Open Wide

When I moved to Sacramento a couple of years back (!), I had to get new doctors, hair cutter, manicurists, and of course a dentist.  Naturally I went with the dentist my sister's family has been using forever.  His office is full of friendly staff people, and he's a real charmer as well.  Also does follow up calls after detailed procedures, just to check on you.  I'm a little ashamed to say it, though, but I suspect he is doing more work than is called for.  I have sunk more dollars into my teeth with him that I ever did with my other dentist, whom I saw for 30 years.

It could be that I'm getting older and the ol' teeth need more looking after.  He replaced a couple of 40 year old fillings in my molars, good enough.  Then he said he thinks I grind my teeth at night and recommended buying a bite plate for sleeping.  First time I'd ever heard that.  So, because my insurance doesn't cover the plate, I paid out of pocket.  He then recommended that I get my teeth coated to help prevent further cavities and cracks.  Again, insurance didn't cover it so I did - at 40 bucks a tooth.

The last time I saw him he said I had some small surface cavities at the gum line around a couple of teeth, so he took care of those.  I hadn't been experiencing any pain, but if he said their were cavities, okay.  Now he wants to do fillings at the gum line on the other side.  Again, I'm not feeling any discomfort there at all, so I told him I'd think about it.  Now I'm dodging phone calls from his office to remind me I need this procedure and to please schedule.  I don't think I need fillings, but what do I know?  I've been thinking of getting a check-up with another dentist to get a second opinion, but I doubt insurance would cover that.

I hate questioning his motives.  Maybe my old dentist was not a good one, and that's why I only had cleanings 99.9% of the time.  I'm really good about oral hygiene.   I just don't know.  One of these days I'm going to have to answer to him as to why I don't want my fillings done.  Wasn't coating my teeth meant to prevent new cavities?  Why didn't he spot these small cavities before when I had my other checkups?  I don't want to insult the man, but neither do I want to submit to unnecessary procedures.  What's a girl to do?

Forks Over Knives

You want a powerfully persuasive argument against eating meat and dairy?  See this movie. 

I eat meat and dairy, and I love it.  As I age, however, I'm looking at health strategies that will keep me fit and even reverse the ill affects of my diet thus far.  I want to stay vital as long as I possibly can.

I don't eat much fast food.  I don't eat a lot of processed foods, but sometimes I get the urge for a bag of chips or cheetos, or even a McDonald's hamburger (the plain one, the itty bitty one).  And I love Gelato.  Really. Love. It.

I've known the ill health effects of our American way of diet for 35 years after reading Diet for a Small Planet.  I began a vegetarian diet that lasted maybe a year.  Peer pressure brought me back to eating meat.  It was just so much easier to eat what everyone else was eating.

But once again I am faced with my concerns about health, both my own and that of the planet.  In addition, I do look at the amount of suffering of innocent animals in the production of our food.  I've turned a blind eye for a long time, knowing the horrors of meat production, but not wanting to see the truth of it because, gosh, it may change my carefully ordered set-up. 

I ordered the cookbook, with 300 recipes for all seasons.  Gonna give it shot.  Gonna cook it for family meals and see how it goes over.  The documentary is on instant streaming on Netflix.  I highly recommend it, especially if you are skeptical about a plant-based diet.

I'll keep you updated how how it goes for me and my family.  Will we become converts?  Stay tuned.

Cold. Day Six.

Cold.  Day Six.

Yogi Throatcoat tea this morning read, "The purpose of life is to enjoy every moment."  Cruel sonsabitches.

How can I possibly feel worse today than when this started?  I felt pretty good yesterday, ran a few errands and went to a concert.  Thank goodness for the respite.

When I get sick, I get down.  Life becomes very small and isolated.  Thank goodness for books.  I just started (and am halfway through) Wild by Cheryl Strayed.  Yes, it was one of the Oprah book club books, but never mind.   It's the memoir of a young woman whose life is in a mess and she decides to hike the Pacific Crest Trail.  A newbie to backpacking, she had chosen a doozey of a trail to hike.  Mistakes were made.  Lessons learned.  Her description of the landscape makes me feel as if I am out there with her.  I've done a fair amount of backpacking in my life, and I miss it.  Her writing brings it all back to me, and is a great escape from the common cold.

Inspiring Laughs

Last night I was watching a series of 20 TED talks, called Smart Laughs.  The presentations were funny and in some cases, endearing.  One fellow by the name of Ze Frank is crazy passionate about connecting with humans on the internet.  He does a lot of collaborative projects over the internet.  The one that really got me excited was The Chill Out Song, and the story behind it.  It's an example of the power of connection and community, and that connection is no less powerful because it takes place over the internet instead of face to face.  I encourage you to read the story behind the song, and then take listen.  I think you'll be delighted.

He also has a web project called "Young Me/Now Me" where people send in childhood photos and re-enact them as adults.  Some are quite touching, especially scenes with babies and parents.

I admire the way this guy plays.  We all need more play in our lives.  We need to chill out, relax, drop the story line, and laugh a lot.  Comedy looks like a lot of fun, but I also know it's a lot of work.  Just ask my friend Linda Lou.   By the way, her very funny book "Bastard Husband" is available at Amazon in either book form or Kindle.  I've now read it twice, and it's a page-turner that is difficult to put down.  Her life was a train wreck (mostly thanks to her husband) and it is fascinating to watch her process from victim wife to self-possessed Las Vegas stand-up comic. 

She proves that you're never too old to make the life you want, instead of the life you happen to find yourself in.

Do you believe it? 

I've recently made some changes, leaving behind old habits that don't serve me well.  Today the sirens sent their hypnotic song out to me...and nearly brought me crashing into the rocks.  Like Odysseus I lashed myself to the mast by keeping busy in the kitchen and listening to some kick ass music.  Now, not only do I have a batch of delicious almond cookies and dinner in the oven, I have the great good fortune to feel positive and proud of myself.  And I give all credit to "The Chill Out Song." 

Thank you, Ze.

Less Is More

this is what 146 lbs. looks like on a 5'6" frame that is me.  This represents a 109 pound loss.  The last 17 lbs. came off only this year.  Through no apparent change in my eating and exercise.  Go figure.  The last time I weighed 146 I was 21 and I thought I was exceedingly fat.  I was a recovering anorexic.

It feels terrific to have the extra weight off.  It's just easier to move, to breathe, to fit into clothes I actually like.  To feel attractive.  (Yes, it still matters.)

Now I'm going to see if my insurance company will pay to have the extra skin taken off my stomach, and the adjust my breasts upward.  It all looks like elephant skin, and if it looks like this at 55, I shudder to think what 65 will bring.  When I had my mammogram a few months ago, the tech almost gasped, and then asked how much weight I'd lost.  She commented she knew I'd lost a lot by the condition of my skin and my exceedingly sagging breasts.  A real morale booster, that technician.  So, oaths to no plastic surgery ever -- be damned!

Welcome to the Club

I received the great news yesterday from my surgeon that my knee replacement recovery is going exceedingly well.  He decided not to send me to outpatient rehab since I'm doing so well on my own.  Which means, I need to keep up with my exercises at home to strength the leg/knee as well as ensure flexibility.

I am now off pain meds, which just a week ago I would have found impossible.  But my body turned some kind of corner, and here I am.

I can now walk unassisted, though when out in public I use my cane, mainly so that people don't bump into me.  Sometimes the sight of a cane will actually slow people down and make them mindful about how and where they are traveling so quickly.

Using my cane in public has put me into a 'club' of sorts.  All kinds of older folks see my cane and say something about it, like, "Welcome to the club!" and "Look at us with our sticks!"  Inevitably we get into a conversation as to what led to the use of our sticks.

It's a convivial little club - people who have slowed down due to circumstances, and who enjoy stopping for a little chat in the busy rushing world.  People walk around us, looking slightly annoyed that we're taking up their space in this way.  They've got things to do, dammit. 

I just finished reading Anna Quindlen's Lots of Candles Plenty of Cake.  It's a great read, her memoir, in which she discusses her feelings about aging, society's concepts of aging, and growing more into herself.  Which, if you're lucky, this is what age will do for you: help you become more of yourself. 

Of course, with age comes a host of physical challenges.  My knee problems were not age related, but rather accident related.  Post traumatic arthritis.  The other knee is just fine, thankyouverymuch.  And yet, with my arthritis and then surgery, I was for a time transported into the future and joined the oldsters club prematurely.  Welcomed by all, but still, all in good time.

The Dance of Connection

Here I am on a typical week night (and often weekend evenings).  I don't know what I'd do without books.  I have several going at one time, always.

As I posted a few days ago, I'm on a quest of sorts and have been blazing through self-help books.  Isn't there a better name for them?  Psychology and Human Behavior tomes?  The latest is Harriet Lerner's The Dance of Connection.  It's about the verbal challenges of life's most painful conversations -- speaking your truth in a way that owns your feelings without devaluing the other person, but still, knowing what your values are and what your bottom line is.  It's available on Kindle and I am making so many highlights that I might as well go ahead and highlight the whole darned thing.  The book is reinforcing the others I've been reading about self-knowledge, intimacy and authenticity. 

Lerner is a Psychotherapist who has many "Dance" books under her belt: The Dance of Anger, The Dance of Intimacy, The Dance of Deception and The Mother Dance.  This is the first I've heard of her, and I can't even remember how I found out about this book.  It's all a blur.

If you love books as much as I do, go on over to Mountain Musings and see what NC Mountainwoman has to recommend.  She's never steered me wrong, and she's got some great reads lined up. 

BTW, I'm equally enamored of books that are printed on paper as I am of books on Kindle or other readers.  One of the things I like about Kindle is that I've got all the books stored there, I can go back quickly and see the books I've read.  That's helpful for me, as I tend to have a rotten memory and can't remember book titles or authors!  I also love going to our little neighborhood library with my folks and checking out a giant stack of books.  Seriously.  We check out about 10 books every 2 weeks.  My parents are avid readers as well.  Must be where I got it.

Recovering

Whew, well, the staples came out of my leg today.  Or rather were taken out by a nurse.  Luckily the procedure can be done at home, saving me a whole lot of aggravation.

Those were some stubborn stapes, and I did my fair share of wincing and "ouching."  Poor nurse, she kept apologizing, which got annoying in itself.   I told her, "That's okay, just keep doing what you're doing, I just need to emote!"

I often wonder during my rehab and recovery what it would have been like if I'd had this surgery a decade from now -- which is when the docs like to recommend it.  But the knee, and I, just couldn't put up with the pain anymore, so I pushed for replacement surgery after all other avenues had been exhausted.  And boy, I am glad I did.  I'm having a good and relatively swift recovery, and I belief it is in large part because I am 55 and in better health than someone later in life.  I hope this replacement will last me 15 - 20 years, and then I can re-evaluate.  But to have waited for another decade to get to the magic ideal number for replacement would have been a death sentence.  I have too much to do, too much life to live to be crippled by a painful knee that didn't function properly.

I'm also learning what so many told me: stay current on your pain meds and manage that pain.  I tried one day cutting back just to see if I could function on less, and yes, I could, but function in great pain and with decreased mobility.  So, back onto the prescribed amount and schedule.  Calm down, I'm not going become an addict.

To celebrate getting this thing done, I went on-line to LL Bean and bought a pair of hiking boots.  Sweet!  The thought of walking along a trail this fall on my new knee thrills me no end.

Happy Tuesday everyone.

The Gifts of Imperfection

From Brene Brown's book, a very though-provoking bit of words that bolster my own thinking over the last several years since early retirement:

The same gremlins that tells us we're too busy to play and waste time fooling around are the ones that whisper:

• One more hour of work!  You can catch up on your sleep this weekend.
• Napping is for slackers
• Push through. You can handle it.

But the truth is, we can't handle it.  We are a nation of exhausted and overstressed adults raising over scheduled children.  We use our spare time to desperately search for joy and meaning in our lives.  We think accomplishments and acquisitions will bring joy and meaning, but that pursuit could be the very thing that's keeping us so tired and afraid to slow down.

Making the choice to rest and play is, at best, counterculture.  The decision to let go of exhaustion and productivity as badges of honor made total sense...to me....

What if we're normal and quiet and happy? Does that count?
I guess the answer to this is only yes if it counts to us.  If what matters to us is what we're concerned about, then play and rest is important.  If what matters to us is what other people think of say or value, then it's back to exhaustion and producing for self-worth.  Today, I choose play and rest.

I'm with you, Ms. Brown.  I like to envision a nation where more people adopted this style of living, where calm and stillness are practices to be inspired by.  Where how many cell phones, laptops, ipads and other devices are not indicative of how busy and important you are.  Working 7 days a week is insane and inhuman.  Yet many people to do this to "get ahead" in their organization.  But really, does your organzation need your talents if you are burned to a crisp from stress?

I know people who brag about going to work when they are very ill -- look how tough I am, look how valuable to the company I am.  I risk my health and well-being to serve these people in order to advance in the group.  This is some kind of craziness, if you ask me.

What a different place this country would be if we all put the breaks on, and public service announcements encouraged napping, spending time with friends and family, and showcased playtime as admirable attributes to a life well-lived.

What a Hospital Looks Like

I don't know if you've ever had a stay in a hospital -- bless you if you haven't, and double bless you if you have.

Regular readers here know that I've spent a fair amount of time testing the limits of hospital ERs, ICUs, Telemetry, and General Medicine.  Mysterious illness seem to love me.  And then there are the not so mysterious kind: Type I Diabetes, Asthma, and bodily injury.

My most recent stay was a week ago today to have my arthritic left knee replaced with some fancy metals and plastics.  Onward, Recovery!  So good to be at home, and while my care consists mostly of family members bringing me food and water on a regular basis, I am on my own.  I'm mostly confined to bed, so I can't wash laundry, make up the bed, etc. etc.  Even with these inconveniences I feel like a gosh darn queen compared to what I felt like at the mercy of RNs and aides on the General Surgery wing of my hospital.

Oh, the staff were nice, they just underperformed consistently.  I had to fight with them to get adequate pain medication so that I wasn't a sobbing bundle of hysteria every time the Physical Therapist came in to work with me.  I was accused (in a nice way) of being a 'drug seeker' and that if I'd just buck up and stop making a big deal out of it, I would get along just fine.  I finally prevailed and received appropriate pain management, only to have it up-ended when the new shift came on and didn't read the chart notes thoroughly and gave me the pain medication she had given me the day before.  Even though the new meds were clearly written in the chart and on the big white board at the foot of my bed.  I took the meds and didn't realize for a few minutes that those pills didn't look like the ones I had been recently taking, so I pushed the call button for my RN (another joke) and when she finally arrived and I explained the situation to her, she insisted I was incorrect and that my meds had not been changed.  Upon further investigation (and unkind challenges as to my mental state) she saw she had made a mistake and actually had tears well up in her eyes.  She did manage to get me something heavy duty to knock me out for a few hours so that I could be pain-free until my next dose.  But shit.  Wrong meds.

My other main pet peeve: it was 3 days after my admittance that I finally got a sponge bath and my sheets changed.  And that's because I asked for it to be done.  If you've been in the hospital, you understand how important it is to be cared for with bathing, clean gowns and bedsheets.  It's essential -- it ain't a luxury.  Not only did I rarely see a nurse, I rarely saw an aide.  I felt as if I had landed in a hospital in New Orleans during Katrina.  Nobody around.  They'd all fled for higher ground.  Oh, except that I could hear them all night long laughing and eating and living it up at the nurse's station.  It was, indeed, the hospital stay from hell. 

You probably don't need to guess what my feedback is going to be when they send me the obligatory survey.  Do you?

Home Again, Home Again

Glad to report that I am home and out of that crazy nut house of a hospital.

Properly (finally) medicated to reduce pain sufficiently to perform physical therapy exercises, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.  A couple of months off, but still, it glimmers.

My sister and BIL from Bellingham are here to help for a week, and M. just brought me piping hot coffee and a fruit smoothie.  Now, that is perfect for me.

Today is my other sister's birthday, and they'll be coming for brunch in a few hours -- so this early  morning treat is just to tide us over.

I have many hospital horror stories to be shared at a later date.   I just cannot bear to repeat them right now.  It may set back my healing.  But, the surgery itself went perfectly: the old hardware holding the leg together was removed and the knee joint replaced with the best science has to offer.  I can actually put some weight on it!  For these first 2 weeks, however, it is only permissible to walk with a walker, and to walk only to get somewhere around the house. No recreational walking at all.  Lots of exercises to be done in bed to restore mobility and build strength.  I am doing them as I type.

Thank you for your well-wishes and encouragement.  It feels great to receive such love and support.

Horror stories, later, as they are amusing as well as infuriating and I'm sure you'll work yourself up into a healthy anger just as I did.  It'll get your ticker going.

Knee Surgery Tomorrow

I made a bad mistake looking at photos of a knee surgery.  Get out of my brain, visions! 

Tomorrow is the big day: arrive at hospital for a 5:15 a.m. check in and a 7:30 a.m. surgery.  While not looking forward to the actual surgery and recovery period, I am quite pleased that I am finally able to replace this knee joint which has been the bane of my existence for several years.

I'll be home on Friday if all goes well, and settle into my first floor apt.  There's a lot of preparation that goes into these things: I've got a walker, a commode, picked up the throw rugs, counted how many steps from the car to my bed (so they can PT me adequately to enable me to get into my house).  Measured the height of my bed so they can have my hospital bed at the same height so I may practice getting in and out. 

Attended a hospital orientation for surgery patients, which was full of good information.  Had all my pre-op testing done, and have older sister coming to help out for a few days after my return home.  Health Care directive signed and witnessed.

Girlfriend is bringing me her ipad so I can get on-line at hospital.  She's also got a great bedside manner and will no doubt manage to make me laugh - a lot.  In the months together, I have spent a lot of time in the hospital, and she has always been right at my side.  Today, in a small but not insignificant way, I've been able to repay her: she's having a double root canal as I write this.  She's under sedation, and started the early morning off with Valium and a completely empty stomach.  They let me sit with her as they gave her more drugs, allowing her to sleep gently off to la-la land.  She was cracking jokes, she was sweet and mellow.  She was letting me soothe her and be with her.  It was a nice reversal for a change.

So, now I'm home doing last minute prep for tomorrow, then back up to pick her up when her procedure is done, then get her home, fed and comfy, then pick up her daughter from school, then at some point home again to go to bed early.  A busy day -- and that's just fine.   It will keep my mind occupied.

Everyone I know who has had joint replacement surgery has been extremely pleased with the results.  I am sure I will be as well.  Looking forward to getting this thing done!

The Cost of Care

I was in the hospital four times at the end of May and beginning of June.  Two visits were ER only, 2 visits were ER, then ICU, then Cardiac Care, then General floor.  Never got a diagnosis.  Nope.  Had to be taken in by ambulance twice.  Scared the crap out of my family and friends.

So, the inevitable bills have begun to arrive.  If you've ever been in the hospital you know what's coming:  $116,000 for two of those visits which required being admitted.  Granted, it's better than the alternative, which was I was gonna die.  My insurance company is also picking up the bulk of this.  I'm liable for a total of $600.

But still.

I'm just a lay person, so what do I know?  But the cost of being on the cardiac floor for 24 hours was $10k.  IV fluids for 7 bags of fluid was $7k.  Laboratory costs, nuclear medicine, pharmacy, repository services, radiology, one MRT scan alone was $5k.  It sounds crazy.  Is it all about covering the costs of R & D, manufacturing, or indigent patients?  Is it possible to fix a system so broke, to pry corporations' hands off the for-profit medical business?  It's the gravy train, seems to me.  Everyone is making big bucks off of my unfortunate circumstances.  Then they pass it off to the insurance company which pays it.  And the insurance company is making a profit.

If I didn't have insurance, I could negotiate some of these charges and work out a payment plan.  But then I'd go broke.  If I owned a house, I would lose it.  Many people do.  After the trauma of disease, people lose everything to pay for their care.  What an insult.  What an outrage.

When are insurance and health care reforms going to kick in and avert this disaster we call the health care system in our country?  2014 seems like a long time to wait.

And the food mostly sucked.  This was one of the better meals.

What Next?

Written last night, "I'm sitting here trying to play it cool . Word has it that I get released tonight. 5 days in the hospital tracking down reasons for my mystery illness has really been too much for me. I'm tired and just want to sleep in my own bed tonight. I have witnessed countless sad stories in my various hospital rooms and wonder, once again, how anyone could be a nurse or doc in a large hospital. The stress is overwhelming. Word just in: I'll be out in an hour! Woo-hoo!"

I'm home, I'm tired, I'm extremely grateful for for the care I received and for the love of friends and family.  I have two doc appts. today to follow up on whatever this thing is.  Other than that, I am resting. Lying low.

How is it, in this day and age, that medical mysteries like mine can still go undiagnosed?  I know the medical field is fraught with problems and I know doctors are not "God," but jeez, why does my condition prove so elusive to everyone?

In the past month my world has become very small, all centered around this thing.  The lovely interludes of hiking and spending time with my sweetheart have been grand.  Now if this weird illness would just stop messing everything up.  What a way to begin a relationship, eh?  On the upside, she has been able to get to know my family quickly, and has earned their admiration for her good care of me.  And now I know that in a crisis she is a ROCK.  And she knows that, even in an ER I manage to find humor to lighten the mood.

So good to be home.  Dad is making me a soft boiled egg this morning.  What a relief - no more lousy hospital food.  Oh gawd but that was terrible stuff.

Namaste, everyone.

Deja Vu All Over Again

Much to my dismay, my adventures at Sutter General were not over after my May 12 visit.  On Tuesday morning I woke up feeling fine, and within an hour I was sinking quickly.  I called my friend Lori to ask if she could take me into the ER.  Good thing, too, because by the time we arrived, I could barely walk and function at all.  Same scenario:  critically low blood pressure, dehydrated to the extreme, at blood sugars over 400.  I spent 10 hours in the ER getting every test imaginable, telling the same story over and over and over again.  Liters and liters of fluids pumped into me (meant liters and liters coming out through the foley as well).  Lori was - oh gosh, how can I put it - the greatest freakin' supportive woman on the planet earth. If not the universe and beyond.

Still no diagnosis, but a lot of theories and each one a little more scary that the last.  They transferred me to ICU for the night, and then yesterday transferred me to a regular bed after they were sure I was stabilized.

Sunrise over Sutter Hospital

I must have been stable, because I was bored out of my mind, so I took pictures and played with my Photoforge2 editing program.  With the foley removed, I was free to move about, which was a good thing.  I had a roomie who kept the t.v. on all bloody night, watching every white-trash-red-neck television show that that she could find.  There are, apparently,  a lot of them in the wee hours.  I tried headphones, earplugs, self-hypnosis, walking around the corridors, and finally, at 3 am I called for an ambien.  That did the trick.

New Rules for Hospitals with shared rooms:  ALL TVs AND LIGHTS OUT AT MIDNIGHT.

There was also the woman across the hall who screamed all night, and all day today.  Later in the day they brought in a new patient, a man who croaked out obscenities and was calling to the poor screaming woman, "I'm coming darling! Don't you fret! Cough! Hack! Wheeze!"  Which made the screaming woman just scream all the more.

Why can't all patients be as well-behaved as I?  I asked myself, "Am I in an insane asylum or a general hospital?"  Really!  Don't these people know that sick people need peace and quiet?!

Still no diagnosis.  I'm convinced I had an infection somewhere, as I was running a fever in addition to the other symptoms.  When you have diabetes, unexplained high blood sugars are usually a result of infection.  Just because they couldn't find one, doesn't mean I didn't have one.  They loaded me up with IV antibiotics to appease me.

CrackFacebook was my constant companion after I was finished being critical.  Important to keep the kids entertained, don't you know?  It kept my spirits up, anyway, and I figured all the good thoughts and prayers were helping in their mysterious way.

Now I am, thankfully, home again, in my own bed.  Exhausted.  I've tried to sleep but it eludes me.  I'll try again.  I thought maybe banging out this story would get it out of my head.

I am pleading with the universe (which hears me not) to make this the last time this happens.  It is a medical mystery which I can add to my long list of personal medical mysteries.  It makes for an amusing story -- the first time you hear it.  After 10 times, not so much.

Here's to your health!

Leave it to Me

WTF?!

 

On the very day my dad leaves for a week-long trip, I, now sole care taker of mom, end up in the emergency room.  But don't worry.  I. Have. Everything. Under. Control.

Except my blood sugar and blood pressure.  Oh, a severe dehydration.

I have no idea what the hell that all was about, but it was scary and inconvenient as hell. 

My niece said I was blue.  The nurse said, to another nurse, "Don't move this patient, don't do any tests until I resolve this critically low BP."  She was a great nurse.  She cracked the whip and she paid attention.  She was concerned, it was obvious, but she was also on top of the situation, and besides, I was too out of it to get very worked up about anything.  I was conscious and talking -- which amazed all of us.  Obviously it takes more than trauma to get me to shut up.

I just called my doc's office to get a follow-up appointment and have been told there are no appts. available for a few weeks out.  I explained the situation and the remedy is to call every morning at 7:45 to see if there are any cancellations on that day. I'd be upset by this except that I know my visit will tell me exactly nothing that I don't already know.  I'm not a cynic, I just know how these things go.  If you've read my blog for any length of time, you know that mysterious ailments befall me and nothing is ever learned from the diagnostics.

The upside to this particular episode is that my daughter and her family came up to help so I was able to spend Mother's Day with them.  And my friends came out of the woodwork for me, including a visit in the ER (always good to see a kind and loving face who knows you), and that same dear person made sure my mother had roses for Mother's Day since she knew that was my plan...before the bottom fell out.  Now, she is a thoughtful and totally righteous woman, there.

Here's the real modern twist to the story:  I sent out a  Facebook message and photo (above) to alert the masses that I was in the ER.  Imprudent?  Maybe.  But I was in an altered state.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Full Disclosure

When you are dating someone new, what is the right time to reveal all your medical issues? My lady friend and I had a spectacular tour of the Amador wine country this weekend, and I couldn't avoid the fact that I am hooked up to an insulin pump. So, I just pulled it out and showed her, and let her know I would be taking my blood glucose on my little machine, and dialing in my insulin needs on my pump. To her credit: she didn't flinch. Granted, it's not like revealing you are schizophrenic, and the pill you are popping is keeping you from acting a bit, uh, schizophrenic.  But still, it's something.

Then, tooling down the road in the beautiful emerald green hills, I had to take a hit on my inhaler because the countryside was blooming robustly and my asthma was kicking in.  Two down, many more to go.

We stopped at a winery that had Mariachi playing, and great Mexican food.  I passed on the quesadillas because the gooey tortilla is not absorbed well by my altered stomach, which has a plastic band around it that restricts my food intake.  I passed on the opportunity to tell her I used to weigh 100 pounds more than I do now, all credit due to my gastric surgery.  I figure that will come up another time.

I did tell her, however, that I was having a gell injected into my knee joint today, to stave off pain from arthritis that is the result of a traumatic knee injury 8 years ago.  This gave her the opportunity to tell me she had blown out her knee in a skiing accident, and that she crushed her elbow joint when she fell off a ladder a few years ago.

I guess most of us don't get to our mid-fifties without a few hiccups in the health department.  Still, I don't want to give the impression that I am broken.  Because I am not. 

The gell injection went well -  my orthopedist is a pro and made it as comfortable as humanly possible.  I used my usual good humor and deep deep breathing exercises to get through the procedure.  He said I was a real "trooper."  That I am.  And that's what my date needs to know about me.  I come.  I see.  I conquer.  I rise like a phoenix.    And I smile like the dickens when life is good.

The End of Illness

I just download this book on my Kindle.  Some interesting and novel information for wellness.  I'll let you know what I find.



I've heard, for years, that the body's inflammatory process is very damaging and that we should do what we can to control it.  Makes me think twice about the constant inflammation my damaged knee causes, and leads me to yet another reason why I need a joint replacement.

Look up inflammatory foods on the internet.  Ok, I've got a lot of revamping to do.  Anti-inflammatory foods include all the goodies we know we should be eating: dark green leafy veg, yams, blueberries,  fish, almonds and walnuts.

I don't want to become a kook about all of this, but I do wonder how I can incorporate this information into my daily living.  The doc even stresses about keeping a regular meal and sleep schedule to reduce stress and inflammation.  Eat and sleep at the same time each day.  Hmmm.

If you're reading the book, I'd love to know what you think.

Number 1 Killer of Women

Many women think heart disease is a man's disease. It isn't. Heart disease is the leading cause of death of American women. It can also lead to disability and significantly decrease one's quality of life.

Despite these facts, many women do not realize that:

Heart disease is their leading health threat.
There is a connection between risk factors, such as high blood pressure and high cholesterol, and their personal risk of developing heart disease.

Knowledge and prevention of breast cancer in women is important, but I'm surprised to know just how many women do not realize that heart disease is our biggest enemy.

Go here for more information and for information on the things you can do now to lower your risk. Don't be the 1 in 4 women who will die because of this disease.  And see this for an inspiring story of how a cardiologist made small but important changes to lose weight and reduce her risk.  She was very overweight and on her way to a heart attack before she dramatically changed her life, one small step at a time.

Unremarkable

In every way.  Unremarkable,  that's how it'll stay.  MRI results are back and I'm not dying of brain cancer.  So while the headaches are still a mystery, at least I know there is nothing life-threatening going on upstairs. No bats in the belfry.  Not going soft in the head.  No teeny-tiny construction crew in there hammering away at the skull.

Thanks for riding the waves with me...who knew I'd ever be one of those women of a certain age who would go on and on about her physical health issues?  We have decided here at Che Sacramento, that September shall be an illness and injury free month!