice) instead of one across town where all of her physicians practice, but in the case of a possible heart attack, proximity wins out over preference almost every time. They administered nitro glycerin and had her chew several more aspirin in the ambulance, and when she got to the ER, they started a nitro drip.

Mom experienced a severe squeezing sensation in the middle of her chest for the next FIVE hours, so obviously they admitted her and thus commenced a battery of tests. Numerous blood enzyme panels, EKGs, an echocardiogram, and a stress test all revealed that she did NOT have a heart attack. So what gives? I'm no doctor (although I harbored the grand delusion of attaining that degree at the beginning of my college career), but her symptoms mimicked those she suffered a number of years ago when a hiatal hernia repair tore loose and her upper stomach prolapsed up into her chest, almost completely kinking off the bottom of her esophogus. After going through FIVE physicians (two of which I had to fire unceremoniously for being jackasses), I finally found one willing to undertake the rather tricky and extremely complicated surgery on a patient in her 70s with a checkered medical history.  She survived the 7 hour surgery and spent an ensuing 21 days in the hospital. Are her symptoms that bad again this time? No, but we've got to get to the bottom of what's going on before she has any more episodes like this. Meanwhile, after spending about 20 hours in the hospital, she got cleared to leave, and we headed home for some much-needed sleep.   

 It's the middle of February and I'm on my first "sanity saving" getaway of the year. I was supposed to get down here last month to see my best bud Dezaray, but had to cancel that one at the last minute, but I would not be deterred this time. Slept only 4 hours last night,  then up at 4a.m. to be at work at 5. Worked 'til 2p.m. and hit the road at 3. My lazy ass didn't even pack -- I packed the Mac, but just threw clothes in the back seat. Yeah, I'm a slob.

So now I'm piled up on the futon, drinking a Yuengling to soothe my burnt tongue -- the result of some spectacular Caribbean jerk chicken from Tasso's, a little house restaurant around the corner that's run by a lovely couple from Trinidad. We're chillin', listening to remixes for her upcoming album, and just generally catching up. On the agenda for tomorrow: Savannah!!! Even though I live 8 hours from the coast, my veins are filled with salt water, and it gets sluggish if I don't get to the beach at least every couple of months. It'll be a quick "down and back" -- she's got training Monday morning -- but that's okay. Shrimp and grits from Huey's on the riverfront, a couple of daiquiris from Wet Willie's, and then we'll head to the beach at Tybee for a couple of hours before heading back. I can smell the salt already...

That should rejuvenate my tired brain for at least another month or so :)

" We put drugs of which we know little, into bodies of which we know less, to cure diseases of which we know nothing at all." --Voltaire-- 

I was reminded of this statement in response to my latest medical malfunction. After years spent slinging letters, throwing boxes, lifting 70 pound sacks, pushing and pulling 2000 lb. pieces of rolling equipment and loading 53-foot trailers by handjack because we didn't have enough forklifts or people to operate them, my body is officially shot. Dunzo. Daily constant pain. I've had both wrists repaired and had back surgery 9 years ago, and now it's my shoulders. Both of them.

My new primary doc took me seriously at our initial consultation when I told him I had pain in both shoulders and would kinda like to get to the bottom of "why." Okay, I kinda already know the "why" (see above paragraph) -- now I wanna know the "what." My BS in biology has pretty much already left me muttering the dreaded "rotator cuff" phrase, but I decided to let trained professionals tell me if my hunch is correct. So new primary doc made one phone call & got me in with a shoulder specialist at one of our fair city's top orthopaedic clinics.

Saw the ortho guy & based strictly on initial x-rays, he was ready to cut me open the next week. He couldn't BELIEVE I was just now seeking help. When he asked how long I'd been hurting, I couldn't remember a time when I WASN'T. He then muttered something about the difficulty of dealing with people with extremely high pain tolerances. I have large bone spurs in both shoulders, and the one on the right side is starting to shred the muscles every time I raise my arm past about 10 degrees. The left one is not as bad (a good thing since I'm a leftie) and will probably only require a simple surgery described thusly: he'll make 3 little holes, go in arthroscopically, snap off the bone spur, grind down the bone, smooth it off, and close me up. Two days in a sling, two weeks off work and that's it.

The right one... that's another matter. if it's as bad as he and I suspect, it will be an open surgery (he asked was I vain about scars. Um, NO. Dude, did you seriously not see the rest of my body?) and will entail 6 weeks in an immobilizing sling and about 4 months off work. Hmmm... that's a lot to take in. Because of my situation, both at work and at home, I'm trying to hold off on surgery until April or May. And I'm here to issue the disclaimer that my decision had NOTHING to do with recuperation time spent by the pool or at the beach. *Ahem*...

So back to Voltaire. Because of the inflammation in both shoulders, they put me on Mobic, a pretty serious anti-inflammatory. It worked pretty well; I could tell the tendonitis was easing, and the shooting pains in my neck and across my chest muscles really decreased. So, at the end of 2 months on the meds, I called for a refill and his assistant unceremoniously informed me "That's it. You can't stay on this drug for extended periods without having your liver enzymes monitored and without it eating the lining of your stomach & forming ulcers." WTF? I mean seriously? WHAT. THE. FUCK.

So now I'm off the meds (my liver thanked me profusely) and the pain is increasing daily. But Mom's much needed surgery is March 31 and she should be good to go shortly after, so...I'm starting to count the weeks until I can get this mess over with. I'm planning on the worst one first, and mega-dosages of Vitamin D intake to aid and abet my recovery. Yep. That's the plan. And alcohol to kill any stray buggies I may pick up in the hospital.   

 As is probably becoming evident already, I love music. Along with good books and well-written movies, music ranks right up there as an undeniable essential in my life. I cannot imagine a single day going by that I don't listen to some type of music. My tastes are varied and far-flung, from classical to rap/hip-hop and all points in between, but I have a special affinity for independent artists who refuse to sell their souls to the devil to get a record deal. Several years ago I stumbled upon an artist who is steadily garnering some well-deserved recognition and I sincerely hope it continues. She is an immensely talented voice -- both lyrically and musically.

 I love my brother. And no, I don't mean that in a weird Angelina-kissing-James-Haven-on-the-lips-at-the-Oscars sorta way. I mean that I really do love my brother, and our relationship has done nothing but blossom over the past decade or so. 

 This is a slightly off the wall post, but what the hell...  I'm a music fanatic, and just had to share what I personally think is a phenomenal buy.  If there are any classical music lovers out there, I found a deal on iTunes that shouldn't be missed. When putting together the music for my aunt's memorial service, I stumbled across "The 100 Most Essential Pieces of Classical Music" for $9.99. Anyone who purchases on iTunes regularly knows that average "per track" purchase prices range from 69 cents to $1.29.  This collection breaks down to TEN CENTS per track. And none of it is "filler" or abbreviated versions. Whether you know the tracks by name or not, or even if you have no clue who composed them, you will know these pieces. 
 
NOTHING calms me down from a hellacious day spent dealing with the public like listening to classical music. So go check it out. You can thank me later :)

Personal faves: Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata", Barber's "Adagio For Strings", Rachmaninoff's "Prelude in C-Sharp Minor." 

 Digging around here on LJ, I found a link to a literary website where I was reading about French author Collette. I was struck by a particular quote of hers: "Sit down and put down everything that comes into your head and then you're a writer. But an author is one who can judge his own stuff's worth, without pity, and destroy most of it."