Gluttony and other deadly sins I miss

Confessions!  How great is that?  I confess that I have a propensity toward gluttony with a few select foods.  I am not joking.   Those foods are potatoes and marzipan.  Not together but, to be fair I never tried them together and it would probably be incredible.  I love potatoes, mashed, fried, baked, in salads named potato ( yes, I mean potato salad), boiled, microwaved, vodka'd.  I am not fussy, or so I thought.  I live in the middle of nowhere and marzipan is not readily available so it is not relevant to this story.  Oh, and I love Halloween.

Anyway, I will eat potatoes until I am laying on the ground, nearly sick and wondering why I keep doing this.  I apparently cannot be taught. "Is this rambling ode to the potato going anywhere?" you may be asking.  Well, nowhere important, but this is my story so I will continue.  As mentioned previously my sense of smell and taste is really messed up; chocolate, wine, anything with garlic or onion, anything with flavor...pretty much all food is terrible.  But the faithful potato?  I knew I would still love you!  So, yesterday I decided to make mashed potatoes.  This is a touching story of one person's triumph against adversity.  Actually, no it is not that story.  I peeled one large potato.  It smelled terrible raw, but ok, I wasn't eating it raw.  Boiling, smelled horrible but it wasn't done yet.  I mashed my lovely potato with half a cube of butter and whipped in some milk.  Really, I am trying to get some extra calories.  This is the first time in my life that has happened so butter is my weapon of choice.  I took my lovely bowl of potatoes and had a bite.  Ok, not good.  I tried some more, clearly I had to be wrong, it WAS good.  Nope, still not good and getting worse.  Four bites, that's all I could choke down, literally, I had to force myself to swallow them.  It's like a nightmare.

Under normal conditions this would be a dream come true.  I have become almost bony, if I could walk more, bend, lift, twist, and wasn't wearing the "back brace of corseted hell" I would go clothes shopping with glee.  In case you have not been paying attention, I am not currently operating under normal conditions.  I need to have enough calories, protein, calcium, whatever else to get these stupid bones to grow, so it's actually a bit of a concern.  And I am trying to walk for 30 minutes a day and must be strong for such an amazing feat of human endurance.  Quite the conundrum.   

Let's talk about Halloween.  My house is sadly undecorated, except for my two giant spider guys, the metal rat, and the crow that were Halloween decorations but I liked so much they have been elevated to "decor" and are now out year round.  My boss is coming over today and I feel sad the house isn't more festive for The Only Holiday I Like!  For the holiday, here is the latest photo of... My skeleton on fire!  Eeek! 

Happy Halloween! 

Rugby teams and other dangerous things

Recovery is boring.  There I said it.  It gives a person too much confined time with their own thoughts.  So what epiphanies have I had?  I have found that once I state something as an absolute, "I will never do that", God, the Universe, or Fate promptly responds with a resounding "Challenge Accepted!"

Examples?  Of course!

1.  I will never live in any of the middle states, like North or South Dakota, Nebraska, or Wyoming.  

2.  I would never have back surgery, it is always a bad idea.

3. I would never resort to cannibalism.  

Well, I now live in Nebraska.  There is a reason only 145 people live in the entire state, it's not called a fly over state without good reason.  Stay on the plane and keep flying.  Unless of course that's where your job is, if it is quit complaining and grow where you're planted.

Back surgery, well I've had two in the last couple of months.  I'm telling you, back surgery beats the hell out of screaming pain any day of the week.  And now I got some Titanium!  

Cannibalism, ok we're still clear on that one but I'm staying clear of rugby teams and plane trips over the Andes just to be safe.

The point being, saying "never" is just like like begging to eat your words later.

Monday is my first post op check up.  I'm feeling good overall.  The staples in my back itch like mad but that's to be expected while it's healing.  My dumb left leg, that's an annoyance.  I have always had loose tendons or something in my hips.  Never a problem before but now my left hip will just sort of pop out.  It did this really bad when I first herniated that disc and could barely use my leg at all.  I thought it had gotten better but I noticed it again yesterday while wandering in a circle in our driveway.  Going up hill and turning left makes it slip out.  Nice.  I want to get into physical therapy soon to strengthen the supporting muscles.  Hopefully I'll get cleared to walk more and start building some muscle myself.  

Nuts and Bolts

A week!  Its been a week since surgery, amazing right?  I know it's been that long because the felt on my back brace is covered with cat and dog hair.  Now, our house verges on freakishly clean thanks to the vigilance of my hubby, but pet hair is a losing battle.  They should be all be bald by now.  I am sad that there is a lack of horse hair, but I just don't feel like I can make it out to their field so I just watch them from the window.  They don't seem to miss me too much, so that's good?  

Em and T are heading back home and we will miss them, but we kept them longer than they expected and they were finally able to escape.  Initially the plan was for Em to stay for a couple of weeks, instead she got to go through me screeching in pain, Valium soaked (and saying things like "I've only taken 7, right? I can take more." It really did not help with the pain), moving into the recliner, falling down, MRIs and doctor appointments, surgery number 2, and hospital stay.  It easily compared to a trip to....Minot, ND.  Well, maybe not as bad as that....

So, overall I am feeling much better.  I have my walker and so I walker about. My outside left leg and foot muscles are still partially, what is the word?...numb, paralyzed, useless, non-working, I guess any of those work, from the initial "event" so I work on Walker Yoga to strengthen that leg.  Yes, I will be making a video, it's only 3 easy payments of 10.99 plus shipping and handling if you order in the next 60 seconds!  Order Now!   

But really, I am standing straight now, I'm not limping, no muscle spasms or extreme pain, and I feel optimistic. I will wait until a month is up before I shout that from the rooftops seeing as I felt damn good after the first surgery until the thing went to hell.  My sense of taste and smell is still messed up but I'm sure that must be medication related.  All the foods and beverages I really love are currently inedible.  For example, yesterday I just wanted a glass of wine.  So, wine is horrid, so I gave it to hubby and got a beer, even worse, gave it to hubby, Grand Marnier (come on, that's as orangey sweet as a liqueur gets), tasted like gasoline, so to hubby.  I was sad and he looked a bit green.  I guess coffee, water, and juice will have to do for now. 

So for fun, let's look at the nuts and bolts!  Yes, we snapped these from a really old cell phone (no iPhones here folks) in a hospital room, off of a computer screen, this isn't National Geographics, lower 

your standards.

Fun right!

Strange days

I've been home one day now and glad to be here. While hospitals are charming places to visit I wouldn't want to live (or die) there.

The hospital was a trip.  I was told i had to pass the physical therapist's tests, be able to get up by myself, and be off the IV.  I wanted to get home as soon as feasible so I decided not to use the IV pump painkiller on demand stuff the next day.  Really bad idea.  When the nurse assistant came to talk to me, I was pretty unhappy.  She explained that:

1. I should have told them

2. When the pump painkiller thing (not her exact words) isn't being used as much they would give pain pills to bridge the gap. 

3. It's better to keep the pain under control rather than fight to get it back under control.

Ok, after our little talk, I hit the painkiller button about 12 times.  It would only give you a dose every 7 minutes but I didn't want to misjudge and go 8 minutes accidently.  Better safe than sorry.

I would like to point out I would have died if hubby and Em weren't there.  Em helped me with all night with everything, I had an IV, a walker, and I was out of it so it was a challenge.  The night shift nursing team was a bit more lackadaisical than day shift, so good luck with that.  The sheets at the hospital were made out of Velcro, clothing just stuck instantly to it, so that was fun.  They were pumping gallons of fluid into me, I don't know why, so I had to use the bathroom every 2 hours.  It took 30 minutes to de-Velcro from the bed, log roll and lift myself up, get the walker in place, Em had to unplug the IV machine, and we would trek 3 yards to the bathroom, then to the sink to wash hands.  Every 2 hours, 24 hours a day.  Good times.  Some strange conversations occurred during our journeys.  At one point, I said " wouldn't it be funny if this hand just ran away?" now, what is the correct response to that?  She just looked at me.  After a few minutes, I realized how bizarre that was and said as much.  

On top of the bathroom trips, we were woken up so they could get blood from me, change the IV bags (that beeped like a fire alarm whenever they ran out), take my temperature, take my blood pressure, and to ask how I was doing.  Overall, the hospital was exhausting.  My poor hubby was stuck sleeping in the waiting room and I'm sure he slept like a baby too.  I didn't get out the next day but everyone said I was doing well.  On Saturday, I walked up and down the stairs with the physical therapist, saw the surgeon who cleared me, and got the staples out of my head.  The staff was impressed with how responsive my family was to make sure I was ok, and I got cleared to go home.  Yeah!

T stayed at the house and wrangled animals through this whole ordeal.  That was great, no one had to worry about them so everyone could focus on what was important.  ME, in case you were confused.  

I slept upstairs in my bed all night for the first time in too long.  I'm glad to be feeling better, if still sore and beat up.  

Post surgery

Had the surgery yesterday.  We got up bright and early to get there for the 7AM check in time.  I was the second one of the day.  The first one ran long so I didn't go until 11:30. I think I asked my husband 100 times to go get the car so I could  go.  I would have walked briskly away (we got a runner?!) but I only have 2 speeds really slow and even slower.  The wait has been nerve racking. 

The surgery went well according to everyone.  The neurosurgeon got it done in less than 2 hours so that was great too, nothing weird happened.  In the recovery room I heard someone yelling my name and I woke up.  The recovery was way easier this surgery compared to the one in August.  I wasnt nauseous this time and wasnt as tired afterward.  one weird thing though, I had some goo in my hair and it turned out they had stapled my head.  They had put something like a halo on to hold my head and one bled too much when it was removed so they stapled it closed.  At least that's the story, the staple look remarkably like plain stables so I envision some sort of post surgery office supply fight or choigraphed dance with red Swingline staplers. 

Em and hubby stayed with me last night, which was nice.  I was still a bit confused from the anesthesia. I woke up at 12:05 and thought it was noon and I had just slept a long time.  Em is staying in my room so I asked her if she was napping, then I sent a text to hubby that I was FINALLY up!  The have a one guest in room policy so he was sleeping in the waiting area on an itty bitty couch so I'm sure he appreciated this little bit of info.  Em asked me if I knew it was midnight and of course I didn't.  

My super duper corsetted back brace showed up so this morning I put it on and walked around.  I felt like a marathon runner!  I got back to my room and met my phys. therapist and I wanted to learn how to walk up and down stairs but I had gotten so light headed from the walk, I thought I was going to pass out.  We just went on another walk, which was fine by me!  I'm the one in the middle.  I'm tired and uncomfortable but not in any extreme pain yet.  Already I am standing straighter and walking without the limp I forgot to mention earlier.  I'm trying to not use the pump pain meds at all so they will take the IV out.  They took the catheter out this morning thankfully, I hate those things!

  

Fe Fi Fo Fum

Well, the day is nearing.  It's been very stressful and I wish it was done.  The game plan is a bit graphic, they saw off a chunk of my spine ( yeah!), scrape out the damaged disc, grind up my bone they sawed off and put it into a cage, like a plastic Lego then they stuff it in where the disc was, then they take 4 giant screws and put two in each vertebrae and a rod connecting them to hold my spine at the correct distance.  Easy Peasy.  To make this even more fun I found out yesterday I have a bladder infection. So I get to eat even more pills!  and cranberry juice....yum.

So in an effort to ease my anxiety I look at my MRI.  Well, there is a line right through the damaged area, but the disc herniated again.  A lot.  The first photo is from the side ( again my dear hubby cropped my belly fat.  Thank you!) and the second is me cut in half, like a magician trick gone horribly wrong.  I'm not a doctor but even I can see the stuff pressing on my spinal nerves.  

Here's another picture, it's a bit blurry but you get the idea.  The white line is NOT suppose to have black gunk in it.  To add a dash of joy to this, this has caused spinal instability!  Now, this happens sometimes, it's not anyone's fault.  I keep saying that, I really tried to be careful and knew it was a risk but I still wonder if I could have done something different.  If wishes were horses all beggars would ride.

On to another topic.  Today is my mother and father in law's wedding anniversary.  48 years!  They took a wonderful trip to Nebraska.  It was a dream of theirs to see....ummm...the largest grass stabilized sand dunes in the world.  Thats right!  We got that here!   HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!  We are very glad they are here, cause they are the ones holding us together emotionally.  I've thought many times that my head was about to implode and they have stopped it from happening every time.  THANK YOU!

                                                     Laissez les bons temps rouler !  

The Castle Aaargh

I found another reason why I would be a horrible undercover CIA agent.  The list is surprisingly long already.  I imagine most people keep a similar list.  What I found is when I'm under extreme duress I am very compliant.  Torture me and I will give you anything I have, information, puppies, boxes of chocolate, you name it it's yours.  I have two times in my life that fit into this category, labor and this back thing.  Now labor was 22 years ago but still a vivid memory but I think there have been a couple of times that this current event surpasses it for pure pain.  That's saying something since labor is the main reason I only have one child.  "Where is this going?" you might ask yourself.  Well, the first surgery was an easy decision, I was in debilitating pain and surgery was scheduled for the next day.  This scheduled surgery too, same story....but then the insurance thing caused a delay and I've had too much Internet time to freak out about it.  I've started to second guess myself.  That is its own torture.  

"Please tell us more!". Well if you insist!  I had what I considered a good day yesterday.  To qualify as a good day anymore is surprisingly easy.  I was just uncomfortable all day.  See, the bar is set fairly low. But it was good enough I thought maybe I'm getting better!  To test this hypothesis I set up an experiment.  I made brownies.  I was careful, didn't lift anything too heavy like the flour container, bent with my knees if I needed anything I couldn't reach, I wasn't trying to hurt myself.  It took about 20 minutes and it felt like an hour but all in all it went ok.  Please remember the evolution chart, I am still not walking upright, that has not changed at all.  But I'm feeling pretty cocky, like I just summitted Everest or something.  The brownies were my Everest!  Actually, that's not true, turns out standing upright and laying flat is my Everest.  Who knew?

So, part two of my experiment.  I was going to skip my nightly dose of Flexeril muscle relaxant drug (but keep it close at hand, just in case) and SLEEP IN MY BED!  I laid down with a pillow under my knees for support, I mean I wasn't going to dare devil this thing, and prepared to sleep.  Well, that's not exactly what happened.  Pain, that's what happened.  I flailed about and knocked my water over, oops.  After about two hours and a muscle spasm later I caved and took the Flexeril.  I try to not take more than half a pill during the day because a whole pill quickly renders me unconscious. That is a reliable outcome, but not this time. I had another spasm, and couldn't sleep through the pain.  After about 4 hours, I gave up and staggered downstairs to my chair home with my heating pad.  

So, I'm not doing as well as I thought I was.  Surprise!  

What was that thing....?

What was that thing everyone did right before the Titanic sunk?   Oh, right PANIC. That's how I feel.  Too much time to wait and brood and imagine horrible things. Like what if there is a sharknado that hits the hospital in the middle of the surgery? What then?  Actually, it is really stressful.  There are real risks which I don't want to think about now without a Valium.  

I don't feel horrible right now.  Let's take a look at the probable reasons for this:

1. I'm on some decent pain meds and any time I feel bad I can take something for it. 

2. I am almost immobile so very little stress on my back.  I spend about 22 hours a day in a recliner with a heating pad.  I figure 2 hours a day for shower, teeth brushing, potty trips, crying and flailing about, and foraging. 

3. I am not: picking up, carrying, bending, or doing anything remotely active.

4. Because eating has become such a chore I've lost weight.  Don't get me wrong, I didn't need to lose weight my BMI was and still does fall in the normal range but I've lost 13 pounds.  I read somewhere that for every extra pound you carry you put 5 pounds of pressure on your lower back.  So that's.....umm basic math..... 5x13=.....hold on....65 pounds of pressure.  That's huge...if my math is right.  And it always is.  (Why yes, that was a quote from the first IronMan movie, glad to see you are paying attention)

5. I actually am getting better...now what do I do with that? Is it?  How do I know?  Panic.

Anyway, when I do decide to get up off my butt to do something I'm reminded that I am really not ok.  I managed to successfully make a pound cake yesterday.  I mean, that is the simplest of all the cakes but it was still exhausting and achy.  I want to just go back to work, I wasn't expecting any of this, my office is a mess, I have stuff to do, people to hire, and my whole territory is now being handled by SOMEONE ELSE.  What if they are doing a better job than me.....panicking.... I have a life that has nothing to do with my current lifestyle of doing nothing!

I hope all goes completely great and I get out of the hospital quickly and heal fast.  Everything I've read is, basically you can do it now, or do it later and manage the pain, but either way eventually you will probably need to do it.  I'll take now while the insurance is playing ball and all my out of pocket expenses are paid.  Happy thought, happy thoughts,  I really suck at happy thoughts.  I'm more of a "things can always get worse" sort of person.  

Roller coaster rides make me want to throw up

Ok, insurance approved the surgery after the peer to peer review.  I was SO SURE they were going to deny it again I was trying to figure out how I was going to get around. My husband and father in law went out and got me a cane that matches our new bass. Turns out those are crazy hard to use.  Em gave me a walking with a cane tutorial including demonstration but I am just a horrid student and unable to follow basic directions.  I am a hazard to myself and others so I pretty much just stay put.  I have stolen the cat's chair, the recliner and I am sort of living there.  The cat looks disgusted but he has taken my side of the bed seeing as I sleep in this chair too.  Wow, that sounds pathetic when it's on paper. 

In a woe is me moment, I was reminded I did get to put on shoes and leave the house just yesterday.  The horses were out running and bucking, normal horse play stuff when the guys went out to feed them.  Frankie had blood running out of his nose and had managed to rub a huge bloody streak on my husband's shirt.  As he is grey, everywhere on his body he had touched also had a big red smear.  He looked like a nightmare.  Anyway, I got to ride the 500 feet in the convertible and wear shoes too, so I could look at him.  Turned out he had a little nick in his nostril that just bled like no tomorrow.  I got to sit in the car and yell direction...so that was my outing.  First time I've been outside since my last doctors appointment.  

Surgery is scheduled for Thursday, 10AM.  I had geared up and mentally prepared for surgery, then got ungeared and mentally prepared to not have surgery because of the insurance, and now I am gearing up again for surgery.  I'm really nervous but this is considered the "easy" fusion because there isn't much motion there anyway but they are going to cut off a chunk of spine bone.  No way you can get lipstick on that pig, it's flat out terrifying. At least I'll get a chance to get out of the chair...the cat will be happy. 

I'm really glad that Em an T are willing to stay here with us, they both give us support and help with our menagerie so someone will be able to stay with me at the hospital.  I hate that I can't stand up long enough to cook for them.  Or cook unburnt food for them might be more accurate.  So far they haven't snuck out in the middle of the night and hightailed it back home.  Little do they know we have all the doors barred, just in case....

Hurry up and wait...

The Internet is a great and terrible thing.  I've been trying to stay busy so I don't spend all my time on it.   A managed to make foccasia bread with a lot of assistance from Em, but I still read a ton about the spine on the Internet.  So, freaking out.  The surgeon planned on speaking to the insurance today, last I heard they were playing telephone tag with each other.  I need to feel better and go back to work but any way you cut it this process has been a drag!  Prolonged worry about surgery, or lack of surgery if the insurance company denies it again, is scary and stressful either way.  So I read internet back surgery stories and medication interactions horrors.  Bad, bad, bad!  I started this blog thing to prevent me from doing exactly what I am doing...obsessing over all that could go wrong. I don't do that when I drive and if you think about all the things that could go wrong with that you would get out and burn your Car of Potential Death on the spot.   

So on to other news.  The medication has made food taste weird.  Bad weird, really really bad.  I had a part of a Subway sandwich.  I like those.  My husband cut it nicely into 4 little pieces because I am super picky now.  I was sort of picking at it and there was something in it, horrid like sour kraut dipped in battery acid and allowed to ferment in hell for 3 months ( in real life, I think it  might have been an onion).  Needless to say, I didn't finish all my dinner.  When making the foccasia, I noticed that my sense of smell has changed too.  The dough smelled nauseating to me, I think it was the garlic, but everyone else said it smelled and tasted good.  I'll take their word for it, no way I'm eating it.  Bizarre right?  Toast, plain potato chips, and tic tacs are about all I eat, with the occasional cookie or ice cream tossed in for protein  (As a vegetarian, a healthy diet is vital!).   At least the mood swings have stopped, so that's good.  

Hopefully, I'll hear tomorrow what the insurance company says.  Eeek!  Scary either way!  Perfect for halloween.  

And we're walking...

Alright, let's start with the good.  The pain medication is working well.  I haven't had any muscle spasms since I've started the new meds.  I feel pretty good, if I don't move very much and I've lost over 10 pounds.  Awesome right!  I'm sure I look great except for the falling down, inability to stand up straight, listing, and snail like pace.  I've stopped crying all the time (I think that was the steroids) so that's good too.  

So what's not so good?

I currently walk like the second guy.  I'm almost evolved! But not a lot of "bringing sexy back".  But really, I am standing all kinds of weird. Warning, some mildly mature content.  So, please refer to second guy as I run through this.  I can only stand with my knees bent and leaning forward.  If I attempt to fix this, I fall down or just go backward like a 1974 Vega with a bum transmission.  " it's stuck in reverse again!" My hips are shifted to the right and my shoulders to the left.  Like I'm trapped in a strange belly dance position.  To add to the attractiveness of this image I hold my left side higher than my right side which makes my left boob about three inches higher than the right one.  Victoria Secret models better watch their back cause I'm coming after their jobs!  

The surgery was originally scheduled for today, so I'll continue to wait.  If they aren't doing the surgery I just have got to get back to work.  I can make it about 15 feet from chair to counter top in one impressive burst of movement.  But it's exhausting, really, like I just ran a mile (ha, like I know what running a mile is like!).  Usually it's from this base to that one I fall down, so I guess I can't say I usually make it the 15 feet.  I bet I could make it 5 feet with no problem.  Please hold your applause to the end.  

I made an ice cream base yesterday, I can't believe I didn't drop dead half way through the recipe.  My pulse was up to 212 beats per minute, I was sweating, panting and hanging onto the counter top like an overly excited Great Dane.  But we now have ice cream!  Success!  

I continue to wait and see what will happen. 

Insurance, or so it's called

I'm suppose to be in surgery.  Right now.  I'm assuming you can tell that has not occurred.  My father in law drove most of the night to get here and I'm just sitting in the same chair I slept in.

Why? That is a valid question.  Apparently surgery was scheduled before the insurance approved it.  And they didn't approve it.  At least we got some notice, five minutes before we left for the hospital we found out.  That's almost enough time to make microwave popcorn, so I can't complain.

Now the surgeon needs to do a peer to peer conference with my insurance company to explain that we aren't just doing this for fun and I get to wait to find out what happens.  I am completely useless, I can't cook, walk, get dressed unless I have an hour to dedicate to the onputting of socks, or drive.  If you think I sound whiny, you are wrong.  I sound pathetic.  There is a distinct difference.

I'll sit in my chair, try not to cry in front of company, or swear or drink to much.  It's tough to be polite when things suck.  Actually, for those of you that pray, pray I don't just develop a severe case of tourrettes in front of my father in law.  I think that may be bad.

This is traumatic because you really have to psych yourself up to commit fully for surgery.  I mean, that takes some energy, it's so easy to second guess your choice.  If it turns out it was a great choice, if it doesn't it was a bad choice but not making a commitment means I get to sit RIGHT here, in THIS chair, the same chair I sleep in now and stay semi comotose on pharmisuticals.

Well, no one said life were fair, I just really want it to be not fair in my favor.

Now or never

So, I just received a call from the surgeon. My surgery has been moved to tomarrow with a 7:30 check in time.  So, here we go.

Bad behavior and new drugs.

Hi,

It’s been a rough day and a half and I’ve been sharing my frustrations with my family.  They think it’s a ton of fun!  Em is like the stellar version of a hostage negotiator.  I believe if she was given the opportunity she could broker a lasting peace settlement in the Middle East.  She makes really good cookies too.  We are fortunate to have her here!

Yesterday was the first day without the wonders of prednisone and therefore without a very good night sleep.  They can’t refill it because it suppresses your ability to fight infection.  I had one minor back spasm that freaked me out.  I just can’t do those again; even the thought of them is terrifying.  It’s like having a bear come lick your face.  The licking part is fairly unpleasant but you’re sure they are going to do the “how many licks to get to the center of a tootsie pop” with the center in this analogy being your brain.  Then instead they just walk away leaving you scared, angry and covered in bear drool.  That was how my day started. 

I had some stuff that needed to be accomplished, minor stuff like updating my work out of office email, calling the doctor about the return of the muscle spasms, just little stuff like that.  Anyway, I wasn’t able to update the voice message on my work phone.  I sent an email to the Telecom manager for the territory to ask how I could do it, I mean it had worked in the past, its not rocket science.  He told me to do exactly what I had been doing and then told me to call the computer help desk to fix it.  I was feeling unreasonably annoyed by this process soooo, my husband stepped in to assist.  You know, sometimes it is just not about the nail.  And WWIII began.  In Nebraska. 

Now let’s be fair, the guy is doing a great job and I feel like I’ve been holding onto the ragged edges of sanity by one bloody fingernail since this whole thing started.  I staggered down the stairs into our sunroom, found a flower pot (a cheap, empty terra cotta one, I think they were 2 bucks) and threw it as hard as I could onto our deck.  OK, expectation versus reality.  Expectation, pot shatters into a million shards dispersing my childish behavior in an explosion of pottery.  Reality, under best conditions I throw like a girl (a girl that can’t throw things) and I’m not under my best conditions.  So I threw the pot, it hurt so much I thought I was going to fall down, the pot hits the deck and bounces, unharmed until on the second bounce it breaks into 3 pieces.  Not satisfying, painful, and somehow I managed to get a splinter in my hand in the process.  No idea how that happened and I’m still as mad as a wet hen.

I stagger back up stairs and Em, the voice of rationality, explained how I really needed to calm down, talk to my husband about picking up my new prescription because, really I shouldn’t (and I believe I can’t) drive to get it myself and  explained just not talking to him wasn’t really an option.  So we apologize, kiss and make up.  He goes and gets a new prescription for spasms, I take it with my other medication and then I fall asleep.  Right there.  I slept for 13 hours.  After some additional research, it looks like people stagger the meds so this doesn’t happen.  Interesting!  Live and learn.   

So what is the point of this little story?  I’m so frustrated that I can’t do the simplest tasks, I’m drugged up, in pain, and scared about the surgery.  My husband wants so much to fix everything and this is just not something he can fix.  For anyone out there who may be having or considering the surgery, don’t expect the wait to be a cakewalk for you or others in your life, find a diplomat or hostage negotiator and just have them stay with you.  It helps.