Double Knee Replacements? But You're So Young

Well Hello There

2012-02-12T12:05:00.005-05:00

I'm back, and what a long and eventful three months it's been! There was no knee news for awhile there this fall and then, so much to report it was a bit overwhelming. Here's some of the run-down:

I've assembled a new team. Not a new ortho, heaven forbid! Are you nuts? I did, however, have to resign from the very nice pain dr. b/c he was out of network and once Jan. 1 came, deductibles came with it. That guy was really kind and definitely came thru with emergency meds and sympathy when my mom died.

Let's remember, tho, two things about him: 1) he is also an acupuncturist; 2) his basic conclusion w/me was to think of my pain meds like blood pressure medication -- and get used to the idea that I might need it everyday forever.

Okay, so finding a new pain dr in this day and age (of tragic shooting rampages inspired by opiate withdrawal) is not easy. Most pain docs specialize in backs and they want to give you injections rather than meds. Which is fine, great for back folks. But since my issue is mainly knees, they wouldn't see me.

The one back guy I did see, the one who showed up in an armani suit with spikey hair -- fresh from the club? wanted to give me back injections.

I didn't mention that I also decided to cut my meds on my own and have basically halved the amt. I was taking this summer and fall. Which has been awesome for my energy level and overall not strung-outness. Not as good for not being limited by my pain.

So anyway, I finally find this woman three blocks from my apt. That's not necessarily a good thing since I live in Harlem -- in the 'hood part of Harlem and I happened to know that her office was between the correctional facility, the rent hotel and of course, a housing project (we all live near a housing project in this part of harlem tho). In addition to being a pain dr. and physiatrist, she gives spider vein injections and botox. Hmmmm.

Nonetheless, her credentials are good -- she worked at a very reputable hospital near here for many years, until she struck out on her own.

So she examined me for about an hour and determined that my knee was only a little swollen, my back is really getting very fucked up, and she thinks she can help me get off the meds. thru physical therapy.She also told me lots of horror stories about watching knee replacements gone awry at her old job.

She does gets lots of folks who go from dr. to dr. to dr. looking for 'scripts and she often refuses to treat them if she can't see anything wrong. Brave.

She said no need to go off the meds right away, but eventually if she thinks it's time, she'll give me a year to wean off and if I'm still on 'em after that, she will no longer see me as a patient. I thought that sounded pretty cool and fair enough.

Finally, she sent me to a new PT place. They told me to come in 2x/week, which of course sent me into apoplexy (who has the time for that?). But the PT said, "let's just get this done." That was appealing.

O, but the road here is never smooth is it? Sometime towards the end of the week, both knees freaked out and blew and here I am this weekend feet up, iced up, grumpy grumpy grumpy.

We're Moving On (for awhile anyway)

2011-11-06T20:48:00.002-05:00

Okay. Knees are not the thing going on right now so I'm starting a new blog: http://1fallingstartilidrop.blogspot.com/

I kind of can't face this one anymore for some reason anyhow. I think that's a good sign. Shows that I really am moving on from the knees. Hooray!!!

Not that I won't include updates on 'em on the new blog. In fact, I've got a juicy one to get to at some point. Then again, it might be more relevant to this one. In any event, if my profession has provided me with any useful skills at all, it's how to cross-reference so never fear, I'll be posting mainly on the new one but if I decide something belongs here, I'll note it.

Meanwhile, I have to finish my lecture for tomorrow. Am back in NYC for the time being. Am a wreck but have lots to discuss w/the blogosphere as soon as possible.

Thanks everyone for the emails and the calls. You're the best.

Sadness Creeps

2011-11-03T00:05:00.004-04:00

For those few of you patient enough to check out these pages and forgive my long silences of late; the reasons are not good.

About 2 weeks ago we found out my ma was in liver failure. She's been declining at a steady rate ever since. The past 24 hours have gone like this: I decided to go home and see her at the end of Nov since I have two big business trips coming up; I decided to cancel the second trip and see her instead; I decided to come home from the first trip on Friday and go right back out again on Saturday to go see her; I decided to fly straight to DC after my talk in Williamstown on Thurs; I decided to cancel Williamstown and am going to see her Thurs. afternoon.

The last decision was arrived at this afternoon, after her oncology nurse told me even a day could make a big difference.

I was a puddle all day -- cried to the pain dr's receptionist trying to explain why I needed an emergency script (I run out next week), cried to my TA explaining why I couldn't give a makeup exam and might not be able to teach on Monday, cried big-time leaving a voice mail for the guy who was organizing my trip to Williams. Cried to the head shrinka' on the phone, making an emergency appt.

Still have a trillion things to cancel, finish, etc.

If my mother taught me anything it's to return messages right away lest your friends desert you. But I want to say, just in case, that I haven't been calling much or returning messages these days b/c there's so much going on, or honestly, I don't always feel like going into it all. Please don't take it personally. I do love you all and need you all.

I'll be in Maryland, in the burbs tomorrow night, and most likely Sat. night, after that I don't know and need to stop guessing.

More soon (hopefully some pretty, philosophical prose on the sweet-sadness of life at its end).

Updatesd

2011-10-26T22:13:00.005-04:00

Got in from work 30 min. ago and have to be up at 5:30 b/c I'm blowing off the one last work thing I needed to do today -- post the homework for my students for Monday. Assuming they won't be up by 5:30 tho they will likely be up at midnight to notice that I'm late...

Huh? Why am I thinking onto a computer screen? You see the point was that I'm too exhausted to really post anything. But since I'm here already, I will describe the "Demands Committee" meeting I went to last week (the night before I took off for California which is why I didn't post this sooner).

The crowd was basically 70% 20-somethings, adorable in their earnestness and passion for the cause of "radical democracy" and 25% grey-haired 60-somethings, excited that finally, something more than apathy is happening but also hardened and cynical about process. The other 5% were us middle aged folks who don't happen to have to help anyone with homework on a weeknight.

I was there for about an hour while they debated whether the demands created should be passed with a 90% majority vote or a 70% majority vote. They did all the wacky hand signals and the people's microphone (If you don't know what I'm talking about look it up and check out a video - it's very cool). After many, many "stacks" they took a vote. 80% of those present voted that a 70% majority should be able to pass the demands. Only the folks who voted for the 90% protested that 90% of people were needed to pass the 70%. In other words, there was no basis for a vote to constitute the basis. Get it?

I thought the whole thing was very charming and heart warming and annoying at the same time. Democracy takes a f#$#ing long time. I mean, it's potentially endless. Am I right?

I don't know what happened b/c I left early as I had a 7 a.m. flight. But the next day some newspapers picked up some demands from some faction and published them as if they were "THE DEMANDS." They'd been monitoring the yahoo discussion group (yes, anyone at all can join it -- this is non hierarchical, transparent, etc etc folks) and they basically took what they read and turned it into a story.

So the thing is I think after that meeting the group split and now no one knows who's issuing what demands and which are official, if any.

I say, that's what this is all about -- no leaders, no hierarchies, everyone gets a voice. Vive le disorganization!!

But somehow I didn't make it to another meeting this week....

Bleak Prospects for Avoiding Dangerous Global Warming - ScienceNOW

2011-10-25T11:59:00.000-04:00

Bleak Prospects for Avoiding Dangerous Global Warming - ScienceNOW

Here goes

2011-10-14T13:16:00.003-04:00

It's not so exciting yet. The explanation. I basically arranged to meet a colleague -- another prof who's very, very left, very much an activist and who I've been supposed to meet for awhile b/c we're like minded and interested in the same topics. We arranged to meet Mon. cuz it was a holiday. He's involved in Occupy Wall Street so he suggested we meet nearby there.

I admit I hadn't been down there yet. Tho I've been encouraging students to go and I've been following it closely. And my friend G has been going (go, G!)

The thing is that I teach this class on urban inequality and we cover EXACTLY all the stuff the protests are about -- the whole 99% thing, the tax rates thing, etc. etc. This is my stuff. I show the students the historical factors that got us here, and then I talk about all the ways inequality is structured into our system. Yadda yadda. I teach them that, as an activist guy I know said, "there's only so much pork in the pig". For the rich to be rich, the poor must stay poor. Or the rich get rich b/c the poor stay poor. Our policies support that system. Yadda Yadda again.

It's a ginormous class but that's b/c it fulfills a requirement. Until 2007, the students were fairly glassy-eyed. Then they started to get more interested and they started to tell their own stories -- about getting stopped and frisked for no reason; about getting laid off; about growing up on public assistance; about having to choose between staying on public assistance and going to college; about working 3 jobs and going to school. About getting kicked off assistance b/c they showed up 20 min. late to a meeting. About having to spend entire days waiting in lines to get their benefits. Etc. It's unbelievable what goes on when you don't grow up with privilege, or a safety net.

But it's been feeling pretty depressing, like nothing will ever really change. Esp. after 2007 when people were just so quiet. This totally caught me off guard and I think it's really really excited.

Back to the protest. It was packed with all kinds of people -- sure, lots of patchouli-scented students, and lots of homeless people. But also elderly folks, and kids and parents with kids and tourists and basically every kind of person you'd see on the street. I teared up. It was pretty moving. So many people devoted to change. So many people fed up with the status quo.

So anyhow this colleague I met was on his way to a meeting of the Demands Committee and he invited me. Sounds like a tough bunch -- some want to articulate demands, some don't. They want all kinds of things. And of course the process has to be democratic which means it must be endless and tiresome. I didn't go that day but as I've thought about it and gotten more excited I changed my mind.

So the meeting is Tues. and I'll have more to report after that. Hopefully it will be more exciting than this post.

Meanwhile, I have to get back to writing a midterm on -- you guessed it -- poverty and affluence in the US....

another unrelated post

2011-10-13T11:56:00.002-04:00

Was asked to be on the "demands" committee for the Wall St. protests. Went down on Monday and was very moved.

More on this soon as I have time to write it out.

Been traveling every 10 days and will do so thru November.

Apparently, left pronouns on one of these trips.

Tape

2011-10-02T09:53:00.002-04:00

My physical therapist put a wide, blue piece of tape about 4" long, just to the right, and south, of my belly button. According to her and the other PTs, I'm supposed to suck that part of my belly in as much as possible, all the time. Sitting, standing, walking. Like, really suck it in, pulling navel to spine. Can I tell you how uncomfortable it is to try to spend your life that way?

Not to mention, my "core" is apparently so weak that pulling my belly in also means that I have to squeeze my butt (hence the perpetual hamstring/glute pain). I'm not supposed to do the butt thing so I have to focus on belly not butt. Oi.

As if I don't have enough to do already!

Actually tho, I can tell I've lost tons of core strength. Not only does my belly constantly precede me (ie stick out) but I've "lost" certain yoga poses and I can tell that I don't use it at all while I"m walking unless I think about it. Plus it sticks out all the time. Then again that might also be related to the ginormous number of calories I consume per day but I digress.

Apparently, spending all that time on crutches disappears your core strength, and you can't get it back just by walking again -- you have to retrain it to get it back. So in the meantime, I've been using my lower back, and my butt and my locked out knees to hold me up. Now that I'm trying not to do that, I have all this crazy soreness and tightness in my hams and my hip, etc. It's also uncomfortable but I'll def. take it over non working knees!

Friday

2011-09-25T11:10:00.005-04:00

Rain pelted all day long, pinging off the air conditioning unit, pooling in sidewalk cracks and on street corners.

I left my apartment around 3, decked out in work gear. With shoulders hunched and umbrella aloft I steered myself forward through the rain and towards a late Friday afternoon faculty meeting in midtown. As I neared the subway, I checked Archie's tables. They were draped with oriental rugs that protected his wares -- cast off shoes, books, CDs, the odd chotchke. Archie kept an eye on them from under the 6" overhang that juts from the store fronts -- a fried chicken place, a liquor store, a laundromat, and a pharmacy -- along that block. In a gray blazer, some baggy trousers and a baseball cap, he stepped into the rain. Rain droplets flickered in his bushy grey beard and on the rim of his cap. He stopped short a few inches in front of me, overpowering me with the smell of pot smoke.

"What's up, Archie?" I sighed -- there's no way to get to the subway without passing by him.

"It's raining. In my heart."

My entire body softened into a laugh.

Just like that, it had become an entirely new day.

Homegoing

2011-09-20T15:06:00.003-04:00

I got back from Georgia a couple hours ago, where I went to my first "homegoing" ceremony. A dear friend from my research/activist life passed away last Monday. She was an amazing woman -- she literally devoted her life to helping people. She was incredibly poor but took care of her elderly relatives and her grand nieces and nephews, not to mention the "feed a kid" program at the community center, after school programs, food banks, and on and on and on. She was also one of the most down to earth people I've known. Never asking for appreciation or the spotlight. I have a lot to learn from her example.

She got cancer about a year ago and really struggled with the treatments, etc. I was in fairly good touch with her (tho not as good as I probably should have been). The last time I spoke with her was a few weeks ago and she sounded stronger and happier than she had all year. When I visited her last March, she'd been in terrible pain and couldn't afford some of her medicine, her wraps, mastectomy bras, wigs, etc. Don't even get me started on that stuff tho.

So she was a devout Baptist as is everyone in that neighborhood. Black Baptists to be precise. In fact, there was standing room only at the funeral -- and I was one of two white people. I sat next to a woman I've known for 15 years, Blossom. She's "simple" (I think they have a better word for it but I can't remember off-hand). She distracted me by whispering really loudly and commenting on my jewelry and my clothes. Lots of people spoke and told great stories. There were a few preachers with resonant, shakey sing song voices and lots of drama. I also spoke, which a slightly teary voice and otherwise little drama (except for being one of two white people in a packed funeral home). The main pastor preached fire and brimstone and I nearly stood up and declared Jesus as my Savior.

Some other folks from the neighborhood sang a few A Capella gospel songs which were truly, truly gorgeous.

I've been in a total daze all week, feeling sad and figuring out travel plans, class coverage, etc. But I'm so, so, so glad that I went to this. Wow. That was a good decision.

Sorry for the inelegant writing but I realize that if I don't just get these posts out when it occurs to me, well, I'll be the very irregular and sporadic blogger that I am.

It worked

2011-09-08T22:18:00.002-04:00

I'm about 12 days from having gone 365 days w/no surgery. And I have to say, for the past week I've been really feeling better. Pretty consistently. I mean, I'm only up to about 12 blocks of walking w/no pain on a good day and 15 before I really have to rest, but that's a huge improvement! And the knee is looking as small as it ever has. Almost same size as the other one.

I even cut back on my meds this week and am still feeling good!

I attribute it to: time + the fact my twigs for legs are slowly growing into branches. Soon tree trunks! Well maybe next year, tree trunks. In fact, I saw the surgeon yesterday. He was actually amazed at my little muscles. He said, "I'm really really surprised that anyone with your history could strengthen to this degree."

I really think it's the yoga. My teacher kicks my ass in there 2-3 times a week and it's basically the only thing I'm doing differently for strength. He's been focusing on my abs but also my legs and voila.

As I've been saying all along, it's been a catch 22. The swelling won't go down as long as I'm trying to walk around on twigs. Then of course, you can't build your muscles when your knees are swollen and painful.

So okay, time + yoga + right meds combo.

Who cares? I can walk!!!!

Committed

2011-09-03T23:15:00.003-04:00

How bad is it that I feel more committed to my city than anything else in my life? For better or worse, in sickness and health I am quite sure that this is the city for me. I might even marry Harlem if it asked me to.

Sure there are days when NYC has a bad case of plumber butt, bad breath and bedhead. Two weeks ago (pre hurricane, mind you) there was a huge storm as I was trying to get home, and my subway line flooded so they stopped the trains and there were no cabs at all, even on Broadway, and as I was standing at the curb befuddled, a truck drove by and drenched me head to toe. I was literally wringing out my shirt.

But the next morning, I woke up to a bright sun and some beefy guy going for a run in women's lingerie and the attraction was back; all was forgiven.

I question everything in my life but this. We'll grow old together, me and the concrete jungle. Or, I'll grow old and the city will just go on being the city, ever static, ever new.

Camel

2011-08-30T10:40:00.002-04:00

This is for Golda:

I got Ustrasana (the first one) today. Who would've thought?

For the rest of you, more soon. And it looks like it's good news for a change!

5:30 p.m.

2011-08-27T18:18:00.002-04:00

I invited Archie, the homeless Hatian guy who sells cast-offs by the subway to shelter here if he had nowhere to go.

He just showed up. He was stumbling, super drunk.

I told him that my SO said he couldn't stay after all. I invited him up to help him find a shelter but he said they were full. On the news they're saying that they're not turning anyone away. I gave him $20 and made him promise to get a car to a shelter right away. He left.

I have no idea whether he'll be back.

Oi.

10:45 a.m., #2 train to the Bronx

2011-08-27T12:03:00.003-04:00

After waiting about 10 minutes, I got on the #2 and rode uptown with evacuated Tribecans holding rolling suitcases between their knees, pale-faced NYU students, people in uniforms, just released from work.

We rode in silence.

Hubris

2011-08-21T11:47:00.003-04:00

It's time for a knee report.

The beach, as I probably mentioned, was kind of traumatic for the knees. Everything went crazy, both knees blew up, the attachment pull was screaming and my low back was tight and achy, etc.

The PT was becoming really concerned last week b/c it was getting worse. She "grounded" me on Monday and threatened to call my pain doc. "Hold on" I said. And confessed that I hadn't actually been following his last prescription.

You see he wanted to move me way way up on the meds (it's contin now --I'm done with those patches). I decided I would take more like a 1/2 step up, rather than a full step. It just sounded like a lot of medication!

So anyway the PT and I decided I would follow his instructions for a couple days and see how it went.

The PT wisely told me not to change anything except the meds so we could figure out exactly what was helping me. I had wanted to buy some new shoes b/c I was convinced my shoes were dead and she wouldn't even let me do that.

Guess what? After about 48 hours, I was better by leaps and bounds. Yesterday she said, "these look like totally different knees". Which means that they once again looked like knees and not cantaloupes. The attachment is also speaking in a whisper!

The back is still kind of wonky but not really bugging me.

"How is it that medication makes my knees less swollen," I asked? They are, after all, just pain meds. Not anti inflammatories. She said that this tells us that it's the whole issue of my pain triggers being on high alert all the time, ready at the slightest provocation to marshal all the fluid and blood that they have at their disposal. Of course, they go into overdrive and then it becomes a vicious cycle. Medication interrupts the alert signals and everything backs off.

All this is to say -- So much for second guessing the dr. I mean, it seems obvious that he knows a lot more about this than I do. I didn't go thru all kinds of training; I don't see pain patients every single day all day long. Still, we have this distrust of drs -- and we all have it and support each other with it right? -- "you know your body." blah blah blah. The thing, is sometimes that's true and drs are totally off the mark.

But then, sometimes they're right on the mark.

While you were out

2011-08-17T08:58:00.003-04:00

The SO was gone last weekend. I had gone out of town myself for 24 hours, then came back to the apt. all to myself. But also came back to the internet being down which was a buzz kill to say the least.

Got it all fixed up tho and spent the weekend doing all kinds of chores (which I found totally fun and relaxing -- yes, I am a freak). Oh, I cleaned all the old stuff out of the fridge, I scrubbed the litter box top to bottom, flipped the mattresses, washed all linens and curtains (including mattress pads and quilts), started the monumental task of cleaning out my files, read a little, figured out how to back my ipod up onto my hard drive (aha -- that's a biggie. We're talking ipod TO itunes and not the reverse -- it TOTALLY worked by the way. I can link to it if anyone's interested. Take that Apple!).

Oh and I woke up Sat. morning to the sound of "testing, testing" and some notes from a saxophone. Turned out that Louis farrakhan was hosting the millions in Harlem march right on my corner. They set up a stage that filled the width of the avenue, complete with a bullet proof glass shield. He spoke for nearly two hours and I took a bunch of photos.

Oh and I invented a recipe for vegan peanut butter balls which I brought to a party on the roof of a very famous NYC building which I will not name b/c it was after hours.

So, yeah, a really awesome weekend. Although, you might notice there was very little work time included in there. Which is why I haven't the time to do any knee updates, which are kind of downbeat these days anyhow.

Go belly go!

2011-08-12T10:56:00.003-04:00

My yoga teacher has been in rare form this week. Giddy with his impending vacation I guess. He's always telling me to suck in my belly. Which for some reason seems to have a mind of it's own. In fact, some days it's large enough to be its own person...

Anyway, today he was helping me with a pose and instead of the usual, "suck in" he said, "go belly go!" Then he said, "it's all you've really got to hold on to." and he clenched his abs and started walking around like one big ab.

Maybe you had to be there.

concrete or sand

2011-08-07T21:15:00.006-04:00

First of all, this is the cat today, having nestled herself into two bags, both of which I needed at the time. She would not be moved.

Same cat who slept with me last night and welcomed me home by puking next to me at 3 a.m. I had to get up and remove sheets, mattress pad, etc. See? I'm not missing ALL of the joys of childrearing.

Second of all, the beach. Was great. Went to the ocean multiple times/day, body surfed, walked on beach, sat on beach, read on beach, stared at ocean. Watched sunset every day. Enjoyed quiet. Looked at stars.

Did not exactly relax - never did get over wanting to do at least five things at any given moment -- but there was not one minute that I did not appreciate being at the beach.

In fact, I decided in the end to choose beach over anything. That included gym, yoga, even work (well, on several occasions).

Don't worry - I have no plans to not live in my beloved city. I just want the best of both worlds. City and beach. It's not like it's unheard of in these parts.

Only, there's a hitch. Let's just say that while my knees like the beach the beach doesn't like the knees.

Meaning -- I have enough trouble getting my muscles to support the knees when walking and standing on solid ground. Add in some sand, some currents, a few waves, an undertow... Every single muscle -- and by that I mean muscles I never knew existed -- felt sore. Plus, I will say that all the various pulls and tweaks showed up to say, rather shout, their hellos. Which is to say, the knee swelled, the old attachment pull pulled and the back spasmed.

So it was the best of times and the worst of times.

During the week I put in multiple calls to the OS, who had never actually called me back to talk about my MRI. Turns out, according to his PA, nothing looks all that bad despite the scariness of the report. There's just tons of fluid/swelling in there. No apparent reason. This is all a really really good thing in just about every way. B/c the solutions to kinds of things that could have been wrong at this point are not pretty. So they are sticking with the time healing all wounds approach.

At least we know that the city is not the root of all knee-evil.

Too bad that only concrete or sand -- and mostly concrete -- will do for my most problematic body part (that would be my brain).

Beach!

2011-08-03T09:58:00.002-04:00

It's day 4. I haven't been at the beach for this long of a stretch since I was a kid. Wait, scratch that. Since Beach Week after high school graduation. Oh that was some fun... My first and only hook up with a serious body builder. Massive chest. But I digress indeed...

It's lovely here. The little town we're staying in is completely, totally lovely and peaceful. No, really it's quiet. I think b/c it's a dry town.

Anyway, going for a walk on beach before sun gets strong. More on this to come.

less than 24 hours

2011-07-30T00:04:00.003-04:00

til we go to the Jersey Shore on "vacation." Yay! for "vacation"!! Seriously, I'm so psyched.

It's been quite a week. I got the MRI report faxed yesterday and of course read it while googling (no word yet from the dr). I flipped the fuck out for the entire day. Door closed in office, weeping. It sounded very very bad to me. Dr. google confirmed.

Or so it seemed. I had to wait until the SO got home from work (I was out at my Queens office and had forgotten the dr's cell). Then I called him and he called me back while I was leaving a message (I do love that dr.). However, he hadn't read the report so I read it to him while he was in a wind tunnel or something.

He kept saying "oh that's not bad. That's GOOD. That's what I would have hoped. Oh, they have to say that thing. They just say that." Then he'd proceed to explain things to me despite this incredible noise. But then he said a few times, "I didn't hear all of what you said.." But he told me about 50 times not to WORRY and it was GOOD news. And he'll actually read the report and talk to me on Monday.

Somehow I am not entirely reassured from that convo.

But I have backed off from the edge of the cliff.

That is until I think about it.

Anyway, Jersey Shore. We haven't even started packing and will be gone a week. Yipes. Oh, and I have entirely, completely, totally broken our pact to spend the time by ourselves -- relaxing, doing creative stuff and bonding. I have a) invited lots of friends (only a few are taking me up on it and only for the day -- I have disinvited the idea of overnights at least!) and b) I'm going to have to work. But just a LITTLE and not on Sunday! And maybe not on Friday.... oh, and c) I might have to come back to the city one day to fetch some prescriptions.

Which reminds me I had another visit with the pain doc. today. Oi vey. That's a whole other story right there, which relates to the Physical Therapist who I also saw this week.

No fucking wonder I am not getting anything done this summer. Sheesh.

Okay but I've also been weirdly insomniatic (?) this week so I better try to sleep. So I can rest up for the condensed, very frenetic vacation prep that has to happen in the morning.

One last thing -- gals who are -- ahem -- my age -- WTF w/ these hormones? Even before yesterdays MRI freakout, I will humbly admit I spent about 45 minutes, first thing in the morning, curled into a naked ball sobbing, gfawing, convulsing. After having slammed my scale into the bathroom floor multiple times until I officially killed it. I mean yes, I've gained some weight this summer and NO I AM NOT HAPPY about it. And I'm sure it's really a proxy for the whole aging/knees/body out of my control/mother dying thing. Plus I think I forgot to take my oxy the night before so was prob. w/drawing, but

Still. That was something else entirely... PMS x 50. Why didn't anyone ever warn me about this???? More importantly, why didn't anyone warn me so I could at least warn the SO??? This is some crazy shit here. Am I right?

sweller

2011-07-27T10:04:00.002-04:00

Bright and early Monday morning, I got up, got dressed, got to the hospital, got undressed and slid into the MRI tube. I spent an hour listening to the Rolling Stones on their headphones (choices for "rock" were: Stones, Beatles, Chili Peppers, or U2 -- I was very happy w/my choice). It takes about 2x as long to do an MRI on a person with implants, I learned. I tried to do some visualizing -- I mean, really it's not like you can nap with all that knocking and clanging and.. I don't know how to describe that sound but here's a good clip of it. $2400 bucks for an hour of that!

I went directly to see the OS who pulled up the MRI photos. Turns out the extra $500 I have to pay the radiologist to read the photos are well spent. The metal and the plastic beads in my knee give off a reflection so most of the MRI looks black. The parts that could be seen were good though. The implant is in place, as is the kneecap. There's swelling (duh) but the doc couldn't see anything that was causing it.

Today we'll get the full report from the radiologist.

But he doesn't think there's anything especially wrong. He suspects I might just be a sweller. Which means it's a "waiting game," says he. I have noticed that it's been 10 mos. since I've had a surgery adn that's about the longest I've gone in 3 years. So maybe it will just take some time.

Meanwhile, he wants me to take as few meds as possible, even though he realizes that I need to take them to be able to walk around and stuff. He gave me a shot even though they haven't been working. And he thinks I might want to see his colleague in case there's something he's missing.

The last part is a bit weird -- he went into a long explanation about how difficult it is to get anyone to give a consulting opinion b/c most drs won't go near a patient who's had that many surgeries unless the patient plans to switch to them. But he thinks he's convinced one of his colleagues to take a look at me. So that's another $600 I imagine...

He gave me leave to put a lift in my shoe to correct the fact that my left leg is longer than my right. But I think he's humoring me on that one. Worth a shot though.

I do think the shot might be kicking in today b/c the knee looks to be almost the same size as the other one. Match-y match-y!

Oh this is a boring post and it's b/c I have to get some work done before I head off to PT. More interesting post will be forthcoming this week...

really uncomfortable moment!

2011-07-22T23:21:00.002-04:00

Oh boy. We met this really really wonderfully nice guy at a party earlier this summer. He happens to work for the Public Theater and he offered to set aside tix for us for Shakespeare in the Park this summer. He even emailed to follow up and ask for our preferred dates! Of course, we offered to take him and his partner out for drinks after the show. And of course they took us up on it.

As it happens, the date we ended up with was tonight -- 95 degrees at the start of the show. Heat index had been up to 110 earlier in the day, while I was running around to various meetings in midtown. So needless to say, we were a little sleepy and not really feeling up for going out at 11 p.m. (still 91 degrees). In fact, we were feeling pretty terrible and left about 3/4 of the way through.

The play (Measure for Measure) was splendid, don't get me wrong. Really understated and acting was amazing. But it was so freaking hot and we were sooooo sticky and ill-feeling. So the thing is, I texted the guy and emailed to tell him we were going to need a "heatcheck". I figured he was at the show, working, and would just head home. Only, I was wrong.

He was coming from home and by the time I texted, he'd already left and was on his way to meet us on the subway. So he just called to see where we were and of course, we were already back home.

UGH. I feel so awful. What an awful thing that I didn't mean to have happen. I'd thought he would have just been at the show.

I also thought that confessing this to the blogosphere would make me feel somehow better. But I still feel terrible. Any suggestions out there for how to make this up to the guy? He'll probably never do this kind of favor for someone again...

Quick Med Update

2011-07-17T11:45:00.002-04:00

There's much to report on in terms of the trek up north, and lots of excellent adventures down here in NYC.

But before we go too long, there are also medical updates (boring to many, infinitely interesting to me).

1. The knees are about 50x better outside of NYC. There it is. A fact. I went to DC -- much better. NH -- much better. Was able to trek 2 miles on a windy, hilly country road. I would be limping by the end but only at the end. This, btw, was much better than last year. However, I attribute the improvement mainly to the meds. which I wasn't on last year.

2. Returned to NYC to the same old thing. I'm usually pretty okay until I leave the house. Then, it's a crap shoot. Some days I'm only good for a few blocks. Some days I can go almost 3/4 of a mile and be okay. Stringing errands also totally unpredictable. But overall, worse in NYC. It's the concrete and the slow walking, starting and stopping. But mostly the concrete.

3. The new meds were working pretty splendidly. Had a few awesome days in NYC on them. Very few side effects except for one major one that I won't go into but let's just say that it was one of those that led my new pain doc to say, "Okay, we're going to have to take you off this." The good thing is that he has now given up on the morphine family. He's been threatening to try me on methadone, which he says is this amazingly effective painkiller. I've been really scared about that. But since methadone is in the morphine family (I think), it's moot.

4. So I'm going back to that oxy that I swore I'd never take again b/c the w/drawl was so bad. Plus, the stigma! one feels going to the pharmacy for it. I went to about 5 or 6 b/c my usual guys are closed on the weekend. No one carries it (or so they said). By the time I got to pharmacy #4 I looked like someone who needed a fix. I was hanging onto the counter, trying to stretch my back, face pale. No wonder they wouldn't give it to me! Anyway, I finally found a place and so, here we go...

I am remaining optimistic that I won't feel the huge dt's I felt last time b/c a) this drug wasn't as strong as the patch and b) I was only on it for a month. We can only hope....

5. Yes, of course, readers. I am getting to the point of wanting to chuck all the meds. They're annoying and I hate having to take them and they scare me. But, when I'm on nothing then it's guaranteed I will be having no good days. And that not only means I'm in pain, but I go totally insane trying to schedule a life where resting and icing punctuate every activity.

It just doesn't work. And I get really weak and that makes me worse, and so on.

6. I start back to PT on Wed. for my back. Yay. I think. I do love my PT and we have a lot of fun. I do not love treking to Grand Central to see her. And at least I'll have another person to talk to about all this stuff and I can feel like I'm doing something that doesn't involve popping a pill!

I'm not sure what happened to all the alternative tricks the new pain doc and had up his lab coat.

In Defense of the Man Cold

2011-07-07T23:01:00.002-04:00

The SO is sick -- really, really, vomit-y, fever sick. Indeed, his wretched retching woke me up at 5:40 a.m. this morning. Oh, the joys of partnerhood.

I have to say that I've been pretty nice about it all day. And not just b/c we were about to take off for a 5-day family visit tomorrow (his family, not that it makes a difference) and now we will be shortening that trip by at least a day. I offered tea and sympathy and lined up the pepto, etc. on his dresser. But I will also admit that by 9 p.m. this evening the groaning and moaning were wearing a bit thin. That is, until, I happened to mention it to my cab driver (Okay, I finished a phone convo with the SO where he gasped his requests for gatorade and bananas, and asked the driver to explain to me why it is that men seem to get so, um, sick when they're sick). But the driver went off. Apparently, his wife is as cruel as I am and he does NOT appreciate it. "A man is a man," said he. "But when he's sick he needs you like a little boy. You stand by a man when he's sick and he will go to the ends of the earth for you." And on and on...
Okay, okay. I got the message.
I'll report in on the coordinates of the ends of the earth, after my man visits them for me.

In other news, I swear I saw Woody Allen on the west side of 3rd Ave (and 82nd street) yelling at the driver of a tow truck whose cargo was a very shiny antique maroon convertible corvette.

Grateful

2011-06-28T23:23:00.002-04:00

Who invented the metro smartcard!?! Thank YOU! And thanks to my dad who put lots of dough on his and then handed it over to me before I left the apt. Park and RIDE!

And I have to say, thank you to the I-pod, trite as it sounds.

And I will thank myself for allowing myself, tonight, and a few days ago, to read for pleasure rather than work on public transit. What fun! I actually rode the subway for nearly an hour Sunday morning (8-9 a.m.) before realizing that I'd never make it to yoga in time, crossed the platform and headed home, drunk on my i-pod and some fiction.

And thanks to who/whatever it is that sees to it that humid suburban summer nights smell exactly the same, year after year, decade after decade -- sweet cicada smell, cotton shirt sticking to freshly showered skin. Thick, sweet whifs of honeysuckle, wilted grass, cooling pavement that transport me 20? 25? years back, when I savored every second of not being in school, fighting feelings of being vaguely outcast and very confused. When we drove around the suburbs' curvy roads, looking for parties, laughing at ourselves but still imagining that, just over that hill, the lights would be on, the booze would be flowing and cute boys would be standing in the doorway with floppy hair and skinny arms that beckoned.

Summers spent yearning and pining and yearning and pining. And yeeearrrrnnniinnnngggg.

Oh, and last but not definitely not least, I am so grateful for beautiful, effervescent, everlasting friends, who mean more to me than I can ever say.

Better

2011-06-24T12:06:00.002-04:00

Pain is much better yesterday and today, even thru my yoga practice this morning! My back is still super sore tho and I still can't freakin' sleep. Oi! I'm all achey and fidgety falling asleep, middle of the night, on waking. What the hell is that?

Seems neurological if you ask me but what do I know?

Otherwise, detox is proceeding. I mean what otherwise is there? I still feel lighter which is awesome and I guess that back pain has been an issue all this time -- I just couldn't feel it. Which is freaky.

Here's the super heavy med I've been on, in case you were wondering:

Fentanyl (also known as fentanil, brand names Sublimaze,^[2] Actiq, Durogesic, Duragesic, Fentora, Onsolis,^[3] Instanyl,^[4] Abstral,^[5] and others) is a potent synthetic narcotic analgesic with a rapid onset and short duration of action.^[6] It is a strong agonist at the μ-opioid receptors. Historically it has been used to treat chronic breakthrough pain and is commonly used in pre-procedures as a pain reliever as well as an anesthetic in combination with a benzodiazepine.^[7]

Fentanyl is approximately 100 times more potent than morphine,^[8]

Non-medical use of fentanyl by individuals without opiate tolerance can be very dangerous and has resulted in numerous deaths.^[32] Even those with opiate tolerances are at high risk for overdoses. Once the fentanyl is in the user's system it is extremely difficult to stop its course because of the nature of absorption. Illicitly synthesized fentanyl powder has also appeared on the United States market. Because of the extremely high strength of pure fentanyl powder, it is very difficult to dilute appropriately, and often the resulting mixture may be far too strong and, consequently, very dangerous.

(from Wikipedia)

Then I found the below syndrome on the wiki page. Please note: I have absolutely NO intention of developing this, but I am really really really glad I stopped taking this stuff after 6.5 mos. I mean, who needs this?:

According to a range of Medical journals there is also an often under-emphasized potential for Post-acute-withdrawal syndrome which may last until after the initial short-term. Post-acute-withdrawal syndrome may induce or mimic psychiatric disorders temporarily or long term such as Depression (clinical), Anxiety disorder, Psychosis and in rare cases, even Suicidal ideation. Post-acute-withdrawal syndrome will continue for some months (usually 1–3 months or more) after prolonged cessation of usage which is also referenced in the Medical journals on Post-acute withdrawal syndrome (PAWS).]].]

And here's my favorite part about PAWS!:

Symptoms occur intermittently, but are not always present. They are made worse by stress or other triggers and may arise at unexpected times and for no apparent reason. They may last for a short while or longer. Any of the following may trigger a temporary return or worsening of the symptoms of post acute withdrawal syndrome:

Stressful and/or frustrating situations
Multitasking
Feelings of anxiety, fearfulness or anger
Social Conflicts
Unrealistic expectations of oneself
Too much on your to-do list

Ha!!!

It's not that it's so painful, it's just that my walking sucks

2011-06-22T22:23:00.002-04:00

This isn't going so well. First, I still can't sleep. I'm going on about 5 hours a night. I know, it's not horrible but my days are pretty full and demanding for that little sleep. Plus, it sucks.

It's the opposite of the body being tired but brain awake kind of not sleeping. My brain is exhausted, but my body keeps twitching and itching and moving. Of course, the brain shut-off was also helped by taking ambien. Which also led to my eating an entire bag of rice cakes. That's a whole bag, friends.

Worse, tho, is the fact that I'm in a fair amount of pain, which could be equal to some of my bad weeks on the patch. But I can't walk anymore. I know this b/c a) my lower back is killing me again (as it was just before I patched up) and b) people keep commenting on the fact that I'm limping.

Luckily, I'm still too mired in staving off the DTs to think too much about this devilish dilemma. I wake up in some kind of horror state (not enough sleep and total withdrawal) but I have a system so that by around 2 or 3 p.m. I've remedicated enough to feel okay.

At least with the DTs I know that it's only temporary. Still, I DO NOT want to go thru this again and again and again.

Plus on the "up" side, and this very well might be all in my head, on a certain level, I feel more like "me". As in not quite so heavy in the body, and not as likely to nod off any time I'm in a reclined position (despite all the sleepiness and weird DTs).

I don't know. I am pissed though. Pissed at the OS who doesn't realize how limited my mobility is, and pissed at the new pain doc who didn't realize that downgrading from one super heavy narcotic to a much weaker one would be some kind of huge deal. Duh.

Okay, okay. Something positive to end on -- my yoga teacher is back after a week break, and he's all smiles and sunniness. This is a man who has the most positive, grounded, generous energy of anyone I've ever met. And after his week off, it's like 10-fold. It's a privilege to work w/him.

But it also requires a very early wake up call and so I shall launch tonight's odyssey into sleep-seeking. Hide the rice cakes!

ms1: blog w/in blog

2011-06-21T10:39:00.002-04:00

I wanted to start a new blog within this blog but I can't seem to do it w/out creating a whole new blog. Which I'm too lazy to do.

So I'm going to start recording this weird detox process b/c basically, it's taken over my mind, body and soul at the moment and there's not much else I can do. I'll intersperse with "reg" blog posts and title them so you can skip over 'em if you're really just not interested in these details of my life (as opposed to other non interesting details of my life).

I'm calling these ms1 ms2 etc. It stands for monkeyswitch (since I'm swapping my monkeys -- downgrading in a big way, but not letting them run free entirely).

I will also hereby promise to spare the scatological aspects of all this.

Facing the Strange

2011-06-21T09:50:00.002-04:00

After 6.5 months, give or take, I went off the patch on Sunday. Just like that. Boop.

For the first 24 hours it was no biggie, for a host of reasons I won't go into. But yesterday I woke up and immediately, I got it, like a gorilla climbing off my back.

My legs were itchy and achy, deep inside the muscles - like when you're having a teenage growth spurt. I felt like I couldn't breathe, I was hot/cold/hot/cold/hot/cold. Sick to stomach, exhausted. etc. All of that and I had a three meeting day that required shooting all over the city and into Staten Island. Did I mention that my knees were also hurting and wobbling. Which means by back and feet were also hurting by the end of the day.

At some point, on my way from one meeting to another I freaked out and had a meltdown.

It might be better, I think, if I trusted the new doc but I"m not so sure about him. I'd told him that one particular med didn't work for me but he prescribed it under another name. And all the reasons that I switched to the patch are now crystal clear. The other meds are even more variable -- you "come" down after maybe 8-12 hours and you have to deal with it somehow.

Blah blah. This is boring but after that enormously long and exhausting day, I also couldn't fall asleep until 3 a.m. The body is just used to a different mode here -- like sleeping any time my head is level with my heart.

And I guess I now realize that for 6 months I slept reaalllly soundly. Hm. But the patches were a pain -- they came off a lot (esp. during sweaty yoga classes) and I felt withdrawaly once/day. And they're really damned strong so while the pain was under good control, so was the rest of my body.

Oi. I suppose we'll just see how this goes, retiring this particular monkey. It's not like I didn't replace it, just with a younger, weaker cousin. Hmph.

I did have some fun times this weekend and last -- promise to post ont hat as soon as I can.

Relaxtion -- 1.5 hrs!

2011-06-17T23:33:00.001-04:00

What could be more relaxing than spending a Fri. evening surfing the www for: recipes, whether soy is healthy or malignant, and spinning classes on Staten Island (don't ask)? Seriously?

Changing it up

2011-06-14T23:13:00.002-04:00

First of all, Golda scolded me for the last post. Okay, I appreciate your point, G. Glad to know my friends aren't afraid to call me out. I even apologized to the SO, so I suppose he thanks you too, G.

Second of all, there really is so much to report. I saw the doc/surgeon/OS/old blue eyes yesterday. The man I probably trust most on this earth. Even tho he keeps telling me I'm going to get better and, well....
I got the second in my shot trilogy. His new strategy. Three shots, 6 weeks apart. The last one did nada but I have some hope for this one. It already seems to be helping.

That cortisone is some weird shit though. Sometimes it's like nothing. And some times, I get flushed the whole next day. Sometimes, I am totally, totally spaced out. Like the time, a few hours after the shot, I had to mail a package. I drove it to East Harlem, parked and took it to the post office. Waited in line about 25 minutes and came back to find I'd left 2 car doors + my trunk open!! In the middle of the afternoon, in East Harlem. Nothing was gone. Some kind of divine intervention for the idiotic.

This time, the shot made my hyper. It started last night and continued until this evening. So much that I entirely forgot to drink any coffee until about 4 p.m.!! And trust me, I am not one to forget my caffeine.

Anyhow, the OS wants me to cut back on the meds between shots 2 and 3 and try to do away w/them altogether after shot #3. I am not sure that he realizes I can't really walk around w/out the meds but I tried to explain it...

Not that I'm not going to give it a shot (so to speak).

In fact, the title of this post has to do with the very long (and no doubt, boring) rigamarole I've been dealing with this week in order to break up with my old pain doc and try this new one I saw last Monday. I'll spare the details, but old doc has got to go. He no longer trusts me. Which is to say that all my cred with him vanished like so many questionnaires I filled out for some study with nonexistent permission forms. Huh?

Anyway, he won't see me again until I see a shrink. Not just any shrink, but the one he wants to send me to, who doesn't take my insurance and will insist on seeing me every couple weeks in order to prescribe me another medication that I have no desire to take, or need to take for that matter. I know this sounds defensive. But honestly, the last thing I need is more pills. And as most of you know, I have absolutely nothing against shrinks. Whatsoever. But I don't need another one! Esp. a prescribe r. A dispensary. And esp. one who charges up the wazoo.

But even more importantly, the new guy is a physiatrist (sp?). Why doesn't spell check register that word? Why doesn't anyone know what kind of dr that is? Well, he's an MD. "Doctor of osteopathy (D.O.), certified as a specialist in physical and rehabilitation medicine". So seems more reasonable that he'd be the pain specialist for me, right? He does all the same kinds of meds but he also has some extra tools in his kit. As opposed to the old guy who's an anesthesiologist. So he's all about getting me to not feel the pain but not looking to make what's causing it any better.

Oh, there's more to say about the new guy and the old guy. New meds vs. old meds And new tools vs. old tools.

But honestly, it's late and I am out of steam!!!

Oh, and I totally forgot to report on my most awesome party on Friday night, which included some serious booty shaking.

Visitor Gone Dance

2011-06-04T13:39:00.002-04:00

We've had a visitor the last three days and are now basking in the relief of reclaiming our space. What a lovely feeling it is to not have three people crowding into a very small apartment after three days of tripping over each others' toes.

Actually, the visitor was sort of traumatic. I have a HUGE article deadline this Monday (article was actually due mid March!!!) and I'm still finishing my grades. So, I had been freaking out for a week -- yes, I know I have some anxiety issues -- knowing that this was one of those visitors who hasn't been to NYC for eons and isn't comfortable in the big city and likes to hang around and move slowly and chit chat. It's also the SO's relative. Anyway, it was bad timing. THEN, I got super sick w/bronchitis or some such (am on anti biotics). So I'm trying to push thru and continue working, stepping around visitor, not getting any sleep. Yuck.

Luckily, I have a very generous and good friend who happened to be working and then out of town. She also lives 10 blocks away. So I camped out there. Which was a total lifesaver -- thanks G!! if you're reading this.

But still, displacement is displacement. Funnily, that's what my article is about. Hmmmm...

Btw, I did go to see the doc again for this yick infection and we went back over those bloods. He was quite impressed with how low my low numbers are and how high my high numbers are (how is it that I, who has no real use for the outdoors, has such high Vit. D?). Anyway, he said, "Your liver levels look like you've never even touched a glass of white wine."

I guess a girl's gotta have something going for her!!

Triumph of the terrible eater

2011-05-29T14:47:00.002-04:00

After about 3 years of avoiding it, I finally kept my appt. with a decent Primary Care doc. In my defense, for a couple of those years, I kept having surgery right before or after the appt. and it seemed like overkill to keep it. But in the meantime, I've had a crappy doc who is funny and nice but very rushed and not very attentive. In fact, this one is so well recommended that it takes 3 mos. to get an appt. with her.

Long story short, I spent over an hour there regaling her w/tales of knee surgery and whining about the various meds and the fact that I'm super tired all the time.

Eventually, she got around to my eating habits, which I suppose is to be expected from a decent dr.

It wasn't pretty. She warned me away from soy (hello -- why didn't anyone tell me I'm not supposed to have soy? How did I miss that one?) and also suggested I might have to go back to meat eating. This actually pissed me off but I see we're in a conundrum here. I don't like beans and I don't eat dairy. There's not much protein left except soy products...

Anyway, she took a bunch of blood and ran all the nutrition type tests, also tested my liver, cholesterol, etc.

Guess what?!! Everything came out excellent. She concluded it's the meds making me so tired, not my diet.

You'd think, at my age, I'd still take it as a cautionary tale and shape up on the eating. But, um, we all know that I'm about 5 or 6 on the inside, esp. when it comes to eating. Plus, I'm STILL (yes, including this beautiful holiday weekend) working like a dog. So, I've basically gone whole hog so to speak into my little world where sugar + chocolate = all the nutrition one needs.

I will re-visit it as soon as I stop all the working. Really, I will, I will I will!

Done, dumb, numb

2011-05-18T22:46:00.002-04:00

Finally finished my last class of the semester. As usual, I totally screwed up trying to talk about actual science. When will I learn that I really know nothing about climate science and why do I keep trying to teach it? Worse, I get so nervous, that I get totally tongue tied and sound like even more of an idiot. The environmental science majors were sitting there looking at me just shaking their heads as I tried desperately to explain the Urban Heat Island Effect. But I got hung up on why cement's reflecting the heat adds to it, when white roofs which reflect heat, diminish it.

I didn't have to go there. I really didn't.

Ugh.

After that it was a 30 minute lecture on wikipedia/plagiarism. B/c some students idiotically plagiarized wikipedia!!

So my friends I am going to do something entirely stupid and mindless, like watch television while stuffing a bunch of chocolate into my belly.

Now that classes are over and I'm down to a mountain of (plagiarized?) papers plus two article deadlines, I might have time to do some more blog posting, perhaps even later this week.

From here on out, I'll limit my limited and utterly pedestrian discussions of science to medical issues, trying to make lay sense of complicated human systems about which I know very little.

Andelay! -- spinning in San Juan

2011-05-01T12:01:00.002-04:00

I never wrote about going to spinning classes in San Juan. Which was awesome! Okay, the classes were in Spanish and I know next to zero words, but it's not that hard to get the gist. Or, I'd make up what the instructor was saying in my head.

The studio only taught two kinds of classes -- spinning and something called TRX where you work out using these bands suspended from the ceiling. It looked awesome but really too tough on these new knees. It also seemed like it might matter that I couldn't communicate with the instructor.

The thing that was the coolest about the spinning classes (aside from getting to know more about Puerto Rican top 40) was that they give you heart rate monitors which output info to a computer and then it goes up on a monitor so you see how you're doing, and how you compare to everyone else. Double motivation! Of courss the down side of that is that you have to give your age, at least to the instructor.

Classes were pretty tough -- the first one was taught by a woman about my age in a job bra and leopard skin leggings. The second was taught by the owner who was a man (also about my age) in bike shorts. He gave an 80 minute class and I lasted about 70. I was having a really rough day that day - but more on that later.

After one class, I walked to a beach that was between the spin studio and my hotel, snagged someone's beach chair and hung out and went swimming for about 45 minutes.

Now that's a morning...

I have many, many, many updates. Hopefully there will be time for 'em this week.

Back in the Big Apple

2011-04-22T23:33:00.003-04:00

It's been quite a week. Landed at JFK last Sunday and took off for DC about 26 hours later, for Passover. Spent two days in family hell, made it back to NYC in time to give a talk at my alma mater (NYU) and have been in basically a total daze ever since, although somehow I'm managing to spend my entire tax return before it arrives.

I suppose it's the ol' retail therapy.

The 'rents was a tough scene. Alyssa bravely agreed to be the only non-family member which was such a blessing. Not only was it lovely to see her (shout it to A.) but we were all on much better behavior. For most of the meal, anyhow. All it takes is one outsider to change the dynamic. Phew. But A's presence (and protestations that it all seemed fine) aside, it was a tough visit.

That angel is just barely "passing over" us these days and I guess the clan is hurling all of their psychoses into the air to keep her at bay.

My mother has a singing voice that makes a cat in heat sound melodic. She can rearrange even the simplest tune into something totally unrecognizable. But she loooveeess her some Passover songs. She has a long tradition of breaking into song throughout the seder whether anyone else joins her or not. My older sister is famous for jumping up throughout the meal and whisking away your dish while your fork is still in your mouth. She's especially known for running the faucet at full steam to drown out my mother's singing, while the rest of us either yell at her to sit down and stop rinsing, or make fun of my mother. Or both. At one point this year, my younger sister pleaded, "You guys, this is her favorite part. Let her sing. Come on"

My older sister stopped rinsing. My nieces stopped chattering. We all joined my mother in song, letting her loud, nasal, discordant notes overpower ours.

She seems okay to look at her, and she gets around almost as much as ever, but her tumors are multiplying and we're running out of options. They are putting her into a trial next month.

My parents' 48th wedding anniversary was yesterday. My mother asked my father to buy her an expensive bedside lamp and my father asked my mother for cooking lessons.

It's not all bad

2011-04-14T13:32:00.002-04:00

I am blogging to you this afternoon from the balcony of my shabby but garishly mod hotel in San Juan, PR! I'm here for a conference and am, as usual, beset by work and email and deadlines. But this is delightful! Even if I do have to look past the other part of the hotel (and its balconies), the roof of the lower part of the building and the weird bombed out building next door to see the ocean. It's still there in all it's turquoise glory.

This place is a cross between Miami and some South American city. Meaning, the city part comes right up to the ocean, which is in some places, primary and in others just kind of there. And it's got that washed out, slow moving, crumbly South American vibe. I was here as a kid twice, I think, and I remember a very distinct smell that followed us throughout San Juan and even into the rainforest. Same smell is still here! It's kind of like pork flavored rice and beans. But not entirely unpleasant. Or, I'm just in a good old mood for a change.

I booked my hotel a few weeks ago and had the sudden realization that I DID NOT want to gaze upon my 50ish colleagues romping around in their bathing suits, nor was I keen on romping around in mine in front of them. So I am staying a bit away which I think is a good call although my hotel's beach, unfortunately, is alongside a road bridge and they're doing construction on it. It is not inviting to swim in, esp. when you spend a good portion of your life talking about pollution. But all the beaches are public here, and there are nicer ones with more waves down the way. I checked it out this a.m. I don't have to conference until tonight or really tomorrow, thank goodness. For now, being utterly and entirely alone is heaven.

Even if I'm not (yet?) lying on the beach with a magazine. Speaking of work...

While You Were Out

2011-04-08T23:37:00.002-04:00

Is anyone else's PMS getting exponentially worse as they age? I mean, ferchrissakes....

So, I finally have the time and inclination to type a quickie update. When we last delved into the knee saga things were looking up! My trips to Cali and Georgia felt great, actually (tho I had a rather embarrassing bout of airsickness on the way home from SF, which I blame on the meds and the mini -- wifi on airplanes rocks but it does incline one to spend 5 straight hours typing on a small screen).

I'd gone off the horrifying extra med (the anti depressant/pain killah). It helped quite a bit w/the pain but the side effects were literally intolerable. At first it was no biggie. In fact, for a goodish 3 weeks it was nothing but a huge relief. Hooray!

My new pain shrink quit the practice, after I spent hours and hours filling out her damned surveys. Now I don't know what happened to all that confidential info. But oh well. It's not like this researcher is one to preach about adhering to IRB regulations.

Anyway, so things were getting pretty good and I was, as I've said many a time, feeling more ABLE. Which is really a lot. I could string errands together, even after a workout (within reason of course) w/out consternating about when I was going to have time to ice and elevate.

I even started back to yoga (that's a whole other long saga which I'll recount some other time). I was just figuring out whether that was good or bad when BAM. I'd say shortly after getting back to NYC the last time -- maybe 2 1/2 weeks ago? things started, slowly but surely, returning to "normal." For the past week, the knee's been like a lumpy water balloon and the pain, she is back in all her varied glory. Stabbing, throbbing, aching, etc, etc.

Even the SO noticed (about an hour ago) that I was back to limping and dragging my leg and standing like someone just punched me in the pelvis. Also went to the pain doc today for the regular re-up. He was not pleased with the swelling.

So there are several things going on here. One -- yes, I've been doing a lot a lot more cuz I thought I could. I admit it. I am guilty of being over zealous. I've not been surfing or snow boarding of course. But I've been stringing errands and whatever. More stuff. That's one. Two is that it's been a couple months since my last shot. Three is that I've developed a tolerance to the danged patch.

Door #2 is my favorite as it's easily rectified with few side effects. #3 is the one we're addressing right now. The doc doubled my patch dose. Not happy about this as I'm already physically addicted to it. Will that get worse now? Or are withdrawals the same as you develop a tolerance to your dose? I asked him but he just sort of shrugged.

Anyway, I have much more but I'm sure no one is still reading by now. And this is all getting kind of bleak. It's been a bleak week. Mama is not doing well -- emotionally or cancerwise. I'm not sure I want to go into further detail here. Perhaps that's another blog? Call it -- oh, I can't think of anything even 1/2 way nice to call it. Which is not to say I'm not upset about this latest news. It's just ever so complicated.

Speaking of which, I have to get up in 6 or so hours to finish a deadline (that was some very bad and very macabre punnery there).

I'm still here

2011-04-04T23:04:00.002-04:00

I'm still here. Just workin' all the time. And having trouble feeling like being on the computer after, well, being on the computer all day. I am going to try to find a new time to publicize my whining.

In fact, it's after 11 and I gotta get to bed. Maybe I'll be back in 7 hours?

Where have I been?

2011-03-22T15:04:00.003-04:00

In addition to professoring like mad, I went to Georgia to give a talk in Atlanta and then to drive across-state to Augusta to pay an astoundingly heart-breaking visit to my "fieldsite". More on that later.

I've also been completely overtaken the last 3 weeks with this piece on 9-11. I compiled a bunch of reflections from various folks in my field and I kicked the whole thing off thusly (and yup, the doc depicted below is my beloved OS):

Year that trembled and reel'd beneath me!
Your summer wind was warm enough, yet the air I breathed froze me,
A thick gloom fell through the sunshine and darken'd me,
Must I change my triumphant songs? said I to myself,
Must I indeed learn to chant the cold dirges of the baffled?
And sullen hymns of defeat?
-- Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass (1855).

I heard it on the radio of my rental car. I had traveled to Orlando, Florida from New York City on September 9, 2001. Initially, I thought the morning DJ was playing a prank. When I realized I was wrong, I dialed numbers until I managed to reach a friend in Brooklyn. He hollered into the phone, watching in anguish as the second tower collapsed. A week or so later, I was on a flight home, with about five other passengers. The pilot announced at the beginning of the flight that he was going to avoid the intercom and so we flew in heavy silence until he softly alerted us that we were about to pass over “ground zero.” A column of smoke the width of a skyscraper streamed into the sky and floated over lower Manhattan.
Until mid-November, that column of smoke would linger, claiming a phantom place in the downtown skyline. South of midtown, there was no escape from the stench, like several tons of plastic that had been microwaved too long. For weeks, signposts on every corner of every block were filled with photographs of faces, squinting, smiling or staring from flyers that begged, “Have you seen ______? Please call.” Public parks-- from the smallest two-block stretches of cement to broad expanses of grass -- overflowed with candles, flowers and photos. The facades of firehouses were barely visible underneath the wreaths and signs. Large banners proclaimed how many men and women were lost, and how many remained—sometimes two, sometimes six, sometimes one. Enormous American flags spread across the windows of delis, especially those owned by Arab-speaking and South Asian immigrants. At night I rode the elevator to my apartment with neighbors wearing hard hats and covered in dust and ash – volunteers for the cleanup.
The city proceeded in slow, stunned motion. For each pregnant woman on the subway there were four or five offers of seats. Doors flew open for the elderly, for women, for anyone. For weeks, encounters with baristas, or grocery store or deli clerks not seen since before September 11th would bring mutual smiles and shyly excited greetings, “Good to see you.” Around mid-October I remember an appointment with my gruff and impersonal doctor. I used to joke that he had written a textbook on how to keep office visits to 5 minutes or less. I remember how he grabbed my hand in both of his. “I’m so glad to see you Melissa. I still don’t know which patients I’ve lost.”
It would be weeks before people would stop walking with shoulders rounded against the endless signs and candles, before they would stop cringing at the sound of planes flying overhead. Ten years later, those who witnessed the event from their apartment windows or rooftops still cannot say what they saw, but begin to describe it and then shake their heads and stop. Ten years later, we are still trying to fathom the many corners, vectors and angles of the protracted shadow that was cast that day in early September.

Quitter

2011-02-25T11:43:00.002-05:00

I stuck it out for a month on that extra med and then couldn't take it anymore. Side effects were worsening and some were intolerable. At first, I was sooo happy to be one med down that I was prancing around the apt., humming atonally, grabbing the cats and kicking up my heels. Much to the amusement of the S.O.

Over the weekend, my pain was eerily absent. Eerily b/c it felt like some soft cushion got wedged between my awareness and the pain. Like it was there but I wasn't feeling it. Of course, that did not prevent me from doing the happy dance.

After a few days, tho, it kicked back in. Still better than it has been in the past. By much. But sharper, more burny than it was when I was taking the happy med. Which means I have upped the short-acting, breakthru pain med. So that's kind of a bummer. But the weather has also been really nutty and this has felt more like weather pain then anything.

Plus, every week, something that seemed unthinkable is now thinkable. Which usually means do-able. Yay. Like I was able to take the subway to a yoga class! During rush hour! I did have to come home and ice after and oh, I was limping after too, but well, weather...

Unthinkable is still taking the subway to the train to the airport with heavy bags. Or, going to yoga and then going straight to do something else after. Or, something else someone recently asked me to do and I was like, "Uh uh." But I am blanking on it. Have I mentioned that my brain is really foggy these days? Or, that's my excuse for the fact that I went to the store to get cash last night and when I went to pay my airport driver at 6 a.m. this morning, said cash was gone. Probably never made it to my wallet but where, oh where the hell did I put it? Don't you hate that!??! Or does that kind of thing only happen to me. Luckily the store only let me get $50 but still....

I know that the docs want me to try another happy med but I'm putting that on hold for the moment. First, I want to readjust after the nasty side effects of the last one. Second, I need to think about what I want. Third, I'm on my way to Cali!! On the plane now in fact. Very excited since last time I was on ye old crutches. Also v. nervous b/c it's a work thing and w/out going into the details -- YIKES!!!

I'm loving this trial and error mode. Perhaps I will trial walking up a big old hill. Or walking on sand?! Running on sand?? Okay, just kidding. Yes, that's in the realm of the unthinkable. Though not undreamable -- what I would not give to do my old run on my beloved trashy, windy, foggy, faded Ocean Beach...

Diagnostics

2011-02-14T21:08:00.002-05:00

I had my 2nd appt. with the pain psycho(therapist) last week. I had filled out a battery -- and I do mean pages and pages -- of questionnaires about my mental state. It's kind of funny for a social scientist who's primary method (read: religious affiliation) is participant observation to fill out multiple questionnaires that place on some sort of generic scale. Which is to say that we anthros don't put a whole lot of stock in such quantitative stuff. Of course, we all secretly love statistics and are mystified and awed by math...

Anyway, I filled 'em out over a couple of days, on subways and in waiting rooms. Questions seemed fairly transparent -- when you're in pain, you feel that you will A) never get better; b) get better soon; c) shoot yourself in the face..

The best were the control questions, thrown in at random so you won't notice: I am answering these questions honestly A) True; B) False.

Mind you, I answered these questionnaires pre recent meds cocktail so I was not in great shape.

When I got to the Painshrinker last week, she told me I scored as "severely depressed". There is only one higher, "extremely depressed" and that would have them on the brink of hospitalizing me. As it is they are "Extremely concerned" about me. And my control questions supported my depression diagnosis.

Well, they didn't ask whether I have managed to maintain a (relatively) healthy relationship for 14 years. Um, okay, never mind. They didn't ask whether I manage to keep lots of friends for many years (shout out to all 4 of said friends who are reading this!) Or, advance in my career despite having had 6 surgeries in 4 years.

Speaking of which, who wouldn't rank as depressed after having 6 surgeries in 4 years only to still be limping around, as the last tiny crumbs of her youth crumble and dissipate in the wake of her uneven and unsteady footsteps ...

Of course, I didn't say all of this. I was cowed and suddenly overcome with even more self-concern than usual! If that's even possible. Interestingly, whereas during the first appt. the PS had treated me with a lot of professional regard, now she was condescending -- telling me I had better try everything possible to get the anti depressant/pain med to work for me b/c I certainly needed to be on something.
"What about biofeedback?" I asked.
"I realize that you want to explore options that you think are healthier for your body, but first we need to stabilize you."
The good part was that she suggested I start tracking, in writing, my side effects, pain levels, vitamins, over the counter meds I've been taking to counteract the prescription meds, etc. That's been really helpful and it led me to bump my Friday appt. with the pain doc up to this afternoon. You see, the antidepressant/patch combo has been glorious pain-wise. I mean, I feel pain still, but it's just -- so much more manageable.

For instance, I went back to yoga and I even got into a (VERY) crunk lotus! Perhaps one of the only bilateral TKR recipients to achieve some semblance of lotus... Anyway, I'm just more ABLE (as I reported last week). It's like doors are slowly starting to open. Not doors to marathons or anything crazy, but doors to normal living.

However, there is a however. The side effects have been getting steadily worse. I won't detail them but they aren't the kind of thing you can easily ignore. Well, for one, every couple days I was feeling like someone (large) was sitting on my chest. Or perhaps, a door had fallen on it. It was starting to get really scary.

That's the main reason I went to see the pain doc today. Thanks to my new pain journal, I was able to trace it (mainly) to the third patch day. He said it's my body reacting to the medication starting to leave my system. It reacts with panic. Unconscious panic attacks the weight of a metal file cabinet are lying on my chest every 60 hours. So we're now switching the patches every 2 to 2 1/2 days so that I pre-empt the withdrawal.

"What about when I finally go off these patches? B/c I plan to go off them in the next few months," I said, now trying to be a bit more optimistic (thanks diagnostic scales!)

"Well, there's no smooth way to do it, we're finding. You'll feel like you have the flu for about a week -- chills, fever, body aches, diarrhea."

And that my friends is why they call it physical addiction.

Different World

2011-02-07T21:19:00.002-05:00

Honestly, it's a different world now. I'm not sure how to really characterize it b/c I still feel pain, still need to ice as soon as I get home and still need to elevate all the time. But I just feel more ABLE to do general, every day life things. Like walk up to 10 blocks at a time. In fact, on Sat. night I walked about 20 but that was probably not so great. 10 with only a little limping towards the end is pretty freaking great though, these days.

The only things that are still really un-doable (even w/lots of meds): big box stores; standing in long lines; and I'm thinking -- yoga. Jury's still out on that. I plan to do some more sound testing this week but I practiced w/the lovely and buff G. on Sunday. Felt fantastic while doing it but it got increasingly puffy. Proceeded to have a pretty bad knee day. So many, many, many variables though.. Weather. Um, weather. And well, the weather.

At least I'm in trial and error phase so I don't have to feel so guilty about trialing and erroring.

But, oh yes, there's a huge BUT(T), folks. The meds are driving me totally insane. Amid other side effects, which I will refrain from mentioning b/c no one really wants to hear about them, I am dragging ass. Big time. After roughly 15 years -- FIFTEEN YEARS -- of working mainly at home with naps occurring to me, oh maybe twice or thrice a year, I want to nap all the damned time. The sofa CALLS ME so seductively. Like every hour. And, worse, I give in. I close my eyes for maybe 10 minutes, sometimes more, and then freak out, get up and an hour later feel like I need to do it all over again.

I'm just tired all the time. But I don't sleep very well. I sleep but it's feathery, wakeful, aware of the cat kind of sleep.

Plus, there are many, very strange things I hesitate to mention. Like the sleepiness is infinitely worse when I sit down, or recline. It's like I'm being deprived of oxygen and have to close my eyes. Weird, right?

So if I didn't have a job and really could sleep every time I sat down, or lay down, and then stay upright the rest of the time all would be peachy. I mean this kind of reduction in pain is stellar. However, I gotta pay for the meds....

Western after all

2011-01-31T10:58:00.002-05:00

Well, I got half way to the Bikram studio (in Rockville where I was visiting the 'rents) and turned around. The knee was kind of wonky and after writing all that stuff about why yoga still hurts, I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Again, it's a weird thing -- I try to imagine myself doing certain physical things and if I can't see it, like literally see it in my mind, it's not the right thing to do. Hard to explain but it seems to be the closest I can get to a knee genie (tho I'd still prefer the latter).

Instead, I decided to brave the elliptical, which I havent' done since the Sept. surgery. Again, haven't been able to imagine myself on it -- too much forward knee pressure or something. But, yesterday I could imagine it and I needed to sweat in a big way. And it was fine!! Yay. I finally have some cardio alternative. I love spinning, but hallelujah!

I actually did a half hour, on an easy setting, going fast. And then rested for a good while and was even able to do a little shopping at the mall afterwards.

I think these meds are making a big difference. I still hate the side effects and might try giving up one of 'em b/c it's driving me batshit, but pain is so much quieter now. Not silent, but not yelling so often.

!!

Remiss

2011-01-30T10:14:00.002-05:00

Boy, am I remiss in posting! Quick update is that I saw the OS on Monday last week. He believes I have irritable knee syndrome. Haha. I mean, he's sort of serious. Basically the knee is just irritated after all the surgery and the lining is inflamed and it gets aggravated all the time and gets more inflamed. But eventually it will all calm down and become less swollen and less painful.

For now, I don't really have to use the crutches unless I think I need 'em (with all the snow, there's basically no point -- have to try to keep four things from slipping on ice rather than two). And I can do activities via trial and error. If something irritates, I need to back off, etc.

Interestingly, he doesn't want me going to PT until I'm totally unswollen. I guess that means I'm still not supposed to be focusing on that knee, or leg exclusively b/c it'll be too much for it. He still thinks it's a waste of time anyhow until I'm less swollen.

Then he drained it and gave it some cortisone and sent me along. We decided (as I suspected) to hold off on the MRI b/c it is starting to get better.

Well, trial and error in my world is... interesting. I do have a sense of what I can and can't try. I still think western exercise is much better for me than non-western (i.e., yoga). In fact, I tried a vinyasa class this week and left early b/c it was way too much. Isn't that funny. A ballet bar class (please stop laughing) on the other hand was not so bad. Maybe it's the vinyasa part -- the continual motion that gets me. We'll see b/c I'm about to go and try a bikram class. Hopefully it won't be an error!!

And

2011-01-21T22:38:00.003-05:00

Honestly, things are getting a teeny bit better. I can tell. I'm still up and down and some days are better than others, but there's been a general improvement for about 2 weeks. Not that I didn't have to TOTALLY FLAKE on my good and very patient buddy, G. this morning b/c I can't really walk around in icy conditions. I mean I do, of course, but not without ramifications.

That aside, the fact that I overly optimistically thought I could walk to Golda's this morning in the snow and only realized after I had on all my gear that it wasn't a good idea, is a good sign. Since the pain comes and goes so much, I've come to rely on more subtle, subconscious cues to judge my overall progress. Since I happen to be overzealous as well as totally neurotic and anxious, I judge by my anticipatory anxiety. In other words, there are things I can't even think about doing without being filled with dread and panic (like walking across Grand Central Station's marble floors. Or transferring from the 2/3 to the F).

But those are getting fewer. Like I can now imagine taking a shower and getting ready and leaving the house without having to take significant rest in between. Even if I sometimes need that rest, the fact that I can imagine going w/out it is significant.

If that makes any sense. I'm sure it's like getting over the flu but I can't really articulate that comparison right now. It's morning and I've still got the groggy's big-time.

Which brings me to the other, shocking news that I FINALLY FINISHED something. It's been a sleeeppppy and slow 4 weeks but I published a journalistic piece. It's on my FB page, so FB buddies, look 'er up.

More soon about my journey into the psychology/physiology of pain. Met with the pain psych and the pain doc. Who switched me off morontin (yay) and onto another med which is either jacking me up, or just fine. It's only been 24 hours. Still on the patch, which is responsible for my extreme morning sleepiness (doc explained it in great detail but I only got about half of it). Oh, the patch!

Lily!

2011-01-21T22:33:00.003-05:00

That's my niece! Happy birthday Lily!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sweet 16.

(Obviously, she doesn't take after me in the totally uncoordinated dept.)

medsmedsmeds

2011-01-18T22:51:00.002-05:00

Well it's been a month on the new meds regime, give or take. Tomorrow, I report in to the pain doc and see a pain shrink just for kicks! I'm very psyched about the latter. Someone else to bitch to for a solid 45 minutes, just about my pain!! Can you imagine having that job -- a pain psychologist? Eee gad.

I'm pretty frustrated actually. The neurontin makes me soooo sleeepppyyy. I feel like I can never get enough and in fact, sometimes nod off just when I'm sitting on the couch checking email. This, for a gal who despises napping. Plus, I'm fuzzy and haven't been able to finish anything, including blog posts! Lethargy -- hugely depressing. Who knew?

On the other hand, it takes the sharp edge of the pain. So everything is less sharp, more cushion-y. My brain, my body (which feels heavy), my pain level.

After repeatedly nodding off while watching tv/"bonding" with the SO and in light of several upcoming deadlines, I took a break for two days. Huge difference. Felt lighter, happier, wayyyy more energetic. More like "me". But guess what? Sharp pain returned.

Alas.

The other med, the patch, I quite like. It hasn't erased pain but has made me feel like life is more manageable. I can do stuff around the apt. w/far fewer breaks and I can even imagine taking my mini computer on the subway! Which I've tried with varying degrees of success. Then again, who's to say whether that's from the patch or the neurontin? Something tells me it's the patch, though. Hard to explain, but it's just lifted my baseline.

Pain is a perception, says my pain book. So if you don't feel it, you don't have it. Now I know that's entirely contrary to the way most of us think about pain but that is the way the medical profession now sees it. Now that they are finding out all this stuff about how it changes your grey matter, spinal cord etc.

What to do w/this "moron"tin? Trade a more manageable physical life for a substantially diminished mental life? Esp. when the mental is all that's kept me going the past few years, and it happens to pay the bills? Then again, too much pain itself is exhausting and distracting.. Plus, the PD has terrified me that staying in pain will doom me to neurological hell. Someone should have told me when I was young, or at least in college, that quality of life was such a delicate, precious balance.

Tell me, dear readers, which would you choose?

Gloomy Rheum-y

2011-01-09T10:26:00.002-05:00

Well, so much for the last post. I suppose it's something to work towards. In the meantime, I saw a rheum. (we'll call him GR) on Friday, which sent me into a total tailspin so that I spent the entire day staring, with saucer eyes, at my computer screen, googling meaningless phrases like "when will I feel better?" Just kidding. Well, half kidding.

I saw this dude pre BTKR. Since then he's stopped taking all insurance, which in NYC means you've reached the pinnacle of doctor-dom. He's actually very highly regarded, is at the same hospital as my OS (recommended by him) and seems extremely thorough. Strange bedside manner tho -- he's sort of soft and nice and friendly and then weirdly rough. Like, I was late b/c it was snowing and traffic was horrendous, cabs full, etc. So he kept saying we had to hurry. He decided I needed an MRI. But apparently, you can't really do MRIs normally if you have metal in your body. So one woman has figured out how to do this, she's world famous and she happens to be at the same hospital. IN fact, she did my MRA, which I had to pay $1K for b/c it's not on my plan. So he nicely was calling a few places to see if anyone else did it or what could be done for me. THen at one point he says, "I've made 5 phone calls for you and I'm backed up today." I wasn't quite sure what to do. I guess I wasn't being grateful enough?

I was kind of in shock. Explaining the whole tale of woe -- revealing my big, swollen knee. He kept going, "I'm so sorry you're going through all this, so sorry." So I got kind of distracted by that. As well as all the weird questions -- why are your fingers so pink? Is that acne on your chin or a rash? Do your eyes ever get dry and red? Every time I asked why he was asking that, he named some weird auto immune syndrome.

AAACK!

Of course, he thinks it's either a) some weird auto immune syndrome; b) an infection that was never caught; c) something loose with the implant. He also thinks if it's a) he'll have to take over my treatment.

But then the PT thinks it's a PT problem; the OS thinks it's surgical (and he's fixed it so we just need to wait); the pain doc thinks it's a pain problem; my somatic therapist thinks it's a mind/body problem. And so on. My yoga teacher thinks it's about ayruvedic imbalance and leg strength. No wonder I don't want to see any more specialists!!!

Esp. if I have to pay for another MRI. Yikes.

Gifts

2011-01-05T23:05:00.002-05:00

Don't ask me what the hell I was trying to say in that last post. I hadn't even had anything to drink. How great that the new meds are now an excuse for every single thing.

I'm reading this book called The Pain Chronicles. There are many things to report about it, and my reactions to it, but one tidbit is that based on some intensive studies of chronic pain and religion, people's whose religious beliefs led them to think that their pain was a punishment for something they'd done wrong felt pain more intensely than those who saw their pain as a way to be closer to God.

I honestly (at least in this moment) believe that I've no choice but to adhere to the latter. That's obviously a lot of work for this gal, but I don't see any other way of dealing this. It is what it is after all.

Happy New Year Patches

2011-01-04T22:53:00.002-05:00

I think that's my new nickname for myself. This is going to be quick and disjointed (like me!, only minus the quick part). The tattoo parlor is having a cacophonous party. Yes, on a Tuesday night at 11 p.m. So much for my 6 a.m. wakeup call. Or so much for feeling like waking up at 6 a.m. Was going to try driving to a yoga practice at the ol' shala in the village tomorrow morning. But a) I'm still not supposed to practice standing poses and b) it's been a bitch of a knee day. Even the SO noticed that I looked bent and strained when I got home.

Weird. Sunday was really good. I even survived Ikea (tho at one point both of my legs gave out entirely -- this has only happened a couple times before -- all of the muscles sort of shut down and I basically walk with all my weight on my crutches). Yesterday was also a pretty good day. Today, not so good. Who knows. I do think that the patches, when they're working, are allowing me to overdo things. Or maybe it's just skewing my judgment? Who knows.

What I really wanted to write about is something else, but honestly, I can't concentrate. The party seems to get louder and louder. They've stopped bringing in DJs so I suppose they think that allows them to hang out in the courtyard and talk in VERY LOUD VOICES. Somehow the tattoo parlor owners built this deck that's behind several buildings. It's also in some kind of noise tunnel b/c the acoustics are crazy. I can hear what they're saying, I can smell their pot... Then they decided to start having art openings and alternating them with big parties that they charge admission for.

But I digress. Luckily the new meds make me extremely tired all the time, even if they only effectively deliver pain relief some of the time. In other words, this party is no match for the patches.

patches

2010-12-30T21:32:00.002-05:00

I survived the frozen tundra, just barely. I won't go into details except to say that, really, one family is bad enough...

I slapped on my first patch on the train ride up there and woo hoo, it hit the next morning, during the endless opening of presents. Not that there are very many presents -- it's just that each one is painstakingly opened. And when I say painstakingly, I mean, tape is sliced with a pocket knife, paper is not ripped, but saved for the next year (some paper is literally older than I am). Each ingredient of EACH damned piece of chocolate is read aloud. And everyone has to listen. Needless to say, everyone takes an individual turn.

Contrast this with my family's traditional Hannukah celebrations where everyone rips open presents at once, exclaims in hurried glee, gives each other a thank you peck on the cheek and before you can say candles, my mother has gathered up all the ripped up paper, put it in a paper bag and everyone is either out the door or on to something else.

3 hours in -- no, I'm not kidding -- 3 hours into it, my meds were kicking in and I was putting my calf behind my head (I can still do it!). Soon thereafter, as more presents were brought out, I exclaimed, "PLEASE! Can we take a break?!" [SO's mother]: "Do you want a few minutes?" Me: "NO! Can we come back after dinner?!"

I was badly behaved the whole time, I admit. Tolerance for other people VEEEERRRYYY Low.

As for the meds -- the jury is out on 'em. Tho they have cooled the knee down considerably and when they're working, they really work. I mean, I have periods of zero pain at all. Mainly when sitting or lying but I can go longer standing and walking.. I'm still worse than I was right after the surgery, but definitely better than I was last week or the week before.

I dunno. I didn't replace the patch immediately b/c I wanted to see what the hangover would be like but the PT got mad. She said that my pain signals are in high gear and screaming all the time, even when they only need to whisper. There's no way we can determine what's actually bothering me when everything is out of whack. So we need to bring the volume down a few octaves -- get things back to a more normal register -- and then we can start to figure out how to heal me. That's her take anyway.

Makes sense to me except that a) my knee is still really swollen, which freaks me out and b) wtf? No one still has any idea why it's not getting better. Maybe it's the limping problem. Maybe it's living in NYC. Blahblahblah.

I still can't do any exercise, including yoga, that requires standing on my two feet. It's just impossible to sort out what's causing the damned pain -- weakness, crazy nervous system, tissue damage.

But I will say that this patch is really beating the percocet in a big way. And maybe if I bring the overall pain down for a week or two, we'll start to figure things out. Oh yeah, patience. Forgot about that.

Wrong (self) diagnosis -- maybe

2010-12-23T10:48:00.003-05:00

Well, I got to the Dr's office yesterday with knee basically not working at all. Pain up and down my thigh, pain in the left knee, left ankle too. Ugh. The PA was alarmed. She also thought I must be bleeding again and we set about figuring out next steps.

But when she drained it -- there was no blood in the syringes at all. There was a ton of fluid but not bloody. She insists that if it were bleeding it would have come out in the syringe. I'm just not so sure. But she is the professional here.

So, what is causing me to swell as if I'd just tried to run a marathon on an injured knee?

No one knows. Her best guess right now is that the joint is rheumatic so I need to see a rheumatologist. I've already been tested for that but it was a few years ago so she thinks it's time to check it out again. Of course, the doc I'd been going to, who is really great, does not take any insurance and wants to charge me $500 for one appointment. Which means I have to find a damned dr on my damned plan.

I was pretty upset -- I mean, if it is RA I'm screwed. And if it isn't then we don't know wtf is going on.

Meanwhile, they gave me a shot of cortisone and I am to ice, ice, ice. Rest, elevate. Blah, blah. But I did not get permission to skip the 7 hour train ride to the tundra. And it's not like the SO is about to let me off the hook.

Today, I will get the patch, which will hopefully make the trip a little fuzzier and easier to swallow if nothing else. But BOY, am I not excited to start using this patch.Then again, a day w/less pain would be heaven.

Either way, at least I get to opt out of Christmas shopping...

drs, drs, drs

2010-12-22T09:32:00.004-05:00

It's been a bit of a whirlwind -- totally obsessed with my enlarged right knee. Talked to the Physician Asst. last week and she told me to stay off it as much as possible and talk to the pain doc about controlling the pain until I could come in at the end of the month.

But I hauled my sorry ass to the physical therapist on Monday morning before my final and she thought it looked horrible. So she called the PA to tell her I needed to go in right away. She agreed w/me that it's probably bleeding again.

Yesterday I saw the pain mgmnt doc who got really mad when I said I discontinued the neurontin. Apparently, I'm flirting with spinal cord disaster by not taking it and being in chronic pain this long. At least he lowered my dose. I also agreed to try to this patch. According to him, my PT is wrong about how much I'm endangering my liver with all these meds. Apparently, I should be fine liver-wise and we all now agree that I need continual pain meds, so patch me up. I told him I got tenure and then we both made the same joke about it not now mattering whether I become a fuzzy-headed addict. Great.

Anyway, he was also somewhat alarmed by the shape of the right knee. It was only 1 cm bigger than the left (also swollen) but it really is freakish looking. WHen I told him I couldn't see the doc for awhile he clucked his tongue and made a noise. So I redoubled my efforts and I'm going in momentarily.

I re-read the post op report (they had to give it to me for some insurance submittal but I kept a copy -- duh! I should do this all the time, including my appointment reports but more on that weirdness later). Apparently, he saw no active bleeding in Sept. but some old blood so he cauterized it in 2 places. I am now pretty convinced that it popped off again.

The thing is -- and here's where my very wise friend, TT's recent advice "you know your body best" comes in. I have never thought I was all better. After last year's surgery, I felt horrible for months. Then they did that very cool radiology procedure and I felt 50% better. But they only fixed the bleeding on one side. They kept saying it looked like both were fixed but I've not stopped having sharp pain on the inside of my knee and it's never not been swollen. After the last surgery, I felt great (on the crutches) for about 4 weeks then started to swell and get pain again. I think that's b/c of the whole limping onto the injured side problem. And I still felt the pain more on the medial side. And that's where it's swelling. So something keeps getting irritated in there and it's causing bleeding. I also think that somehow that stim machine made the clot pop off. But I also think it was bound to happen anyhow.

So we'll see if I'm right tho I suspect I'll have to wait for the doc to come back after the new year.

Meantime, my new year's resolution really needs to include being more assertive with the good ol' doc. B/c this ain't over.

Perhaps the upside will be that I'm told I absolutely cannot journey to the frozen tundra (aka New Hampshire) on Saturday? Not likely. They prohibit me from kneeling, they ban me from yoga but when it comes to some stupid holiday that means nothing to me, they'll say, "oh you don't have to miss Christmas!" Bah friggin humbug.

split screen

2010-12-18T09:25:00.004-05:00

The knee has calmed down somewhat since Wed. when it totally blew up, but only slightly. It's still more swollen then it has been since before the Sept. surgery.
I am totally obsessed with that fact. It's not even so much the pain, which is pretty bad, but it's how swollen it got. I just stare at it and feel it all the time, checking its temperature.

For some reason, I just can't believe I'm back here. Same pattern. Have surgery, get better for a couple weeks, become hopeful then steadily decline again.

At PT, they had no idea why that stimulation thing triggered any kind of reaction at all. "It's really just like an ice pack" the PT told me.

They did explain why sitting in a chair is so bothersome, though. I might have mentioned that. I say that b/c I am so fucking sick of hearing (mainly from my friends) that this is about my doing too much, when sitting in a damned chair for an hour can set me off, often more easily than going to the gym and riding the bike.

Which is not to say I don't do a lot -- I realize that I'm an active person. And while I do not believe that's the cause of my problems, I can see where at a certain point, it's not helping them either. But after this many years of having to curtail my life, and knowing that I can "be good" and stay home for an entire day and still be in pain, who wouldn't just try to live their life and, to the extent possible, do things that make them happy? If I really thought it made that much of a difference, I'd do it. I'd do anything if I thought it would make a difference physically.

Mentally, my torment comes perhaps from the fact that I still do not accept that this is my lot in life. I still think I am the person who really should be having that other life -- where I go running and maybe do a road race here or there, where I practice yoga every morning and actually add poses with some regularity. Where I can take the subway without crutches and string errands together without worrying about where I'll be able to rest in between them, and for how long. For who being invited to a party that requires a subway transfer does not mean that I will be immobile the whole next day.

I feel like that other life is still waiting for me, just around the corner, another month, another three months. But I'm not moving forward; I'm lost in this shoebox-sized labyrinth where I just keep retracing my steps and bumping into walls.

Fuck Physical Therapy

2010-12-15T21:41:00.002-05:00

I went in today w/ less pain than I've had in a long time, and consequently, less depression. By the time I was done, I was limping around Grand Central on my crutches and crying on the subway.

Now my knee is much larger than it's been in a long time and hurts everywhere. Even the SO, who usually (annoyingly) refuses to acknowledge that things are getting worse, is really concerned about the size of the thing.

We didn't even do any exercise -- just the high volt stimulation and some massage and then she wrapped it.

And we talked about how I'm in this horrid situation of having extremely weak legs that can't heal until the knee is less swollen, but the weakness makes it swell. And sitting is making things worse b/c the fluid pools in the knee. But elevating is hurting my back. And so on.

I guess this is what the doc meant when he nixed physical therapy b/c it focuses too much mental attention on the knee and tends to aggravate it.

I guess that's it for me and PT.

2 in the back of the head

2010-12-13T22:28:00.002-05:00

Last day of classes! The semester has been relentless, 2/3 on crutches, 10-hour Mondays -- teaching 2 classes on 2 campuses in 2 boroughs. Home to car to campus to car to subway to campus to subway to car to home. I will never, ever schedule a semester like this. Tuesdays, I am a mental and physical puddle.

So tonight I was on my last leg of that journey, beginning my parking spot search when I can't help but notice about 10 police cars and 2 ambulances on the next block, which had been taped off by police tape. After circling for about 10 min. I parked in front of the deli. As I was gathering my things, I saw two guys greet each other and talk briefly about something. Then one (who, in 28 degree weather, was in a t shirt and sweat pants) said to the other, "they shot my boy." I'd figured as much. Limped home and did some googling, to no avail. So I went back out. The block was still taped off and A cop was checking id's before letting only residents beyond the tape. Poor guy was standing out there in the snow looking really bored. I asked what happened and he just said that a guy got shot on the block. And I'd have to go around since I didn't live there. He also said it happened around 7:30 p.m.
I went to the deli and asked the counter guy. "Somebody got shot. A fight or something."
"On the street?"
"Yeah, out on the street."
A drunk guy who was staggering around the potato chip aisle had more info., "2 in the back of the head," he said, making his hand into a gun. "Bam, bam"
"A fight?"
He shrugged, "I don't know. But it was 2 in the back of the head."

Med report + advice needed

2010-12-05T09:14:00.002-05:00

I haven't had time to write updates about my ongoing odyssey in the world of pain management, but obviously, I'm at a bit of a dead end.

The last time I saw flathead (aka pain management doc), he put me on neurontin, to be taken at its lowest dose at night. I'd been resisting it b/c I heard the side effects weren't great -- feeling sleepy, sedated, dull, etc. Plus I worried about my liver.

Nonetheless, I took it the Wed. before thanksgiving on a horrendous, weather day and had the strangest experience waking up the next morning in NO PAIN. I've only had that kind of absence of pain a couple times in the past few years, and it's incredible. I kept saying I felt "normal" like this must be how normal people feel. I could move freely w/out any anxiety, none of my usual, constant but almost reflexive accommodations, no worrying about whether I could do two activities in a row w/out resting in between. I was literally crying with joy.

But alas, that feeling abated during the day and by the next day, I was back to square one pretty much. I continued to take it for about a week, but to be honest, there was no huge difference except it seemed to help the other pain meds work better. I also slept scarily well. But I felt out of it and non productive and I don't know, slow.

Went off 'em early last week but am now thinking maybe I shouldn't have.

Some of you readers have experience with this med -- any thoughts? I really am worried about the heaviness, drugged thing but maybe it's just in my head?

I am not turning out to be a compliant pain patient -- I hate the thought of all these med combos and what they might be doing to me long-term. Plus, I like to have a glass of wine now and again. I mean, if the difference was even half as significant as it was on Thanksgiving day, I'd certainly take the stuff they recommend. But so far, none of the neurological type meds have reduced my pain enough that I could cut back on the other kind of pain med. And to me, that would be the main point

To be continued...

Four legs good, two legs bad

2010-12-04T20:33:00.002-05:00

I'm back to being 4-legged, or so says the PT. Apparently, the dr's notes are far more clear than his oral instructions. Not that she would know -- she hasn't been able to reach him (tho they're supposed to talk on Monday). But according to the PA, my notes say I'm weight bearing on crutches, and I'm not to do ANY exercise that involves being on my feet. Including standing yoga poses. Oops.

To be honest, I've only been off for about a week or so, and it's not doing me any favors. The difference between on and off is slim but I can't imagine how being off the things is going to give my knee any kind of break, especially when the left leg is basically out of commission all the time. It works but it refuses to take any real weight.

I then walk with my pelvis, my back, and my injured right knee. So I basically have been feeling like I've been run over by a train, or a truck.

Well, after a day of mainly being home and resting (with some biking at the gym, which totally puts my back into an opposite position from the one it's usually in, and which is hurting it), I feel okay. That was Wed. Then Thurs. I gave a talk in midtown, and then yesterday, I organized someone else's talk. Why does organizing a talk always, always mean standing on a chair trying to plug a computer cable into a projector, or some other thing that puts my lower body over the edge? I really love powerpoint, but boy do I hate being the one responsible for setting it up.

This is thrilling, I know. I'm too tired to think of anything remotely witty. That said, I am strangely still thriving at the job. Without going into too much detail, soon I'll be able to supervise dissertation committees. Why, you ask, would anyone want to do that? More work for no more pay? And a lot more work at that?

I dunno. But the way it works is a) you're supposed to want that and b) where I work, you need to get appointed, which means you need to apply. In this case, I was invited to apply which is really nice. And flattery will get me to say yes to just about anything.

So I will officially be empowered to reproduce the long-standing academic tradition of reproduction -- meaning, crushing the souls of graduate students like so many grapes and then rebuilding them in my own image. If they succeed, I take the credit; if they fail, I blame it on them. You see, who says that people are only motivated by $$?

Being Right Blues

2010-11-30T09:10:00.002-05:00

I had an intense session with the PT on Saturday. First, I'd like to say for the record that she is awesome. I saw her for nearly a year before the BTKR surgery and she rocked. Even if by the end she really couldn't do anything w/my knees except ice and/or "stim" them. She's really funny and down to earth and loves to hear about her client's personal lives. We exchanged a lot of Jewish mother stories.

Second, she confirmed much of what I've been thinking and then some. My pelvis on the left side is out of place. In fact, she had to heat it and stim it to loosen it up (it was also super tight so that she couldn't move it) and then she manipulated it and popped it back in. It was sort of painful but the back felt soooo much better after.

She totally agreed that my left leg is really weak and under developed and can't take my weight, which is why my pelvis popped out on that side, to try to compensate for no leg muscles. But that actually shifts weight back onto the right side so it can't heal b/c it's still taking all my weight even tho it keeps need surgery. "You're standing on toothpicks," she said. Tho I would add that one of them has one of those vertical splits they get right before they break. My posture looks like I've desperately tried to find a way not to fall over. Bingo! That's it exactly. I feel like if I stand with my weight back in my heels and evenly distributed, I'm going to fall.

She also could see why it's the standing and walking that are so painful, particularly standing. Which also explained why it's okay for me to ride the bike or swim or workout -- it means I'm actually out of the posture that's causing so much pain.

But she also said it's going to take a lot of work to retrain my body not to return to that position all the time. Esp. b/c as soon as I'm in pain, it gets really exaggerated b/c it's all I can do to keep going. Apparently it's not enough to just be conscious about standing or walking differently. Also, my pelvis would pop back in w/in a few days (it did yesterday and BOY do I feel it this morning -- plus now I can see it!).

Also my feet are doing very strange things to compensate for toothpick legs and to try to keep me upright. In fact, one of them is doing something the likes of which she has never seen.

But, I can't go back until this weekend b/c she needs to call the doc and convince him to re-write my 'script. She agrees that I can't really work on my legs while my knee is still so swollen and painful (muscles basically go on strike). But, if I fix the back/pelvis problem and the legs remain too weak to hold me up, it won't really matter. So she wants to work on the legs to the extent we can and she'll keep adjusting the back, I guess and retrain my body to stand and walk. Blah blah.

It was super-duper validating and very nice to be right, of course. But, it's really depressing and daunting. And scary. Already the right knee gets more swollen and painful every day. It's exactly the pattern I've had for the past 2 or so years. Which, to me, means that I'll develop more scar tissue (She confirmed this is a real danger) and then have to go thru the whole damned thing again.

At least I feel like I'm in some good, professional hands. And I have someone I can complain to at least weekly, who is really affirming and can totally see why I'm in so much pain w/out trying to blame it on me for trying to do too much (after all, the stuff that hurts it is just trying to live my life and simply use my lower body).

But I had a little freak-out this morning attempting to go to yoga w/my buddy, Golda. My back was all out of whack and I thought the new yoga teacher, who also saw my pelvis problem, would be able to give me some good advice. Plus, the PT told me stretching was good. But the train was packed and we had to stand and I was more and more uncomfortable and the thought of standing up 3 more stops, then switching and then walking a few blocks was more than I could bear. So I got off the train and came home. Seems wise I know, and I should be proud of myself, but it really depresses me.

Waaaaaahhhhh! Alright, now that I've vented for a very long time, I need to dust myself off, stop obsessing about the weird feeling running up and down my entire left side and get to work. It'll be okay. It will be okay.

So much to update, so little time

2010-11-26T10:47:00.004-05:00

[ed note: this is written in a particular hurry, so excuse the especially reportorial (aka dry and boring) writing]

There are so many things I now want to post about! A good sign.

So, very quickly though (b/c I've been thinking a little too much not about work, if you know what I mean).

New Orleans was rough. I was on the crutches but did a lot of running into people and standing and talking to them. Came back to increasing pain all week.

Just before I went, I saw the good ol' doc and he said that I was still really swollen. Duh. He drained the knee and the fluid looked great again (no blood). So he said that I am just one of those patients who takes about a year to heal from a scope. Duh again. He said he's spent a lot of time in the past trying to figure out why some people take so long, but in the end, "you can't fool mother nature." He then used that as a response to nearly every question I had (like the age-old, never-ending, 'am I supposed to take the meds and then exercise, or is that really bad?" Basically, I'm still not supposed to limp. Sometimes that means using crutches, or taking meds, or staying home. But, he "liberated" me from restrictions, which means I can go back to the gym and do stuff as tolerated. And I'm supposed to use my good judgment (um...) and not rush or fool mother nature.

Then he agreed to write me a script for physical therapy for my BACK. For my knee he said, "if you have a sprained ankle, you don't exercise to make it better." But he also said I could go back to the gym, so I don't really get it. I think he thinks PT especially irritates people's knees b/c I would be spending an hour or so just doing knee exercises. I guess that makes sense. Sort of.

So the back has been hurting, my hips, my feet. I have been a huge and increasing mess. PLUS, I have been having a gray matter issue. I left my boot on a bench on 34th street (tho I returned about 20 minutes later to fetch it and it was still sitting there!). Then I got locked out of a yoga studio in my bare feet for an hour (thanks again, Alyssa, for your support and internet searching help -- I suppose a smart phone might be a useful thing). Finally, left the shoes there and cabbed home in bare feet.

Oi. In the yoga class, the teacher (who's a well respected ashtanga teacher and who taught me for awhile about 6 or 7 years ago, but he remembered me!), noticed that "There is a lot going on w/ my pelvis and hip on the left side." And he said, "forget worrying about your knees, you need to work on your hips b/c they are tight and that makes your knees worse". YES! I love it. And he's right. Tight hips are putting more stress on the knees.

Plus, what I've gathered from the yoga/sex therapist and various other things: the left side never really strengthened enough after the accident. As the years wore by and that knee wore out, it weakened even more. After the replacement, it never re-strengthened to the point where it could take all my weight when the rt. knee was so f**'d up. As a result, I have been using the left hip to compensate, which is why it's so tight and keeps pulling the attachment muscle. Now, I think my back is trying to take it on. Plus the crutches w/a heavy bag on my back or front totally screw it up.

I'm sure this is really fascinating to everyone. Nonetheless, I'm going to run it by the PT tomorrow morning and see if she can help. She was working with me before I got the replacements and she's really awesome. I mean, she didn't really help my knees back then b/c I was about to have the surgery and they were so swollen all the time, she refused to let me exercise by the time I came in. I just had to ice it and use the shock machine/stimulator thing (She's also two subways away, which is why I've been avoiding her but I think now the benefits will outweigh the costs (?)). Or, I'll crutch over there? I have no idea how I'll figure that part of this out to be honest. Anyway, she did send me to get a consulting opinion from a big-wig ortho. and she's really fun. Plus, I do think she knows her stuff.

As for the pain, which peaked at an almost all-time high on Wed., there's new news on that as well. But it'll be the next post. Back to work!! Sheesh.

The Oasis Lounge

2010-11-17T18:59:00.002-05:00

Aaahhh, finally. I am on my way to my annual [fill in academic discipline here] conference and scheduled a super late flight, hoping I could have a full day in NYC, b/c I will be gone 4 nights which seems like a lot. However, I forgot about traffic on the way to JFK so ended up leaving early to beat traffic and arriving 3 1/2 hours before my flight.

But, NO MATTER b/c I had a free pass to a sky lounge. Only hitch is that it's in a totally different terminal than my scheduled flight. NO MATTER. Sky lounge has this bar with lots of good booze and you make your own drinks! I actually refrained for the past hour b/c I need to work all the way til I arrive in New Orleans at midnight EST. But NO MATTER b/c I'm about to trek to the gate -- avec los crutchos (I should have a naming contest since they have been my underarm companions for nearly half of the last 28 months (but who's counting)) AND, much of the work I have to do entails grading. We all know that it's a time honored tradition for professors to numb the sharp pangs of grading with a glass of wine or three.

Anyway, I now have to rejoin the rabble and make my way over to the next terminal with 2 crutches, one suitcase and 2 small carryons. Yes, that drink was a good move.

More to come (tho my flight does not have wireless) from the Big Easy.

Woohoo

2010-11-11T17:22:00.002-05:00

B/c one of you readers does not check her facebook account, ahem Ms. T., I will once again announce that as of yesterday, I am approved for tenure!!! I just re-celebrated after the dept. secretary called and read my letter from the College President over the phone. Congratulations, your case was approved by 5 zillion committees. You're now one of us for the rest of your life.

Oh it's been a long road my friends. A llooonnnnngggg road.

But, alas, the amazing, life-changing news does not change my immediate deadlines.

Back to more regular blogging one of these days. I'm nearly there.

Go Runners!

2010-11-08T22:35:00.002-05:00

No matter how many times I watch it, I never fail to get choked up watching the New York Marathon. Esp. up here in Harlemworld, where people of all sizes, colors, creeds, shapes, and styles of encouragement -- ladies on their way home from church in fancy hats, dads with kids in bjorns or napsacks (JK), winos, club kids -- literally line either side of the streets, clapping their hands and wooping at the runners. Plus, there's music -- jazz or blues bands, DJs -- and it goes on for hours as the runners go by getting slower and more limpy as time goes by.

This year, I was fortunate yet again to be friends with the ever-awesome G. We've been practicing yoga on Sunday mornings at her place and it so happens that she lives right on Mt. Morris Park, which is not only autumnally hued-out these days, but also happens to be mile 22 and one of the live music stations. In this case, it was a big dj booth.

I went over a little after 10, just as some of the first wheelchair racers were rounding the corner of the park. The DJ was playing 70s-era funk and disco, people were squinting in the bright fallsunshine and clapping their palms off. Already I was choked up.

We practiced for about an hour and then went out in time to catch the elite women racing by!! Wow were they fast. Joy -- why do they wear those arm things? Most were pretty short, I have to say and the bikini bottomed ones seemed to be a little faster. There were three who were vying for first place. We watched the elite women for about 15 minutes and then it was time for the men! Two guys from Kenya(?) were running at exactly the same pace. Whoosh!! They ran by, inches from us, followed by about a dozen other men, mainly from African countries. We stayed for a long while, joining in with cheers, critiquing form (as if we could ever try to replicate it), looking for the Chilean miner...

Then we finished up practice and I came back out to meet the SO. This time we stood in a slightly bigger crowd and more people were out. One woman near us was yelling in a plaintive kind of voice, "Go Runners, you're nearly there, go runners, you can make it." While another guy, a few people down yelled, "What? Don't give up. Come on ERIC (a good many runners put their names on their clothes), get yourself back in there. Come on, ERIC, I said get in there now, pick it up, PICK IT UP." One guy who I think had some puke on his face looked like if he weren't about to keel over he would have gone and clocked that dude.

But everyone is motivated in different ways right?

Speaking of which, we never did see the miner.

Thanks, G -- for everything!!

trying

2010-11-04T21:37:00.002-04:00

to find some time to post but I can't seem to find it! Even tho I've bailed on two work events this week so I could do more... Work! Yikes. More soon I hope.

Cranky as hell anyway so really, the draw of picking fights with the SO is so much stronger than ranting on the blog where no one fights back!

TKM

2010-10-25T10:25:00.002-04:00

Had another total knee meltdown yesterday. It seems as tho some of the gains I made in well being since the surgery have receded since about Thurs. On Wed. last week I went to see the doc. He was out of town on an emergency but his PA was there. She said things looked really good but the knee was still hot and puffy. Heat and swelling are our enemies here in a big way. Not to mention pain, which is key to the whole recursive process (all my work writing these days, and teaching, is about recursive processes -- I am obsessed!).

Anyway, so she said I can go off crutches but only if it doesn't hurt AT ALL. If I anticipate that it will hurt while I'm out, I need to bring the crutches. Since I can only walk about 3 blocks w/out pain on a good day, I'm all crutches all the time pretty much.

WORSE, much much worse is that I am still not supposed to go to the gym at all. No bike, no nothing. The more I sit on my ass the better off I am, basically.

However, the longer I am restricted from activity the more depressed, anxious, restless, despairing and desperate I become. I mean, if I were seeing daily progress I might be able to bear with it.

But really what I'm seeing is the old pattern of surgery helping a little and then after a few weeks, I go back to swelling at the drop of a hat, which creates pain, which creates more swelling, etc.

In the past, they've allowed me to go back to riding the bike and to come off crutches after a week or two. But, you see, it doesn't seem to make much of a difference.

I mean, some little things are better, they really are. But the big picture is just going right back to square one.

I can't begin to describe how disheartened I am.

But the show must go on -- in 15 minutes I have to face 250 young scholars and tell them why the new Yankee Stadium was a big taxpayer boondoggle and in general stadiums are never, ever, ever a mechanism for bringing revenue to a city. Why, in light of the facts about this, do cities insist that stadium projects will be a fast lane to economic development? I don't know.

I guess paradigm shifts don't happen over night.

The Workshop

2010-10-20T00:33:00.003-04:00

I'm back in familiar smelling (i.e., not flower smelling) NYC. I spent an hour this morning walking, enshrouded by fog, saying goodbye to the bay and to that wet, dusty, leafy smell that is sometimes more salty and sometimes more flowery and sometimes woody depending on how close you are to the bay's edge. The fog does more than enshroud you --- it wraps and buffers you from life, beckons you to burrow into it, with your back to the chilly breezes blowing in from ocean and mountain. Everyone knows the fog is an insulator.
There's nothing like SF life, or it's nothing like real life b/c it can be endlessly dissipated into the fog.

I have no idea what I'm trying to say here. It took me back 21 years, that fog. And this morning, walking thru it at dawn, I finally relaxed, gave it a break and felt glad. I wanted to stay and escape there. Just like I did 20 years ago. When I was at my happiest in a lot of ways. hunkering into the phone in my non profit office, planning the weekend's parties. Out the door by 5 and giving major attitude if they tried to make me stay late. Deliciously selfish. Self absorbed. Self sufficient.

But yeah I'm not that girl anymore. So I had a professional gig and it went pretty well. It could have gone a bit better maybe but everyone seemed into my ideas. They think there are two important books being cooked and I'd agree. They had lots of good suggestions for each of them. One of the big wigs asked a tough question or three, which reflected a scant reading of my paper and then took off early before I could respond. I wish he hadn't done that.

In the end, they were solicitous of my knee and overall supportive of my new work. They were as excited by the "sexy" parts of it as they were some of the other ideas. I had answers to most of their challenging questions. Yeah, it went pretty damned well.

The gagging part wasn't hard at all. I was well-trained as a fiction major not to talk while people critiqued my work, so in the end that part was not such a big deal.

By the time it ended, everyone took off for another event. I was hurting so I high-crutched it back to the hotel van, heart filling so full of memories from the summer I lived in Bezerkeley and trod on every blade of its green lawn, w/ my best friend who would eventually become my first serious boyfriend. We'd find little slopes of grass near trees and brooks and do our work. I was transcribing tapes for this photographer (now pretty famous in the world of documentary photography), helping him finish a book on homeless teenagers. I'd stick the cassettes in my walkman and hand write the transcriptions into a note book. Evets would scribble notes onto long yellow legal pads -- he was reading James Joyce and writing the great American novel. Ah, college. Then we'd go over to Telegraph and the Blondies special -- a coke and a slice of pepperoni for 2 or 3 bucks. I don't know whether he preferred the slices or the attention he got, as we made fun of him for eating the same thing twice a day.

He was always one of those guys you just want to pick on for no good reason except he takes it so well - he'd just grin and go, "heh heh heh." And look down at his pizza.

I wept softly the whole way back to the marina hotel. Every piece of grass on that campus, every block of limestone or red clay on its edifices, hid a ghost. I hadn't expected that intensity at all. The vastness of the negative space that opened up after Ev. left this earth. Who knew such a crowded world could expand and empty like that.

What a kick he would have gotten out of my going to that workshop, and out of finding a way to sneak himself in and smirk at me the whole time. I imagined us walking afterward, back towards Telegraph, Ev making gentle fun of me and then, with his green eyes and stiff, awkward gestures, telling me he was proud of me. There are so few people in the world that we get to know intimately, and who we actually, really fall in love with, even if it's only for a few years. I don't think about him every day, but he does cross my mind often and every once in awhile, the pain of his absence feels acute.

But I'm nothing if not a drama queen these days. I'm calling it the midlife crisis, tho I think I need some nomenclature that is more 2010. Any thoughts?

2010-10-17T17:13:00.003-04:00

A rainy and chilly Sunday here on the Left Coast. I seem to have reverse jet lag today. Meaning, I cannot wake up, despite having had 2 cups of rocket-strength SF coffee plus one black tea at three different cafes near my hotel. And today is supposed to be a work day!

Not that there's much else I can do. I opted not to get a car so my range is pretty limited. Luckily I am staying in the flatlands near the marina -- a good area for both cafe hopping and encountering people 20 years younger than myself making 20x more money. I've been doing pretty well today even on one crutch, shlepping my computer in a bag and wearing double pants plus quadruple layers on my top. Really, I'm wearing 6 layers on my torso -- like I said it's chilly here.

It's been pretty up and down knee wise and emotion wise. My place in Berkeley was right, smack on the water on a peninsula. On one side was a marina with a view of the Golden Gate and the Bay Bridge and a foggy-covered SF and on the other side was a state park, full of purple wildflowers and that golden, brushy stuff that covers the California hills. Each morning I took a 30 minute crutch walk -- once on one side and once on the other. But I wanted to trip (or impale) all the race-walkers and joggers with my crutches. One 50ish woman in bike shorts had the nerve to make fun of me for crutching too slowly.

Finally yesterday I broke down and swam for 45 minutes -- in the hotel's indoor pool (not the bay!). I literally felt like a human being again. This endorphin withdrawal thing is getting worse instead of better. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's why I can't get going today. My whole body, including the brain, are rebelling now.

That said, I am alternating between optimism and hopelessness about the state of the knee (hm, what else is new?). For sure, the lateral side is smaller than it's been in 2+ years for most of the day. But the medial side is still super puffy. And it gets hot pretty easily. Icing it seems to help a lot until I use it again. By the end of the day none of it is very good. No matter what, it wants elevation all the time. Which is a decidedly unprofessional look, I've concluded.

Then again, it's certain that it doesn't "catch" the same way that it used to. And, interestingly, my muscles are atrophying pretty slowly. Which leads me to believe that they are possibly less shut down than they have been. Probably b/c the bleeding has stopped -- the www told me that hemarthrosis really shuts down the quad.

I think perhaps the healing is happening, just really, really slow (?)

Which means I both hope that the doc takes me off crutches later this week and don't. They are the biggest pain in the ass ever, but they help so much with the pain and the walking.

Then again, I worry that I'll start to rely on them too much (ha ha -- that was a very lame crutch joke). Like I said, I'm slllloooowwww!

8 miles high

2010-10-14T14:15:00.002-04:00

Alright so this gig I'm going to is actually really unique and well known for its odd rules. They have a whole bunch of comments on the website from other invitees who say things like, "I resisted the rules at first, but then found it immensely helpful", etc.

I would provide the URL but am still hanging on to the tiny thread of anonymity I fool myself into believing I have on this blog.

Did I mention I'm on the plane?

Getting to JFK was harrowing. I drove b/c it was cheaper to park than take cabs and have to ask the SO to deal with moving the car for street cleaning. But I got the wrong directions and couldn't find the parking lot and became hysterical I'd miss my flight so went with a more $$ lot and lost my $13 deposit! Oh well. Probably the fist of many expenses the damned crutches will generate. I also got dropped off at the wrong terminal so had to get a wheelchair after all. Even so, security took forever. I had a new employee and she was VERY SERIOUS about wanding and feeling all my beeping areas.

Then rude people were sitting in the handicapped seats at the gate, no one would let me cut the Starbucks line, etc. etc.

But I'm actually fairly comfortable for some crazy reason. I have an aisle seat with I guess some extra leg room? Not much pain even w/no meds. Maybe I should fly every day!

Pain-wise, I usually start off great in the a.m. I can gaze at my (finally) shrinking right knee with awe for long periods of time, esp. if I am in between yoga poses.

Then I get overly excited, of course, and stand too long, to one to many household chores or errands and get into pain by early to mid afternoon. Sometimes one med takes care of it. Sometimes not.

But the fact that sometimes they work is huge and very new. So maybe I am not tolerant to the pain killers after all -- maybe they were just no match for my condition!

Went to see the pain doc on Monday and he took me off the long-acting since I wasn't taking it much anyhow. Plus I had a bunch left and he reminded me that it was looking like I'd be cutting back on all meds in the coming weeks. Guess he's not quite the pusher I'd thought he was. At least he wasn't sore at me for not following his directions.

We agreed that I'd stick to my self-invented program (he's a bit surprised I'm taking so few meds but did not hassle me about it) and cut down as I can.

We also agreed that it's a fine line sometimes between the meds' therapeutic benefits -- lots of research shows that pain has a negative effect on healing -- and their enabling benefits (allowing me to push myself). So I'm working on that.

Still imagining a touchdown, or homerun or whatever.

Reports from the hills of northern california to come over the next few days...

I wasn't kidding

2010-10-11T22:12:00.001-04:00

When I said this is a crazy profession. Here are the "rules" of my upcoming gig on the west coast:

The format of the colloquium is workshop style, meaning that the paper's author is given 5 minutes to frame the paper, followed by 10-15 minutes of comments from a discussant. After that time, the author is 'gagged'- i.e. not allowed to speak, and those in the audience provide questions, comments and reactions to the paper for the next 30-45 minutes. We have a 15-20 minute break/reception, followed by 30-40 minutes where the author can respond to the comments and questions raised, and/or engage in conversation with the audience. All of this takes place while seated around a large table.

last evening

2010-10-11T00:04:00.002-04:00

of having the place to myself. It's been an interesting coupla days. The SO is in Seattle and I've had ample time to enjoy spreading out around the apt. Oodles and oodles of time. B/c I'm freaking couch-ridden. Well okay that's exaggerating --

I went out w/friends on Fri. and Sat. nights. It's just that my endorphin w/drawl kicked in big time and ARRGHHHH!!!!!

I am one grouchy gal. I've done every possible thing I can to console myself. I am determined to get that touchdown but sheesh. It's like someone yanked the needle out my arm in a big way.

Okay, that said. Last night we had a party for the gym ladies atop Central Park. It was so much fun. They are a crazy bunch once you get 'em off the bikes. Well, they're pretty amusing on the bikes as well. So many hilarious menopause jokes, I'm almost looking forward to it. Okay maybe not but it's great to hang out with a bunch of women who are going strong into their 50s and they look younger than I do.

After a couple glasses of wine, they took me up to the top of the thingy (still paranoid about giving specifics but some of you might have seen photos or read about what I'm talking about). A black and starry night for NYC with panoramic vistas of lights twinkling from the turrets and peaks that surround Central Park. They made it twice as high as it was when I went earlier this summer. And twice as rickety!!

But I was fine -- the paths are narrow and you can hold onto bamboo railings on either side.

Today, I was no worse for wear tho perhaps a little hungover.

And, yes, by 7 p.m. after a day of working and doing various change of season chores, convincing myself that going swimming or some other seemingly benign thing would be, well, benign and then re-resolving to sit my ass down and stay put, I was going insane. Funny how I need more stamina to get thru 4 weeks of not working out than I do to get through a workout.

Frequent Crutchers Points Prgrm

2010-10-06T22:37:00.003-04:00

I'm going to start one, right? Along with a frequent surgery miles program. After the 10th one, I should get a freebie, eh? Right? Oi. Let's not talk about medical bills.

Instead, I will bore all 4 of you with a report from today's visit to the surgeon:

First, I got my stitches out -- Yay!!! The very sweet nurse, who's been around for years, was removing them and said, "you know, the last time I did this, after the last surgery, you weren't in nearly as good shape as you are today."

She's right. I'd forgotten how I was, but now I remember I was miserable -- my knee was enormous and painful and it sucked.

Now, today it was still swollen and hot but not super painful. In fact, the doc came in and put his big paw on my knee and said, "it's really hot, isn't it?" I agreed and told him it's been that way for almost a week. He was concerned and thought it might be bleeding from the surgery. So he said he needed to drain it and left the room so they could prep me. But on his way out he said, "you're doing better, I can see it in your face. You look brighter."

I love it when the surgeon acts like a shrink. Kind of like a two-fer. He was right, I've been feeling optimistic again the past coupla days. Tho, being the cautious type I've been thinking that trying to assess how I am while still on crutches is an apples and oranges situation. They really help tremendously so it's impossible to say whether I'm better or worse than I was before surgery. Except for things like the fact that it doesn't hurt first thing when I wake up EVERY morning. And some actions don't hurt as much (tho other ones do).

But it looks like it'll be another 2 weeks before apples become apples -- i.e., the doc decided that we need to be super careful and keep me on crutches and out of commission another 2 weeks. Oi!!! He said that he'd rather have me get very weak than use the knee very much. "Baby it" he kept saying. That means I can work and do necessary stuff, but no biking, no extraneous walking around, etc. I know, it sounds easy but let me tell you, unless you've been consigned to bed rest or something, you really don't know how hard it is not to use your knee too much. Esp. when you're the antsy type, as I am.

So he drained the knee and when he pulled the fluid out in that monstrous syringe, he exclaimed. "We call that color golden honey!" "We've never pulled fluid out of your knee that wasn't tinged with blood." "This is great news, great news!" He was so excited I didn't have the heart to contradict him, but I think this happened once before. Anyhow, he was thrilled, though I still have to lay off for at least 2 more weeks. Since I'm prone to swelling and scarring and all.

As they were clearing out, I promised to "be strong" and stay off it. That got a giggle from the doc and he launched into a litany of metaphors: "You're at the 5 yard line, don't fumble!" "We want a touchdown, here, not a fieldgoal. We're so close to the endzone." The PA joined in too. Both giggling as they walked out.

Weird.

The pisser is that I'm headed to Cali next week, for the work thing and then a few days of vacay. Now I gotta bring the crutches. Puts a damper on things. Ever tried to wheel a suitcase with a crutch under each arm? Well, I suppose I have. I will manage it.

I'm just trying to keep my eyes on the prize, er the goal line?

Sprint to the finish, so to speak

2010-10-01T22:06:00.002-04:00

What a week! At least after my Sun/Mon double freak-out I was too damned busy to do anymore crazy stuff. I basically worked my ass off and worried about my knee/mourned not being able to work out in my spare moments, like walking to and from the bathroom.

I am fairly happy to report that I did everything that had to be done by today (except for one grant proposal which was just too much). That means, I finished my damned box o' tenure materials and sent it on to the dean. Buh-bye. What will I do now that I've spent a good 15 years kissing ass so as not to get kicked out? I guess I better give it a couple more months, until all the various committees have voted. But I can at least mull it over. I told my colleague that if I get tenure, he'll never see me again. Hah.

As if. I also finished my application to teach in the doc. program. That means I would have double faculty meetings, double responsibilities (make that quadruple -- grad students are nothing if not needy, plus reading a zillion versions of dissertations -- oi.), and NO EXTRA money! You gotta love academia.

Finally, I actually wrote a new paper in a day and a half. Well, a draft-y draft of a paper which I submitted w/out really copyediting it. You see, some people who I don't know at Berzerkley invited me to give a paper for their seminar. The deal is that you send them a work in progress, they pay your airfare, hotel and a little stipend and then you get there and they sit around and critique your paper. So if they like it, it's a great deal -- you get all that feedback from smart people plus cash and a free trip out west. If they don't like it, well you still get all of the above plus a super humiliating experience. My strategy was to pick a topic that is super-sexy and which I've been meaning to write about anyway, force myself to write a skeletal (barely coherent?) draft and send it on.

I'll still get the free trip, right?

Oi vey.

Tomorrow (Sat.) I get up at 6:30 a.m. to get to Staten Island to take a toxic tour of the Island BY BOAT. How fun!? Only, it'd be a lot more fun if they'd scheduled it for the afternoon.

Oh yeah, that brings me to the knee. I've actually been really bummed out about it. I wake up and it looks damned good but soon after, it starts to get hot and swollen and begins to hurt in the very same places it always has. And I have not, I repeat, NOT been going to the gym or doing anything rough with it!

But, luckily, I had a good talk with my buddy JR today (happy bday again Linc) and she reminded me that her own orthopedic issue has taken nearly 2 months to start feeling better. I'm really only 10 days out.

Or, maybe the congenial feel-good pain doc is right and I need to shift into knee crisis adaptation (as opposed to mitigation) mode. Oh no, check out my lingo, I really have been working too much.

The Bas

2010-09-28T21:40:00.007-04:00

Mostly, my knee feels pretty good. But emotionally, I am wack-o. I alternate between bouts of total freak-out, extreme work stress, and wary hopefulness.

That said, I'm trying mightily to follow instructions and keep it up and iced. I did this pretty well over the weekend, despite my increasing despair over not being able to get my heart rate up. Actually, twice the SO and I did his Bas Rutten MP3 boxing workout -- the Bas is boss). I did it seated with one leg up, just twisting and punching from the waist up. I actually got a tiny bit sweaty and smiled the whole way through.

I also managed to get out a little to see Golda who took pity on me and met me for coffee (thanks, G!). She wisely suggested that I spend this time challenging myself to work up to a 10 minute headstand. But, of course, as soon as I decided that was the goal, the length of my headstands shortened by at least half. It's all about mind vs. matter these days.

So, yes, I had that weird thing where my incision site bulged out like an oversized boil several times during the weekend. Finally, on Sunday (in the midst of a grueling 10 hour workday) I waited til the Giants game was over and called the Doc. on his cell. He was super sweet and explained that it was something to do with fat tissues -- totally fine and normal. I told him that, otherwise, I've been feeling almost better than I did before surgery and he said, "Oh, Melissa, that makes my day."

So the problem is that I am otherwise going crazy. You see I conveniently forgot how long it takes me to recover my work stamina after anesthesia. Plus, partly b/c of the meds and partly b/c of my generally anxious nature, post surgery, I become a worry machine (er, well more of a worry machine than usual). Constantly sure that I'm getting an infection, or have done something horrible to ruin the surgery. Which turns out to be quite distracting.

This might be okay if I weren't in the middle of the highest stakes month of my entire career. WHAT THE FUCK WAS I THINKING here. I can't sleep, I dream about fucking up this tenure shit. Plus on Mondays I teach on two campuses. And this week I have to write a fancy paper for this Berkeley seminar, where they've invited me (are paying me) to be smart. Somehow, I forgot that I would need to send said paper several weeks in advance of my trip out there. IN other words, by this Thursday afternoon.

So, yeah, I can't sleep. Sunday I felt like I was underwater all day and woke up Monday feeling like there was a bookcase sitting on top of my head. Taught my lecture and became convinced that I had a cold that would turn into a virus that would infect my surgery site. Fled office and went to a clinic. After giving 5 zillion flu shots, the clinic dr determined I had a small cold that did not actually require antibiotics. I then decided I was well enough to teach second class (I had been considering skyping it). Crutched to midtown in the pouring rain, taught grad seminar, then decided to go to therapy (well, after all, I was kind of insane..). Got home 12 hours after leaving home.

"Up side" -- my students are super sweet this semester. One of the undergrads actually came over to me at the end of class and asked if she could carry my bag up the stairs for me! They really seem to dig learning about economic inequality. Go figure. Next thing you know, they'll be bringing me apples.

Day 2: Here we go

2010-09-23T22:00:00.002-04:00

Things were going along pretty swimmingly. The SO and I were remarking on the fact that I seemed almost less swollen post-surgery than I was before, and I certainly have less pain (of course, not leaving the house has something to do with that).

Until, around noon today when one of my incision sites suddenly blew up like a crocus bulb, or a tiny bodily volcano. This happened last time -- something to do with the internal sutures. Only last time I leaked and leaked and leaked fluid for several days. This time, no leaking only a knee that now looks entirely deformed, tho it's still not painful.

I'm thinking it must be related to the fact that I have synovitis . That fluid builds up as fast as they flush it out?

Doesn't seem good. But I swear, I'm being good. I've left the apt. exactly 3 times in almost 3 days and haven't traveled more than a few blocks. Grrr.

I won the fight about when to get my stitches out (10/6 is the big day) but now I think I need to call and see if they want to see me before that. Plus, I need to straighten out this driving business. For the life of me, I can't see how driving is going to hinder my recovery.

And finally, THIS SUCKS. I hate not being able to leave the apt. I'm over it! Though I did get more done on my house projects today. And yeah, I did a lot of work. Getting work done. Hooray.

Surgery #10 -- Day 1

2010-09-22T19:28:00.003-04:00

Here I am strapped back into my old buddy, the icing machine. Surgery went very smoothly. I was a bit queasier than usual thanks to my old friend, sangria. But otherwise -- I was the first in line yesterday morning, so before I knew it they were sticking some magic medicine into my IV and I woke up as they wheeled me out of the OR. I believe I was asking repeatedly about what music had been playing while the operated. I vaguely remember them telling me it was disco. But then later, the OR nurse said it was country.

I think they were lying.

I think the OS lied as well. He said he tried to find the SO twice and called him but the SO stuck around for a good bit and never saw the doc. Doc was in a terrible mood, meanwhile. Or so it seemed from the 2 brief encounters I had with him.

Also a very mean nurse in the recovery room who announced that I was "all done" with my tray and insisted on taking it away, when I still had some food left on it! Not taht I was hungry -- it was the principle of thing.

Must have slept a total of 18 hours yesterday and am still feeling a bit fuzzy n' foggy. That anesthesia really takes it out of you...

Also there were some weird moments concerning my pain meds but I won't go into them right now.

The upshot, I found out after calling the OS's office to find out what he'd said to me yesterday when I was in recovery and super, duper foggy, is that he removed a lot of scar tissue, did not find any evidence of bleeding but did find an unusual amount of fluid which he is slightly concerned about.

That's all I know except that I won't get my stitches out for 2 WEEKS. And, until I do, I'm not to drive or do much of anything except keep ice on my knee. Oh and I have to use the crutches even if it's not hurting.

A friend just told me about the power of negative thinking, which I might try. She said to imagine all the horrible things that will happen if I don't listen to the Dr., like having to go thru this again, or spend my life in pain. For a nice Jewish girl like me, this makes much more sense than some kind of positive law of attraction or whatever.

Nonetheless, I'm already super bored and tried to work all day with variable results. I did manage to rearrange my home office though. And I forced the SO to take me for a short walk to the park.

The weirdest part is that I'm now in less pain that I ahve been for a few months. I think the anesthesia isn't totally out of my system yet. I expect tomorrow to be hellish (see I'm doing it already!).

Surgery #10 - reporting in for duty, 0h-600 hours

2010-09-20T23:02:00.003-04:00

Yeah, so I went out and got (very) tipsy the night before my 10th knee surgery. Why the heck not. Okay, there are at least 100 reasons why not but it's been a helluva week and I had a fantastic time. I also ate well which should fortify me for tomorrow. Unless the alcohol (only had 2 glasses of sangria -- a lightweight these days, so to speak, or possibly they were really strong and large) outweighs the benefits of a full, healthy dinner.

Need to be at hospital tomorrow by 6 a.m. Was planning to clean the apt. beforehand but now I'm kind of tired. Oh well. Too tipsy to care! And that, my friends, was the whole point.

Blogged Out!!

2010-09-13T22:13:00.003-04:00

Those of you who've been out of academia for awhile may not know that the wonderful, miraculous www will soon push us profs into going postal.

It's no longer enough that I teach a 250 student lecture plus a graduate seminar plus conduct research and publish it (or perish) plus serve on at least ten ridiculous committees, but now we are expected to create 9 zillion blogs/websites.
Oh, we need:
*A personal one with links to all our publications;
*One for EACH CLASS where we can post links to the endless flow of new info that we come across every freaking day, which pertain to our course (and this semester mine happen to be about wealth disparities and the environment -- not at all timely, no).
*One for every damned committee (for me right now, that's at least 6 or 7 separate stupid-ass blogs that I'm expected to create, update and maintain)

Are all of these housed in the same place? Oh no! As of a few minutes ago, I am registered with 5 different webhosts/blogging software places. Each has different kinds of user access, visibility, etc.

It's freaking insane, I tell you. If I were 60, no one would expect me to do this crap. They'd be happy if I figured out Blackboard (no offense, A). But, alas, I'm in a generation just tech savvy and facile enough that it's assumed I will do all of this crap w/out much problem.

At least I am not being forced to tweet. Yet...

97 13 Year-Olds, a Boat & Me

2010-09-09T22:36:00.004-04:00

I'm in Maryland for my niece, Rosie's Bat Mitzvah. Sat., from 1-4 p.m. we will be celebrating aboard a boat that cruises the Potomac. Yes, there will be 97 13 year-olds on the boat, about 20 adults and no booze. Here's where the meds come in handy. JK!! Sort of.

Otherwise, it's mega-stressful. My tenure materials are due on Wed., the cherry atop an entire mountain of other work + medical bullshit. I keep trying to calm myself down and then I remember that my entire career is on the line. It's a cliche, I know, but it's no exaggeration that if you get turned down, you have to find another career. That's why it's such a big deal.

To be honest, I should be okay, but that doesn't mean I can turn in incomplete materials. Which means that I've got to find a way to manufacture about one more day in the week. Or a couple more hours each day? At least I know that I'll be able to sleep on surgery day.

Ugh. I meant this to be a light-hearted, humorous post but I am amongst family which means I am firmly planted in the land o'drama and I'm doing a damned good job of keeping pace. I think I might also be falling asleep at the keyboard so will post some pix of 97 13-year olds dancing aboard a riverboat as soon as I get the chance.

Or at the very least, I'll aim for a more interesting post. I keep saying that. Hmmm....

Can You Hear Me Now?

2010-09-03T22:41:00.003-04:00

After about a week, the new nerve med kicked in. Yesterday, in the face of oncoming hurricane, the burning sensation on the right side was muted, like a scream in a dream or a cell phone buried under a sofa cushion.

Very strange and phantom-y. Kind of like when you're on vacation and you walk into a room and are convinced you hear your pet rustling around, on its way to greet you. Only your pet is back at your house. It's Pavlov in reverse.

Alas, the med's side effects also kicked in -- I suddenly gained 2 lbs (it slows your metabolism, as if a 40-something woman really needs any extra help in that department); my hair is coming out; it takes all morning to feel awake; stomach upset; dry mouth. Yuck. So I stopped taking it last night.

But then I went back to the pain doc today -- I never did use that patch. Too scary. Called him and he said to come back in.

This time, a young, jovial neurologist came out and greeted me. He had me walk for him and was alarmed at my gait, asking me to repeat it. I had no idea what he was talking about, "Was I limping?" I said, "because I know I walk funny but I'm not sure exactly how."
Anyway, upshot is we spent about 40 minutes arguing about medication. It went like this, me: I don't like these side effects and I don't want to have to take meds every day. Some days I don't need them and some days I can deal with the pain without taking them, like when I'm in the house all day.
Him: You really shouldn't go on and off this stuff. It's perfectly safe to take every day, esp. at your dose. You can be on it the rest of your life and be fine.
Me: But this is only short term. I'm getting another surgery and in a few months I won't need anything.
Him: Well, you no longer have real knees. It's very likely you'll have pain the rest of your life. What are you going to do? Stop walking? Amputate? No, you'll have to take meds.
Me: That's not what I signed up for.

Eventually, the other doc came in and it was unanimous that I should be on a long acting med, every 8-12 hours and I should not miss a dose. That's just the narcotic. For the neurological medication, I should just take it earlier in the evening for the grogginess and the other side effects will subside. If I don't like it, I can try neurontin 3x/day.

Even if I'm not in pain, I should take the meds b/c the next day I might be in more pain. Why? I asked, why would that happen? They didn't seem to have an answer but they said that seems to be what happens.

Me: But what if the pain is telling me something?
Them: Look, you have chronic pain. You have to live your life. You don't really have a choice here.

But really the most strident part of the argument (on my part) was my fear of going thru withdrawal again. I actually said, "have you ever had to withdraw from this stuff? It's not pretty!" One of 'em mumbled something about weaning off slowly and the other just looked at me with this I know that you will never get off this stuff so it doesn't matter... mmwwahhaahahaahaha.

So the up-upshot? I decided that the weird, whispery pain feeling really does beat the cacophonous pain feeling so I will take the freaking nerve med. In fact, perhaps it will help so much that I can do more kinds of physical activity and outweigh the weight gain (so to speak?). But I will not take the other med as directed. Rather I will take it as needed. Which means I will have so much of it stockpiled that I can set up a sidewalk stand and earn back some of the $$ I'll be spending on a personal trainer (KIDDING -- REALLY KIDDING, FOLKS).

On this new regime, I did manage to get some work done, attend a meeting and actually visit two stores while shopping for a dress for my niece's bat mitzvah. Then, hello, Rover! My companion returned, I hobbled to the subway and all seemed normal again.

The Body Vs. Itself

2010-08-31T07:57:00.002-04:00

On Sunday afternoon, I went to a lovely Bikram yoga practice. Lovely b/c the room was several degrees cooler than the inside of an inferno, and I didn't want to puke the entire time (despite the fact that I'd been "baking" all afternoon -- i.e., eating a lot of raw batter-type stuff). It was a small very low key crowd and the teacher had a soothing, velvety voice, was normal sized and seemed really sweet.

Only, her monologues kept talking about how this pose flushes your kidneys, this pose is good for your menstrual cycle, this pose will enable you to make a million dollars next year. I mean, Bikram is all about how that series will cure anything and each pose works on various internal organs and flushes toxins, toxins, toxins. Fine, okay. I do wish someone would define what exactly these "toxins" consist of but never mind. I'm actually willing to buy a lot of it (esp. when I'm pouring sweat and dizzy and trying desperately to balance on one leg). Basically, the narrative is that the body is this miraculous self-healing instrument and if you do the yoga you allow it to realize its full miraculous potential.

But every time we were in between poses and she talked about how we should feel how the blood was now rushing to the parts of our body that needed it most, I cringed and thought "nnooooo". I mean, that's my problem right now.

In other words, the body is not necessarily wise. It does weird things to protect itself that are counterproductive. It turns on itself all the time (that's what auto immune disease is in the first place right?). In my case, when it feels pain in the knee it sends mad blood and fluid to heal it, which in turn fosters the growing of scar tissue which then causes me more pain. Get it? Similarly, when I had actually bones in my knees, they were breaking down, so the body sent fluid to flush them out, only that very fluid caused more breakdown. That's how arthritis works.

Plus, my body protects its injured parts by not letting me use them only to create problems in other areas (i.e., the past few days, my left knee's been killing me b/c it's taking all the weight these days).

That's why all this meds stuff is important right now. I'm tricking my body into not feeling pain so it will stop trying to "heal" itself. Try to intercept the signals the brain is sending to the circulatory systems.

That was the basic message I got when I talked to the surgeon's assistant yesterday. She just said it's critical to keep me out of pain after the next surgery. I'll form scar tissue no matter what but I need to form normal amounts of scar tissue, so we need to do whatever can be done to keep it from going nuts. That said, she was no help on the meds. That's why they shunted me off to another doctor in the first place.

And so the saga continues as we head towards our 6th surgery in 3 years.

zombified

2010-08-29T23:01:00.004-04:00

Went to see this pain doc on Wed. last week, at NYU Med. Center. Their website and the brochures advertise that they offer comprehensive pain management -- acupuncture, biofeedback, massage, in addition to traditional treatments -- the works.

Started out well, with a long intake with a resident -- I got weepy when she asked me to rate my pain 1-10 (can't they come up with something better? Why is that always so hard?). I told her how confused I am about my pain, convinced by now that I'm just a big wimp and I ought to suck it up. I mean, what's a 10 after all? Waterboarding? What's a 5 for chrissakes? Who the hell knows anymore? 5 compared to a fantasy I have that most people live pain free? Do they? I kind of doubt it.

Anyway, she was very empathic. Then she took a look at my knees and sort of gasped. The right one is pretty impressively swollen these days (and Wed. was a particularly bad one). So that was kind of reassuring.

So anyway, eventually the doc comes in. We had one funny moment when he asked how much pain medicine I currently take and I told him in milligrams but he thought I meant pills (as in 10 pills/day vs. 10 mg/day which is one pill). Haha.

We all established that I'm not a junkie (yet). So within a few minutes, he comes up with a new plan for me. First, I am to start taking one med for neurological issues at night b/c it's going to make me sleepy. I am already not thrilled. Must be taken every night. For some reason, I don't like that kind of thing.

But that wasn't the kicker. Since I've pretty much become resistant to my current pain med, he also thinks I ought to start wearing this patch that time-releases opiods into your bloodstream over three days. Granted, he gave me a really low dose patch. But what happened to biofeedback? When I asked about addiction and withdrawal (if you remember when I got back from the hospital and had to withdraw from oxycontin it was a week of utter hell), he just kind of waved me away and said I would feel withdrawal no matter what. That's how narcotics are. Then I said that I have a job that requires some intense brain energy, plus I'm up for tenure -- again, waved away. In fact, he suggested that there are other meds I could take to counteract the sleepiness/spaciness I might get from these meds.

I said that's a lot of medication. He replied that some people are on 5 or 6 meds. The one thing I liked was that he said we're looking at another 3-6 months til the next surgery is resolved and then I shouldn't need him anymore.

Of course, I will be checking into Betty Ford if I haven't already Michael Jackson'd by that point...

I also kind of liked that he made me sign this contract that I won't get scripts for pain meds from any other dr. and I will only use one pharmacy. Not that anyone's out there enforcing the contract but there is some acknowledgment that this is serious stuff.

After going to 3 pharmacies to get this super low dose patch, I take a look at ye old printout. SCARY! There are a zillion warnings on it about not taking it unless you have a lot of experience taking other opiods and are resistant to them. Like you could die if you take it and you haven't been on other meds for a long time. Stronger than morphine, this stuff.

Got home and checked on the www and of course scared myself even more. It seems to be a huge bitch to get off of, 80x stronger than morphine? Well, some sites said 100x but I suppose that's if you circumvent the time release. In any event, you get the picture. All I need is to have it start wearing off and my skin starts crawling when I'm in class. Or I get the nods.

Decided not to take it. Going to ask him for some other option. Plus, I left a message for my ortho. to get his input. I mean, c'mon...

Oh no

2010-08-26T23:17:00.002-04:00

I just checked the studio where he normally teaches and see that he has subs today and tomorrow. Yikes! I better email in to check and see if he's okay. Oiyoiyoi.

I feel so responsible for this!

Whataweek, pt. 1

2010-08-26T22:59:00.002-04:00

On Tues, around noon, the new yoga/physical therapist dude was mugged right outside my door. He was on his i-phone (via his ear bud) and some guy walked up, punched him in the face and reached into his pocket.

I was sitting in my living room waiting for him when I heard a bunch of yelling. There's yelling outside my window about every 10 or so minutes, so I didn't think much of it but it was pretty intense and someone was doing this high pitched yipping sound. I got to the window in time to see the yoga dude chasing some guy in a hoodie down the street and screaming, "FUCK YOU MUTHAFUCKA YOU TRIED TO TAKE MY FUCKING I PHONE FUCK YOU RUN YOU LITTLE BITCH."

Here's where it gets tricky. He seemed fine so I thought he would collect himself and come up. But he didn't. And, I confess, I was scared -- I mean the gang war is still going on and I didn't know what the hell to do. So I waited awhile then he called me and then the cops came. Then an ambulance came. At which point I went down to see if he was okay but he wasn't there. After a bit, a cop car pulled up with the yoga guy in it and then he went back to the ambulance. So I went down in time to hear him finishing up with the medics and the cops (he'd gone to ride around the block with them to see if he could spot the guy). He had a cut on his temple where his wire glasses had gone into his face. He said he'd punched the mugger and run him off. Some folks on the street had called the cops.

I knew that people have been ripping off i-phones around here. One of the cops said they get 3-4 of those a day.

See, there were people out there watching the whole time. So much for my theory that living on a block with drug dealers making it safer b/c they're watching out. Unless of course this guy had come from some other neighborhood to do his mugging. Anyway, I convinced the yoga guy to come upstairs and have some water and make some calls. His glasses were broke and he was pretty upset and it turned out he lost a piece of them so then he got really upset. What a mess. I felt so horrible. I offered to drive him somewhere or get him a cab but then I felt too mother-y. And I barely know him. Ugh. Eventually, I walked him out and some people came up to us on teh sidewalk and were very sympathetic. Acted like they knew nothing about it, tho I'd seen them across the street watching the whole thing.

I texted him later to see if he was okay but I haven't heard anything. I'm starting to get worried but I also want to give him space.

What's the damned etiquette here? I was actually going to make it my last session b/c I actually can't afford this at all. As my friend from work said, "people who live in such sketchy neighborhoods have no business paying a private yoga teacher/physical therapist". Indeed. I was living in la la land there. But now, am I obligated to pay for a few more sessions? Or does he not want to come back b/c it's too freaky but doesn't want to admit it?

Oi vey.

Reporting in

2010-08-23T21:47:00.002-04:00

even though there's not much to report. It just so happens that I am in the mood to blog, for a rare change.

Knees are pretty bad -- they pinch, they stab, they ache, the stick (I'll describe that phenomenon some other time -- there must be words but I have to seek them out). Definitely bleeding again. The meds are working a bit better tho -- probably b/c I'm finally going to see the pain management doc on Wed.

That said, I did manage to go to Long Beach with the SO on Saturday. And, I had a delicious yoga practice with Golda, which more than made up for our Friday practice during and after which I felt nothing but sorry for myself -- Golda has such a strong and beautiful practice and she keeps getting better; whereas I get limpier and gimpier all the time. But I really am trying not to go there and to focus on, and be grateful for, the things I can do. Really, I am. Trying.

Anyway, I'm having better luck with western forms of physical activity these days, so the SO and I did a boxing workout yesterday afternoon, via his I-pod. It was kind of boring, but then I insisted we do it facing each other and that's when it got really fun. Kapow! Didn't seem hard at the time, but today I am totally sore!! Mainly in the torso, which means I was doing it at least partially right I think... Anyway, didn't affect the knee much b/c I had a decent day painwise, hanging around the house and banging my head against the desk getting my tenure dossier together (really, it's sheer hell but I will definitely spare those details).

So I've figured that I can walk about 3-5 blocks before I start limping. Unless the meds happen to be working. I'm gathering intel to relay to the new doc., you see. It's all getting categorized and calculated.

No backlash for my muckraking, btw! Kind of disappointed. Tho I will say that it was the most popular article on the site last week. Ahem. Now I need to turn it into a bigger article before summer ends in 6 days.

Okay, this is super boring. More when I got something juicier to report.

Happy Birthday 2 Knees

2010-08-19T22:43:00.002-04:00

Well, it wasn't much of a celebration. I've been in increasing pain for the past couple weeks -- really no break. Back and forth between weather burning and scar tissue catching. Today was the worst. I could barely walk by the end of the day. In fact, I bumped into the S.O. at the health food store and he glanced at me and immediately said "oh no". Limpy.

Pretty positive the bleed is getting worse. In fact, it feels very much like it did before the emobliziation. But here's the SILVER LINING:

it dawned on me today that the pain is very specific, very localized to the INSIDE of the right knee. This is excellent. Why? b/c I was bleeding on both the medial and lateral sides. We decided to fix the lateral side first. Which means it appears to be holding. Now we just need to fix the medial side. And then, perhaps, really and truly I might feel better.

The catch (so to speak) is that I have this suspicion that once again, the scope won't do it. Which will mean 2 more surgeries.

Funnily, the embolization doc happened to text me yesterday. Really strange, isn't it? "How are you" I texted back and filled him in (as much as one can in a text). He basically agreed that it needs to be scoped before he can go in and embolize. We have to do step A, cannot jump to B, in other words. Well, so be it. I really do feel for the first time in a long while that there might be a light at the end of this 2 year tunnel.

Meantime, b/c the painkillers have basically stopped working, the surgeon is insisting I go to a pain mgmnt doc. Have an appt. for this coming Wed. I have mixed feelings I must say -- part of me is worried that if I can't feel my pain, we won't know whether the next surgery works. But really I also know that it doesn't go like that. Meds just dull the pain, they don't take it away.

Plus, since I refuse to go on certain meds (the ones that make you dumb, um, less smart at least for awhile), my options are limited anyhow. Unless they decide to inject me with stuff. Anyway, there's no logical reason for me to back out of this appt. Besides, I'm back to not being able to really walk around or do much of anything w/out pain. It's like something's stabbing me every time I take a step. I know it's scar tissue getting pinched in the prosthesis. That's exactly what it feels like.

The key is to be able to heal relatively painlessly from the next surgery so I minimize the scar tissue that develops in response to pain. Thus, I must find a new drug. Blahblahblah.

Well, happy birthday knees. At the very least, I am not reliving the sheer hell of those first few months. Wow. I keep remembering back to that time -- in the hospital, and right after. The time I tried to take a sitting yoga class with the stroke patients and nearly fainted from the sheer agony of having to sit upright w/out legs elevated for more than 5 minutes. Pain like I could never have imagined. Almost constant. All concentrated on the right, problem side. Maybe the scarring went into overdrive and just can't downshift.

Enough theorizing for today, on to bed. Hopefully when the knees turn three I will be able to jump for joy.

News from the hood

2010-08-17T23:48:00.002-04:00

Last week, the PCP addict on our corner, who always says "hi beautiful" when I walk by took my hand and kissed it. Then he licked it. The next day he pulled out one of our shrubs -- all that's left are a couple bare branches and sat on the stoop trying to smoke the leaves.

What do you call a PCP addict? An angel dust head? A PCPer? Hmmm.

My story went up but so far, not much flack (kind of a let down after all that). It hasn't yet been 24 hours though.

Learned all kinds of cool new things from the yoga therapist dude. I think we'll call him yoga4sex, just for fun. I mean, cool in the way that certain weaknesses (i.e. my entire left leg) partly explain why I'm having so much trouble with the right.

But honestly, I had a super rough day pain-wise plus had to run all over the damned city to dr's appointments and meetings. Ended up in Battery Park at a table overlooking the moon-soaked NY harbor with an activist/colleague/friend, giggling about menopause and strategizing activist-wise.

So I'm buzzed in all kinds of ways and thoroughly exhausted and it's midnight.

Details on various things to follow.

Jersey Shore

2010-08-10T21:40:00.003-04:00

Just got back from 3 nights at the Jersey Shore. No sign of the situation, though. There is a situation brewing, however, having to do with my latest muckraking stint.

I can't reveal very much here w/out giving up my blogging anonymity (I know, I like to pretend that this blog can't be googled using my name -- humor me). I imagine that soon some pretty scary folks will be googling the hell out of me, as they will be not at all pleased by my news article coming out this week. Ya. I can't really write it out here but things are exciting and yes, kind of scary as these folks don't play around. More extremely vague details to come.

Back to the shore. The SO and I LOVE the beach. We ride the waves, jump them, leap onto one another's backs and mock them. We walk out onto the sand to look at stars and we become anal about making sure that we get to watch the sunset until the very last bits of pink fade to dusky gray. We do well together at the beach.

Unfortunately, this particular trip included my family so it was a bit tense at times. Luckily, we insisted on staying at our own hotel (everyone else was in a beach house about a 10 minute walk away). Honestly, it made for only semi sullen, teenager-y interactions (me, not the SO -- he only acts like that with his own parents).

I suppose the kicker was when my ma cornered me for a talk -- she'd like to call my surgeon, or come to the next surgery, so she can tell him that before she dies of cancer, she'd like to see my knees healed. Well, I suppose that would be the motivation he -- my dr, who for the past six surgeries has not charged me beyond the pittance my crappy insurance co. pays him -- has been waiting for.

And phew

2010-08-04T23:33:00.002-04:00

It was cyclical. Yesterday, the burning was lower than a simmer and today had nothing but the usual pre-rain pain and even then has not been so bad.

Good thing b/c a) had no time to really consider rearranging surgery date and b) found out I have to get a chest x-ray as part of my pre-op (waa -- means I'm over 40). Therefore, more pre op time required.

But mainly, PHEW. The pain is way more manageable now.

Meanwhile, yoga practice has been totally ho hum this week, but my guns rock if I do say so myself.

Had an amazing time at the speakeasy partly b/c I got to play my ipod for the whole bar (thanks broken down stereo) and mostly b/c I had a lovely time w/lovely friend and former shala mate, Golda and other former shala mate, Anthony. Yay for Wed. evening drinks and masturbatory music-listening. Yay for random subsiding of burning leg sensations.

Yay for having to wake up in 6.5 hours to work on muckraking deadline as neighbors smoke pot and cavort loudly in the courtyard below bedroom window. Yay for velvety-soft and humid summer evenings that relieve skin's thirst for greasy moisturizer. Yay for the fact that summer alone seems to obviate the need for sleep. Though it does also seem to inspire the unnecessary extension of blog posts.

Burning ring o' fire

2010-08-02T22:16:00.003-04:00

Despite all the bitching and moaning I've been doing this summer, the past week has made me look fondly on the weeks immediately preceding it. About 10 days ago, the burning sensation in my lower leg returned. It seems to be a precursor to weather changes and it feels like someone put a hot knife, or okay poker, inside the lateral side of my right leg -- from the knee down to the ankle. I'd say the toes but they go numb pretty soon after the burning starts. Today it began around 10 a.m. and is still going strong.

A few months ago the OS declared that it happens when scar tissue presses on a nerve. I never had it until the last surgery to stop the bleeding. But you see it went away in maybe May or June. So I'm thinking I must have dislodge some scar tissue? And the knee's been really swollen lately, weather changes make it swell more and just add more pressure, so...

Ugh. In any event, things seem to have gone from bad to worse during the past week. Which times perfectly with my ongoing obsession about whether I chose the best surgery date (I chose the later one in Sept. rather than going for August). I still think I had good reasons for my choice (there's a lot going on work-wise and it's just too stressful to add surgery to the mix). Besides, I keep thinking that the pain will get a little better again. These things are sort of cyclical, right?

Meantime, I was trying to take some proactive steps. I had another session with the yogi sex, I mean physical, therapist dude (he wrote an article for Men's Health about the joys of tantric sex -- did I mention that?). We worked more on my standing and my walking, which seems like such a good idea. More on that some other time. Then, I even did some energy-type work to remove any energetic blockages that might be preventing my healing. Really!! I'm just that desperate over here.

Though I suppose if I were really desperate I'd try some kind of anti inflammatory diet, which my sister kindly sent me, and which I violate on an hourly basis (calls for no sugar, tomatoes, coffee, alcohol, etc.). Honestly, I've been trying to work on the diet thing -- it does seem sort of ridiculous to eat about 10 servings of desert a day. I tried for 3 days last week, and I was so sorrowful I felt like someone had taken my heart and flattened it. I mourned the sugar I did not intend to eat. I grieved for it.

So, I've given up on that for the time being. Which reminds me that it's time for my pre-bedtime snack snack.

After this I really am out of fingers

2010-07-29T22:05:00.002-04:00

Made it back to the big, smelly city safe and sound having survived my technology deprived vacation. Phew. One day I was so endorphin-starved, I race-walked!

Spent yesterday and today going to dr's appts. Yesterday the SO accompanied me to the ol' knee doc's office. On the way back to the exam room, one of the nurses high-fived me "Melissa! You're looking pretty relaxed!" (hmm, maybe there is something to this "vacation" thing). Then, the doc actually air kissed me hello. Later, I introduced the receptionists and office manager to the SO. They are all so, super nice. Very warm and fuzzy over there.

Except that the upshot is that the knee is swollen and it's been really painful. Yesterday they both hurt like hell. The doc wasn't pleased. Neither was he happy to hear that my lower back really aches these days. He suspects I might be bleeding a little bit into the knee. Thinks he can fix it thru a scope this time (since it's probably bleeding a lot less than it was before when he couldn't fix it). And he can remove scar tissue, which I believe is really the cause of the pain. That will make surgery #10 (counting double knee surgeries only 1x).

The downside is that the scope might not help at all (removing scar tissue creates scar tissue and the cauterization might not hold again). But it shouldn't make things worse. Upside is it might take care of all the detritus in there once and for all. There's no choice for me. I can't live the way I'm living. It's way too much pain and honestly, it's been getting worse. It just hit me today when I started getting totally anxious and stressed about how I was going to get to the upper east side tomorrow w/out having to take any pain meds.(see below). I realized I'd had a little break from that particular level of stress for awhile. That it's back is not a good sign.

So it's a matter now of scheduling. I get to decide whether to do it in 3 weeks (yikes) or in about 7 weeks (yikes again -- who wants to wait that long?). The various reasons for doing it one time vs. the other are boring so I won't go into them.

One interesting thing was on the meds. According to the doc and his PA, they've been getting a lot of complaints from patients taking generic percocet and dilaudid, who say the meds don't work a lot of the time. HELLO!! Interestingly, they don't get the same complaints from people on vicodin. So he wants me to try the brand. He has a vague theory that the generic manufacturers mix in placebos to cut costs. That's one of the things I love about the doc -- he's so freaking cynical about the medical profession, it warms my heart.

Anyway, I took the new 'script to my friendly Harlem pharmacist (remember I go to the small business guy and here's why). He came out and described for me, in detail, some new procedure they're doing in San Francisco where they use a combo of animal tissue and stem cells to "replace" knees w/out implanting titanium. He said they've done about 4,000 of 'em. NOW THEY TELL ME?! Oh well. It's way too late for stem cells and me. Damn. He also went to great trouble to find out the cost of the brand for me. Turns out it's way too much $$ b/c he would have to order it only for me (none of his other clients use the brand). We compromised on the closest thing you can get to the brand, which is the manufacturer's own generic. The pharmacist has his only theory that the doc's patients are exaggerating their problems with the meds in order to get more of them, but I don't think that's it. First, many of the docs patients are in their 70s and I just don't think they're addict-types. Second, the vicodin-takers are not complaining and it's just as addictive as the others.

I write all this for those of you who rely on prescription meds and who think they are nuts when they suspect their generics don't work that well. Or that some batches work better than others. Or some pills. You're not alone!!!

Meanwhile, I've been in a huge funk ever since the appointment. I'm not sure why. I kind of wanted to get the green light for this next surgery -- I knew it had to happen and I'm eager to get it over with. But now the scheduling is a pain in the butt (I mean, don't get me wrong -- this will get me out of a meeting or two, not to mention some unappealing social engagements); then there's the pre-op, the stress of the days leading up to surgery, the pain on waking, even the damned IV. Then not knowing how long the recovery will take, the freaking stitches, etc. etc.

I know, I'm a whiner. I know. It could be soooo much worse. And at least there's hope that I might feel better at the end of it. I really am lucky about that. I don't know what my problem is. Crabby.

So over "vacation"

2010-07-25T17:10:00.002-04:00

Sitting on a bench outside the public library in New London, NH, getting my wifi fix. I drove 15 miles to get this connection! Aack. The first couple days were nice, and splendidly quiet but I am now bored out of my gourd. Speaking of which, I literally picked dinner from the garden last night. Except that I'm pretty sure I gathered bunches of weeds rather than lettuce and today I am not feeling so well.

Plus, and I haven't yet reported on this, but there's this gang war happening on our corner back in Harlem, NYC. It started around the 4th of July. Sometimes gunshots sounds like fireworks, but sometimes you can really tell which is which. That was the case the weekend after July 4th when someone was shot around the block.

In any event, this afternoon, I was picking blueberries out in the middle of freaking nowhere. And I do mean NOWHERE -- it's 2 miles up a dirt road on a mountain for chrissakes (this is where the SO's family has a several centuries old farmhouse that has never really been modernized and is becoming decidedly Grey Gardensesque, but I digress). Anyway, we hear rounds of fireworks? Gunshots? Either hunters or, well, hunters. Who the hell sets off fireworks on a mountainside after all?

So you see. What's the point of leaving NYC, really? I've canoed, I've walked up and down the dirt road (knees were not pleased), I've baked, the SO and I have had cocktails and watched the sun sink over the field. I've eaten so much fresh corn, I can't even stand the sight of yellow. One more day of this "hell", and we're back to our cement-covered lives. Perhaps we'll bring back some orange vests to wear around the hood.

The Anguish of Freedom

2010-07-20T22:21:00.004-04:00

20 minutes door to mat vs. 55-60 min. That's the time it took me to get to the two ashtanga shalas I shopped this week vs. my old place. Both new ones are on my subway line, on my side of Manhattan, and less than 1.5 miles south.

One of the shalas is owned by a woman who studied (part time) with my old teacher. She's lovely -- very soft and gentle and feminine. Her shala is in an old apartment with a bricked up fireplace and a pretty window, blond wood floors, flow-y curtains, nice smelling soap in the bathroom, a bag of some kind of snack with a sticky note on it "help yourself!". She herself is full of beatific smiles. When I told her that I skipped certain poses she replied "good for you!". There were 3-4 people in the room at any given time. She's just starting so she teaches many hours a day -- there are a lot of options for when to take the 20 minute journey from home to shala. And it's cheap.

Then, this morning, I went to the big, fancy yoga guy whose reputation is very well-known, he teaches at this super fancy studio that offers a zillion yoga classes, is entirely eco-friendly designed, with gorgeous facilities -- shower stalls, eco-fluffy towels, shampoo, hair gel, razors (the works!). I called yesterday and was transferred to a "yoga adviser" -- aka salesperson -- who put my name on a guest list and let me try out a class for free. The room was crowded (which is mostly bad but a little good b/c a. some incredibly advanced practitioners who are fun to watch and b. more people = more energy (yes, I wrote that)). For the first 35 minutes, I hated it and thought, no way. Nope. Never. But then the teacher came over and spent A LONG time talking to me and trying different things. He has a very specific philosophy on skipping poses, which made sense to me. He had a lot of good things to say.

This studio is not that expensive either, and it's the same distance as the other one, more or less. The fancy teacher also has a couple afternoon classes, where I think the vibe is very different and you get even more attention...

On the third hand, there's G., who was my teacher for a good 8 years, has taught me tons, and who thanked ME when I left to get the knees replaced, for giving him so much. Plus the E. Village (where I rarely go otherwise), the walk thru Tompkins Sq. Park, the hushed room painted in a deep scarlet hue. The fact that some days I can drive there. Plus, it's the only one of the three that has the lighting right -- the other two are so, super bright, it's distracting.

I know, right? If only this was the most pernicious and difficult thing in my life? Deciding which ashtanga studio to return to! Esp. after spending years in exile with no ashtanga teacher at all!

Oh, if only life were just this tough and I hadn't spent my evening working in Staten Island with communities suffering from mega doses of toxins, plus unemployment, and discrimination and bad health care access, etc., etc.

I'm actually not very stressed about the yoga decision. After the day I've had -- between yoga and Staten Island, there was a ride to Queens and then another ride out to Long Island for a meeting, distressing family calls, and workworkwork -- I really can't get twisted up (haha) about this decision. Esp. since it's probably still best for the knee (which is killing me, thanks to the aforementioned activities of the day) not to practice at all...

All this is to say that the REAL "if only", is "if only I could blog about my SPECTACULAR, FABULOUS, once in a lifetime night on Saturday" then my readers would not by now, have dropped off to sleep, or long-ago abandoned me for a weather site or the TV listings.

Paranoia & Etc

2010-07-16T23:07:00.003-04:00

I got a little paranoid that I'd mentioned something in my last post w/out checking to see whether it was kosher. Oops. Will find out tomorrow and either post with MORE DETAIL or leave the issue shrouded in mystery (except for those who bothered to read the blog this past week). Some of you might have to CALL ME to find out what happens regarding roofs and museums this weekend (Laura, ahem, I miss you too!).

Otherwise, the new yoga dude came over early Wed. morning. He knows a lot of stuff and overwhelmed me with technical terms for various muscles and tendons and anatomically-related things. Here are some basic nuggets tho:
1. He thinks my hardware is fine but my "software" is #$#@'d up.
2. In other words, my right leg is twisted -- the foot goes one way, the foreleg goes one way, the upper leg another -- a veritable lightening bolt.
3. This will lead to hip and back issues (and already is).
4. Again, yoga can be the worst thing a westerner can do to themselves (why do I love repeating that?)
5. There is hope to straighten out the leg, but can't be done all at once.
6. Amazing to me was that all we did was to work on my getting the right leg aligned and straight, while standing and sitting. And it's soooo hard!! I cannot keep my foot straight and balanced and engage my hamstring at all, especially when standing. So the hams need a lot of work but it's more about stability then building the muscle.
7. In fact, he mentioned that although my arm muscles are nicely toned and even "pop" when flexed (thank you very much), I am totally lacking in muscular stability. Whatever that means, it sounds right to me.

There was a lot more -- he stayed for an hour and a half and by the time he left I could do a deep squat, holding onto the sink, w/no pain and using my hams and quads simultaneously, with feet straight -- 5x and then I got tired.

Mainly, it finally became clear to me why standing hurts so damned much -- I stand on the joint, rather than using the muscles to hold me up. I knew that, but now I know why (b/c I'm not using my hamstrings to help hold me up).

But of course, there's a hitch. The guy ain't free and he ain't cheap. In fact, I doubt I'll be able to swing more than 1-2 further sessions. Oh well. Sucks b/c the knees had one helluva terrible week. They actually hurt more right after my session but then calmed down for one whole wonderful hour, enabling me to walk nearly 20 blocks at once, with only a few complaints here and there. That was kind of a miracle. But also might have had to do with the fact that it had finally rained. Rest of the week has been humid, swollen and downright painful. Also addled, for several reasons, all related to the weather (at least that's my story and I'm sticking to it).

Hopefully, soon (as in tomorrow) I'll write a far more interesting post w/photos of my upcoming adventure. Til then forgive the hohumness. I will conclude by saying that not having A/C in a summer such as this one makes for a comprehensive and almost no-fail excuse for everything, including (I've just decided) boring blog posts.

2 good things

2010-07-12T21:59:00.003-04:00

1. I went to the top of the Met (museum) on Friday night for cocktails. They open the roof on Fri/Sat evenings in the summer and it's fantastic. Crowded, but fantastic. This year it's also got this funky bamboo installation up there. You can climb it but you have to stand in line forever or make reservations way far in advance. Nonetheless, Friday evening was splendid -- warm breezes, fluffy clouds, overpriced beer, the whole of Central Park + the skyline spread out before us. Magic.

So I mentioned it to the ladies at my spinning class the next morning. They socialize a lot and have been asking me to join them for months, but I'm always working (they often go drinking after class), but that's another story. Anyway, it turns out that the instructor's husband is .....[DELETED FOR NOW} So now, I'm going this weekend!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! How amazingly cool is that???!!!

2. I wound down my vinyasa yoga odyssey on Thurs. last week with a Therapeutic Yoga class at Yogaworks. You might think I ought to have been going to such classes for the past two years. And you might be right. So the teacher was giving this spiel at the beginning of class about how your body creates it's own slings and protects various parts from past pain, sometimes forever. Then before we know it, we're compensating all over the place and are twisted and uneven, etc. Your body is like a sailboat -- when one part blows one way, all the other parts have to react somehow to keep it going. He also said even so, everyone's uneven and we need to learn to work with our unevenness. There was something about it, that got me choked up. Really. The rest of the class was okay -- many parts of it weren't right for my knees actually. But we did work a lot on standing and I've been very concerned about that for awhile now. I can't really keep myself up unless I lock my metal knees and I'm always pitched forward b/c of it. Can't be good. For the first time, I had some hope that someone could really, knowledgeably help me figure out how I can continue to practice yoga w/out causing myself harm.

You see, the physical therapists don't know much about yoga (especially ashtanga) and most yoga teachers I've seen (and I've worked with quite a few) don't know a whole hell of a lot about anatomy -- sure, they have to learn the basics to get certified but it's pretty basic. I've never, ever met one that "got" my knee problems. Esp. now that I don't even have some of the major tendons, ligaments, menisci that are the cause of most students' discomforts.

I chatted with the dude afterward and he thought I looked familiar from the VERY OLD days of yoga at the first Jivamukti on 2nd Avenue! In fact, I think he taught for awhile w/my old teacher, Guy. Anyway, he's all fancy now - he and his wife do this line of videos for yoga zone or something. But he does privates, at your home (excellent for me given my subway issues) for a small fortune. Although, he did say that he had a sliding scale that starts at Park Avenue and hopefully slides down substantially by the time it gets to Harlem. He also said I might just need a half hour once a month to work on some stuff and check in.

In any event, I schedule an hour w/him here at the hot homestead at 8 a.m. Wed. morning.

Who wears short shorts?

2010-07-09T09:17:00.002-04:00

This summer, I do. Not on the subway or walking around -- just at the gym or at yoga. You see, my knees are still pretty gnarly. The left looks okay, it just has interesting scar patterns -- both are about 8", forming an uneven Y, with one side much more red than the other. The multiple 'scope sites are barely visible.

The right knee, on the other leg, is a bit scary. It's generally the same size as, or bigger than my quad (let alone the lower leg) with a very pink scar going straight up the middle. Four pink 'scope sites punctuate either side of the scar like dime-sized splashes of color against too-pale-for-summer skin. Oh yeah, that leg is also kind of bowed in. Someone told me yesterday it looked like my hardware wasn't straight. But more on that later.

So I'm still a bit sheepish. But here's the upside: it's kind of fun to see people's reactions. Some avert their eyes. Some just stare. Some shake their heads. Some nod their heads at me (esp. when I'm doing some kind of modification move). Some mumble "surgery". Generally, I've decided that although my knees might really make the weak-stomached want to look away quickly (I'm actually one of those people) and are thus in a way, violating some kind of code of discretion, they do elicit some sympathy. And I guess my love of/craving for sympathy right now outweighs my sense of decorum and public decency.

If I'm taking a class, the instructors finally GET IT and stop telling me to turn up my resistance or try harder to do a lunge. In yoga, they will sometimes come over and say, "no, no, don't do this one." My trainer (yes, I got this deal at the gym and have been working on upper body stuff) just frowns over my knee and asks every 2 minutes, "doing okay?"

But perhaps the biggest thing is that when I'm done with my workout and desperate to be able to sit on the bench while I change clothes, now people make room for me! I really ought to try the shorts on the subway/bus, esp. during rush hour.

Hmmm...

Moving Day

2010-07-05T21:55:00.002-04:00

Last week, I went to DC to give a talk at the EPA and then Metro'd out to Maryland to help my parents move out of the house I grew up in, where they lived for 41 years.

For a few months, people have been asking how I feel about this moving business -- I gave it a lot of thought and I honestly felt pretty good about it. On a practical level, my mom is only going to get sicker and I really would not have wanted to deal with this after she's gone. Plus, the winter was hard on them and (this is projection) I can't imagine why my father, who's going on 79, would want to live in a place with so many stairs.

But truth be told, most of my childhood memories are not so pretty and I've been trying especially hard this year to get past them. So I have been looking forward to another opportunity to do that, even if it's only metaphorically.

On moving day, my job was to oversee the packing up of the old place while my mom readied the new place. After awhile, there wasn't much to do. I ended up spending the last half hour alone in my old room, sitting on my bed (no longer a canopy). I listened to some of the old songs on my Ipod (I say it again -- thank God for the Ipod!) and tried to see what else there was besides the scary, nasty stuff.

And then I remembered the many hours I spent crammed into the narrow space between bed and bookcase, dropping stylus onto vinyl, playing the same songs over and over -- OMD, Yaz, The Assembly, The Action Design, U2, REM, Let's Active. My earliest memory is of waking up in my old room, I'm pretty sure I was still in my crib. And of course, all the times with friends pretending my canopy bed was a pirate ship or setting up endless Barbie scenarios with my sisters. Ditching lunch period to sneak home and raid the liquor cabinet before AP English class (yes, we did that -- why, I have no idea -- the funny part is that my parents moved the same watered down liquor bottles they've been harboring for 23 years). I had the odd parents-out-of-town party (as some of my blog readers can attest), and, on summers home from college, snuck in a boy or two. Fireflies and kick the can. So much normalcy amid the chaos.

Once the movers finished, my dad and sister sat in the car while I did the last once-over. I walked thru every room and sifted thru the dust bunnies for a couple of good memories. I dropped them in my pocket and swept the rest out into the backyard where they scattered like gnats on a humid summer day.

Yoga Drive-bys

2010-06-27T21:53:00.002-04:00

A PT once told me that yoga would be "the last activity" I could return to. So much contorting and uncontrolled, unstable movements for someone with slow growing quads. I'm back now to full spinning classes and 25 consecutive minutes on the elliptical (and I can walk afterwards!). I am fine doing my own little yoga practices at home and sometimes don't have to ice right after. In fact, I'm itching -- nope, scratching -- to get out and practice outside the damned apt. But, every time I do some version of a primary series (my beloved practice of choice), it just feels iffy. I never feel really great after, just kind of shaky and like I need either to ice after all, or like I just dodged a bullet. It's just not really a practice for someone with funky knees. Too much repetition of movements that just don't feel right. Combine that with the time it takes to get down to my shala and the fact that it's an early morning kind of a deal, and well I've been shopping for a new practice.

In Atlanta, I went to a beginner's Iyengar class. Not bad -- good attention to alignment, of course, which I need. But talk about OCD! I like all that detailed instruction but enough is enough. At a certain point, aren't you supposed to just feel the practice? Plus it's all jerky and stop/start-y and by the end, you've got a mountain of props next to you which no one wants to put away... Plus, so restrictive -- you really cannot do a shoulder stand w/out blankets no matter how well you know your own neck.

THen I went to a Bikram class nearby in E. Harlem. Very challenging (super sore for like 4 days, which I love of course). I actually took it kind of easy but honestly thought I was going to faint and/or puke the entire time. The room was 115 degrees. I do not lie. They are hard core in NYC.

In Portland, I did some vinyasa classes. Nice and flow-y and at times so challenging that I might as well have been in an aerobics class. But the teacher was not very careful in her instruction and my own OCD really likes to know what's coming next. Left all limpy and unhappy.

Now I signed up for some intro deal at a YogaWorks -- the Gap of yoga, if you will. They offer all kinds of different classes, 60-75 minutes usually, supposedly geared towards different levels. I took one "Ishta" class on Friday. Snore. Except for the part where I put myself into way too deep of a janu-A.

Actually, we'll call it science. I've long suspected that was one of the reasons my knee did not heal -- I was trying to do Janu-A when it really freaking hurt. AND, I was letting my teacher "adjust" (read: push) me in it. Stuck on the fact that I think of it as an "easy" pose and one that I always loved. Times, they have a-changed. I could barely walk on Friday night. Well, now I guess I know. Janu and I have got to call it quits. Maybe we can see other poses and get back together in a few years...

Today I went to a flow class that was supposed to be short and intense. Snore again. UGH! How do people go to yoga classes when they just don't know what's coming next -- something nice and juicy, or something totally boring, or something that only vaguely resembles an asana?

Harumph.

I guess the good news is that I am feeling up to trying classes at all. Yep. That is the good news. Damn good news, when you think about it..

Corny Confession

2010-06-21T20:34:00.003-04:00

Okay so I was at the gym this evening and that syrupy and (to me) annoying song, "New York" came on -- you know the Alicia Keys/Jay-Z song that played literally non stop during the World Series last year? The one that I thought if I never heard again, I'd die a happy camper? Well I never saw the video which isn't necessarily spectacular, but for some reason I got all choked up and goose bump-y over it. I think it was the little split-second part where Jay-Z is by the 9-11 memorial and crosses himself. Reminded me how fiercely I love this stinky and cacophonous city. I always liked it well enough, but had your typical mixed and ambivalent feelings, until the aftermath of 9-11 which made me feel very lioness-like in my pride in, and protectiveness of, NYC.

I know, cliche, hackneyed. Sorry.

Actually, I used to get the very same choked-up feeling when winding down the ramp of the old Yankee Stadium as they played Sinatra's "New York, New York." Assuming the new stadium will generate the same kind of ferklempt-ness though I might be getting choked up at the thought of all those small business owners displaced by the Yankee's boundless avarice and greed, not to mention the fact that my tax dollars paid for the majority of that stadium (in the form of tax breaks, amenities and direct subsidies) so they could charge $11 for a bottle of water, but I digress...

Funny thing is that I really liked Portland despite the fact that I could barely walk around it (or maybe because it was just out of reach and pain-inducing?)

But I wouldn't want to live there. Nope, nowhere else, not me. Nowhere but this wacko, cement-covered, obnoxious, stressed out, sticky, dirty, crowded, claustrophobic, blaring city. My home sweet home.