The Dental Drama Continues

So, what was supposed to be a crown fitting turned into a root canal on a different tooth. That's right, folks: two root canals in three weeks. And they weren't even decayed to the point of needing a canal. They were just in so much pain and the nerves constantly agititating that the only way to get out of pain was to hollow them out. Bastard teeth. I've now maxed out my dental insurance for the year. Which means, as long as it stays stable and out of pain, the failed root canal from five years ago is going to have to wait until 2011 to get fixed, when we can afford our still ridiculous co-pay and have our insurance reset.

Meanwhile, my mouth is not a happy place as it recovers from yet another root canal. It took ten days to be able to chew on that side of my mouth after the last one. And, because Murphy is just having a blast with my teeth at the moment, a new tooth is starting to get twitchy. My dentist and I are being quite stern with the sucker and telling it there's no reason to be in pain, that everything's fine. I think it's freaking out because it's next to two dead teeth and is feeling the pressure of having to pull the sensation weight of them.

I suppose now might be a good time to mention that I need to see an eye doctor this weekend because I've had an increase in the incidence of flashing lights and floaters in my right eye, the one the eye doc said six months ago was showing evidence of the retina getting thin as my eye continues its myopic distortion. And I had a real swell joint pain flare up last weekend.

Where's my clone? And a perfected consciousness transfer process?

Dental Drama

So the Sekrit Projekt has taken a hit because, for the past six weeks, my teeth have been excessively problematic. I'll put it this way: Vicodin and Valium have become close friends. Makes it hard to be coherent to write, though I've been trying. My original goals are, of course, hanging out with Satan along with a few other good intentions from the past few weeks.

I get fit for a crown on Tuesday and then get the crown placed 2-3 weeks after that. Keep your fingers crossed that this keeps my mouth a mostly agreeable place until October when I have to get the failed root canal from five years ago (you know, the one I got while 14weeks pregnant?) fixed. That will require a trip to the endodondist. Stupid teeth. I asked my dentist if he could just yank them all. He said it probably wouldn't be the best idea. Sigh.

The Obligatory 2009 Retrospective

For the half-dozen stubborn souls still regularly reading this blog after a very sparse year, I thank you and look forward to a fresh start in 2010.

As for 2009, I have a nice long list of excuses to take me off the hook for writing so little, for taking poor care of my bod, for going long stretches of time not hanging with my family, and for not giving as much of my skills and talents to my writing group in the position I was in this year. Thing is, all those excuses stem from a choice I made rather unwittingly at first but then continued to make without planning much beyond said choice. That choice? My day job became a career. I'm not very upset about that choice. I love what I do during the work week. It's very satisfying and it keeps the anal-retentive perfectionist control-freak side of my personality extremely busy and happily so.

If I could go back to the beginning of 2009, I would still make this choice, but I would be smarter about it. I wouldn't just assume that my life could fall into place around my career choice without effort on my part. I wouldn't assume that choosing something as a career means the career naturally progresses according to my effort and abilities without reference to the careers and attitudes of others around me. I didn't make these assumptions consciously, but I realized I had made them sometime in the fall and didn't take steps to correct them or work around them. That's what my journey since Thanksgiving has been about.

So for 2010, I will not accept exhaustion at the end of the work day or the weekend as an excuse not to write for at least an hour or not to do something active with the family for at least three hours on the weekend. I know my body's limits and a little fatigue is not going to deter me. No more wuss-fest after a long day and week. I think most of the exhaustion I felt was more mental and focused on my logic-slave side anyway than the parts of me I employ writing and being with Drew and Mark. I can compartmentalize better. My body has been in the habit of not falling asleep until 11PM and waking up at 5AM. Rather than toss and turn in bed for an hour or two every night and doze through the last half-hour before the alarm goes off every morning, I'm going to use those times for writing and exercising, respectively.

All of that being said, however, I did submit a short story twice this year, once to a contest, once to an on-line zine. Got rejected and earned the ability to write-off my writing expenses for tax purposes. I did bring in many amazing speakers to my writing group and contributed to another fabulous year for our little volunteer-run chapter of RWA. I also had three writing retreats this year (the first of which was spent sick and huddled under the covers afer about 2K of crap-tastic words; the second was spent playing solitaire after about 2K of pure schlock; and the third produced 3K of great stuff that launched a project I'm using for a revision course that will keep me on a good schedule for the first half of 2010 and should seque right into fixing THUMB for the second half). While it was mostly stress-induced, I also lost 30 pounds this year and am now a size 8 (there's some residual flab that needs toning, and I'd like to maintain this weight without the negativity of severe stress). And we did spend a good deal of time together as a family, also getting Drew in the habit of brushing his teeth every day and practicing writing his letters regularly. And the career is coming along quite well.

So 2009 wasn't a bust though it kind of feels like it. Mostly because I know I can do better.

Isn't It Romantic?

Today marks the eighth anniversary of our first date. Eight years ago today, Mark and I went to see What Women Want (and, ironically, Mark completely failed at catching my signals in the world-renowned art of Movie Theater Armrest Touching) and afterwards confessed that we had some sort of thing for each other and maybe we should, you know, become a couple officially so all of our friends can finally treat us as such though we've clearly been acting like a couple for a few weeks.

So this morning, knowing that Mark and I usually do something a little special for each other on this day, particularly since the Drew Monster stole some of our wedding anniversary thunder by being born the day before, I woke up to the sultry sound of my husband....

....hurling in the toilet?

Every now and then, I swear I hear that 80s PSA guy intoning over a background sizzling noise, "This is your life. This is your life as a parent. Any questions?"

Happy Anniversary, Mark. Sorry you spent it shuffling between the bathroom and the bed, but, hey, at least it was unique! :)

"Normal"

It occurs to me that I never did post the requisite update about my MRI. It was "normal" per my doctor. That's all she said. Normal. Oh, and she tossed in a line about taking that last prescription she gave me. No mention of how there wasn't bursitis and there wasn't anything to indicate why I was in severe pain during the MRI and what the next steps might be other than "Here, have some more drugs."

Also, it's a very good thing I got a copy of the radiologist's report on my own as my doctor didn't think it worth mentioning that I had several benign ovarian cysts that need a follow-up via ultrasound in 3-6 months to make sure they remain benign.

Needless to say, I'll be cancelling my follow-up with this particular doctor and investigating other options for addressing whatever the hell is going on with my joints.

Jury's Still Out

My spidey-sense told me that I should have asked for a copy of the radiologist's report of my MRI in addition to picking up a copy of the films, which I was told my doctor would need. I was also told that a copy of said report would be faxed to my doctor, so all would be revealed at today's visit. The doc would help me understand the report and point out the relevant images on the films. This is how it's worked before with another doctor.

Yeah. Not so much with this one.

So I still don't know exactly what's going on. I've taken a look at the films (well, duh; I can't just sit on something like that and NOT peek), but the bright lines that I suspect are significant may turn out to be noise or something.

One thing I know for certain. Tomorrow I will be requesting a copy of my own from the radiologist. I am not going to sit around and wait for my doctor's office to get their copy and call me with the results.

Not Dead Yet

The saga of my health is more frustrating than it is entertaining, but, hey, I don't want to neglect my blog. So here's an update on the exciting Medical Maladies of Kellie Hazell.

I did end up going to the doctor on Friday. I knew it was going to be a rough time when Drew refused to settle down at any point before my doctor actually came in. The roughness increased when I realized that my doctor was frazzled for reasons of her own and "interviewed" me and listened to my complaints by skimming through (out loud, at least, so I could try to interject more info) my history on the joint issues and the various reports from the orthopedic specialist and my physical therapist. Each time I took breath to interrupt her assertively and make her listen that I didn't think it was bursitis again (a diagnosis I think she might have made before she even opened the exam room door), Drew would act out and I would have to address him instead and the moment was gone.

The only really aware thing my doctor did was to forego a steroid injection in my shoulder as when they tried that with my hip back in January, my symptoms escalated to severe piriformis syndrome and a mildly numb leg. She gave me oral steroids instead and the same NSAID from the previous merry-go-round adventure in January. By that point, I was indifferent to the process and figured it'd be best to try out her preferred treatment and be able to rule out anything obvious. That was Friday night.

Saturday, I woke to worse joint pain than before and horrendously tightening muscles. I put up with it through the day, taking it easy as much as I could. On Sunday, I went looking for all sorts of information on the particular steroid I had been prescribed to examine all those fun side effects. Sure enough severe muscle tightening and joint pain were listed as major side effects. So I groaned a bit, but decided to troop through (as I had also discovered Sunday morning after delaying the next dose a couple of hours that going cold-turkey was going to give me severe headaches and other unpleasantness).

Then, last night, the right hip and shoulder pain (which had been non-existant before Friday) grew to levels almost too uncomfortable for sleep, and this morning became so severe that in order to just sit and work at the desk, I had to take the pain med. The pain med cut away the worst of the pain while leaving behind swelling in my knee that prevents me from straightening my leg and gives a nice tingling sensation below the knee. Oh, and have I mentioned the occasional shortness of breath and mild dizziness? So, yeah, going back to the doctor this afternoon. My doctor is out, though, so I'll have the benefit of starting fresh with someone new at the clinic. And I'll be leaving Drew to hang out in the pool with my mom so he doesn't distract the process.

I was trying to figure out what book I wanted to bring with me, as going anywhere by myself during the weekday is something of a novelty and a book would be useful. As much as I want to read anything by Robert Charles Wilson, the only book I have on hand is Blind Lake, which begins in the POV of a character who has snorted coke just to be polite over the course of a mostly anonymous one-night stand. I'm all for flawed, interesting characters and kicking someone to their lowest spots to watch them struggle to get beyond it, but I just don't have the patience for it right now. So I remembered I had Karin Lowachee's first book Warchild, and I thought that would be the perfect engaging read without presenting me with such a difficult POV right of the bat. Then I scanned the first few pages and saw they are in 2nd person POV (the "you went down a hall and someone shouted at you" variety). I went back to the TBR pile and snagged Kevin J. Anderson's Hidden Empire, which I had picked up when it was on sale for $2.99 (same way I picked up Terry Goodkind's Wizard's First Rule). This is what I get for being a good reader and trying to cut through the TBR pile instead of buying new shiny books. I have nothing of reliable bubble gum (perhaps with surprising staying power) material on hand.

And, of course, it goes without saying that writing hasn't really been happening lately. Hard thing to do when your left arm has a tendency to go numb when kept in the typing position. No, my life has been reduced to a giddy anticipation for shopping in the brand new super grocery store that just opened this morning. I wish I were kidding, but I actually had moments of night-before-Christmas-squee last night while putting together a shopping list. I fear I have not kept my distance from the suburban mom mask. It has absorbed me. Beyond that, one of the highlights of the past few days has been listening to the audio commentaries of Psych Season 2 and anticipating the 3rd season beginning on Friday.

The glamour of my life: revel in it.

Is That Full-grown Clone Option Viable Yet?

I hates my body. It hates me too. My left shoulder is in agony, and unless I hold my arm in a precise position, the damn thing gets all tingly, making typing a no-go (you wouldn't believe how long it's taken me to write this vs my normal speed). I can't even hold a book well to read, though I've managed a pillow prop set-up that seems to work.

And, of course, now that I've sat down at my desk, my left hip is bitching at me again.

I'm calling the doctor tomorrow to set up an appointment. This is ridiculous.

Chasing the Ghost

Ow. Very bad PT session today. My left arm feels mostly dead and my left leg is only slightly alive. Typing this hurts. So no writing for me tonight. And now, after trying to run down all the funky aches and pains in my body and some of them getting worse, I'm starting to think I need to go back to the doctor and make sure there's not something else going on that requires different treatment. The joint stuff is kind of scary, and it wasn't all that encouraging to hear my therapist today start asking me signs of stroke questions when I mentioned the regular left shoulder and hip weakness. Really, I do so enjoy seeking treatment for my various maladies. Nice to have my body's quirks addressed and resolved in so straightforward a fashion.

The DDJ Computer Is Dead! Long Live the DDJ Computer!

The Dreaded Day Job-issued laptop was pronounced dead by my IT department at 0814 this morning. Turns out the funny clicking and beeping and buzzing I heard emanating from it yesterday, while it did not affect computer function appreciably at the time, was the harbinger of doom for the relic of a ThinkPad. The harddrive is kaput, the system can't find it anymore.

As was the case with my previous work laptop, I never stored anything on it for either work or writing, so nothing but some scenery pics I had kept forgetting to transfer to an external harddrive were lost. And I can access a decent amout of stuff via the web from our other home computer, so I'm not totally unable to work, more's the pity.

Of course, my bod took care of that by giving me some sort of funky inner ear issue last night that has finally worked its way past the dramamine I took this morning to deal with it. So I'm off to be anyway, grateful that Drew is napping, and that Mark should be home before El Boyo Diablo wakes up.

What a crappy day.

No Progress to Report

Haven't written since Wednesday night. Likely won't write tonight. Drew's had a couple of bad nights going to sleep, and it's pretty hard to concentrate on writing when he's either crying until 8:30 or Mark or I has to go back in to get him settled every fifteen minutes. Today I'm just wiped, despite sleeping in and a two-hour nap, and I'm not hopeful on Drew's going to bed routine this evening either. I think my body's trying to tell me to chill for a bit, so I'm going to listen.

Progress: Break On Through

Deadline: June 30, 2008
Today's Words: 1,231 (that's more like it)
Total words: 52,060 (9,060)

Musical stylings: More Magnatune wanderings
Munchies: None, but I'm about to change that
Researched via Quickie Wiki or the Google Boogie: I was a good girl and left Teh Internets alone tonight
Mean Things: Impersonal crew titles among friends, mommy issues, rich girl angst
Placeholder of the day: "It helped that Elzie's mentor, Name Here, had commed them..."

Physical therapy contortions: Man, I am just falling apart. My wrist went bonkers on me tonight, but I'm pretty sure that's just from all the mousework I had to do for the DDJ today. Aside from that, the stretches went well. My shoulder seems to be doing better as my neck gets stretched out, and my hips are definitely vastly improved over the past week and a half. Now I get to work at my scar a bit as Mark and I watch an episode of The West Wing.

Progress: Dead on my Seat

I don't know how I managed to keep my butt in chair for an hour and produce anything, but I did. Granted, it's not a lot of words by any stretch.

Deadline: June 30, 2008
Today's Words: 138 (I'll onesy-twosy this chapter yet)
Total words: 50,829 (7,829)

Musical stylings: Via Wil Wheaton, I tried to keep my brain alive by wandering through Magnatune's ambient and electronica selections.
Munchies: M&Ms (a small handful, honestly)

Physical therapy contortions: Friggin' shoulder is acting up, but I still managed my hip and abs and neck stuff. Excuse me while I collapse in bed now.

Progress: More Note-taking than Writing

Didn't post progress reports on Saturday or Sunday despite having made some progress on Saturday. The lack of posting was due to a fun new twist in the Saga of My Health. I developed severe shoulder pain that actually prevented me from writing beyond the 30 minutes or so I logged Saturday. Writing not only increased the pain, it also was one of several triggers that made my arm go slightly numb. My physical therapist gave me a bit of an exasperated look when I shared the new problem with him today. We think the pain was caused by one of the stretches I was doing to improve my back extension. Good times, good times.

Deadline: June 30, 2008
Today's Words: 127 (not much better than 0 but I was starting a new chapter and it's into the meat of Act 2, which is brand new territory for me; spent a lot of time thinking and jotting notes this evening)
Total words: 50,691 (7,691)

Musical stylings: More Rhea's Obsession
Munchies: The last remaining snack portion of chicken tetrazini
Researched via Quickie Wiki or the Google Boogie: Pasta Primavera, "Enter Sandman"
Mean Things: Brutal honesty
Character Revelations: Sela, my MC's best friend, has become to Voice of Truth when assessing people's character. While this does make sense given her backstory, there is a bit of irony in that she has spent nearly her entire friendship with Elize (my MC) lying by omission and that's going to bite everyone in the ass for Elzie's black moment.

Physical therapy contortions: Gave myself the night off since I endured shoulder and neck manipulations on top of the standard scar tissue massage less than four hours ago. Plus, I served as Example of Teh Odd Case Study for a resident/intern/whatever, so my karma's balanced on this, to say the least.

Progress: Literary References Gum Up the Works

Deadline: June 30, 2008
Today's Words: 290 (better than 0)
Total words: 50,282 (7,282)

Fun with typos: They're lurking, I can just feel it.
Musical stylings: Rhea's Obsession
Munchies: A few Cadbury's Mini Eggs
Researched via Quickie Wiki or the Google Boogie: The plot of Dune and other things for that universe
Mean Things: Dissing film adaptations of classic novels, monkey in the middle

Physical therapy contortions: Gave myself the day off after a hellish appointment this morning. Back on the horse tomorrow.

Collagen Run Amok

After several weeks of either increasing my hip pain/leg numbness or keeping it at a steady state, my physical therapist tried a different approach on Monday and the results have been startling. He decided to take a look at my c-section scar and see if scar tissue might be the culprit. Sure enough, while spending 15-20 minutes working on my scar, we discovered a correlation between prodding one area of the scar and numbness and pain in my leg.

Scar tissue is formed by collagen fibers laying down in the place of injured skin. When there's a lot of damage (as I experienced), or if the genes responsible for this part of the healing process aren't regulated quite right, the collagen fibers can go a little bonkers and keep laying down well beyond where they're needed. And, of course, the way collagen works is to attach itself at both ends: damaged skin to be repaired and an anchor elswhere in the body. In my case, probably intestines, bladder, muscle, and maybe even all the way back toward my spine.

So in addition to loosening my hip muscles, strengthening my abs, and improving my posture, we're going to start a regimen of intense scar tissue massage. And if I thought anything I had endured as part of my physical therapy before this point was painful, I was given a whole new set of data points to adjust my perceptions. Breaking down scar tissue, particuarly when it's built up and spread out as in my case (and anchored to a whole host of internal necessities), hurts like a mofo. Twice a week is what we're doing now, and my therapist is thinking it's probably not a bad idea to up the tally to three times a week.

While the idea makes me whimper, I will submit to that regimen, because if 15-20 minutes of pain 3 times a week means I get my body back to its (mostly) functional state, then bring it. But I think I might also schedule some time for curling up in the fetal position under my desk.

Progress: Lord Help Me in Revisions

So far so good with this progress metter posting thing. It's actually making me look at my writing process in a novel way, getting me to look at the little fun bits that might make entertaining fodder for these posts. One thing I realized tonight, though, is just how ugly this draft is going to be. I've got threads starting and dangling and knotting all over the place. I'm putting a lot of trust in Muse that I can pick them all back up at some point.

Deadline: June 30, 2008
Today's Words: 1162
Total words: 49,992 (6,992)

Repetitive repetition: 10 instances of "could", 8 of "can", and 2 of "can't"; apparently I'm all kinds of positive in this bit
Fun with typos: "the information my uncled had" (this is actually a very common typo for me; I seem to add or remove one letter at the end of words frequently)
Odd Spelling Suggestions from my WP's Spellchecker: "barff" instead of "barf"
Musical stylings: Just ATB today, which surprised me as it's usually far too bright a sound for draft composition
Munchies: Craisins and H₂O
Researched via Quickie Wiki or the Google Boogie: Nada
Mean Things: Lying to friends and strangers, taking their doubts on the chin
Placeholder of the day: "We can play a game of [something fun] or watch a digie."

Physical therapy contortions: Did all my stretches and even tried the knee one, though I might regret that tomorrow. I'm taking the night off from scar tissue massage as I'm going to get a nasty round of it tomorrow at my appointment. The Nosey cat decided that me sprawled on the floor meant I had invited her to flop all around me and nose and mew her way into my face and shoulders and hands and knead my hair with her paws. I couldn't persuade her otherwise.

Interesting Things About My Trip

Man, I'm really into this "4 Things" meme. It an excuse to be remarkably lazy in the blogging department. Not to worry, I think I might try something new here soon and keep content fresh and entertaining daily. Ha. And I'll have more about my trip later as I still chew over the bits and pieces of insights I gleaned from it.

• My MRI was, in a word, "unremarkable" but for some minor disc degeneration, which is common due to such things as gravity. The prescription: loosen the hip muscles, strengthen the abs, and improve the posture. (I've since discovered other things in the progress of my physical therapy; more on this later.)
  


• A gathering of college-scene/struggling/indie/garage bands occurred in a lovely patio setting just a stone's throw away from my room at Hotel the First. Apparently, even supposed professionals are prone to singing very bad karaoke and shouting a lot just to hear their voices echo through the valley. I could sing along even though my patio door was shut and I had my own music on full blast. My word count for that night was only 561 words. I was less than amused.
  


• Driving back home on Sunday proved to be quite an experience. A chilly wind was howling through the valley by the Chiracahuas. By the time I got to Benson and realized I need to check my oil when I gassed up as the car was riding rough (dipstick was bone dry; fun), the wind had brought with it temps in the 40s or lower. Then I hit the Tucson valley and saw a whole wall of purple gray in the sky and knew I was in for some severe rain--only to encounter marble-sized hail and snow for a fifteen-minute stretch first. The interstate was even icy for a small bit. In Tucson. On March 16th.
  


• Absence makes the sight grow sharper. Being away from Drew for nearly three days let me get some distance so I could see just how much he's grown and developed his mad toddler skillz. It's interesting that I kept thinking of him as smaller and more dependent on me without realizing it. From what I've heard, I don't think this is going to change any time soon, but at least I'm aware of it.

Off I Go

After enduring a round of Kellie the Human Pretzel at physical therapy this morning, I am ready to head on down to Tucson for the start of my Getaway. Though the first bit of my "vacation" involves analyzing my MRI results with my orthopaedic specialist. Then it's on to the hotel for rest, relaxation, and lots of writing. Wheee! I'll have lots to say about the experience next week.

Rub Me the Wrong Way

Gah. I have hit a point where I would love nothing more than to rant about something but there's no way I can siphon off enough of the details to cover my butt and still have anything worth posting. I will only say this: if you're reading this, it doesn't apply to you.

So, instead of a long, juicy rant, I'm going to do the next best thing and grouse about my phsical therapy appointment, which essentially encapsulates the philosophical griefs of my rant in physical form. It's so nice when life gives you that particular brand of synchronicity, isn't it?

Yesterday I had my third PT appointment. We're focusing on stretching out my overly tightened hip muscles, strengthening my abs, and monitoring my back's response to all of this. The first appointment revealed my left hip is slightly higher than my right and this may or may not explain why my back rolls unevenly when I slouch and straighten, which may or may not be the cause of or a contributing factor to my current hip pain. Still, the therapist wants to help me even out the imbalance as much as possible and has geared my stretches and appointments accordingly. The first week of PT went fine along these lines.

Enter Monday.

I am already torqued and likely carrying around far too much stress in my body. I hustle to the appointment, and they start me out with a nice rest on a heating bad and electrical leads to relax my back and ease any pain in my workout. About halfway through the heat session, I notice that the numbness in my left leg ramps up from its usual, constant level 1 baseline to about a 4. Not numb enough to prevent me from using the limb, but enough to make me go, "hmmm." But I don't say anything as the therapist checks in to stop the heat and have me start my stretches while he finishes with another patient. After all, I had spent the entire time on the heating pad with my legs elevated, so maybe it's just a result of that.

I get about three reps into my first stretch when I notice my back is not happy with me when I do the stretch, which is essentially just a pelvic tilt while I contract my abs. So I switch to another stretch, this one focusing on loosening my hip muscles, and the back does not protest. I try another stretch involving contracting my abs, and the back protests again. I run through my stretches as much as possible, trying to figure out what hurts and what doesn't and where.

My therapist comes back, and I give him my report. He then says, "Hmm. You're going to be my case study." Translation: I have no idea what the hell is going on, so let's go hunting; this is gonna hurt and/or involve a lot of extra tests. Unique is good for just about everything in life, but when it comes to health issues (and technological difficulties), unique is bad.

And a-hunting he does go, pushing all sorts of spots on my back as I move this way and that way, figuring out (or trying to figure out) where the pain is coming from by finding the very painful spots and comparing them with the not as painful spots. I whimper and gasp a lot, thinking it's a perfect way to end a Monday.

My next appointment is Friday. I think I'm supposed to hear back about the results of my MRI (that I took on Saturday) before then, so hopefully I can go armed with more information to prevent a repeat of the "What Happens If I Do This" game.