Back Spasm 2.0

Most of my trapeizius/rhomboid back spasm 2.0 is dissipating (probably triggered from too much coughing). Just talking about coughing makes me cough! My T6-T8 vertebrae are acting up. A realignment would be good. Still hurts to take a breath, but at least I can roll over and get up out of bed.Vast improvement from Thursday when I couldn't even get up off the couch. Thought I was having a heart attack!

Luckily I have strong core muscles, but negotiating around a hysterical spazzy back is tricky, at best. Everything's all Danger, Will Robinson. No talking a proper spasm down out of the tree when it goes off.

First round was after a spate of coughing two weeks ago. I thought I was so over it. I managed to hike up Loma Alta, while trying to sip air through lungs that didn't want to cooperate. Reminded me of the time I had a punctured lung, where every breath was a losing battlefield.

Oh, to be able to take a full deep breath without it overreacting. I'm definitely winged, or is it de-winged? Wearing my electronic muscle stimulator 24-7; the minute the spasm shakes its sabre at me, I turn the sucker on and zap it. Best $200 I ever spent. IREST Massager uses goo-covered electrodes to jiggle the muscles into submission. But this isn't a muscular strain. It's a systemic reaction from sitting too long in proper chairs. My back goes out. Probably from Neil's gig last week.

I am getting rather tired of lying flat. But that's the only position that brings prolonged relief, and thus, the end of said spasm. Haven't had a decent spasm in years. Stupid things trigger it: coughing, sneezing, farting...just wanted to see if you were still reading this. Needless to say, the anti-tax march is happening without me.

Getting mad at it doesn't seem to work. Nor does stretching. Sun feels good. As does a shower. The heating pad helps, chiaropractor is closed...today & tomorrow. Trying to do this cold-turkey, Advil upsets my GI tract lots, but brings relief. And I hate Flexeril, what it does to the brain. Binge watching Aussie medical drama, All Saints. All that soft porn talk of morphine drips has me mesmerized.

I think the original trigger was sitting too long in regular chairs—it usually is. I'm ok if I sit all cockeyed, and slouched over like a PIcasso painting, but the minute I sit all organized n a rigid chair, my spine pays. Stationary stress syndrome from an old car accident resurrects itself, pays its last respects.

Back spasm 1.0

Already off kilter on my sleep patterns, I fell asleep far too early tonight only to be awakened by a large two-legged mammalian raiding the kitchen at midnight. Now it's 3 AM and I'm still awake. Grrr. Finally throunced my ongoing back spasm, with a Tens electronic muscle stimulator (I used it to manage my knee pain.) Every time my back went stiff, I turned the Tens unit on, which dissipated the gridlock. The spasm was so bad, it hurt to breathe. Sunday when I was hiking up Loma Alta Ridge with a new FB frienemy I met in my native plant group, who unexpectedly abandoned me at the top of the ridge, so I had to rush down the fireroad to the parking lot to catch up. I was afraid she wouldn’t wait for me. Thankfully she did. But I felt so helpless. Then she dumped me at Grocery Outlet near El Cerrito BART station, rather than taking me home. Sayonara. Luckily Dulcie, who was kitty sitting nearby rescued me. Needless to say the trauma was real. Now the rest of me hurts, but I'm bouncing back. Upshot, I can sleep! I'm trying to avoid taking Flexeril. It doesn't take the place of a chiropractic adjustment but it does break up the spasm. This one was persistent. It's baaaack, keeping me mortal. I had a coughing jag from that dread virus, I think, that set it off. Will it ever end? But the view from the top of the ridge was worth it.

• Hiking up Loma Alta Trail (photos)

Post knee surgery recovery saga

A friend, Katelin asks: How does the knee feel? Tell me it's healing and you are doing okay!

I had my first physical therapy today. I was actually was able to walk without gimping. They did electrical stimulation—muscle groups, 10 minutes on the bike—I went from not being able to do a complete wheel rotation to full pedal in 5 minutes.

I can feel some tearing, then they iced me. Now I have almost all my flexion back—I can almost bend my knee fully. Feeling queasy after PT, though. Barfy.

Finally I am completely off pain meds—just time-release Motrin. Tramadol was way better than Oxycodone. In general, the side effects were so awful, I couldn't wait to stop taking them. Skilled barfing with the big O, and nausea with Tramodol. Guess I'll never become a drug addict.

Therapy is cruel to be kind, scar tissue needs to be torn in increments or you'll lose mobility. And I have keloid scars. Definitely feeling a little queasy now.

Gawd, to be able to walk a mile. Today I had no crutches, no knee brace, I felt almost naked!  The worst part  of surgery is the lingering cloud in your head, mostly from the drugs and anesthesia. Recovery is such an alternate reality. Like being stoned sans drugs day-in, and day-out. When will I get my brain back?

Bursting into tears at the DMV while waiting for a handicap plaque

Feeling a bit better today. I went out yesterday to get a DMV handicapped plaque, and it was so draining, standing there in line, I burst into tears at the check-in desk. First day out alone. Teetering on crutches. Yeah, when I realized how weak the surgery made me, I've had to rearrange most of my commitments for this week. Had to nap when I got home. Too tired to even Facebook! Home alone really sucks.

Tomorrow I go to an East Oakland school to work with little kids for MLK oratory fest. That'll be my first real day away from home. Driving ought to be a nightmare. I missed one pain pill last night and woke early because knee was throbbing. So I stagger Advil with my pain meds, the ones I can keep down, taking the bare minimum, and i compensate by icing my knee several times a day. Elevate, elevate. the RICE regime is all that I have going for me.

Coached some kids for MLK Oratory competition this AM. I am nauseated, RE: pain level creeping up into the red zone. Came home to ice my knee. See if that helps. Advil may be my friend, but it is a brutal enemy to my esophagus. I’m running out of options.

From a Facebook post.

Sweeping the floor

About sweeping that kitchen floor—let's just say, I'm easily distracted. Call it ADD syndrome or short attention span. It began innocently enough last week with a light sweeping, then some damp mopping. Within the realm. Then I scraped off some white paint. OK. 

It's an old house from the 1920s, and the fake brick tile from the 1970s is crumbling at the seams. So I spackled some holes, it was whitey-white, so then I faux-painted the patches. 

I'm dangerous with paint. I start out all precise and neat, call it anal retentive, a dainty little patch job. Then something comes over me and gears shift. Vroom, I'm off! I become a demented Jackson Pollack with a paintbrush in hand. The graffiti tags on the bookshelf I just scored? No problem. Faux wood grain coming up. That hole in the wall that I keep trying to kill because it brings out my inner spider killer? Spackle (or toothpaste) is good.

It's a good thing I'm wounded, or I would've tackled rotted bathroom too. Turns me into a rather addled cross domestic war goddess. Moving the piano across the floor didn't help either. 

Since I can't bend my knee, getting down to floor level is an act of gravity—as in prostrate. Cross-legged is not an option. So I have to keep my leg straight out in front of me. It's a formidable barrier. I'm flexible, but not that flexible. Getting back up off the floor is a journey involving anti-gravity prayers and curses when those AG prayers don't hold. 

What possessed me to clean house, other than an acute attack of ADD, was that I could smell Autumn in the air, even though it is still July. Something about the changing light invokes an inexplicable sadness, or melancholia as the fall approaches. Or maybe it was the odor of dead mouse.

So as I was cleaning house a little here, a little there—oh, shiny! What was I doing? Takes me ages to complete simple tasks. I was dying for a cup of tea. The pilot light blew out on the stove. Hours later, I've dismantled the entire stovetop and counter, scraped off a decade of grunge from under the burners. Cleaned the greasy spice jars too. Tea? What tea? Can't reach the oven unless I use a chair and there's only so much I'm willing to do. 

I've been flopping down like a a fish and rolling about like a drunken narwhal to get from point A to B, while swearing like a sailor. Rearranging my computer space with all the plugs on the floor (and in tight corners) involved a lot of groveling and snorting of dustbunnies. 

My physical therapist said, So don't clean house! Like that was an option.

But there's only so many months you can go it alone before the floor turns to foot-velcro. It all began when a mouse left turds on the breadboard. That's a call to war if ever there was one. Traps, poison, shoes—I'm a shameless hunter when it comes to mice. 

I think a mouse died under the sink (good old D-con makes them thirsty so they seek out water.) but I can't get down on the floor and under the sink with my leg out in front of me like a freakin' log to check it out unless I lie flat on a skateboard. The dog pose is not an option.

Don't even get me started on the fridge. It's jealous and wants my attention too. I know this because it pees on the floor.


A link:
MOUSE WARS

Bummed knee

I am a reclining social media typist. My keyboard is leaning at a 37* angle on my lap. Propped up on the bed at a 37* angle (the angle of declination), with a bran hull pillow under my poor knee. I can't do much else these days. I've become a bum with a knee for an excuse.

With my keyboard on the fritz, I'm lucky to get anything correct. If I touch the num-pad or move the keyboard, it freezes. Sometimes it types the oddest string of letters as if possessed. I need a new one but I really prefer a bluetooth keyboard to a leashed one. And money is not an option. Meaning I have no money to option. No matter that the pain has turned my brain to fuzzy logic.

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Last night I took the kinezio tape off my knee (it was itching like mad), with no support, my knee feels very unstable—just to walk to the teapot for a refill is tricky. 

Acupuncture today. Not sure it'll be of any use. Waiting for simple surgery—in a holding pattern stuck in bureaucratic mode. A simple meniscus trim job‚ cartilage torn in two places. Both sides of the knee. Agh! I imagine loose-jointed chicken carcasses.

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Day two of headaches. What is it about mid-June triggering migraines? Tea is not working. Got right cranky and tweeted to Sherman Alexie "Don't be such a twat" on Twitter for tweeting "Grammar cops are rarely good writers." Then I deleted it. Maybe Advil would be a good idea.

Clearly Sherman Alexie has not been reading any trashy novels on his Kindle. He is still a twat.

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I'm averaging a book and a half a day on Kindle. Freebies rule. OMG, the typos! They hurt my eyes, affront my sensibilities. Usually they flub the possessive: it's vs its. But the grammar is also fairly a·tro·cious! I actually wrote to one author, who ruined her great storyline with too many sentences constructed with an overly aggressive possessive use of the common noun: the door's knob. The room's ceiling. Really? SO what's the technical term for this? Other than bad writing.

Makes me stop and look at the wonky sentence construction every time. Have any of these so-called authors ever heard of editors? Or grammar?

Understand, I'm a very forgiving reader when it comes to fiction. I can read just about anything including cereal boxes—as I'm a slut for storyline. But enough already! I smacks 'em in the metaphorical gob with a wet fish every time they can't correctly use a compound word, or use unnecessary and excessive apostrophes. Or get confused by homonyms. Makes for very fishy reading.

My bed is a vast sea of unschooled fish.

What came out of this process, call it a rant, were my Amazon reviews:
My Amazon Book Reviews
March 27, 2014 I posted my first review.

Knee after acupuncture

Knee elevated, and iced after acupuncture. Oww. Did he have to stab the top of my head too? I have needle welts. $2.5 buck Chuck still not working. OK, Advil, it is. 

Saw the orthopedic surgeon on Friday. Two meniscus tears on either side? No wonder my knee won’t work. I am on the waitlist for a double surgery. You can't heal torn menisci. Mine's torn on both sides of the knee.

In anatomy, a meniscus (from Greekμηνίσκοςmeniskos, "crescent") is a crescent-shaped fibrocartilaginous structure that, in contrast to articular disks, only partly divides a joint cavity. In humans it is present in the knee, acromioclavicular, sternoclavicular, and temporomandibular joints...
en.wikipedia.org

Well, that’s clear as mud. No more dancing for me. I have a stylish color-coordinated kinesio tape-job today: black and magenta. Matches my dress. I have turquoise too. Kinesio tape really works, supports the knee, yet is non-restrictive.

Want chocolate. It's all baby steps. I take the stairs one step at a time! One at a time. Try the half-step one-legged shuffle. The broom is my crutch.

Advil & chocolate. Feel better now.

Well well well, that danged needle upside the head (and elsewhere) actually worked. My knee was not in dire pain at 4 AM. I actually slept through the night. Acupuncturist stuck needles in my left foot, inside knee, right arm and ear, and on the crown of my head. I looked like a weird radio antenna tower. Acupuncture has never worked on me in the past. I'm the incorrigible one. But when things work, they really work.

Now, acupressure has always worked on me. But needles, not. I've been stabbed so much I might as well be a virtual pincushion.

On bended knee

I can't do much these days with bum knee (got an MRI yesterday!) but I've been gardening—sort of. Still a lot I can't do without hurting my knee. But I now have flowers (snapdragons & geraniums—anything I can transplant—or, rather, shove in the ground) that was formerly a no-man's land where icky ivy once grew in a thin strip between concrete prisons along our back alley fence.

So I'm watching the sun patterns and will try a tomato or two next.

But the ground has gotten too far away. I have to invent ways to get close enough to it—even with the retaining wall. On bended knee is not an option. What I've learned: It's harder to get back up. Especially with one knee out of commission. Now the other one's talking back.