Step Away from Those Machines!

I am in a strange universe these days, a little narc'd up and not quite sure of what is safe to do. Escalating spinal pain (building-the-pyramids-long-story) has kept me from my sewing machine, my computer (except now) and anything else that requires a reasonably sound mind and sober judgement. Pain meds are a godsend, but lousy for productivity.  A delayed procedure (hey, even doctors go on vacation) finally took place two days ago so I'm hobbling around trying to stay out of trouble.  Case in point - yesterday I was sitting at my computer trying to read email and send some work-related info when I started telling my computer to copy and paste. Oh I was doing it with my mouse, but speaking it out loud as if that was the way it actually got done. When I realized what I was doing I just shut down the computer and walked away.  To my sewing room. Thankfully, when I realized that picking up a razor-sharp rotary cutter and/or sewing anything together would have equally bad results, I went further down the hall to my bedroom and just listened to books on tape. Whew.
 Today I decided I would just tidy up my sewing room, a low-impact activity that seems safe, right?  But here's the thing about drugs -  when taking them, you do not have an accurate reading on how you are feeling or functioning. (Or if you are functioning accurately!) Frankly, I shouldn't even be writing this blog right now, I might say something incredibly stupid like "opiates are a gift" when in fact...... they are a godsend. Mr. Mackey would disagree - I keep hearing his voice in my head when my timer beeps to remind me of the next dose. I'm doing well and was told this post-procedure pain will resolve itself within seven days. Seriously?  Seriously.  Thank heavens I have the best husband/sherpa/humorist on the planet, and Mr. Mackey to guide me:

Guaranteed-to-Scare-You Halloween

Want to know the scariest thing about this Halloween? Aging.  I was rummaging through my digital files looking for a good Halloween image to use in a project when I came across this x-ray of my back.  Yup, it's for reals. I had a spinal fusion for scoliosis at 16 and they threw in a Harrington rod for good (straightening) measure. It was state of the art in 1974 but today could easily be featured as a prop in a horror movie.

It's been a rough year.  I've been undergoing spinal injections to remedy pinched nerves and collapsed discs (see the red, non-smiley face) to determine if/when/which/where to approach with a surgical intervention.  This was complicated by a bad fall & a wrist sprain that keeps giving me grief.  (I had 3 separate people tell me, "You should have broken it, it would heal faster.") Roll that all up into a ball and nest it with feuding PMS & menopause and you have some idea of why my romantic 23rd wedding anniversary dinner left me a little weepy.  As we drove home we talked about all the people who filled our house the night before the wedding and how many of them were now missing, waiting for us on the "other side."  As we pulled in to the driveway and got out of the car, I felt that familiar catch of pain in my lower back. Joe immediately caught my arm and walked me up the front steps.  When we got inside I burst into tears and said, "I feel like I'm aging before my own eyes!"  to which Joe replied, "Yeah, with a bullet!"  Thankfully, it broke the tension and I had a good, long laugh. No one can call it like Joe - he's the "glass half full" anchor in my life.

So the treatments continue and we've made  progress to the point where I can actually sit comfortably. I am ready to get back to my sewing soon, even if it's just hand sewing and  making hexagons. I always feel better when I'm at the Bernina, or cutting up new fabric, or whipping a binding on to a quilt.   It feeds my soul, I like the creative process, and it makes me feel like I have accomplished something wonderful. Best of all -  I get to make another baby quilt! My wonderful niece and god-daughter, Katie, is due in the spring.  I like sewing for a new little life.  It puts the whole aging thing into perspective and motivates me to push through the bumps and dips because the  view from the heights is all that much better. Maybe that is the secret to growing old gracefully - as hard as it is to keep patching up the old body, it's worth it a thousand times over when you experience the world with so much wisdom and experience - and love - in your lenses.

Contemplating Ceilings

I feel like indulging myself in  some really selfish whining so if you can't handle it just  bail right now. It's my blog and I'll bitch if I want to -- and I want to.

I have spent an unfair amount of my life staring at ceilings, namely the drop  ceilings found in doctor's offices.  I have had  a LOT of surgery over the years so I am something of  a connoisseur of ceiling construction, examination garments (paper and cloth) and the accoutrement that goes with yet another trip to the doctor to see what-the-hell-is-wrong-this-time.

My most favorite ceiling was in the OB/GYN offices of my beloved and much missed Dr. Rose Osborne.  Rose was not only a hell of a surgeon, but for a "cutter" she had a great sense of humor. Rose always had pictures on the ceiling so you had something to enjoy and contemplate while your feet were in the stirrups.  God I loved that woman - and I miss her dearly.  Cancer often takes the best from this earth and I'm getting a seriously bad attitude about the "why" of it all.

Most hospital or doctor's offices have dropped ceilings with or without the little black dots.  I have counted those dots many times while waiting for a doctor, physician assistant, EMG, EKG, MRI, X-ray,  or any one of the endless round of procedures I seem to have on my chart.  A few ceilings have that textured popcorn stuff that is pretty droll and gives you nothing but endless craters to contemplate as you prepare yourself for what comes next.  I'm surprised that no one has thought to put a flat screen on the ceiling so you could watch a movie or take in a sitcom - have a few laughs while you get tubes and electrodes stuck into places where the sun don't shine.  It sure would make a difference. Hell, it would make a huge difference. The pharmaceutical companies should cough up some serious bucks for those things instead of the wine-and-dine golf outings and  BS they pay for now.

I feel at this point I have earned my own examination  gown (they call them a "johnny" out here) that I could whip out of my totebag and put on with some aplomb.  I'd certainly make it out of some attractive print, maybe a Kaffe Fassett, so I could at have something  pleasurable to wrap up in for the duration. (The bleached out drab greens and blues are  surgical and so depressing.  I'm just sayin' . )   As for the ceilings - well, hell - would a little something up there bankrupt your practice?  I don't think so.   I'm not asking for the Sistine Chapel (although a poster of it up there would be a pisser)  but is it really asking too much to tack something up there so those of us trapped in a tarp with three armholes can have a little something to look at while we ponder what  orifice or vein is next to be violated?

I have an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon this morning at a sports medicine clinic.  I can't wait to see what they have on the walls.   Judging by the age of the building,  I can  tell you right now the ceilings are going to have fluorescent light fixtures with  those cracked ice lenses.   There will be pictures of patients shooting a basketball, or back on their slalom skis swooshing about with "thanks Doc!" penned across the bottom.   I'll bet anybody $100 that  their ceilings are bare of any posters, much less one of a  50- something  female with a spinal fusion from scoliosis gone to hell-in-a-hand basket.  Any takers?

I didn't think so.