Hobbling Around

So....here's what happened this week.

It matches the tile grout in my kitchen, don't you think?  I now try to just hang in the kitchen, so I always look coordinated. 

Apparently, I've had some small tears in my paroneal longus tendon since the summer (tendonopathy.) That's one of the tendons that runs from calf to foot and and slides back and forth under that bony protrusion on the side of your ankle. 

I've also developed plantar fasciitis (I swear this word has too many 'i's, but Webster says no.)  Plantar fasciitis is inflammation and micro tears in the plantar fascia, the connective tissue that runs from heel to toes on the bottom on the foot.  My left foot is aging faster than my right.  However, with my now cock-eyed gait, my right foot is acting up.  I really need a third leg.

What's bugging me this week is that I've had pain in this foot for about six weeks.  At first I thought it was part of the fibromyalgia I'm still learning about and treating with supplements.  So, I went to the beach two weeks ago for vacation and began running again.  This was absolutely the wrong thing to do.  But, I didn't yet know the results of my MRI, and I wasn't feeling any worse. 

So, I ran a bit.  And walked on the lumpy beach, and walked on the street, and walked up and down flights of stairs several times a day.  Two days after I got home, I learned about these injuries, and then began kicking myself with my good foot. 

How are we supposed to determine aging aches and pains from injury aches and pains?  That's the question.  Clearly, I'm a bad judge of that distinction.  So, now I'm in a gray boot for a month, maybe more.  If things are healing well at that point, I'll get a brace for another few months.  Yes, I said months.  Plantar fasciitis takes six months to a year to heal.  Geez-o-flip. 

The doc said tendons don't ever return to their former state, so this foot will always be a vulnerability for me.  That means no more running.  Ever.  I'm not crazy about running, but it was the best tool for me when it came to weight loss.  Nothing knocked off twenty pounds as quickly as running. 

Pooh.  I might have to befriend this twenty pounds.  ACK!

The doc said swimming is my best option from now on.  So, I closed my membership at my current gym and joined a gym that has a pool.  I can't tell you how excited I am to squeeze into a bathing suit that reveals the extra twenty pounds. 

Oh well.  Life is full of surprises and adjustments.  There are many people in worse shape than me. And I still have one good foot. 

For now.

Snippets from the Dugout. And Donuts.

I've been in the dugout for a few weeks.  Writing, reading, and more writing.  I'm taking a marketing/publishing class, which is excellent, but time consuming.  I'm realizing how little I know.

 

In the meantime, my dad has been in the hospital for a bad UTI, then rehab.  He's doing very well at the moment and will be home Thursday.  I thought we might have a glitch in that plan when he fell in the restroom of a large medical facility a few days ago.  I suspected there was a problem when he was in the restroom for fifteen minutes.

I finally asked a man going in the restroom to check on Dad.  I heard Dad's voice the minute the man opened the door.  Together, the stranger and I spotted Dad's shoes poking out from under a stall door.  He was OK, just sitting on the floor after slipping in his transfer from toilet to wheel chair.  "I can't reach the door to unlock it," he said, and I had to smile.  He was just waiting for someone to come in and find him.

I went to the information desk for help and within minutes, nurses came.  Somebody slid under the stall door, freed Dad and settled him back in his wheel chair.  He wheeled out looking a little sheepish.  I was reluctant to let him go behind all those closed doors by himself (he's supposed to have assistance with EVERY transfer), but he insisted he could handle it.

We both learned something.  I decided, when he's with me, he's not going in the bathroom alone again; he decided when he's alone in the bathroom in the future, he won't lock the door.   It's clear we're not on the same page. 

Parents.  They have a mind of their own.

The government partially shut down today, and so far, my life feels the same.  I know there are organizations that are not open today and that affects people who work in those places.  I hope the Hatfields and McCoys start working together soon, because it's not fair to all of us who pay their salaries.  Maybe it's just me, but I don't like paying for things that don't work like they're supposed to.

Has anybody seen the new show Hostages?  Oh my word, I can't write or fold clothes or even munch on chocolate chips while I'm watching it.   It's full of suspense and twists and cute Dylan McDermot.  Although, he's a bad guy.  I think.  As we learn about his past, it's getting murkier.  Check it out, Monday nights on CBS.  Be there or be square.

I'm thinking about Christmas already, because I'm writing a book about Christmas.  And giving.  And partridges and hens and pipers and drummers.  It's very noisy in my head.  Is Christmas on your radar yet?

If not, here's a picture to get you in the mood. 

What Christmas carol item is this?   Hmmmm....

Rehab Reflections

I thought I would have popped in to Blogwarts before now....it's been over a week since my last post...but, as you may have heard - people make their plans, and God laughs. 

My 89-year old dad has been in the hospital and now in rehab since Dec. 26.  It appears he's had a medications upset, but also his Parkinson's seems to be progressing.  We've had a few scary days where the tremors were unmanageable without muscle relaxers.  PT and OT have not been as productive as we had hoped.  His emotions are all over the map.

Dad in November

We just go day to day, and it reminds me that we only have day-to-day anyway.   We are no more promised the next year than we are the next minute.  I've been sitting in the rehab cafeteria a lot lately while Mom and Dad visit, and in between reading Time magazine and sipping hazelnut tea I've reflected on things like this:

1.  Thank God for nurses and CNAs.  They have back-breaking work every day, and most of them are patient and kind.

2.  The nurses and CNAs that are crabby just need a hug and a word of appreciation.  They are so tired.

3.  How do I console my wonderful Dad when he is inconsolable?  It's so odd to be the strong one, and yet, have no answers.

4.  Watching world news in the cafeteria doesn't mean anything when a loved one is struggling.  Seems like world events should just stop for a while.

5.  Why are there never any healthy snacks in vending machines?

6.  I don't understand why the body hangs around after it's worn down, why the breath of life is so determined when the flesh seems ready to just be done.  Only God knows this.

7.   My dad has stopped shaving; he's letting his beard grow because he claims it's the only thing he can control anymore.  This makes me sad and smile at the same time.

8.  Strawberry milkshakes are a favorite pick-me-up for Dad.  He probably shouldn't have them, as they are not on the cardiac diet, but none of us care.  A milkshake-free life is not going to turn anything around at this point.

9.  When Dad is propped up in bed in his hospital gown and his fuzzy no-slip socks, he looks like a little kid, and I love to kiss him on the top of his head.

10.  Parkinson's is a puzzling and frustrating disease.  Treatment is hit or miss, trial and error, and a lot of "we just don't know."   Muhammad Ali and Michael J. Fox have come to mind a lot this week. 

11.  I don't understand why, after a day at the rehab hospital, I feel the need to get my PJ's on and watch hours of TV.   Or bake cookies.

12.  I'm so grateful my out-of-state siblings come visit our parents when they can.  I'm grateful my daughter teaches at a school across the street from Dad's rehab.  She visits him on her lunch break.

13.  People always say life is short.  When loved ones are struggling though, it seems life is long.  Only God can explain this too.

X Marks the Broken Spot

For Day X of the A-Z challenge, I'm writing about a very expected word: X-ray.  When I was a kid, it was one of only two X words on the spelling list:  X-ray and xylophone.

Today, there are a few more options: Xerox, Xmas (this is actually in the dictionary), xylem (the woody stem of a plant), and The X-files. (I miss you, Mulder.)

I'm sticking with X-ray.  Only because I have such a doozy.

This is the shoulder of my 91 year-old mother.  It has a rod and pins in it that form the shape of a mutant praying mantis.  It's a huge apparatus that was installed to repair a terrible break in her right shoulder last year.

Right after her fall, her shoulder looked like this (warning: icky picture.)

A few weeks after surgery, it looked like this (still icky...)

During rehab, it looked like this...

Mom worked very hard, and after three months, her shoulder looked normal, but does not have the range of motion it once did.  She will never be able to pitch for the Orioles again.

X-rays are X-ceptional tools, and I'm X-tremely grateful for this technology.  Humpty-Dumpty might be around today if an X-ray machine had been available.

Have you ever had an X-ray that enabled doctors to put you back together again?

An American Moment

Dad has been in rehab four days.  He's working hard and is completely pooped by day's end.  If all goes well, his predicted release date is February 20.

Since it's an election year, Dad has been watching as many debates as he can manage.  Even though they sound pretty much the same.  The number of players has dwindled, but the accusations and fault-finding fly freely every time.  Me, oh my, what a great country.  

The Florida primary is Tuesday.  I pray there is a clear winner.  No recounts, no brawls dragged into court.  Since the 2000 hanging chad debacle, we Floridians want some other state to be the fly in the ointment.  (Maybe this year it will be North Dakota.  I never hear anything about North Dakota.  It could use a little publicity.) 

Being in rehab, Dad has been wondering how he will get to vote this year.   He and Mom take very seriously this privilege that has been fought for and sacrificed for over generations.  They love and appreciate this county like nobody else I know.

So, my husband checked into how someone who's not mobile can vote.  Turns out you can pick up a form for them to sign that gives you permission to bring them a ballot.  My husband got the form, Dad signed it, my husband returned it and was given a ballot.

Then, in a rehab gown with a milkshake nearby, Dad voted.

Since this is normally a private event (notice the curtain pulled between Dad and his roommate), we did what we usually do.  We took a picture.

We'll probably never again see anyone actually cast their ballot.  It's kind of monumental and touching.

In the Ballpark, this is probably the most significant thing that happened today.

Fits and Misfits

Dad is back in the Rehab Adventure!

Dad moved to Sea Pines rehab yesterday and is eager to get started.  He'll have both PT and OT.  He's been at Sea Pines before, and it's a good fit for him.  Here he is in his new room.

Our daughter is showing him the visual journal she's been working on.

Mom is managing OK without him at home.  It's times like these, when one is away, that I'm so grateful they moved to Southland.   The one holding down the home front is surrounded by a caring staff, and life feels fairly stable. 

I snapped a picture of Mom in her fancy new PJs the other night.

The PJs looked blurry, but Mom didn't, so I got a close-up of the pattern.

And they looked even blurrier.

On closer examination, I realized the fabric itself is blurry.  The hearts have fuzzy edges, even though you try to blink them away.   If you stare at them, you get dizzy. 

These are Vera Wang PJs that were originally forty bucks.  They were on sale for seventeen, probably because people who looked at them too long in the store fell over.

I had a coupon, so I got them for eleven dollars.  Mom likes them because they are cozy and warm, but they might be a hazard.  When Dad comes home, they might make him more wobbly than he already is.

I unknowingly purchased another goofy item last week.

Sheets were on sale at Target.  I can always use sheets, so I bought a satiny queen set.  Because we live in sunny Florida and never see things like snowmen and ear muffs, I'm a sucker for patterns like this...

These were only five dollars, so I grabbed them.

When I attempted to put them on our bed, the fitted sheet didn't fit.  It was clearly a twin size.

I checked the package; clearly said QUEEN.

I was disappointed, but realized I could use them on the twin bed in the guest room.

I made up the guest room bed yesterday.  The fitted sheet is definitely a twin.  When I flapped the flat sheet over the bed, it hung to the floor on both sides of the bed.

What?

I checked the tag on the corner of the sheet: QUEEN. 

I checked the tag on the fitted sheet:  TWIN.

I pulled the pillowcases out of the sack.  There were two.  With the way this set was slapped together, I was expecting one.  Or three.

Anyhoo...we now have snowmen in two rooms.  The guest bed has fitted snowmen and flat white sheets; our bed has blue fitted and snowmen flat sheets.  Each room has a snowman pillowcase.  I hope all the snowmen don't miss each other. 

If Mom, in her blurry PJs, sat on a mismatched-sheet bed, it would probably give you a headache to look at them.  

HOSPITAL RERUN (#3)

Another four-day stint in the hospital this week. 

On Saturday, Dad woke up feeling weak, had some chest pain, and his blood pressure was high.  Even after his morning meds, the pressure remained high.

The EMTs took him to the ER, where his blood pressure stabilized shortly thereafter.  The chest pain did not return, but Dad just didn't feel well.

So he received a plastic bracelet, a backless gown, and a pair of fuzzy, non-slip socks.  And some nurses to dote on him for a few days.

Luckily, all tests were normal, and after four days, Dad was released with two medication adjustments.

Here he is, back at the ranch, with his bride of 61 years.

Hospital stays wear him out, because he doesn't sleep well there, and the muscles become lazy, so he came home in a four-wheeled chariot.   

He's not up to mowing the back 40, but with PT should return to his bingo activities soon.

He departed for the hospital on Mom's 91st birthday.  "Happy birthday, Janey," he said as they rolled him away.

Mom got along fine on her own and enjoyed watching her roses from Dad open while he was gone.

She is doing well working that unhumorous humerus in OT, and is now using her walker to get to the dining room. 

That's a good thing, because with two wheelchairs and two walkers in the room, we have traffic jams now and then. 

I'm going to give them both a buck and a smooch if we can get through July with no more mishaps.

24 (minus Jack Bauer)

Mom underwent a kyphoplasty today (for a quick video of what that is, click here).

Under twilight anesthesia, she did well and was back home by 11 a.m. with a small ice pack wedged between her back and her glider.  She was having no pain.  (As I've remarked before, a drug-free life is over-rated.)

Mom might be sore tomorrow, but she should be able to stand comfortably and jump into physical therapy.  Well, maybe shuffle into therapy.  What a long time coming that has been.

Thanks again to the millions of health care providers who are skilled with needles and IVs and scalpels and sutures. I am so grateful there are people who are fascinated by that line of crucial, but icky, work.

The early morning hours were made sweeter by the presence of our wonderful daughter-in-law, C.A., who came for an overnight visit yesterday.

She got up with me at 5:30 this morning and helped get Mom to the hospital.  It was so nice to have a second pair of hands to carry bags and open doors for Mom's wheelchair. 

While Mom was having her procedure, C.A. and I read nearly five People magazines.

I learned that the only attendants at Reese Witherspoon's wedding were her young son and daughter (sweet), and that for "well-endowed" entertainers on Dancing with the Stars, dancers have corset-like brassieres sewn into their gowns (seems like a good idea.)

I skipped all the Casey Anthony news.  I live in Florida. 

By the time Mom was done, C.A. and I were fairly caught up on Hollywood.

Once Mom was settled at Southland, C.A. and I returned home and had some bagels and some blackberry cobbler we made at 10 p.m. last night.

It looks half gone here, but we didn't eat that much.  This picture was taken after dinner tonight when more had been consumed by all.  Really.

We thought we might get the cobbler baked earlier in the day, but we got caught up in making greeting cards, which C.A. and I both enjoy.  She brought all her fun supplies, and I felt like I was five again.

So many colorful papers and stickers and stamps to choose from.   Just a sample...

...and a couple finished products...

Thank you, C.A., for sharing all your cool toys!

The nicest surprise of C.A's visit occurred when I arrived home after dinner last night from helping Mom get ready for bed.

Upon entering my kitchen, I saw this....

Be still, my heart.

C.A. and my hubby washing the dishes.

Anybody who cleans up the kitchen gets a gold star in my book.  With blackberry cobbler and ice cream.  And anything else they want.  

I gave them both a smooch.

The only thing C.A. and I didn't get to during her visit was walking for some exercise.

But, we squeezed in a Matthew McConaughey movie.  I can't remember the title, or the other people in it, but you have the important information.

It was a Matthew McConaughey movie.  

It was a restorative, productive, enjoyable, creative, yummy, non-chaotic 24 hours.

And I love everyone who made this production possible.

THE PJ FACTOR

Mom is finally on the mend from an avalanche of health issues that began in February.

Due to a compression fracture in L2 of her back, she will have a kyphoplasty on Thursday morning, hopefully the last of the procedures for a while.  (For a one-minute video of what that is, click here)

It's a fairly minor procedure, and from what we've heard, very successful.  Mom should be feeling better and back on a PT schedule by Monday.  YAY!!

One thing I've helped Mom with since she's been home from rehab is taking showers.  I have been surprised by what a tender, nurturing task this can be.

Mom is a tiny little thing, and under the shower spray, she's as slippery as a peeled, hard-boiled egg, so we have to be careful.  I'm always a little nervous until we shut off the water and she's back in the wheelchair, one thick towel under her backside and one wrapped around her shoulders.

I dry her tootsies while she dries everything else.     

We then slather on the Cetaphil, a luxurious body cream that feels like silk.  Once she's all slippery again, we slide on the PJs.  This is my favorite part.

Mom's PJs are either soft flannel, or jersey.  She has several pairs, blues and pinks and grays.

Sometimes the bottoms match the tops; sometimes they don't.  We use whatever spills out of her overstuffed lingerie drawer.

These flannel moon PJs are soft and well-worn.  Loose enough for Mom to manipulate.  Once she's in her PJs, it feels safe again.  She's warm and dry and encased in cozy fabric.

This moment always takes me back to the time when my youngins were toddlers.  After a warm bath, I'd dress them for bed.  Sometimes they'd wear a zip-up sleeper, sometimes two-piece snap pajamas.  Usually with cartoons or super-heroes on them.  They didn't always match either.

It was a sweet, comforting activity.  The day was over, the day's dirt was down the drain, and damp, wispy hair was sticking up all over.  Fluffy towels and soft clothing were involved.

Whatever had transpired that day, cleaning up and getting into fresh PJs softened and warmed the closing hours.

Mom's had a rough few months, and she loves to sit in the shower and let the hot water soothe her tired bones.  The snugly PJs hold in that cozy warmth and trigger the sleep switch.

A little more Cetaphil first, though.

Her orange key ring around her arm adds to the sleepwear ensemble.  

Once Mom's in her PJs and settled in her glider, I thank God that we've made it safely through another day.

If Dad is ready for bed and settled in his rocker as well, the cozy factor doubles.  With both of them PJ-ed, my heart is at ease when I leave for the night.   

No matter what age we are, PJs seem to bring out the calm and cuddly in all of us.

If presidents and kings wore PJs instead of executive garb, the world might be a better place. 

 

A Disheartening Phone Call

I continue to be amazed at how many curve balls can come our way in one week. 

Mom fell six days ago.  When I took her out for her thyroid ultrasound this morning, she moved her leg with a little more ease and told me she thought it was just now doing better.

Fifteen minutes ago, the wonderful Dr. R's nurse called to tell me that Mom has a compression fracture in her back.  I am shocked.

I don't know why the first hospital X-ray didn't show that.  I can't remember now what they took films of; maybe they did not X-ray this part of the back.  Maybe they did, and the radiologist missed it.  

No wonder Mom has had such pain off and on this week. 

Dr. R's nurse is going to call me back ASAP with the name of an orthopod who might do a vertebroplasty, where cement is injected into the spine to support the vertebra.  Oh my, the things we will learn.  

Pins in the humerus, concrete in the back.  Mom will be stronger than the rest of us soon.

 

At the moment, I don't know any more than this.  When Dr. R. gets back with me with a game plan, I'll post an update. 

In the meantime, the folks got a mini-fridge in their room. 

It holds bottled water and yogurt.  Both of which Mom needs to maintain a healthy digestive system. 

And it holds a bowl of Dad's chocolate pie.  Which is probably not good for anyone's digestive system.

p.s. the star cookie at the top of this post has nothing to do with anything.  I just wanted something pretty to open with because it makes me sad that Mom has one more injury to endure. 

Hospital Rerun (episode #2)

Mom and I made a trip to the ER on Thursday night. 

She had another fall, and needed a few staples in her head to seal up the small gash she sustained when she hit the bed frame.   Here's a picture of the staples for the science teacher/almost-sister, the sister-in-law nurse, and any others who care to peek.

 

Mom also received some X-rays to rule out any breaks.  Astonishingly, the X-rays were fine, so they released her.  

Even though there are no broken bones, Mom's right leg is causing her considerable pain when she tries to walk.  The ER doc suspects Mom pulled a ligament or strained some muscles, maybe both.  She is on pain reliever through the weekend (of course it's a weekend), and then we see the wonderful Dr. R. on Monday.

Mom was alone when she fell in the center part of their room at the ALF.  The pull cords are in various places on the walls, so weren't helpful, because she couldn't get up to get to them.   She didn't know she was bleeding until she saw blood on the carpet.

Practical woman that she is, Mom scooted to an end table to grab the Puffs and some reading material.  She finagled herself to sit up against the bed frame and applied pressure to the wound.

Then, she read a bit.  Dad was at a meeting, but not due home for awhile.

Two hours later - holey moley - he arrived to see Mom on the floor, and called me. 

When the medics arrived, Mom told them the only thing that bothered her was her backside, from sitting on the floor so long.   

Me, oh my.  It could have been much worse.  More blood, broken bones, head trauma.  Not enough Puffs.  Nothing to read. 

Mom now wears a necklace with a button to push in case she's ever in trouble again when she's alone.  

We're still working out the bugs on this one.

In the meantime, the Ballpark coordinated a mattress swap with the folks.  Mom needs a shorter mattress, which we have, so we did a little switcheroo.

How great to be only a mile away.

Happy Sunday!

Hope you don't have to move any mattresses, or get staples in your head.

Closing Out May 2011

The last day of May is almost gone.  In half an hour, it will be June.

I have some fun and touching photographs from May that didn't get squeezed into any blog post, so I'm posting them now.   Random, but valuable, moments.    They don't have a long story with them, just a line or two.

Reminders that life can be remarkable. 

     ~             ~              ~             ~              ~
   
The final launch of the shuttle Endeavor occurred in May, leaving behind its last, beautiful plume. 

Interested residents at Southland were wheeled outside for a view.

They guy on the far left in the yellow shirt loves chocolate.  Just a little factoid. 

When Mom arrived home from the skilled nursing facility, she found some flowers from her sweetheart.

She was happy to admire them from her glider, wearing her favorite slippers.  

I think Rudolph and his brother are the coziest things I've ever seen.

The next morning, Mom went to Mass, and she and Dad got to sit side-by-side again...after three long months.

It's a little tacky to take pictures in church, so I persuaded my husband to sneak over and do it.   Mass hadn't started yet, so we were OK.  I cropped out all the disapproving faces.  

Yesterday, there was a cookout at Southland.  We took several pictures, but in every shot, Dad's mouth was busy eating.  This was the best of the batch.

Not the most flattering picture of my father, but you can't say it doesn't look like him. 

One of my favorite pictures this month was from my trip to New Jersey.  Two Salesian sisters were taking an after-dinner stroll in a light drizzle. 

The blooming trees, the wrought-iron bench, the stone cottage, the pinwheel umbrellas, the sweet sisters.  It's just charming.   

My brother was here the end of April, but I'm including this picture in May because I just ran across it again and realized I never shared it with the world.  We skipped out late one night for some soft serve ice cream.

I believe it was after our wine. 

Yes, I'm in my pink, fluffy robe.   This is the kind of loony stuff I do when my brother, the ex-clown, comes to town.

Hope you enjoyed this fine production from the ballpark.

See you next month!

Home Again, Home again, Jiggety Jig

Mom is back home with her hubby today!

This is the sign I posted on their apartment door. 

Mom was in the hospital or rehab for three months.   That's as long as a season.

Here in Florida, it was early Spring when she fell and snapped the head off her humerus bone.  Dad calls that her "spring break."   Literally.   It's now 95 degrees and Summer has settled in.  

But, like other students this time of year, Mom graduated this week.  She got a diploma and everything.

Oh happy day! 

Mom will continue therapy on an outpatient basis and is expected to do well.  Her "numbers" are stable.

We're all so grateful for Mom's caretakers over this time, all the nurses and CNAs, and the wonderful Dr. R., who has been so patient with all of us.   I suspect, at times, we drove him crazy.

Here's the happy graduate with her case worker and one of her nurses.

I hope she's not thinking about graduate school.  :-)