I didn’t mean to make a pun there, leading you to believe this was yet ANOTHER foot post. It’s not, promise. I’ll only say that the foot’s improving, and that it reminded me to post this comment from Stuart some time ago:
Congrats on the foot! Getting better, one step at a time, I see! Looks like everything’s going tibia okay! Can’t wait to see you fully heel.
I’m sorry I just couldn’t help it. I guess I better leg it now.
He may have heard me groaning all the way out in Malaysia.
Nope, it’s something else even MORE amazing than puns, if you can believe it.
Hubby and I went to bar trivia with some friends last night. Beforehand, I thought it would be so great if there was a question that was perfectly tailored for me. I was thinking along the lines of: Who is the song “Dirty Frank” about (Jeffrey Dahmer, btw), or something involving the name Mookie Blaylock, as examples of something truly random that only I, being the freak that I am, would know.
My fellow bloggers understand this community and the value of the friendships we’ve formed. Like me, you’ve probably seen bloggers come and go, sometimes with no word, leaving you wondering. I appreciate it when writers give a head’s up that they’re shoving off.
Still, when one of my longest-running blog buddies gave the ol’ WordPress farewell, I cried a little. It felt like a death, which I admit is kind of ridiculous, but I was devastated. Chatter Master has been almost like a mom to me (Almost, Mom! I said almost!) and a surrogate Sensei, since she’s a fourth degree black belt in Taekwondo. (It took years for me to learn this amazing, unexpected fact!) Also, that means she outranks my sensei. Heh heh. Her encouragement with my martial arts struggles took her loveliness and wisdom to a new level.
Bossy Babe has also left us. To this I maturely responded in the comments with a string of “Nooooo!!!”s. Comparatively, I only knew her a short time, but I sure enjoyed her company. She also led me to Stuart, who in turn led me to Cindy, so I’m eternally grateful.
After much back and forth internal debate, some soul-searching, lengthy discussions with Hubby, late-night consultations with a priest who doubles as an exorcist (that last part was particularly important), I decided to send Sensei a link to my last post.
On January 9, I finally saw a specialist about the Jiu-Jitsu accident that happened September 29. He took one look at my foot and said, “You’ve got Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, which can happen after a surgery or trauma.”
According to Wikipedia: “CRPS is any of several painful conditions that are characterized by a continuing regional pain that is seemingly disproportionate in time or degree to the usual course of any known trauma or other lesion.”
In other words, I developed a condition that means taking a stupidly long time to heal.
He knew it on sight from the discoloration of my foot. Brace yourselves, I’m including a pic.
Actually, I’m iffy on the sordid tales part, but we’ll see where this post takes me.
Ally Bean sometimes shares reader comments in her posts, which I think is a great idea. I’ve never done it, but Andrew’s comment on my wheelchair post deserves a wider audience. In his hilarious “Friday Wisdom” style, he wrote:
“My brother is a long time wheelchair user and I’m an outstanding wheelchair wrangler so here are a few tips for a better life with a wheelchair:
Get the foot rests. You can point them straight out and use your chair to ram things, doors, chairs, children, etc.
Carpet your walls – this hides the damage better.
Furniture is for people who don’t have wheelchairs – remove the pieces you don’t need.
Upgrade your baseboards to stainless steel, you won’t have to repaint as often.
Never let your husband push you when he’s mad at you. You’ll end up having your feet smashed into a door frame and will have to start the healing process all over again.
There are wheelchair races and other sports to consider – the martial arts version is just to learn how to use the foot rest as a weapon (it’s easier than you think and why I have a slight limp in my left leg).
Try going backwards in the chair. Then you can use your good leg to kick yourself down a hallway at high speed and if you crash, it won’t be feet first. [Editor’s note: so wise!]
You do need more stickers and perhaps a flag. One of those bike flags is nice, but do something custom with it – maybe a Jiu Jitsu flag or one of your belts.
And finally, laundry with a wheelchair is a snap, just put the laundry basket on your lap, point you back towards the laundry room and start kicking with your good foot. After you crash, you, the laundry and your chair will be right next to the washing machine.
If you need other tips, call me, I’m here for you.”
Andrew IS here for me when I need a good laugh. Thanks, Andrew!
“Your wheelchair reminds me of when I was going through chemo. My husband got a wheelchair so he could take me to the mall and I could see the Christmas decorations (just too weak from chemo to walk a great distance.) We were coming out of the mall and my husband was hanging on tight to the wheelchair as we had to go down a slight incline. A grandmother with her little grandson (probably 7 or 8) were approaching as we were going down. The little boy looked at my husband and said, “Let go of her.” His grandmother immediately tried to hush him, but my husband and I had a good laugh.”
Ah, kids. Such little stinkers!
Okay, I do have a couple of “sordid” tales for you. First, this very rude Wordle:
I thought, why not repeat that again this year? If it ain’t broke, you know?
So, months in advance, I was happy to secure the band and the venue. This year was going to be even better because the band’s guitarist was graciously letting me be Birthdayzilla by requesting that certain songs make the set list, while others not so much. (“Stacy’s Mom” does not have it going on in my book.)
I also bought two of these:
Also, since I blew it last year and didn’t take advantage of my pull with the band by requesting “Smells Like Teen Spirit” for Neighbor and me to dance on a table to, I made certain it would make the cut this year. “Not a problem,” Guitarist had said with a smile.
All was looking golden, and I couldn’t be more excited.
My neighbor did an exceedingly excellent job of making me feel special on my birthday. (Darn her!) I was quite nervous as to how I could possibly return the favor. Then I realized the solution was simple.