Twenty Four At Heart

There's a Turkey in the Fridge ...

My house is pure mayhem right now.

Family, guests, dogs ... turkey in the fridge.

Chaos!

Fun chaos, but chaos nonetheless.

I have a secret.

Ever since my car accident, there's a (big) part of me that dreads the holidays.

There's so much I love about this time of year, but no matter what I do -

No matter how I try ...

I end up in terrible pain.

Everyone else seems so cheerful and happy, and festive.  I smile outwardly while cringing with awe-inspiring pain.

I remember, years ago, being chided by The Torturer (my then physical therapist).

"You can't do everything you used to do," he'd scold me, sternly.

And I try, I really do TRY to "not do" things.

Regardless, I guess I do more than I'm capable of I should.

It's already started.

A few days ago, along with the arrival of guests, my pain began increasing.

"Why?" I asked myself, exasperated.

I'm asking people to lift things for me.  

I'm trying to avoid any and every thing I know will aggravate my arm/shoulder/neck/back.

And yet ...

The pain creeps in.  Like an evil demon it grows, it climbs higher, it breaks down the fortresses I've built to protect myself.

I concentrate on breathing deeply.  I take slow, methodical, breaths when I'm actually tempted to hold my breath instead.  (Because, when pain is that bad, it hurts to breathe.)

There's a part of me looking forward to all the wonderful things the holidays entail,

And a part of me dreading the next few weeks.

I'll have family members lift the turkey and chop vegetables for our Thanksgiving "feast" tomorrow.  Briefcase and the boys will be in charge of scrubbing pans once the cooking is completed.

I'll be aggressive with the programs I run my bionic arm on.

I'll take pain meds early in the day, like I'm supposed to,

(Instead of waiting as long as possible, as I'm prone to do).

I'll also count my blessings -

Because they are many,

And that's one thing I never forget ....

© Twenty Four At Heart

Winners and Other Stuff

•  Thank you to everyone who participated in my give-away yesterday.

The winners are:

DrLori71 with her comment:  If I win I'd love to buy myself something. But I'll probably just end up buying more Legos for my boys lol.

And -

Annette with her comment:  Perhaps a new pan to replace the one I burned up!

Congratulations - you each will receive a $50 Amazon gift card!  

In other news -

•  The programming of my bionic arm and shoulder has been corrected.  That's right, I'm no longer corrupted.  In addition, I now have two new programs added to my arm.  All five of my programs have been adjusted to be more effective than what I've had since I became bionic.

So far, it seems to be helping quite a bit.

I also have a very interesting new side effect from the bionics ... I'll tell you all about it next week in a separate post.  It might involve at least one nipple.

•  Several of you have contacted me wanting prints for the holidays.  The goal is to have my new site (including the photo ordering piece of it) up and running by the end of November.  I'll be spending most of today working on uploading photos to the new site in preparation to go live.  Thank you so much for your patience.

•  I re-visited a haunt from my childhood this week with a visit to Descanso Gardens.  I'll have more about this special place next week.  

For today, I'll share just a few photos from my visit there.

Garden bench in a nook created by vines.  

Heaven!

I think I could "hide" in the nook for hours.  I might read, or I might just HIDE!

Also, I was pleasantly surprised to discover beautiful fall colors here in Southern California.

Fall leaves

Fall foliage isn't something we get a lot of here.  I think it's SO pretty!

Of course, there were a ton of beautiful flowers in the gardens also.  I didn't have nearly the time I wanted to explore, but I was able to find several I considered photo worthy.

Orange, yellow, and red rose

So much beauty!

I can't wait to make a return trip when I can spend a little longer roaming the gardens.

Congratulations again to today's winners.

I hope all of my readers have a great weekend!

© Twenty Four At Heart

New England

I've been back in California for one full day now.

So far, since I returned, I've done the following:

  •  Tried to sleep, and failed miserably, thank you mega-steroids.

  •  Fought with my dying/dead/failed laptop for hours - upon hours, upon hours, in an effort to get a minimal amount of work done.

  •  Ordered a NEW laptop which should arrive sometime next week.  (Happy early birthday to me?)

  •  Fainted a few times at the cost of laptops.

  •  Thanked the Pain Management Gods for emergency doses of steroids and the desperately needed pain relief they're temporarily providing.  (Thank you also to Dr. Painless for encouraging me to do what I love and finding ways to help me do just that.)

  •  Reviewed some exciting plans for Twenty Four At Heart's upcoming update/redesign.  (Hopefully, coming soon to a blog near you - !)

  •  Been overwhelmed with gratitude and amazement upon discovering over 11,000 of you are now following my photography on Google Plus.  (Thank you - so much!!)  

**  Thank you also to famed photographer Thomas Hawk who published my name again this week on his coveted list of Kick Ass Photographers.  He's an AWESOME, supportive, mentor to so many photographers.  **

Well,

Okay then ....

My daughter called to tell me I "got out of Boston just in time" because they're expecting snow during the next 24 hours.

(She's not very happy about the idea of snow in October.  Or, to be honest, snow in general.  Have I mentioned she'll be moving back to California by the first of the year?)

I honestly don't know what I would have done if it had snowed while I was there.  

I'm not snow-savvy, to put it mildly.

The weather was a little brisk, but so beautiful for my visit.

Boston sunset.

And yes, I did come home with one thousand new photos.

Why do you ask?

(Pain management?  Say what ....?)

I promise I won't make you look at all of my New England photos.

This one's a favorite though:

Boston in the fall.

Fall has always been my favorite season, even though colors don't change here in Orange County.  Being in New England for five days, in October, was such a treat.

Pumpkins on the steps of a Boston brownstone.

I must have squealed with delight a million times as I submerged myself in New England charm.

I was especially excited my daughter took me to visit the town of Salem.

Salem ... as in witches (!!), churches, graveyards, etc.

!!!

I'll have more about Salem in upcoming posts, but I wanted to leave you with this photo of the church in Salem.  (Make sure to notice the "witch" in the photo - she's walking down the street toward the church.)

Salem, MA

What could be more fun for a California girl than visiting Salem just prior to Halloween?

© Twenty Four At Heart

Airport Security? Here I Come

Airport security poses unique challenges for a Bionic Woman such as myself.

(If you're a new reader ...  Well, I'm full of metal, and electrodes, and wires, and other not-friendly-to-airport-security parts.)

You would think, with modern medicine being what it is, the TSA folks would be accustom to dealing with people who can't go through metal detectors.

You would think.

Last summer, when I went to Hawaii, I learned that's not the case.  I allowed lots (!!) of extra time, knowing my bionic body might cause a delay.  Trust me, I'm an uneasy flyer, I want air-tight security on my flights.

Still, I couldn't have imagined the scenario which took place:

Please step ahead through the metal detector.

I can't, I'll set it off.  (Said with my medical device identification card in my hand.)

Please step to the side then and raise both arms above your head.

I can't raise my arm above my head.

Then you have to walk through the metal detector.

I can't, I'll set it off.  (Said with my medical device identification card in my hand.)

Please walk through the metal detector.

I walk through the metal detector.  

* Alarms clang. *

TSA man rolls his eyes.

Please step to the side and raise both arms above your head.

I can't raise my arm above my head.

TSA man rolls his eyes again.

Please step to the side.  You'll have to wait for a female office to conduct a strip search pat down.

A call is placed requesting a female officer.

I wait.

I wait some more.

No female officer is anywhere in sight.

Time passes.

And passes.

Eventually, a second call is placed requesting a female officer.

The clock is ticking toward my departure time.

I wait some more.

A female officer eventually approaches.

Please step this way and place your feet on the pads as shown below.  Since you prefer a body search, I will be touching your breasts and putting my hand down your pants.

I don't *prefer* a body search, I have medical devices which set off the metal detectors.

Oh.

Let me explain how I'm about to violate you.  Blah, blah, blah.  And now I'm going to touch your breasts.  And now I'm going to touch your crotch.  And now I'd like to pull the waistband of your pants out so I can put my hand down your pants.

Um, thank you?

Please raise your right arm for me.

I can't.

Explain to me why you can't raise your arm.

My arm was disabled in a car accident.  I have medical devices implanted in my arm and shoulder.  

Really?  (Genuine interest) That's very interesting!  I've never heard of that before.  How does that work?

Ma'am I'd love to spend another twenty minutes explaining it to you, but you've already delayed me substantially and I'm going to miss my flight.

Oh, well - you can go then.  (Said regretfully)

© Twenty Four At Heart

So Can She Write a Blog Post While on Drugs?

Hi!

My name is Suzanne.

Many people know me as Twenty Four and/or Twenty Four At Heart.

I'm being forced to take drugs in the form of pain patches.

I've been reassured they won't make me into a heroin addict.

I'm not sure if I believe that.  

I still have concerns.

If I become a heroin addict, it's NOT my fault.

OK then ...

So far, I feel okay on the Fentanyl Patches.

I'm starting with a low dose patch and supposedly going up in dosage in a few weeks.  I get occasional waves of dizzy-fuzzy head, but feel normal most of the time.  Feeling normal is a good thing, right?  I did feel verrrry sleepy for awhile yesterday afternoon, but supposedly I'll get used to this drug in time.

The pain is still very vivid at times, but less intense at other times.  I have "breakthrough" pain drugs I can take, but I'm trying not to.  I'm trying to see if I can handle a day or two with only the pain patches.  It hasn't even been 24 hours yet ....

I have noticed I'm all of a sudden getting hot flashes.  (No, I haven't begun menopause and no, I don't normally get them!)  I'm assuming the hot flashes are from the pain patch?

We'll see.

So -

Yesterday I went shopping for a few things for my upcoming trip to Brrrrr-Boston.

I looked at some pretty coats but they cost $800-$1000!

I'm sure there are cheaper coats, but the expensive ones were right in front of me.

I didn't buy one.

I'm so glad I don't have to buy coats ... more money to save for lenses, ya know?

I did buy two pairs of Gap skinny jeans - one dark jean wash and one black.  They'll tuck into the boots I already own much better than regular jeans.

I also found a cute cream colored "shawl sweater" on sale at the Gap for $35.

It looks sort of like this one, but with longer sleeves:

Shawl sweater.

I think it will look cute with jeans, boots, a scarf ... and oh yes, I suppose a shirt of some kind.  Hopefully it will keep me warm enough?

Wouldn't it be funny if I forgot the shirt and just walked around the east coast with a sweater and scarf?

I don't want to spend money on clothes I won't be able to wear here in Southern California.  Right now weather predictions are for 50s to low 60s F (13-14C) while I'm in Boston.  That's positively bone chilling by my standards, but I think I can just layer up while I'm there.  I might wear four shirts at one time and look very rolly-polly, but ....

I've also found a camera roller bag that looks ideal for use around The OC, and also is a perfect carry on size for travel.  Most of the roller camera bags I've found don't have a laptop compartment and I NEED to take a laptop with me when I travel.  (Obviously, if I'm shooting locally, my laptop can stay at home.)

The Lowepro Attache 50x bag appears (online) to be the best at potentially meeting my needs.  If you have any interest in a carry-on size bag on rollers, you might be interested in watching the video on how this bag works. Unfortunately, I don't think I'll have time to get my hands on one prior to leaving on my upcoming trip.  (I checked already and no local stores seem to have this bag in stock.)

Also?

Camera bags are outrageously expensive, including this particular one.

I can hear Briefcase swearing already and I'm only thinking about buying one.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Giving In, Or Getting Smarter?

Sigh ...

Yesterday I had an appointment with Dr. Painless.

On the way to see him, in the elevator, I used my iPhone for a self portrait:

Self portrait taken in elevator.

I took this photo as a joke, due to my deep and abiding love for Lotus Carroll.  I actually kind of like it because it's blurry enough, you can't really see me.

My cleavage was an unexpected bonus, but then - it usually is.

By the way, if you aren't following Lotus on G+ - you should be.  She's a blogger, a photographer, a NICE person and a rising star in an often bleak world.

Awhile later, I was waiting for Dr. Painless in his office and amused myself taking a photo (again with my phone) through the window of his office.

The city of Newport Beach with a dose of beach fog.

And then, Dr. Painless was ready to see me.

Or should I say, scold me?

As you may recall, last time I saw Dr. Painless he prescribed Fentanyl Patches for my post car accident chronic pain hell nightmare.  I wore one for about 5 hours, realized it did help my pain, and then took it off because "Dr. Google" told me I'd become addicted if I used Fentanyl patches.  If you missed my post about that experience, you can read it here.

Apparently Dr. Painless isn't a big fan of me being my "own doctor" as he so nicely put it.

Seeing as he's the second doctor to suggest to me I may not know more about medicine than he does, I owned up to the fact I really don't have a degree in specialized medicine.  

My orthopedic surgeon might have told me the same thing???

Harvard wishes they had accepted me into med school, but they didn't.

(Just kidding - I never applied.  I'm sure they would have wanted me though?!)

Anyway -

I explained to Dr. Painless why I didn't follow his instructions.  I voiced my concerns.  I re-explained (for maybe the millionth time?) how hard I've worked for 5+ years to not become dependent on pain meds.

I even told Dr. Painless I feared Fentanyl Patches would lead to me shooting up heroin in old abandoned doorways ...

After he finished roaring with laughter and re-composed himself,

He, ahem, had a little talk with me.

I might be the most stubborn patient to ever walk through a doctor's door, but I'm willing to listen.

He explained to me things about pain receptors and pain impulses, and this and that and more of this and more of that .....

He assured me using Fentanyl Patches would not lead to drug addiction.

He was also pretty frank with something I spend a lot of time in denial of -

The forever-ness of my pain.

In other words, it isn't something that's ever going away,

As much as I like to pretend I will wake up pain-free anyday now.

Everyone else seems to LOVE to be on pain meds.  Tons of people seek them out for pure recreational fun.

Everyone but me, apparently.

I hate feeling drugged.

My conversation with the doc was long and complicated and medical-jargon-y-ish ...

But I came out of his office agreeing to two things.

   1.  Beginning today I will (gulp) wear a pain patch.

   2.  I will immediately begin looking for a different way to transport my camera gear because apparently a backpack "is the absolute worst thing" I could be using.  (My arm doesn't function enough to carry any type of bag or hold anything - so I thought a backpack was a good option.  Apparently buying a case on rollers is immediately mandatory.)

Dr. Painless also loaded me up with some "emergency" steroids  pain meds  tactics for my upcoming trip back east.  Every time I travel I go into horrible pain flare-ups.  If/when this happens on my upcoming trip I'll have everything possible with me to attempt to get it under control.  

But,

That was the other thing ....

Dr. Painless was quite frank saying, "Some days you've got to accept you're just going down."

He was telling me I will (no matter what I do) still have days when I have to go hide in a corner, curled in a ball, and just wait out the pain.  The goal is to have fewer of those days, but he was very blunt about the fact I will still always have them.

I'm, pretty fucked up, after all.

So, okay then.

This is my life.

I've tried everything else,

Now, I'm going to try being a compliant patient.

I did say try, right?

© Twenty Four At Heart

Orange County, California - Love!

It was hot, but beautiful (!!) here over the weekend. 

I love the month of October in Orange County.

My weekend actually began on Friday afternoon when I had a photography project or two to take care of.  

Orange County was in all her glory for me ....

Stairway to an Orange County beach.

(I'll tell you a little bit more about my Friday projects in a future post.)

My weekend was marred by only two things:

  1)  My neighbor was doing LOUD construction work at 7:00 a.m. both weekend mornings.  (Really dude?  Also ... yawn!)

  2)  I went into a bad pain flare up on Friday.  I didn't let it stop me, but it definitely slowed me down.  I walked around with clenched teeth for a good part of the weekend.  Can you say thank.you.pharmacist for Percocet??  

Saturday morning couldn't have been more beautiful.  I drank coffee out on my patio in the sunshine while being entertained by hummingbirds.  We always (year round) have several hummingbirds living in our yard.  

Saturday was different though.  

Dozens, upon dozens, of hummingbirds (migrating from the Pacific Northwest) had stopped in for some food.  I have three feeders in my yard, and I had to refill all three of them by mid-morning.

Hummingbirds feeding.

I've spent my whole life around hummingbirds and I've never seen so many in one place, at one time.  Hummingbirds are highly entertaining birds to watch.  They dart, they dodge, they chase each other ... they're a blur of constant motion.  It was amazing to see so many together at once.  (The non-local hummingbirds have now continued on their journey to Mexico for the winter.)

The second highlight of my weekend was doing a "night shoot" on the beach.

It was such a beautiful evening.

It was magical ...

Really, there are no words for the beauty I'm surrounded by.

Sun setting at the beach, silhouetting palm trees.  Orange County, CA

Being out with my camera on such a breathtaking evening (and night) was so good for my soul.  It lifted me up when the physical pain I was in would otherwise have been overwhelming.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Fearless Friday

I think I'm going to start writing Fearless Friday's along with Photography Friday's.  (You know, just on the Friday's when I feel like it ....)

I've been getting a lot of questions from readers lately.  Usually if one person has a question, other people are wondering the same thing.

So ...

Keep sending in questions if you have them and I'll do my best to answer as many of them as fearlessly as I can.

Here goes:

•  I circled you on G+, but how do I let you know without sounding like a stalker?  First of all, I love me a good stalker.  Second, all you need to do is leave a comment on one of my G+ photo posts, or send me a private message if you'd prefer, and tell me you're one of my blog readers.  (Hi, I read 24. Or: Hi, I'm one of your readers.)  If you want, you can just follow me/my photography all quiet and secret-ish.  I get a notice when people follow me, but to be honest I rarely have time to look at the notifications.  I assume my friends/readers/people I know will "talk" to me and then I'll circle them.

Warning:  I don't write on G+ very often ... right now it's primarily my photography place.  Some of my photos will show up there and here - some will only be on G+.

•  What do you think of medicinal marijuana?  Do you smoke it?  Is it helping?  No, I don't smoke it.  Smoking anything is bad for your lungs.  The Weed Doc (who is actually a real-live anesthesiologist), told me to use a vaporizer and so I do.  A vaporizer is a new-ish invention and it gives you the pain-reducing effects without smoking.  I haven't tried eating pot brownies/cookies/etc. because digesting it affects your body a little differently and takes longer to work.  I don't use weed often for the same reason I try to avoid most pain killers.  I like to be alert, and mentally present, in my life.  I use it when I need it, and yes - so far it seems to help (but not eliminate) pain.

•  There's a marijuana clinic in Money Town?  There was.  It got shut down yesterday.  I'll have to drive a little farther next time.

•  Did using marijuana make you paranoid?  Believe it or not, pot is a lot different than it was years back when the dinosaurs roamed.  For one, it's a lot stronger - they grow all sorts of "hybrids" now.  Also, there are a lot of different types.  Some types are more likely to cause a paranoid side effect than others.  I'm not using those types, so I've been fine.  

•  Can I put you in my Friends circle on G+ even though we've never met?  Yes, you can.  I would be honored.  You can, in fact, put me in any circle you want.  I don't see what circle I'm put in, only you do.

•  Why would you lay down in the middle of a road to take a photo?  Well, let me show you where the road was:

My canyon - Orange County, CA.

There is nothing there.  Nothing! 

Ever.  

(Except ...?  For this one time, apparently!)

•  I'm on G+, now what do I do?  Well, G+ is not Facebook so I suggest you think of it differently from the very beginning.  You can make it what you want.  But ....

I really suggest you follow strangers.  Yes, strangers.  You can make a circle for each of your interests and put total strangers in it.  Find the "experts" in whatever it is you like and see what people "in the know" are saying.  You don't have to share a thing about yourself with them.  Look at it as a learning experience.

(You can also have a circle for friends, for family, etc.  Each circle only sees what you want them to see.  You probably don't want to bore all your circles/interests with news about running out of coffee filters or your home life.)

For me, I followed a lot of the top photographers in the world.  I learn by looking at their photos.  Sometimes they publish interesting posts related to photography, but I learn a lot just by looking at what/how they're shooting too.  I'm nosy - it's fun.  Surprisingly, some of those "strangers" are now becoming friends.

You can also have a "hangout" and talk/videochat with people of similar interests.  You don't even have to tell them where you live - in case they're secretly an ax murderer.

If you're looking for fantastic photographers, I'd be more than happy to share a few of my favorites with my readers.  Just let me know ....

•  Last, I've received several photography-related questions.  I'll try to put the questions and answers together and write a "Photography Friday" post soon.

Thank you all for being so great and so supportive!

(Once again, you can find me on G+ by clicking here.)

xo

© Twenty Four At Heart

Inside My Petals

Macro photo of a sunflower, photographed by yours truly.

I've been very busy lately.

Here's a glimpse of some of what's been going on with me "behind the scenes" lately.

•  One of my girlfriends is moving out of state.  It makes me sad to see her go.  I took her out for a farewell lunch.  I cried saying good-bye to her.  Life is full of way too many good-byes.

•  My son's college roommate recently asked why I had not yet sent back my famous homemade banana bread.  How can someone I barely know make me feel so guilty?  I baked two loaves and got them in the mail yesterday ... sheesh!

•  I've been walking a lot.  Walking, and walking, and walking.  My ass has fallen to the ground (who invented gravity?) and I'm trying not to drag it behind me as I go.  If I walk long enough, it clears my head too.  Sometimes we all need a good head-clearing, right?  Why does that last sentence sound sex related?

•  I've been spending as much time as my bum arm will allow on photography.  When I can't shoot, due to pain, I study.  Yes, I'm studying everything I can to improve my skills.  Have I mentioned (four bazillion times) photography is my passion?

•  In case you don't already know, G+ is the place to be for anyone interested in photography.  Where else can you "talk to" and learn from the top photographers in the world?  (And, I'd like to add ... the photography community on G+ is NICE.  I can't believe how encouraging everyone has been.  Thomas Hawk even sent me a link to his playlist for photo editing tunes.  Nice guy even if he is absurdly famous.)

•  This is what Los Angeles looks like from the LA Live area at the end of the day:

Los Angeles

•  This is what Orange County looks like at twilight:

Twilight in Orange County (Can you see the moon in the sky?  The sun hadn't even set yet.)

•  I got a "medicinal marijuana" license from a well-known weed doctor in Orange County.  It was all I could do not to laugh while I went through this formality.  He was quite serious, and I wanted to giggle the entire time I was there.  (By the way, he told me I probably should also use the Fentanyl patches my pain doc prescribed - but I'm still trying NOT to.)

•  Later that day, I visited a "Medical Marijuana Dispensary."  It happens to be located in the same building complex as The Torturer, my ex-physical therapist.  The irony of this is not lost on me.  I wasn't tempted to giggle while purchasing my medicinal marijuana because the guy selling it to me was.  That's right - he kept giggling.  He was as high as a kite.

•  That night my friend, Nike, texted me and asked, "Well???"  I texted back one word, "Floating!"

•  P.S.  Saturday Night Live is suddenly SO funny.

© Twenty Four At Heart

The Stories Will Be Coming ...

Yay - my blog is back!

I think ...?

Let me try posting a photo -

Tour bus filled with sunburned tourists in Beverly Hills.

Did it work?

Can you see it?

I spent yesterday cleaning house, where "house" means my laptop and "cleaning" means deleting and moving files.

As you can imagine, I have a lot of photos.  I'm also a music junkie which means more files.  I keep crashing my laptop by attempting to put too much on it.  (Also, it's three years old and the average lifespan of a laptop is two years.  I'm on borrowed time and I think it's tired of me using and abusing it so much.)

I bought, yet another, external hard drive yesterday and spent a good chunk of the day moving files, etc.

If any of you would like to buy me a Drobo, I could really use one.  (A drobo is a file storage device, in case you aren't familiar with it.)

I've had a lot of adventures lately.

For today, I will share the following:

•  When someone hugs you from behind (unaware you're damaged and disabled), they might rip your injured arm right out of your body and leave it on the ground.  At the time, you will do your best not to scream in pain.  You will try to act normal even though the sensation is similar to being shredded alive with knives.  (Not to mention, you no longer have an arm!)  Then you might walk around out of your fucking mind in pain for a few days to follow.  

Hypothetically.

•  If you're interested in photography, and ever have an opportunity to learn from Scott Kelby, you should.  The man is not only a master of his craft, but also highly entertaining.

•  There were models at the photography seminar I went to.  One extremely hot male model was named Alvin.  Yes, ALVIN - like the chipmunk.  He was so drool-worthy, I could forget his chipmunk-y name in a millisecond if only I could  jump his bones  meet him.  (Alvin, who?)

•  Did I just say type that?

•  Alvin took his shirt off, but I hardly remember that part.

•  Venice Beach has medicinal marijuana shops everywhere and they're dirty and sketchy looking.

•  Orange County has a "famous" doctor, located in a very exclusive neighborhood, who will be happy to give you a medical marijuana license for more than twice the cost of the Venice Beach doctors.

•  I've encountered "Hollywood" celebrities my entire life and they mean nothing to me.  Nothing.  On the other hand, when Thomas Hawk marks one of my photos with a + or leaves me a comment saying something positive about a shot I took, it can turn a bad day into a good one.  And when Scott Kelby sends me a private message on Google Plus?  I positively swoon ...  

Who knew I was so easy?

© Twenty Four At Heart

Medicinal Marijuana

How do you feel about the use of medicinal marijuana for chronic pain?

Yes, I'm considering it.

I want to hear what you think.

In the interest of full disclosure, I will confess I might have inhaled, once-upon-a-time, back in the day.  

If my mom is reading this:  It's okay Mom - everybody was doing it.

Even though I live in California, (the land of peace, love, and weed), it has been forever a lifetime since I've been anything but proper and law abiding.  (Concert-attending not withstanding ... because if you even breathe at a concert, you're getting a little high regardless of your intentions.)

The use of medicinal marijuana is legal in California.  

A good chunk of California college students have medicinal marijuana licenses even though there's nothing physically wrong with them.  (And to be honest, it isn't just college students, California, is it?)

I've had friends with cancer and other terrible maladies and I've never blinked an eye while fully supporting their use of pot to deal with pain and/or nausea.

I've lived with pain for over five years since my accident, and I haven't thought seriously about using it to relieve my own pain.

Why not?

First of all, I always thought my pain would be going away sometime really soon - after the next surgery, or in just a few weeks ...

But, of course, it never has gone away.

And now I know - it never will.

For another reason, I've had (and still have) teens in the house.  Kids I've told to stay away from drugs, abide the laws, and blah, blah, blah.  

I'm re-thinking things now though.

A few months ago, a man I knew online for a couple years died of cancer.  Gregg lived here in Orange County and he was a photographer.  We met on Twitter, and he began reading Twenty Four At Heart.  We became online friends, communicated frequently, and planned to meet up in person for a few photography outings.  

Then Gregg was diagnosed with cancer.

We never did meet "in person."

I regret it, so much.

I think about Gregg a lot.

Shortly before he died, Gregg gave me two pieces of advice.

The first was to buy the 400mm lens I'd been looking at.  (I did.)

The second, was to start using medicinal marijuana.  It had helped him tremendously with pain.  He believed it would help me too.

I've thought about what Gregg said a lot since he died.

This week, my pain management specialist prescribed Fentanyl Patches for me.

I tried wearing a patch for five hours.

It worked.  It helped tremendously with my pain.  I couldn't believe the relief I felt just to get a break from pain for awhile.

Then I took it off.

During the five hours I wore the Fentanyl Patch, I read everything I could about the drug Fentanyl.  What I read, scared the crap out of me.

If I use Fentanyl patches, I will become physically dependent on them.  

Not maybe become dependent- it is a medical fact, I will.

"Physically dependent" means addicted, but without the psychological desire/need.  In other words, a person doesn't get high off the patches, but they cause changes in a person chemically and if I were to stop using them - I'd go through horrible withdrawls.

I've spent over five years of very concentrated effort to avoid addiction to pain meds.

I can't just throw that all away.

Can I?

Do I just give up and accept I will be dependent on hardcore narcotics for life?

I am agonizing over this ....

And if you (or a loved one) is using Fentanyl Patches I'm not saying they're bad, or you're wrong ...

I know the patches have helped SO many people deal with horrible pain.  (They helped me a lot for those five hours.  It would be wonderful to have that degree of pain relief all the time.)

I would never, ever, feel negatively towards anyone trying to cope with the crap life deals us.

I'm just having a hard time determining if they're right for me.

I also discussed the use of marijuana with my pain doc.

He said hundreds of his patients use it and report it helps.

Would it help me?

I don't know.

Would it help enough to cut down on the use of pain meds?

I don't know.

Is it less addictive than Fentanyl Patches?

Yes, it is.

Do I try it as my last resort before using Fentanyl Patches?

What do you think?

© Twenty Four At Heart 

It's An Imperfect World

I saw Dr. Painless yesterday.

Yes, I'm having another severe pain flare-up.

Last time I saw Dr. Painless, he gave me a drug called Nucynta which worked very well for me.  I was ecstatic.  Finally, a drug that truly worked and took away the pain!

Unfortunately, I also suffered some severe side effects and had to discontinue using it pretty quickly.  

Finding drugs strong enough to handle my pain without horrible side effects, that I can function on, is a challenge.

In any case, I'm trying Fentanyl Patches and a few other things now.

A part of me is giving up the fight.

I feel defeated right now because I'm in a lot of pain.  There never really seems to be an answer for it either.

At the same time,

I know I will rally again, like I always do.

Hopefully, I'll be back tomorrow with a brighter outlook.

In the meantime, it seemed fitting today to share with you this photo.

I've taken to titling my photos recently.  

This one is called:

It's An Imperfect World

© Twenty Four At Heart

Life

I took this photo Friday night at Orange County's Great Park.

An antiqued photo of a carousel (merry go round).

It resonates deeply with me.  I feel like it describes life - the whirlwind along with the steady continuity.  

On an even deeper level, I view it as a pictorial of the life of a chronic pain patient.  The pain is always there, steady and unmoving.  The quest to be rid of it is a never ending blurry circle.  I could go on and on about how much this photo speaks to me, but I won't.

Perhaps, in some way, it speaks to you too?

© Twenty Four At Heart

Sure, I'll Take Your Gift

If you stopped by yesterday, I'm sure it was clear I was in a lot of pain.  In hindsight, it's amazing I was even able to write.  I was on a LOT of medication.

I'm happy to report the new pain med (Nucynta) worked pretty well for me once I took it Tuesday night. (More so than morphine and without the BLEH feeling morphine gives me.)  I think I may have, finally, found the "right" pain med for my body/my injuries.  It makes me very "wifty" though. (Wifty = lightheaded/foggy-brained, etc.)

Currently I'm sticking to my old meds during the day so I can drive/get things done and just using the Nucynta in the evenings.

Anyway, I'm not quite back to normal pain-wise but I'm getting better and I think I'm over the worst of this flare-up.  (I'm sure all that stuff the doc injected into me is starting to work it's magic too.)

In the midst of all that pain and bleh! on Tuesday, I came home to find a large cooler had been delivered to our front door by UPS.  

Imagine my surprise when I opened the cooler and something waved at me!

Inside were four live (!!) lobsters, four large crab cakes, and a huge bag of fresh mussels.

The cooler was sent as a thank you gift to our family.

 We've had a lot of visitors this summer and we keep getting the most amazing "thank you" gifts.  (Just a few days prior a bourbon chocolate cake was delivered to our house.)

I couldn't have held my "real" camera if I tried on Tuesday, but I did manage to take a few iPhone photos for you:

Lobsters on ice

The lobsters were packed with "seaweed" and ice.  I was a little worried about cooking them, but they went calmly into the pot.  (I thought they might put up a fight or something!)

It was the first time I'd ever cooked mussels.

Steaming mussels

They were fabulous.  I'll be honest, I've never really liked mussels.  I don't know if New England has a different type of mussel?  They were much milder in flavor than what I've experienced in Southern California.

Boiling lobsters

Bright red shells and curled tails mean the lobsters are done cooking.

Crab cake, corn, lobster (mussels not yet on the plate)

It made for a delicious dinner.  

It was also so nice not to have to come up with a dinner idea when I was in so much pain.  The decision was made for me.  I asked my boys to lift the heavy pots which made everything very easy despite my out of control pain level that evening.  

Now I find myself wishing a cooler with dinner in it would show up on my doorstep every day ....

© Twenty Four At Heart

Visualize THIS

I'm not in the best place, so to speak, to write a post.

I saw Dr. Painless yesterday.

I ended up getting three injections.  (Or was it one injection in three places?  Neck, upper back, top of shoulder-ish.)  

Either way?

It wasn't, and still isn't, fun.

The man knows what he's doing - he stuck that four hundred foot needle right into one of my worst trigger spots.

I'm pretending I'm back in Hawaii.

Napili beach, Maui, Hawaii

Getting through pain is all about visualizing yourself somewhere else, right?

And breathing ...

Breathing is something I forget to do.  (I tend to hold my breath for as long as possible when I'm in pain because the very act of breathing hurts.)

The injections were a mix of pain killers, steroids, and maybe (?) something to force my spasming muscles to relax.  I can't quite remember because I'm suffering from pain-med induced brain-fuzziness right now.  

Since my arm doesn't work, when I move it, I'm really using surrounding muscles to do the work.  Those muscles don't like being asked to act as a shoulder and an arm.  They weren't built to do that type of work.  They spasm.  They freak out.  In other words, I always say my "arm" hurts, but really it's the entire upper right quadrant of my body and neck.  

Have I mentioned my life is lots of fun?

Dr. Painless put me on a new/different muscle relaxer because the one I was taking (Zanaflex) gave me bizarre nightmares.  I'd wake up after a night of fighting my sheets.  Sometimes the sheets would win, because I've only got one working arm.  It was exhausting.

He also gave me a new pain med to try.  It's called Nucynta.  

(I'm telling you the name of these drugs because if I don't, I will get several emails asking me which ones I'm talking about.)  

It's still too early to know if Nucynta will be a good fit for me.

Yes, I'm still on a host of other meds too.

Anyway, I've had injections (although, not this exact concoction) before.  My arm/neck/back/nerves always freak the hell out for a day or two and then, hopefully, start to feel better.

I'm not at the feel better stage yet.

I'm, in fact, at the polar opposite of feeling better even though I'm on pain meds.

In any case, I'm going to stop whining now.

I'm going to go sit in a corner and edit photos for the rest of the day.

I'll be really quiet, because if I'm not - I just might bite someone's head off.

P.S.  Does anyone know where Briefcase is hiding??

© Twenty Four At Heart

Five Years

I can't believe it's been five years.

I can still hear the screech of tires as if it were happening right this moment.

I can still hear the horrible sound of metal on metal - crunching, scraping, and collapsing.

I still see his eyes, vividly, as they made contact with mine in the milli-second before his car sent mine spinning ...

And spinning,

And spinning.

Objects inside the car were flying around me.

The thought, "This can't be happening," came to me at the same time as "this" most definitely was happening.

Eventually the spinning stopped, the sounds of screaming metal stopped ...

There was quiet,

And chaos,

Both at the same time.

People appeared and disappeared in a confusing haze. 

"I shouldn't be in the middle of the street," I thought.

I was worried about being hit by a car,

Ironic, really - 

After all, I had just been hit by a car.

I remember muttering, "I'm okay," to the officer.

He answered, "No, you're not okay.  You're in shock right now.  You only think you're okay."

Stubborn, even in my pain and confusion,

I whispered, "I think I'm okay."

Five years.

Eight surgeries.

(Two of them just this last year.)

Thousands upon thousands of hours of torturous physical therapy.

Pain, surgery, pain, surgery -

Rinse and repeat, over and over, and over again.

I haven't always believed I'd make it through this.

There were days, months, years when there was just pain and my desperate fight against it.  There have been so many days of concentrating on breathing.  

One breath at a time,

Focus,

Focus,

Breathe.

There were days I gave up,

Days when I said, "I can't do this."

Let's be honest,

There still are.

Friends disappeared, family members were (and sometimes still are) less than supportive.

When you're the only one experiencing something truly horrible,

There is such a sense of being alone.

Which is worse?

The never-ending, teeth-clenching, pain?

Or the aloneness of dealing with it?

In addition, I suddenly had a disability.

What the hell?

I'm not supposed to be disabled.

Disability and denial - they seem to go hand in hand.

I'm damned good at denial.

But somewhere along the line I stopped saying, "When my arm is working again."

Somewhere along the line, 

I began saying,

"One of my arms doesn't work and I was wondering if you could help me?"

This year there was more metal.

Metal, and wires, and electrodes, and computers,

Expertly, skillfully, placed inside my body.

My body became an example of modern medical science.

There's still constant pain.

There are still days when the pain is so intense I say, "I can't do this."

But much more of the time now, the pain is manageable.

I've been told I'll never regain use of my arm.

I've been told I'll live with pain for the remainder of my life.

But, increasingly often,

I hear myself saying,

"Only one of my arms works,

I bet I can find a way to do this anyway."

I can't believe its been five years.

I think I'm okay.

© Twenty Four At Heart 

Romeo, Oh Romeo!

*  Oh look!  It's another repeat post.  I must be having a nice vacation.  I'll be seeing the "real" Romeo in the next few weeks so it seemed appropriate to share this post.  Enjoy!  *

I've fallen in love.  

Well, maybe it isn't really love - but who cares?

And before I tell you this story, I want you to know I can be a cougar in my own mind if I want to.  Especially after a week like this one.

During the hour before my surgery I was hanging out on a gurney in my sexy hospital gown, with my granny panties on, and my hair tucked into a too-hawt-to-handle hospital cap on my head.  After a night of no sleep, I was definitely looking my most awesome best.

A man in surgical scrubs approached me, looked me in the eyes with the sexiest green, smoky, bedroom eyes I've ever seen and said, "Hi.  I'm Romeo and I'll be the one turning you on."

"Promise?!" I laughed, unable to tear my eyes away from the gorgeous hunk of Italian man in front of me.

He blushed.

I sighed.

And no, his name isn't REALLY Romeo ... but it might as well be.  (And the above photo isn't really him either - he is SO much hotter!)

We all have our "types," right?  You know, a physical LOOK that makes our heart pitter patter and our mouths drool.

Romeo is IT for me.

Tall, dark, handsome ... with dark curls surrounding his rugged, sexy, face.  He has green, intense, eyes that seem to smolder with a glance.  He looks at ease with his nice build ... muscular, but not muscle-bound.

Romeo has lots and lots of sexiness wrapped up into one drool-worthy package.

Yum.

Never mind, Romeo is way too young for me - 

Romeo is cougar-fantasy material and that's all that really matters.

Have I mentioned there was a roomful of people in the operating room with me the other day?

Two surgeons, numerous nurses, an anesthesiologist, other confusing I-don't-know-who-they-were people, and two men from the company that makes the neurostimulator.

Romeo was one of the people in the operating room with me.

You know what that means?

Romeo has already seen me buck naked except for my sexy granny panties.

Romeo works as a stimulator expert.

I kid you not ...

Romeo is an official Expert Stimulator.

Romeo faithfully calls me at home every night to ask how I'm feeling.

We talk about pulsing sensations and how many batteries I might want to take care of my needs.

Romeo not only told me he would turn me on, he actually did!  

Quite successfully too.

"You made me tingly," I told him yesterday.

"Do you want more?" he asked.

""Yes!" I answered eagerly ....

And that is exactly what my time with Romeo is like.

Sometimes I want to giggle and giggle because - oh, the jokes and innuendos!

Romeo has told me I'm "cute" and that I "have a great laugh."  Clearly, that means we will run away together and spend our lives in green-smoky-eyed bliss.

Clearly.

Yesterday, I spent close to two hours with Romeo.  He turned me on repeatedly.  Sometimes the feelings were more intense; sometimes the feelings built slowly.  Once or twice, things got a little more intense than I could handle.

"Do you want me to slow down?" he asked.

"Maybe just a little," I answered.

"Are you sore?" he answered, concerned.

"No, it's okay.  I like it," I reassured him.

Today, Romeo and I are getting together again.  This time he said he'd show me three NEW ways to be turned on.

"I can make you feel all different types of sensations," he confided.

Romeo, Oh Romeo ....

© Twenty Four At Heart

An Announcement ...

I'm very pleased, and excited, to make an announcement today.

Twenty Four At Heart is now "officially" a company, not just a haphazard combined blog and photography business.

This news doesn't change anything for you, my readers.

It does, however, help me on several fronts from a business standpoint.

It's just amazing to me, nearly five years post car accident, to see where I am now.

Needless to say,

I wish with all my heart the car accident and my resulting disability/chronic pain could be erased from the equation, but they can't be.

There's no question, I began writing here as a result of the accident.

Twenty Four At Heart, L.L.C. (the actual name of the business) has been an enormous positive born out of many, horrific, negatives.

When I first began blogging, I couldn't have imagined being where I am now just three years later.

Life is many things, but it's so rarely what we expect.

There are not enough words to express my gratitude.

Thank you so much for your support.

And now ...

I think I'm going to go celebrate!

xo

Suzanne

© Twenty Four At Heart

Weird, Weird, Weekend

I woke up in the middle of the night on Friday, with off-the-chart pain shooting through the back side of my shoulder, down my disabled arm, and also affecting the upper right quadrant of my back.  It felt like lightening bolts of jagged glass traveling through my body.

(Possibly an alien has taken up residence in my damaged parts?)

I don't know what caused this sudden onset of pain.

I didn't "do" anything unusual.

It's a new and horrible different type of pain than what I usually have and it hasn't let up since.  It's severe enough to make me feel sick to my stomach.  (And yes, severe pain CAN do that.)  It's also making me gasp/moan/wince out loud from time to time.  This is very unusual for me.  Those of you who know me, know I usually just get extremely quiet when I'm in a lot of pain.

Anyway, I tell you this not in a bid for sympathy but rather, as a preface to this post.  I'm on Dilaudid which is a very strong pain narcotic.  It makes my head spin this way and then that way, and then way over there too.  I don't take it often, so I'm not used to it.

In other words, who knows what I might misspell write today ....

I will try to provide a few snippets from my weekend anyway.

•  I listened to two OC women discussing their designer flip flops at length.  One was pro Vera Wang and the other was pro Tory Burch.  It was a pretty heated discussion and the entire time I was looking at their shoes and thinking, "Really??  They're just flip flops!"  I don't mean to question people's priorities, but ...?

•  I brought Mike's Hard Lemonade, in a thermos, to a high school baseball game.  (For my parent friends, not for the players.)  That's probably against some type of school rule, don't you think?  But it was hot and it was an extra long game.  Also, several parents appreciated the fact I brought it.  (And no, I didn't even have any myself because I'm on pain meds.)

•  I spent most of Saturday at the hospital emergency room with my youngest son.  We thought he had possibly broken his hand in his baseball game.  It was really (!!) swollen and sore after it got jammed when he was sliding.

After hours and hours waiting around, we learned it's NOT broken - just sprained.  

While we were at the ER, several high school football players (my son's friends) came in for treatment too.  There seems to be an epidemic of high school athletes getting hurt.

My son left looking like this:

We're glad it's a removable splint so he can shower, etc.  Casts in the summer are so uncomfortable. 

In better news, at least he scored a run when he did it - right? 

•  It's been really hot here ....

•  I'm now on Google +, which is Google's newest social marketing invention (designed to take over the world).  It's in a beta form right now, and you have to be invited to join.  I think Google introduced it by "invitation only" intentionally to make people really, really, want to be invited to join.

It worked! 

No one invited me the first ten days it was in existence and I felt sad.  (Ten whole days - !!)  It reminded me of being left out by The Mean Girls in high school.  Then, all in one day, I got several invitations to join.  

Thank you!  (You know who you are!)  

So far, I like Google + a lot.  (Also known as G+.)  I haven't had as much time as I'd like to become familiar with it yet, but I see a lot of potential already.  It's like facebook and twitter, but better in so many ways.  I'm looking forward to digging deeper, to learn more, over the next few days.  I do have a few invitations to give away, but I'm not quite sure how to do that.  (I'm sure it's not difficult, I just haven't had the time to explore yet.)  If you're a huge techy, and/or addicted to social networking, etc., let me know and if I can get you an invitation I will.  

•  I went for a five mile walk at the beach on Saturday afternoon.  I was in San Clemente again where the trains run right along the beach.

•  I had an "incident" regarding a BlogHer corporate sponsor over the weekend.  The story isn't worth telling here, but it did take up some of my weekend time.  By the way, if you will be at BlogHer11 (in San Diego/beginning of August) please let me know so I can meet you.  There will be 3,000 bloggers there and it will be difficult to find people without a little pre-planning and effort.  

• I made "Beer Can Chicken" for the first time this weekend.  I'll have more about that experience soon, in a separate post.

•  I watched The Holiday while drugged up on pain meds.  I can't say I recommend it, but Jack Black did a good job with his part.  On the other hand, I might laugh every time I see him regardless of what he's doing.

•  Lastly, I wanted to show you this photo.  I don't know why I love it so much, but it's definitely one of my favorite photos lately.

I hope you like it too!

© Twenty Four At Heart 

Good News, Bad News

This summer has gotten off to a busy start.

Good News:  I recently went EIGHT DAYS without pain pills.  It was like an arm/shoulder/chronic pain miracle!

Bad News:  I'm on Dilaudid (a strong pain med) as I write this.

(Also?  Wheeeeeeeeeee!)

(Also?  Am I making any sense?)

Good News:  I saw Dr. Painless yesterday.

Bad News:  I really needed to see Dr. Painless.

Good News:  My house did not burn down in the fire over the weekend.

Bad News:  My beautiful backyard view is charbroiled.

Good News:  I've gotten some amazing photos lately.

Bad News:  The fire behind my house was (photographically) amazing.

Good News:  Summer has arrived.

Bad News:  My upstairs air conditioning broke and it is a constant 90F in my bedroom.

Good News:  The broken air conditioner can be fixed.

Bad News:  Does anyone have an extra $3,000 they'd like to donate to the Twenty Four At Heart Air Conditioning Fund?

More Bad News:  The motor needs to be ordered and will take way too long to get here.

Good News:  My house guests have been very easy, and easy to please.

Bad News:  I have house guests.  (And I mean that in the nicest possible way!)

Good News:  I have a vacation coming up in just a few weeks.

Bad News:  The vacation fund just got depleted by the broken air conditioning unit.

Good News:  Dr. Painless wants me to meet with Romeo again soon.  

Bad News:  Romeo read what I wrote about him!

Good News:  I recently acquired a rack for making Beer Can Chicken.

Bad News:  The chicken might fall off the rack when it has too much beer.

Good News:  I've been in the pool a lot lately.

Bad News:  I'm beginning to seriously question my ability to swim, even with a modified stroke.  (ie:  I really needed to see Dr. Painless.)

Good News:  I've sold a lot of photos lately.

More Good News:  It's great having my oldest son home from college!

Even More Good News:  Did I mention I'll be seeing Romeo soon?

(Isn't it always best to end with the really good stuff, even if you've heard it before?)

© Twenty Four At Heart 

First Day of Summer

Yesterday was, officially, the first day of summer.

It was also the last day school was in session for my youngest son.

He needed to leave the house at 7 a.m. for his Spanish final exam.  (His last final before summer break.)

I needed to leave the house at 9:30 a.m. to pick him up afterwards.  (In case you're wondering, his exam schedule gave me enough time to take a shower, shampoo, and do a few chores before leaving to pick him up.)  We went out to breakfast to celebrate a good school year, and then he was off to a beach party with friends.

Of course, I had to drive him to the beach party.

(For some strange reason, I was not invited to stay.  Such a shame!  It was a beautiful day at the beach.  I don't know why a 16 year old boy would not want his mom lurking around a teen party with her telephoto lens?)

In fact, all I did yesterday was drive, drive, drive.

And I was eager for summer to arrive?

How quickly we moms forget ...!

There were other signs of summer yesterday too.

My car thermometer eventually got as high as 95.  

Summer has officially arrived.

In an effort to start the summer off right, I took my camera into a Canon service center yesterday for a professional cleaning.  It was way overdue.  I wanted to make sure the sensor was spotless (dustless?) before our Hawaii vacation in a few weeks.

You know what they told me?

I've, so far, taken almost 30,000 photos with my "new" camera.  (They "read" the shutter and it's so smart, it tells them.)

THIRTY THOUSAND!

Me!

The one armed, bionic woman!

(Speaking of, yesterday someone googled "one-armed photographer" and Google sent them to me.  Isn't that very smart of Google?)

The thought of taking thirty thousand photos is staggering.

And at the same time, quite a feat.

It made me think back to when Medical Professionals told me I would never be able to hold a full size camera again.  It brought back memories of their insistence I give up my passion.

In fact, in their minds it wasn't even up for debate ...

Photography was an impossibility for me.  

It's almost been five years since the accident, and I've taken 30,000 photos in the last year and a half.

I wonder how many more I will take just this summer?

I feel oddly proud.

And so very ... accomplished.

I feel like I've defied the odds.

Also?

Take THAT Medical Professionals!

It has been a fight every step of the way, but so worth it.

Thirty thousand photos and counting ...

Wow!

© Twenty Four At Heart

My Best Is Not Good Enough

Yesterday, on my way home from seeing Dr. Painless I snapped this photo with my phone:

It's such a pretty drive to, and from, his office.

I really should have stopped at the beach for a few minutes, but I had too many things to do.

I'm starting some new pain medications (Lyrica and Dilaudid) as soon as I hit "publish" on this post.  I was afraid to take them and then try to write, because I don't know how they'll affect me.

I might fall asleep.

I might start giggling.

I might not make any sense.

In any case, I didn't want to experiment on you.

I have a confession to make.

I started crying when I went to see Dr. Painless.

It's not like me at all.

I've never cried in front of a doctor before.

I did cry on The Torturer, but he was inflicting inhumane amounts of pain on me, so it was different.  (Also, he was my physical therapist - not my doctor.)

I was just talking to Dr. Painless and I started crying and couldn't stop.  I'm just so tired of living in pain.  I'm so tired of the ups and downs and nonstop roller coaster ride which make up a life of chronic pain.  I've had two bad flare ups in the last month ...

And yesterday, when I was with Dr. Painless, I just fell apart.

I felt so bad.

Embarrassed.

Ashamed.

Sorry to put him through my falling-apart-episode.

I wasn't going to write about it, but two things struck me.

The first thing was, I know a lot of my readers suffer with chronic pain too.  It helps me to write about the things I go through, but I've also learned it helps other people too.  It's nice sometimes to know you aren't the only person in the world who feels this way.  I'm probably not the only person ever to fall apart in front of their doctor.

(Somebody?  Anybody?)

The second thing that struck me was a comment I got yesterday.  One of YOU mentioned the fact I have to think about my "every move" and how it will impact me/my pain level.  

Yes, I do.  

That is exactly what my life is like.  I have to think about every single thing I do with my arm/upper right quadrant of my body and decide whether or not I think I have the strength, the capability, the function to do something.  

Sometimes I'm wrong.  Sometimes I drop things when I try to carry them because my arm simply gives out - even with the lightest of items in my hands.  One second I'm holding something (a letter?  an empty glass?), and the next it's suddenly on the floor.

It never seems to happen at a convenient time either.

Go figure.

I also have to think about whether each minor movement will be "the thing" to set off my damaged nerves and send me into a flare up.  Of course, there's usually no way to predict that.  I might do something one day and be okay.  Doing the exact same thing on a different day might send me into a five day flare-up.

You know what doesn't help?

It doesn't help when people get angry at me for dropping things.

And people do.

It doesn't help when people blame me for not doing better or being stronger.

And yes, people blame me with both their attitude and their words.

It doesn't help to have people impatient with me, or getting upset with me, when I have to ask for help.

Both of these things happen a lot.

I hate having to ask for help.

Hate it.

(Maybe because I'm made to feel really terrible about asking.)

I also sometimes wonder why it never occurs to those same people to offer help with tasks involving my arm without waiting to be asked.

I mean, the people who know me best know I'm living with a disability.

They know, if I'm using my arm - it hurts.

They know, the more I have to use my arm - the more pain I will be in.

They know this, and yet ....

Are they in denial?

Are they resentful of the inconvenience my injuries have caused them?

Are they self absorbed?

Are they thoughtless?

Are they just waiting around to see how much I can endure?

Maybe they are.

All I know is, I'm doing the best I can.

Every day with pain is a challenge.  

Every day with pain is a struggle.

Every day I make an effort to do as much as I can, the best I can.

I need support emotionally and physically.

Too often, for one reason or another, support is not there.

The pain and the disability are bad enough.

I shouldn't have to also deal with people making me feel like crap for a situation I never chose and have no control over.

No one should have to live their life this way.

But I do ....

© Twenty Four At Heart

I Lied

I know I told you I'd have a "real" post for you today, but ...

Pain flare-up.

I'm sorry; I'm really hurting and pain (along with the accompanying pain medication) sucks all my thoughts right out of my head.

Dr. Painless has been on a safari in South Africa for a few weeks.  (You might recall I couldn't reach him last time I went through this.)  He's back now and I'm going to see him today.  I guess the pain business is very good.  I wish I could go on an African safari ... camera in hand.  In fact, before he left, I hinted he might want to take me along as his personal photographer.  Instead, he asked me for a few tips on a new camera he bought.

Sigh!

The plan today is to change the pain meds I use for these awful flare ups.  Keep your fingers crossed for me, okay?  I hope it helps.  I mainly hope he gives me something I can function on.  I hate drugs that make me feel like a slow-motion-snail.

My arm has been acting up for unknown reasons the last few days.  I honestly can't think of a thing I did to provoke it.  But then, I did do some cooking yesterday ... chopping, etc. for a picnic salad and I just can't do that.  It sent me to my room in tears over the edge.

My inability to do simple tasks is something I've never accepted.  It just pisses me off to no end.  I think to myself, "This would be no big deal to anyone else."  Then I attempt things which are simple for everyone else.  And then I curl up in a ball in pain and sob whimper.

Anyway ...

The moral of the story is to avoid cars which barrel through stop signs and/or red lights and fuck up your life.

On a happier note,

Look what I saw:

Watching dolphins frolic is something I've never gotten "used to." 

It's always amusing, always a delight ... always a reminder of the joy in life.

These are the types of things I try to keep focused on.

I'm surrounded by beauty,

I never take it for granted.

© Twenty Four At Heart

The Incident At The Spa

Last Sunday, I spent most of the day at a local spa.

As I've mentioned before, I have my bum arm worked on by a masseuse now and then. 

(Except, even though I always say it's my arm that's screwed up - in reality, it's the entire upper right quadrant of my body.)  

It's just so much easier to say "arm," isn't it?

When I get a massage it hurts, and not in the way a massage might "hurt" a normal, able bodied person.  It hurts quite a lot, and my pain level escalates for several days after.  It's one of those things that's good for me even though it's very painful.  I always dread going for a massage.  Lately, however, my (extremely atrophied) muscles have been spasming worse and worse.  I couldn't put it off any longer.

So there I was,

Hanging out all naked-ish with just a white fluffy robe to wear. 

I knew I was assigned to a male masseuse so while I was waiting for him, I tweeted about how I was about to have my body rubbed by a hot man.

Except ...?

Guess who showed up to rub my body?

It was Tattoo from Fantasy Island.

I was so shocked to see Tattoo walk out to greet me, I asked him what his name was.

"Fabcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz," he mumbled.

"Oh!  Tattoo!  It's so nice to meet you," I replied.

Tattoo just looked at me blankly.

Then Tattoo escorted me back to a dark, quiet, room with soft music playing so we could be alone.

Tattoo exited the room for a minute.  I hung my robe on the hook provided, and slipped completely naked under a sheet, face down, on the massage table.

Tattoo promptly returned.

He was quiet for a moment and then his hand lightly touched my right shoulder blade.

"Much pain?" he asked, instantly seeing the scars differences on the right side of my body.

"Yes," I answered.

And then Tattoo began working on me.

You would think, after all my years of physical therapy, I'd be used to having strangers a strange man touch me, but I'm not.

(I'm so proud of that last sentence, for reasons I won't go into today.)

All sorts of thoughts go through my head while I'm getting a massage.

Breathe.

Relax.

Try not to grimace.

Don't moan no matter how much it hurts.

Don't moan no matter how good it feels.

Oops, my vagina just slipped.

Yes, that's right - my vagina slipped right out into the open.

(Wait ... that sounds so bad - the words open and my vagina shouldn't be in the same sentence.)

Tattoo was doing this tricky thing where he was switching the sheet that didn't really cover me very much anyway.  

I don't know how to explain it, but I've had The Magic Sheet Trick done before at this same spa.  They remove one sheet, while putting a fresh one on you.  It's a slight of hand, a magic trick, an illusion of sorts.  One instant you have a sheet on, and the next they've replaced it with a fresh one - without you ever really being completely naked in front of them.  

Except you're left wondering:  How did they do that?  Was I completely naked?  Or wasn't I?  

Except this time ...?

Something went wrong.

I think it was my fault.

It seemed like the sheet got tangled on my foot, or my leg, or something happened.

In an effort to help Tattoo with the magic trick of presto, whammo, sheet replacement, I separated my legs and kind of lifted my left leg.  At that exact moment, he pulled the sheet off and there I was all open-aired-vagina-ish-y right in front of him.

Seeing as he was only about three feet tall, which was the approximate height of the table, Tattoo was suddenly eye to hoo hah with me, brazilian bikini wax and all.

Oops!

I guess I should have kept my legs together like my mother always told me not have done that.

I yelled, "Oh no!" and then promptly slammed my legs together tight.  I immediately shut my eyes and pretended to be asleep.

That might have worked if I hadn't ...

Just said "Oh no!" real loud and slammed my legs shut with enough force to shake the room.

Nevertheless, I feigned sleep because what else could I do?

I couldn't open my eyes and SEE him after that.

Instead, I just pretended to sleep through the next forty minutes while he worked on me.

Finally, my massage was over and I felt Tattoo drape the robe over me.

"Take your time; I'll be waiting right outside for you," he said as he exited the room.

What to do, what to do?

I knew I couldn't stay there forever but I tried.

Reluctantly, slowly, very slowly, I got up and put the robe back on.

I stood there, hesitating, for a long time.

Finally, I turned the handle and opened the door to find Tattoo patiently waiting for me.

I avoided eye contact as he escorted me through a maze the spa until I was back at the door to the ladies locker room.

"I hope to see you again," he said.

I looked at him then, our eyes meeting for the first time since my vagina slipped.

I could swear his eyes were laughing.

I immediately looked at the ground.

"Um, yes, thank you," I said and I scurried away as fast as I could.

I spent the rest of the afternoon convincing myself of the following:

 •  My vagina is not the first vagina Tattoo has ever seen.

 •  Tattoo probably didn't even notice my vagina in his face.

 •  There are vaginas everywhere in a spa.

 •  My vagina probably made itself invisible when it saw Tattoo looking at it.

© Twenty Four At Heart 

Chronic Pain, Part II

Thank you for all the kind and supportive comments yesterday.

Do you think you can make it through one more, very important, serious post on this topic?

In yesterday's post, I wrote about my experience with varying pain levels since my car accident.  I also attempted to explain why people should not be so quick to judge and/or blame chronic pain sufferers.

I also might have called a few people assholes, in an inadvertent sort of way.

It's sad people are so quick to make up their minds about things they don't fully understand, but they are.  I guess people like to feel superior and being judgmental gives them a boost.  (And no, I'm not directing that comment at any ONE person.)

Today, I want to write about aspects of chronic pain I haven't really addressed here before. 

For instance, did you know scientists have documented numerous physical changes which occur in patients experiencing pain over a long period of time?  Yes, pain actually causes physical changes in a person's body.

In fact, the more frequently a nerve "fires" pain signals, the more efficient it gets - to the point of being hyperactive/hypersensitive and creating even MORE pain.  Pain also "rewrites" or alters a person's central nervous system.

And not in a good way.

People with high pain levels also tend to have high blood pressure and lower life expectancies.  I've also recently been told I'm severely lacking in Vitamin D, in spite of my outdoor lifestyle in the California sunshine.  

It turns out low levels of Vitamin D are tied to high pain levels.

Who would have thought?

I could go on and on and on with a list of all the physical changes chronic pain causes.

The list would be extensive.

Several brain chemicals, including the much talked about serotonin, decrease in patients with high pain levels also.

Low serotonin levels are a result of high pain.  Low serotonin levels are also tied to depression.  That's why you'll see so many pain patients suffering from BOTH pain and clinical depression.

As if ongoing pain isn't depressing enough, it screws with your brain chemistry at the same time.

Serotonin is believed to help STOP the movement of pain signals in the brain.  Obviously, if you're experiencing a lot of pain, having MORE serotonin would be beneficial.  Decreasing it (as pain does) only exacerbates the situation.

I was fortunate to have a doctor put me on a low dose antidepressant right before surgery #3.  He explained my serotonin levels would be dropping in conjunction with yet another surgery and he wanted me to stay on it until I got through my recovery.  He thought it would help with pain management.

Was I clinically depressed at the time?

No.

Would I have become clinically depressed if he didn't put me on something?

Who can say?

Did it help with my pain?

I don't think so.  

At the time, I told myself the pain would probably be worse without it but I also wondered how it could possibly be worse than it was.  (Surgeries #3 - #5 were the worst time period in my post accident years.)  

Later, Dr. Painless informed me the dose I had been given was too low to be effective as a pain management tool.  He also informed me the antidepressant the doctor had chosen wasn't the best choice for pain treatment.  (The doctor's intentions had been good, but he wasn't a pain specialist.)  However, having some extra seratonin in my body was probably better than not having it.  

Dr. Painless changed my medication to Cymbalta which is the only drug in its class having received FDA approval specifically as a treatment for pain.  (It increases serotonin and norepinephrine - both decrease pain signals in the brain.) 

I didn't really want to go on it (I'm very anti-drug), but the pain I was in was terrible and I was desperate enough to try anything.  

Has it worked for me?

Well, this is what I know ...

I'm now doing more than I ever have since the accident.  I'm living my life more fully in spite of my pain/injuries/disability.  Part of that is the result of the bionics in my arm.  Part of it is due to the muscle relaxers I take every night to control the horrible spasming I get in the muscles surrounding my arm/shoulder/neck.  (Dr. Painless put me on those too after taking one look at my continually spasming muscles.)  Part of it is probably Cymbalta calming down the pain signals in my brain.

Am I anywhere near "normal?"

No.

Am I better than I was a year ago?

Yes, absolutely. 

(Remember yesterday when I mentioned I now live in the 6 - 8 zone on the pain chart most of the time now, vs. the 9 or 10 zone?  And yes, I still experience bad pain flare ups but they occur less often.)

Before I close, I want to bring up one more very important topic.

Did you know very few chronic pain patients ever become addicted to pain narcotics?  

The media would have us believe MOST chronic pain patients are addicts and complaining of continuing pain just to receive narcotics.  In reality, pain patients without prior addiction problems have an extremely low level of addiction (0.19%).

My biggest regret in my first three years post car accident is not having taken MORE pain meds.  Everyone I knew, doctors included, scared me to death at the thought of taking them.  I was so afraid of becoming addicted, I would discontinue the use of meds as soon as possible after each surgery.

The pain I was in during that time period was brutal.

I told myself toughing it out was the RIGHT thing to do, because omigod I don't want to become a drug addict.

I've only learned in the last year, the chances of my becoming addicted were extremely remote and it would have been so much better for me, in every sense of the word, if I'd taken more pain meds.

All the "don't take drugs, tough it out" advice I got (and still get) was well intentioned, but incorrect.

Pain takes a horrible physical toll on a person.

Managing pain as much as possible, usually with a multi-faceted approach, is the most important thing a chronic pain patient can do to lessen that physical impact.

You can find Part I of this post by clicking here.

© Twenty Four At Heart 

Chronic Pain, Part I

I've been very hesitant to write this two-part post, but I've decided to forge ahead even though I'm sure I'll get flack about it.  I'm writing it, fully aware, I'll lose readers by doing so.  

I really hope you'll take the time to read it even if the worst pain you've ever experienced is a stubbed toe.

After all, how do you know, really know, it won't be about you or someone you love someday?  (Remember, I had a perfectly "normal" life until a man ran a stop and totaled his car into mine.)

I'm writing this post as a layman, not as a medical expert.

I'm writing this post based on my experience, post car accident/post eight surgeries/post being disabled.  It also incorporates information explained to me by medical professionals I trust.

I'm writing this post in the hope it will bring understanding to many people who don't understand.

Because ... so many people don't understand.

And yes, that even includes many of my own friends and family members.

I recently got a lot of very supportive comments and individual emails when I wrote about experiencing a particularly brutal pain flare up I've been going through.  I truly appreciate them, and the thoughts behind them, so much.  (I'm relieved to say I'm finally improving from this particular pain episode.)  

After writing the initial post, I also got some pretty insensitive/calloused/rude emails from people who clearly don't understand chronic pain, but like to assume they do.  Some of those people like to send emails with fake names and fake email addresses.  (Really people?  If you believe it enough to write it, own it.)

I took a total of about 30 seconds to make this chart to show you what my pain would look like if it could be graphed.  Zero would be where a "normal" person would hang out most of the time.  Six is where a person lives who is awakened at night because their pain is too severe to sleep.  Level ten is the worst pain imaginable.

For a long, long, time (years) I lived at Level 9-10.  

It was the most horrible thing imaginable.

Normal for me now is a pain level between 6 - 8. 

Thanks to Dr. Painless, I now sometimes sleep through the night with the help of drugs.  Prior to beginning treatment with Dr. Painless, I hadn't slept through the night in over four years.  Oftentimes, even with drugs, I still don't.  

No, I don't suffer from insomnia.  

Yes, I do suffer from severe chronic pain.

Do you have any idea, putting the despair of living with constant pain aside, how impossible difficult it is to function, long-term, without sleep?  

What I'm trying to convey to you is that a good day for me is pain at Level Six.  And yes, Level Six is a pain level worse than the majority of people will ever experience in their lives.  Those who do experience a Level Six will usually only experience it for a very short period of time, perhaps for a night or two after a surgery.  

I've had to learn to live with Level Six (or higher) being my constant -my norm, every day.  Yes - not being able to sleep, because my pain is too severe, is normal for me post-accident.  (And if you're reading this Dr. Painless, thank you for making sleep possible for me some nights now, even though it requires drugs for me to do so.)

When I have a "flare-up," my pain level literally goes through the roof.  Sometimes it escalates quickly, and sometimes it escalates over a period of 24-48 hours.  Regardless, it becomes completely debilitating.  The pain chart only goes to Level Ten but when I'm at Level Ten, I'm convinced I'm really at a non-existent Level Fifteen because ohshitithurtssomuchcan'tsomeonepleasejustmakeitstoprightthisminute.

Level Ten is when even breathing hurts.  Level Ten is when I'm curled in a ball, concentrating on forcing myself to breathe, and waiting ... waiting for it to decrease even the slightest bit, quite possibly to Level-Nine-And-A- Half.  Level 10 is when I'm perfectly quiet because the pain is far, far, beyond tears.  

Level Nine and/or Ten is also when I might bite your head off if you look at me the wrong way or start telling me how I should feel or what I should do about it.  (Dr. Painless is the exception; he gets paid extremely well to do exactly THAT.)  If you're ignorant enough to insinuate I'm responsible for feeling such anguish, you will receive death stares from me even if you're hundreds of miles away.

In other words, if you aren't the one experiencing Level 10 pain,

And if you aren't my personal doctor,

With five years worth of facts regarding ....

My initial injuries,

With detailed knowledge of what was involved in all eight of my surgeries,

With intimate understanding of my permanent disability,

And extensive understanding of my bionic arm/shoulder/electrodes/abdominal generator,

Along with, pervasive knowledge of the instructions I've been given regarding what activities I should, and should not, do in my daily life,

Not to mention, an in depth knowledge of all the types of pain medication I'm on ...

Then you have no business telling me how I SHOULD feel or what you think I SHOULD do or why you feel it's MY FAULT I live in pain.

I'm sorry if that sounds harsh, but I'm really not.

I share my story on the Internet because it helps me to write about what I'm going through.  Writing is therapeutic.

I share my story because it helps other people, who live with constant pain, to know they aren't alone.

I share my story because it helps thousands of people increase their knowledge about chronic pain. 

Support, kindness, love and good intentions are always welcome.

Unconstructive, negative bullshit is not.

You can find Part II of this post by clicking here.

© Twenty Four At Heart

So, OMG, This Isn't Any Fun

So, um, I'm on drugs.

I hate being fuzzy headed.

I really, really, hate it.

You should appreciate the ability to think clearly.

Do you?

If not, you really should.

Trying to think through the fog of medication is exhausting, dizzying, and hopeless.

Also?

The drugs aren't even really helping the pain.  (Either that, or my pain level is just too far gone to be touched by my usual medication.)

The pain got so bad yesterday, I called Dr. Painless for "emergency" help.

He's out of town.

(Of course he is!)

Instead, I talked to an idiotic, fill-in, nurse.

Let me repeat, IDIOTIC.

"What do you think we should do?" she asked me, mystified.

"Seriously, you're asking me?" I replied.

(And no, I don't have a lot of patience when my pain level is off the charts.)

"Would you like morphine?" she asked, unsure of herself.

"No, morphine makes me really sick to my stomach.  I definitely do not want morphine," I replied.

"Has this happened before?  Do you have any suggestions?" she queried, voice wavering.

Did she just ask me if this has happened before?

Did the NURSE just ask the PATIENT for treatment suggestions?

Sigh.

"Never mind," I answered and hung up.

After all, how can I possibly trust someone who is clearly just guessing tossing out random options?

I don't have a lot of patience with incompetent people.  

In fact, when I'm in a lot of pain - I have none.

Life with chronic pain:

Everything about the above photo is RIGHT ... every detail of it.  The fogginess, the grittiness ....

Well, except for the part that doesn't show the other zillion bottles of medication in the cabinet.

Anyway ....

A few of you asked if I'm in my current pain hell fog due to the swimming I've attempted lately.

Probably, in part.

I've been definitely feeling an increase in pain the last couple weeks.

I've been trying to increase my pool time slowly, but as much as I love it - swimming does cause more pain.  I imagine it always will, even with the post-car-accident modifications I've made in the manner I "swim."

(And yet, at the same time - being in the water is good for my arm.  Go figure.)

Sometimes it's hard for me to curb my enthusiasm for swimming and I overdo it a little.  I've been trying to be careful, but the pain has been creeping up on me in recent weeks.  

Pain is like that.  

Not that mine ever goes away, but the real intense pain?  Sometimes it arrives suddenly and swiftly, but other times it builds slowly ... sliding its tentacles around me in a tighter and tighter grip until I can't escape.

Those tentacles are evil and they pull a person down into a black abyss.

And no, I'm not being overly dramatic.

In addition to swimming,

I work out on an elliptical most mornings.  

I use the elliptical to get a cardio workout.  (I also use it in an attempt to keep my fat ass from getting even fatter.)  I just use my legs ... I completely ignore the arm part of the machine.

Except, the other day I thought I'd hold the handle of the arm lever and let it move my arm for me, JUST FOR TWO MINUTES (of a 45 minute workout).  Mind you, the machine moved my arm for me, I didn't do a thing but let it.  I thought it would be a good thing ... moving some of the muscles I can't move on my own.

It was only two minutes.

How can just two minutes wreak such havoc on my damaged body?

Oh.My.God.

Never again.

It makes no difference the movement didn't require any effort on my part - my arm just absolutely cannot be made to move in any that direction.

I don't know why.

I don't care why.

I just know it sent me deep into the abyss.

I'll climb out in a few days, I know I will.

I've been here before, and I'm sure I'll be here many times again.

And yet, every single time, it comes as a shock to me ...

How really horrible it is to be in this place.

© Twenty Four At Heart

The Most Obnoxious Woman Ever

Yesterday I saw Dr. Painless for the first time in three months.

Can we all say hallelujah and sing hymns?

In the time since my car accident, I've never gone that long without seeing some sort of specialist for my bionic arm/shoulder/blah blah blah injuries.

Whoopee!

We'll ignore the one or two Dr. Painless phone calls that might have taken place over those three months, because having no (!) doctor visits is cause for celebration.

(We'll also ignore the fact that Dr. Painless has decided he needs to see me more frequently again - and that I left his office with SIX new prescriptions.)

Instead of telling you about THAT, I'm going to bitch about The Most Obnoxious Woman Ever.

She was in Dr. Painless's waiting room (or is it Dr. Painless'??  I feel like a snake with me esssses all confused!  Also, I might be on new drugs!)

In any case, she was there and she was LOUD.  It was not her first visit to see Dr. Painless.  She made it very clear to everyone she had been in to see him several times before.

Dr. Painless has a very big waiting room and we all heard about her "painful menstrual cycles" and her lawsuit against her employer who wanted her to work anyway.  She went on, and on, and ON about the lawsuit.

Seriously?

The Most Obnoxious Woman Ever (better known as, TMOWE) would not stop talking for a second.  No one was safe, because everyone could hear her.

In case you were wondering ...

SHE HAS PAINFUL MENSTRUAL CYCLES AND SHE JUST CAN'T DO A THING WHEN SHE'S IN PAIN.  ALL SHE CAN DO IS SIT IN HER CHAIR OR STAY IN BED!  IT WAS REALLY HARD JUST TO COME TO THE DOCTOR TODAY BECAUSE SHE'S ON HER PERIOD.

Don't get me wrong, the pain from my car accident (and subsequent bazillion eight surgeries) has made me very empathetic towards people who live with severe pain.  I want to apologize to every single one of them and say, "Forgive me for not fully understanding before what it's really like."

Because you know what?

No one can understand debilitating pain unless they've gone through something really terrible.

But this woman?

I felt like slapping her in the face.

I know, I know ... I'm not a very nice person sometimes.

I'm sure she DOES experience pain, and I'm sorry.

But ...?

The other people in that waiting room?

Those people have cancer eating them alive, are missing limbs, or have bionic parts.

None of us were feeling love for the woman with cramps.

And please don't write me and tell me how painful your cramps are, because I'm sure they are.

Nonetheless ...

I watched the receptionist use every ounce of restraint to deal with The Most Obnoxious Woman Ever.  She nodded noncommittally when TMOWE told her every detail of her lawsuit and even MORE details about her periods.

LOUDLY!

(Have I mentioned The Most Obnoxious Woman Ever was very, very, LOUD?)

Finally, TMOWE was ushered into a room and everyone in the waiting area sighed with relief.

Except?

A few minutes later I was ushered into the treatment room right next to hers.

I would confess to eavesdropping, but I DON'T THINK IT'S CALLED EAVESDROPPING WHEN SOMEONE IS YELLING LOUD ENOUGH FOR THE ENTIRE BUILDING TO HEAR.  (Although, maybe it was eavesdropping when I strained to hear the responses Dr. Painless gave her?)

I might have snickered a little as she went through her entire routine again about her LAWSUIT and her CRAMPS.  

Here's a recap of the rest of their conversation:

TMOWE:  ALSO, MY KNEE HURTS WHEN I HAVE MY MENSTRUAL CYCLE.  

"Your knee?" inquired Dr. Painless.

TMOWE:  YES, MY KNEE - IT ONLY HURTS WHEN I HAVE MY PERIOD.  ALSO, CAN YOU BELIEVE MY LAWYER DIDN'T CONSIDER THIS REAL PAIN??  I'M GOING TO FIRE HIM AND FIND A LAWYER WHO UNDERSTANDS.

"Did you make an appointment with the gynecologist I referred you too?"  Dr. Painless asked.

TMOWE:  I'VE BEEN MEANING TO BUT I'D RATHER COME SEE YOU, DR. PAINLESS.

"You need to call her," Dr. Painless insisted.

And then ....

Dr. Painless told The Most Obnoxious Woman Ever to go for a walk.

I laughed.  (I was in a separate room and I couldn't help myself.)

TMOWE:  I DON'T THINK I CAN WALK.  I CAN'T DO THAT.  I HAVE MENSTRUAL PAIN.

"Do you walk around your house?"  asked Dr. Painless.

TMOWE:  WELL, OF COURSE!  I WALK AROUND MY HOUSE A LOT.

"Did you walk from the parking lot to see me today?" he asked.  

(Aside:  The parking lot isn't right next to the office.)

TMOWE:  YES, BUT MY TOES HURT.

"Your toes?" Dr. Painless asked incredulously.

TMOWE:  MY TOES HURT WHEN I HAVE MY MENSTRUAL CYCLE.

I might have laughed again.

"Your toes probably hurt because you aren't using them.  You need to get some exercise," Dr. Painless answered matter of factly.

TMOWE:  I DON'T LIKE EXERCISE.

"You need to exercise. Try walking around the block when you get home today."

TMOWE:  I DON'T THINK I CAN.

"I think you can."

TMOWE:  ... mumble, mumble ... TOES!

"Walk past three houses and then come home.  Each day walk a little further. You could benefit with some movement," encouraged Dr. Painless. 

TMOWE:  ... silence, mumble, mumble, silence ...

The Most Obnoxious Woman Ever had finally been quieted.

Kudos Dr. Painless!

(I didn't even hear her leave.)

 © Twenty Four At Heart 

Happiness Is ... Never a Clear-cut Deal

It's that time of year again.

We had temperatures in the 80's and 90's (27-33C) last weekend.

I heated up the pool to shake the winter chill out of it, and instantly my mood soared.

I love to swim.

Love!

My arm feels a little more normal in the water.  The water lifts my arm for me, something I can't do on my own.  I can't swim like a "normal" person can, but I've learned to swim in a modified fashion.

It makes me so happy.

I only allowed myself to swim a few laps this first weekend.  I have to begin each swim season very, very, slowly.  Otherwise, I pay the price with crippling pain.  I don't want to spend a couple weeks recovering from every attempt I make.

And to be honest, even though I only swam a few laps, my pain is gut wrenching right now.

But it's okay ...

It really is.

I know I can do it.

I just have to be patient and force myself to go slowly.

By the end of the summer I'll be able to do so much more.

For today, I'll pop a couple pain pills.

I'll turn the electrodes up in my bionic arm.

I'm seeing Dr. Painless in about a week to update my medications and review The.State.Of.My.Arm.  I might need to switch to a stronger pain med.  Which is better?  Taking more of what I've got (which is damn strong to start with) ... or less of a stronger drug?  These are the type of questions I need Dr. Painless to answer.

The type of pain I experience (whenever I actually attempt to use my arm) ... is such an intense, breathtaking, horrible, sickening pain.

Really, there are no words to describe it.

We all experience physical pain sometime in our life.  Many people even experience severe pain.

But this type of pain?

It's reserved for just a few of us.

Breathing takes effort.

Concentrate.

Breathe in very slowly.

Breathe out very slowly.

Concentrate.

Begin again.

It's something The Torturer used to work on with me.  Because the natural instinct with pain like this is to hold your breath.  It sounds crazy, doesn't it?  But breathing ... just the slight movement of breathing ... hurts.  

And so I find myself forgetting to breathe.  And then gasping.

Gasping for air, and gasping in pain.

I just have to forge on ...

Because it's worth it.

Swimming is worth it.  I love swimming.  

Swimming makes me so happy.

Photography is worth it.  I love photography.  

Photography makes me so happy.

Living my life means making it as normal of a life as I can.

Being truly alive means fighting to do the things I love - despite the pain they cause.

Remind me to re-read these words the next time I curl up in a ball whimpering, having a pity party.

Okay?

Promise?

© Twenty Four At Heart

It's a Milestone, Baby!

Squeeeeeeee!

OK, I'll calm down now.

I know most people will read today's post and think, "What's the big deal?"

But ...

I can't help but see little accomplishments as major milestones sometimes.  

I'm on this one-armed, chronic (terrible) pain, half-ass, disabled, journey all by myself.  I know other people have way worse problems than I do ... but here I am, all alone, on my particular journey.

Sometimes something happens and I can't help but get excited because six months ago, a year ago, two years ago ... I couldn't have imagined (!) some of the experiences I'm having now.  

Yes, they're baby steps but, oh baby, they're steps!

And here's where my excitement comes in ....

I'm spending today at the L.A. Convention Center to attend a Kelby Seminar.  Yes, I even woke up before dawn just so I could fight L.A. traffic attend.

If you don't know who Scott Kelby is, you can find out more about him here.  Basically, he's the big-mother-guru of both digitial photography and Photoshop.  (Sheesh, I hope he never sees this post!  Big-mother-guru??)  

Scott (I'm sure he would want to be on a first name basis with me, if only he knew me!) is involved in a lot of different photography related stuff, like writing over 40 best selling photography books and blah, blah, blah.  Part of the blah, blah, blah is putting on seminars to help other photographers learn a little of his expertise magic.

Scott doesn't teach all the seminars himself, and he won't be at the one I'm attending today.  He's got super-cool-famous-in-their-own-right photographers to help him out.   I'll be taking my seminar from one of the Kelby instructors, Ben Willmore. 

(I'm going to try really hard not to embarrass myself!  I seem to have a knack for awkward/inappropriate moments, don't I?)

I'm beyond excited to be attending.

The seminar is focused (hardee har har - FOCUSED, get it?) on photography skills and then finishes up in the late afternoon with Photoshop tips.

I keep thinking how I couldn't even hold a camera just a short while ago.  

I feel like I've been on the longest, never-ending, nightmare, journey imaginable.  I know I still have a long, long, way to go.  I know I'll never be "normal" ... but!

But ...

•  I can hold a camera again, albeit in a different manner than people with two working arms.

•  I've re-learned so much of what I "lost" during my time away from photography.

•  I love, with a passion, my time behind a lens.

•  I truly feel proud of some of my photos.

•  My bobcat photo will be in the Orange County Register tomorrow (page 3, I think).  Isn't it exciting they wanted it?  And it isn't the first time they've used one of my photos either!

•  I sold nine prints in the last two days.  Nine!  And no, it isn't AT ALL about making money.  It's just so wonderful to know other people enjoy my artwork.  (My photos are an expression of my heart, my soul - and so, yes, I do consider photography a form of art.) 

Today I'll be hanging out with a lot of wonderful photographers.  They will be, I'm sure, much more talented than I am.  They will, I'm sure, all have two working arms also. 

And there I'll be ...

(One armed, for all intents and purposes)

Learning, absorbing, soaking up every bit of information I can.

Because for me?

It's just such a thrill to be attending!

© Twenty Four At Heart

Why I'm Fighting This Fight

I'm writing this while sitting outside on my patio.  I'm enjoying the beautiful weather, the mountain view, a cup of tea, and a few moments of quiet.  My retrievers are napping at my feet, happy to have me home.

Right now, my arm is covered with three large pain patches, which is the maximum number a person can safely wear, or so my doctor tells me.  (Twelve hours on followed by twelve hours off ... never to exceed three pain patches at a time.)  

My bionic arm is turned up to the highest frequency it's currently programmed for.  It's a frequency I rarely use because the high frequency, in and of itself, often hurts.  I've already taken prescription strength ibuprofen, a narcotic pain pill, and cocooned my shoulder in heat.

And still ...

The pain is breathtaking - awe inspiring really.

I've asked myself, more than once, the question I've recently heard from some of you.

Why am I doing this?

Why am I so determined to live my life behind a lens?

Why am I photographing a season of nonstop baseball games for a local high school?

Why do I do something I know will only cause me substantially more pain?

Why?

On Saturday, I was at the baseball field when a visitor stopped by to watch a portion of the game.  The visitor was a woman I knew from the local sports community before my car accident.  I also saw her during the first few months after my accident.  At the time, my life consisted of nothing more than surgery after surgery.  Since then, our lives have moved in different directions.  We've been out of touch for several years.

There she was though, stopping by to catch a few moments of a local high school game.  The first words out of her mouth when she saw me were, "You've got a camera in your hands again!"  She said this with a huge smile on her face, genuinely thrilled to think I'm able to resume this part of my life.  Photography, she knew, was a huge part of my life prior to the accident.

Her words echoed in my mind for the remainder of the day.  Memories rushed back of years, and years, and years of traipsing everywhere with my camera around my neck.  Recollections of the hundreds of baseball games I've attended over the years, all with my camera by my side, also came back to me.

I thought back to the day I received my current camera.  I didn't know if I'd be able to even hold it, but I bought it anyway.  I bought it because I knew if I did, I'd find a way to use it come hell or high water.

For the first time since the accident, I've realized the stubbornness determination which exists inside me.

I've also realized I'm capable of enduring more pain than most people have the ability to even conceive of.  The pain is always there, wanting to stop me in my tracks.  There are moments when it does, but then I forge on.  I do so, not because I'm strong or "inspirational," but because to do otherwise is unthinkable.

I've gained a new perspective on how much I hate being told I'm disabled and/or that I'll never be able to do certain things again.  Since the accident, I have refused to accept the words "can't," "don't," and "never again."  I hear these words.  I listen to them, I acknowledge them, and then I go about my life as if they were never spoken.

There are around one hundred people involved with the team I'll be photographing for the next several months.  Out of all those people, only two are aware there's anything "wrong" with me.  To everyone else, I'm a normal person.  I'm a photographer.  They don't know I'm "disabled."  They don't know the pain I live in, or the increased pain I experience when I use my camera.  

I wear long sleeved shirts to cover my scars and pain patches when I'm in public.  I've learned to use my left arm, and hand, in ways to make my motions seem normal even when they're not.

I'm a fake.  

I'm an impostor. 

And yet, it's a victory of sorts because they don't even know.

I'm fighting, daily, to have a semblance of the life I was "supposed to have" prior to the accident.  

Living my life the way I want to live it causes me increased pain.

But what kind of life would it be if I gave up the things I love?

What kind of life would it be if I let my pain, my injuries, my disability, dictate how I live my life?

And so yes, there are times when the pain is so intense - even I second guess my choices.

But it's a fight worth fighting ...

It's the life I was meant to lead.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Four Months Later

Today is the four month anniversary of my eighth arm/shoulder surgery.

An unexpected car accident, four and a half years, eight resulting surgeries - and now four months of recovery.

Life?

Well, life is oftentimes a very different experience than you expect it to be.

I don't write as much about my non-functioning arm as I did previously.  I try not to whine too much when I have a bad pain day, or experience a flare-up that lasts for days on end. 

For one thing, I read a few blogs written by chronic pain patients.  As much as I understand every single word the authors write (and oh, do I!) ... even I get tired of hearing nothing but negativity and - yes, whining.

Don't get me wrong, I do my fair share of griping, complaining and whining too ...

I just work very hard to keep it to a minimum.

I really believe, when you find yourself in a situation like mine, you have to force yourself to concentrate on whatever positives you can find.  I realize that isn't going to happen every moment, or even every day.  Let's be honest, there are many days when it's really a struggle to just breathe when you live with intense pain.

Pain is so overwhelming.  

So defeating.

Sometimes, it really is therapeutic to write about it and/or just vent.

There's also an abundance of negative people who are perfectly healthy.  Finding positives in life can, at times, be difficult for all of us.  It's so much more difficult when you have to live with ongoing pain.

But still ....

I think there's a lot to be gained by turning my personal focus outward as much as I can, vs. dwelling on "my situation."

Maybe that's why photography resonates with me so much.  With a camera to my eye I become focused on finding the positives surrounding me.  I find myself searching for beauty, and discovering it in even the smallest of things.  It's better to stay distracted from what my own body is doing and saying.

I also know you, my readers, jumped through hoops to help me get my bionic arm.  The outpouring of support and love you gave me was amazing.  If I write a post saying how much pain I'm in, I feel I'll just come off as ungrateful for all you've done for me.

And I'm not ungrateful.

Not at all.

In fact, I feel forever indebted to everyone who made an effort on my behalf.

At the same time, I feel like you deserve to know my progress because so many of you have been involved in my story.

So, here I am ... four months post-surgery.

I have twenty four electrodes in my arm and shoulder.  Wires inside my body run down my spine and a mini-computer in my abdomen operates the whole contraption.

Is it helping?

Yes.

And no.

The neurostimulator (because that's what my bionic device is called) doesn't improve the function of my arm.  I knew that would be the case before the surgery was ever performed.  The whole purpose of the neurostimulator is to decrease pain, not magically make my damaged arm work again.

Since my physical therapy was discontinued, I've actually lost some of the function in my arm.  It scares me.  I know I should be in ongoing physical therapy, at least a few times each month.  At the same time, I doubt if that's going to ever happen.  

I do what I can on my own.  

I worry a lot about losing more function.

A lot.

It weighs heavily on my mind, all the time.

So what about the pain?

I always have pain.  Every single moment of every single day, I'm in pain.

The difference, with the neurostimulator, is that a good deal of the time I can now "manage" my pain level.  

Not always, mind you - there are many days/times/moments when I don't feel like I'm managing it at all.  (Like this week, as a matter of fact.)

But overall, the neurostimulator has brought down the intensity of my pain a very important notch or two.  What that means is, I can deal with my life a little bit better.  When I take pain medication, the medication is now more effective because my pain level isn't to the point where nothing can touch it.

I still need pain meds.  I most likely always will.  I had hoped I wouldn't, but I do.

Towards the end of each day, by around 3:00 or so, my arm has had enough and begins protesting louder and louder.  The pain escalates in direct proportion to how much I've attempted to use my arm during the day. 

If I make it to 4 or 5:00 without any type of pain medication, it's a good day.  It also means I probably had a day of doing next to nothing.  Using my arm, or attempting to use it, aggravates the damaged nerves.

For most of the last several years, I would try to "tough it out" through as much pain as I could.  I was afraid of becoming addicted to pain meds.  I felt like I "should" be able to handle life without them.

What I've learned from my pain specialist, is that it's a lot more effective to nip pain in the bud before it spirals out of control.  (It has something to do with rapidly firing nerves and blah, blah, blah.)  That means I use pain meds more frequently now, but overall I'm consuming less of them.  Instead of waiting until I'm in such bad shape I need ten pain pills a day, for multiple days - I now take a much smaller amount, but on a regular basis. 

He has taught me many other ways to "manage" my pain too, so I can live a better quality of life.  

My life isn't remotely close to being a pain-free life, but it's a better life than I had a year ago.

If I use my arm a lot (or try to) my pain level will increase rapidly.  I still have pain flare-ups which are intense and can last for days.  However, they're often less intense now that I have the neurostimulator.  A pain flare-up that might have lasted two weeks before, will now last a week.

Basically, everything is the same, except now - it's a little LESS SO.

Frequently, the sensation the neurostimulator makes irritates my arm.  I rotate having it on, and off.  I change it's frequency and intensity sometimes several times in a day.  It's not perfect and it's not the end-all solution to pain.  As my doctor has said to me repeatedly, "It's just one tool in the arsenal we need to fight this with." 

Still ... there was a time when I was popping ten pain pills a day, curled up in a ball whimpering, and hoping someone would please put me out of my misery.

Things are better.

Things aren't perfect.

Things won't ever be "perfect."

Things are, however, better.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Scattered

I'm having a hard time concentrating today, so here goes an all-over-the-place post.

•  We're getting all sorts of clouds lately.  I realize clouds are normal for most of you, but they aren't normal here.  I like looking at them and I love photographing them.

•  I've been de-hoarding my house on a grand scale.  The de-hoarding began when I had my imaginary-bug scare.  I started cleaning everything in sight.  I progressed to cleaning out closets, etc.  I haven't stopped in over a week.  We've taken bags and bags of stuff to Goodwill.  

•  My arm is begging for mercy, but I can't seem to stop myself.  

•  Tangent:  I think my bionic arm is improving more and more, the further I progress in my recovery.  I will probably live my entire life in chronic pain.  I will probably not regain (much?) more function of my arm.  I still have (bad) pain flare-ups when I try to do more than I'm capable of.  But ...?  Overall, the pain is less intense.  On a day to day basis, it has dropped a very important notch or two.  I can unclench my teeth more often.  I honestly don't know how I survived the last four and a half years, but I'm so grateful to (finally) be seeing an improvement in my pain levels.  **Fingers crossed**

•  Thankfully, we "only" found carpet beetles (and NO bedbugs) in one (and only one) bedroom - which also happens to be the only downstairs bedroom in our house.  Carpet beetles come in under baseboards from outside.  We *think* they came in as a result of the torrential rain a couple weeks ago.  Lovely critters .... everyone should have a carpet beetle or two in their life.

•  I keep imagining bugs, and itches, even where there are none.

•  I have six stitches on my leg, ON MY TATTOO, right now.  I'd tell you why, but it's a boring story and I'm fine.  I suppose that's the positive of everything I've been through.  Six stitches is nothing to me.  I keep forgetting they're there.

•  I had my carpet cleaned two days ago because I thought it would help me stop worrying about imaginary bugs.  We usually have it cleaned every January anyway ....

•  I'm going to try and have a Photography Friday post for you this week on bokeh.  Bokeh, as a subject, was requested by a few different readers.  I'm sorry I haven't gotten to it sooner.  (See: bugs!)

•  I'm having the interior of my house (baseboards) sprayed by the Bug Man on Friday.  He already did the one room where we found bugs, but I don't think I'll stop imagining bugs until he does the entire house.

•  I want to take a pottery class and learn to use a potter's wheel.  And no, I haven't been watching Ghost.  In fact, I think I'm the only woman on earth who hasn't seen that movie.  I also have no idea what prompted this sudden urge.  I baffle even myself.

•  My house is chaotic lately because:  bugs, bug men, bug spraying, cleaning, de-hoarding, more cleaning, carpet cleaning, more bug men, more spraying, more cleaning!  

•  My two older kids are back at school.  They left The OC last weekend and returned to snow and ice in their separate cities.  It's supposed to be around 70F (21C) here today.  They're having a little trouble adjusting to the change of weather.  In fact, my daughter is in Boston experiencing her first-ever blizzard today.  

•  My previous point was supposed to be:  I'm down to one kid in the house again.  I love, and miss, my older kids.  I also enjoy down time after the chaos of the holidays, does that mean I'm a bad mother?

•  I've never been in a blizzard.  I think it would be fun!

•  Someone asked me what program(s) I use for post processing my photos.  I use, primarily, CS5.  

•  I lost 7 pounds in my first six days of Lose-The-Prednisone-Fat dieting.  Yay me!  (I know, I know ... those 7 pounds were undoubtedly water weight from the drug.)  Still?  Yay me!  I'm hoping to be cleared for exercise beginning January 20th.

•  And now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go clean out the garage.

Sincerely,

Suddenly Anal

(And no, that's not referring to sex!)

:: Did I really just write that? ::

© Twenty Four At Heart

Why I Love Orange County

Yesterday was a spectacular day here weather-wise.

At first, I was at a loss as to how I should spend my day.  I hadn't slept much the previous couple nights and I was exhausted.  

I haven't been sleeping much because Murphy's Law bit me in the ass this week.  Murphy's Law clearly states, if you write on your blog your arm/shoulder pain is improving, you will immediately suffer a debilitating flare up.

I way overused my arm this last week.  And yes, I'm paying for it mightily now.  (That's what I get for trying to act like a semi-normal person.)

In any case, yesterday was a bad day pain-wise.  I changed the frequency of my bionic arm, turned up the intensity, and still found myself in considerable pain.  I didn't want to go through my day with the mental fogginess resulting from pain meds, so I tried to distract myself from the pain instead.

I spent the morning by my pool, basking in the warmth of the sun, and chatting with my daughter.

It was absolutely gorgeous outside.  

Around 1:00 in the afternoon, she suggested we head to Las Brisas in Laguna Beach.  (I think she's trying to soak in as much of California as she can while she's home for break.)

It took us a little longer than normal to get to the beach due to all the recent flooding.  We still have a lot of road closures around here.  Crews are working around the clock to clean up mud and debris from the storm.

Nonetheless, it wasn't long until I had a pomegranate margarita in front of me.

Ingredients:  Corralejo Blanco Tequila, Patron Citronge, Pomegranate and Lime

(Yes, I did recycle the above photo from by birthday weekend.  I drank the SAME type of margarita then.)  By the way, a dozen couple margaritas work almost as well as a pain pill.

The view from the patio, as I enjoyed my drink, looked like this: 

There was a funny incident at the restaurant while we were there.  We were sitting out on the patio and I overheard a man behind me say, quite calmly, "I called 911."  I assumed someone inside the restaurant was ill.  A short while later a fire engine and ambulance showed up and the EMTs approached the same (very drunk) man.

"I don't feel so good," he slurred when they approached him.  Apparently, the man had called the paramedics for himself.

"How much alcohol have you had to drink?" asked a very handsome EMT.

"A lot and I'm still drinking!" the man informed the EMTs happily.  He pointed to the drinks in front of him in case they missed the obvious.

The EMT sighed.

I tried not to giggle.

Apparently, the gentleman was not accustom to the side effects of over indulging in tequila.

Too much tequila can definitely make you feel sick.  It can also, I suppose, blur your thought process enough to make you think paramedics will be able to stop the universe from spinning after you've imbibed too much.

The EMTs were not as amused by the whole situation as I was.  It wasn't long until they departed and went on their way.

My daughter and I didn't have too much time left after that, but we decided to go for a little walk.  I was happy to see the cacti are in full bloom right now.

What a beautiful splash of vivid (!!) color the flowers add to the hillsides.  Honestly, it was just breathtaking to see.

All in all, it was the best day I could have hoped for considering the state of my arm.  

Beautiful scenery, great weather, and a little tequila all make for a great distraction from pain.  

© Twenty Four At Heart

I Didn't Mean To Turn You On

I have good news and bad news today.

The good news is I only took 1/2 of a pain pill yesterday.  

Woot!

Granted, I'm not using my arm a whole lot yet, but still ...!  My arm, post-surgery, is weaker than its "normal" weak state.  I'm doing daily arm stretches and exercises I learned (once upon a time) at PT.  I'm trying to use it as much as I can - and then a bit more so I regain strength in it.  I know I have good and bad days ahead of me, but right now I'm ecstatic.  

Five weeks post-Make Me A Bionic Woman/Cyborg Surgery and I only needed half of a pain pill!

The bad news is I gained a shitload of weight from the prednisone.  I'm going to get on the scale today to see exactly how much, but my skinny jeans don't fit.  (And how can I wear my new boots if I don't fit in my skinny jeans?)

Ugh!  I know my body and it's very difficult for me to lose weight - I have a lot of work, and a long road ahead of me to get back to where I was before Allergic-Reaction-Surgery#8  happened. 

But I will.

In other news, the conversation around me is nonstop weird.

I overheard my son tell a friend the other day he'd have to wait for a ride home.  
"I think my mom's turning herself on in the other room right now."

A twitter friend suggested Briefcase might unplug me while I slept if he ever gets mad at me.  (Um, he can't - the wires aren't accessible except to a surgeon.)

Nike asked if she could watch me get turned on over a glass of wine.  (I let her; we've been friends forever.)

Without a second thought, I've personally said the following in the last two weeks:

•  I just malfunctioned.

•  I'm changing my frequency.

•  I just gave myself an error message, now what?

•  My bras straps are causing electrical interference. 

•  I rebooted myself and got turned on.

•  I'm wondering where my tingle went.  

•  I now have to carry a medical ID card so no one de-magnetizes me.

•  I have a low battery.  No, really I do.

•  I suppose I have a lot of intimate TSA pat downs ahead of me?

•  I'll be right back, I need to turn myself back on.

•  I think I need to re-balance my electrodes.

•  There's a computer in my stomach.

•  It's time to recharge my battery.

•  I'm going to turn up the intensity next time I turn myself on.

•  I have a personal stimulator running inside me.

And last but not least ...

I asked Romeo the following:

"Do I have to take my pants off to do it?  Or can you turn me on right through my clothes?"

(By the way, he can turn me on right through my clothes.)

© Twenty Four At Heart

Romeo, Part II

I humiliated myself in front of Romeo recently.

My regular readers, I'm sure, aren't surprised in the least.

Humiliation is something I do frequently well.

My newer readers are asking, "Who's Romeo?"

Romeo is the good looking Expert Stimulator who turns me on.  (And up.  And down.  And re-programs me.)  

Romeo is the technical expert for my bionic arm and the 24 electrodes in my arm and shoulder.

He's also just-walked-out-of-a-magazine gorgeous.  Smokin' hot.

Let me tell you what happened ...

I had an appointment to see Romeo first, followed by an appointment with my doctor.  (Same building - same office although Romeo doesn't work for Dr. Painless.)

The waiting room was packed when I arrived, and it quickly became clear I was in for a long wait.

After about 40 minutes of waiting, the receptionist - while on a phone call - turned and looked at me and said, "She's here; I'll tell her."  Then she hung up and informed me Romeo was stuck in traffic but would be arriving soon.

"He's definitely worth waiting for," she quipped.  Then she gave me a look communicating just how much she admires Romeo's body charm.

(Romeo has this affect on woman worldwide - I'm not the only cougar one who drools a little when he walks into the room.)

A short while later I was in one of the examining rooms with Romeo.

I want you to know, up until this time, I had always been very calm, cool, and collected around Romeo.  Oh, I might have giggled once or a zillion times twice when he talked about turning me on, but for the most part I was a very professional, studious, patient.

I know, it's very unlike me, isn't it?

It took a lot of effort to suppress my personality to that extreme.

Anyway, Romeo was giving me an additional two programs on this particular visit.  We began chatting.  He turned me on.  Then off.  Then I asked him to turn me on again because I could.  He explained things to me, I asked questions ... everything was on the up and up until he said something about my recent complimentary trip to the spa.

?????

I wondered how Romeo could possibly know about my trip to the spa.

"I've been reading your blog, I even went back and read some of your archives" Romeo said blushing.

::  Stunned silence  ::

"Oh my God!" I thought, "He's blushing!  He read what I wrote about him in the Romeo post."

If you'll recall I wrote things like:

... unable to tear my eyes away from the gorgeous hunk of Italian man in front of me ...

And -

Romeo has lots and lots of sexiness wrapped up into one drool-worthy package.  Yum.

And -

He turned me on repeatedly.  Sometimes the feelings were more intense; sometimes the feelings built slowly.  Once or twice, things got a little more intense than I could handle.

Memories of what I wrote made me blush too.  

Profusely.

I wanted to die; I was so embarrassed.

"Oh, you read what I wrote about you in the Romeo post," I said - wanting desperately to come up with words to explain it away.

"Romeo post?" he asked.  "You wrote a post about me?"

Oh shit ......!  

He hadn't, in fact, read the Romeo post.  

Yet.

Foot in mouth, anyone?

It was too late, of course.  There was no doubt in my mind Romeo would be reading exactly what I wrote about him as soon as he had the opportunity.

Why was he blushing then?  I wondered.  Then I realized he could have read posts about my brazilian bikini waxes or any number of other subjects that might make him blush.

"Do you have a sense of humor?" I asked.

Smoldering, green, bedroom eyes pierced mine.

"Ah, um, I ... um ..," I stammered.

Right then one of the doctors walked in the room to say hi to me.

"We've all been reading your blog every day," she said cheerfully.  (Yes, those were the first words out of her mouth.)

"Ahhhhhh ....!"  I answered, feeling as if a giant spotlight had emerged from the ceiling to shine light on the inner workings of my brain.

My eyes darted around the room, trying to find an avenue of escape.

(I know it doesn't make sense because I do write on the Internet, but I'm still shocked - and I do mean SHOCKED - when I find out people in my every day life are reading 24.)

I quickly changed the subject to arm-related topics.

Quite awhile later, after seeing Dr. Painless, I was finally done with my visit.

When I got home, I went back and re-read the Romeo post.

Then I blushed a lot (!!) more.

Next, I tried to block the afternoon out of my mind.  I decided, the next time I met with Romeo, I would simply pretend our conversation never happened.  He had probably already forgotten the entire discussion anyway.

I should have known better.

The next morning I woke up to an email from Romeo.

He had read the post I wrote about him.

"You are very talented," his email said.  

Talented?

At what?

(And now, I'm blushing again.)

© Twenty Four At Heart

Winners and Updates

**  The winner of the Stella & Dot jewelry tote is Sandra with comment #29  **

Aaand ....

As a total surprise, Skinsations Spa asked me to use my fancy-dancy software program to pick one more winner for the LeAine Dehmer Clinical Skincare Starter Kit.  That's right, they decided to give out one more kit valued at $199!  The winner is Maura with comment #21.

A huge thank you to both LeAine from Skinsations Spa and Missy from Stella & Dot for sponsoring such fabulous holiday giveaways this week.  

Wow - around $500 worth of stuff was given away this week and that doesn't include the spa and skincare product discounts made available to my readers.

Woot!

In other news - a lot has been happening while I've been busy with the giveaways.

Here's a quick, end of the week, summary.  I'll fill you in with more details on some of these items next week:

•  I was reprogrammed by Romeo last Monday and I now have THREE programs to choose from in my bionic arm.  Just call me Cyborg!

•  I'm feeling better with each passing day - thank you to those of you who have inquired.

•  I totally, completely, humiliated myself this week and it might have something to do with Romeo.  I know you're shocked.

•  I ordered photo holiday cards this year and now I glance at them every day, but I haven't addressed a single one.

•  I received my doc's permission to begin using my DSLR (big) camera again!  I'm SO excited, but my arm is weak from the surgery and down time.  I'll have to slowly build back up to using my heavier lenses.  Hopefully I'll get some photo time this weekend!

•  We picked out our Christmas tree.  It's about 12 feet tall and will be delivered tonight.  I'll try to get some photos once we get it decorated.

•  I feel very fat after all these weeks on prednisone and I can't wait to get off The Drug From Hell.  (Zillions of side effects, anyone?)  Not much longer ....

•  I do not want to hear how you've already baked dozens of cookies, addressed holiday cards, finished all your gift shopping, decorated your house inside and out, and celebrated Chanukah, Christmas, Kwanzaa (and every other holiday) to perfection.

•  However, I will listen to you talk about all of the above if you come do all those things for me too!

© Twenty Four At Heart

Call Me The Hulk

Have you ever taken prednisone?

It's a steroid, and it has all sorts of horrible side effects.

One of the most common side effects is bloating and weight gain.  In part, prednisone makes you gain weight because it dramatically increases hunger.

The key word in the above sentence being dramatically.

When I was rushed to the emergency room of our local hospital due to a severe (and completely preventable) allergic reaction, I was given massive doses of prednisone to save my life.

I appreciate that ....!

Yes, I really do.

On the other hand, you can't stop taking prednisone cold turkey.  Since I was put on such a massive dose, I have to be very slowly, gradually, weaned off of it.

Over the course of about six weeks.

SIX WEEKS!

Six weeks of feeling jittery, nervous, not sleeping (ugh!), having my *girly* cycle all effed up, along with numerous other unpleasant side effects in addition to being ravenously hungry.

I'm not a toothpick thin woman to start with.  I'm curvy.  I do (normally) eat fairly healthy foods - after all I'm a born and bred Californian and health is important here.  

But now?

If it's edible, it's fair game.

Also?

I'm not allowed to exercise for two months.

Can you say recipe for disaster?

I might have eaten the couch the other day, things are THAT bad.

PR came home from school one afternoon and pulled out a brand new carton of chocolate chip ice cream from the freezer.  He opened it up, looked inside and said matter of factly, "Wow, Mom you really did some damage to this!"

I had a momentary flashback of holding the carton on my lap and eating directly from it as fast as I could with a spoon.

"Is there any left?" I queried as he scurried away with the carton.

I rarely ever even think about ice cream - what has happened to me?

Last weekend I woke up and made a loaf of banana bread.  Two big slices, warm from the oven, were delicious with my morning coffee.  I followed it up in the afternoon by making a dinner of meatloaf, creamy mashed potatoes, and provencal vegetables.  I ate hearty portions of everything.

By hearty, I mean about three times more than I normally eat.

It was delicious, by the way.

Everything sounds good to me, and even if it doesn't sound good - I'm starving give it to me anyway!  To give you an idea, even when I was pregnant with my kids, I never ate as much as I have been lately.

It's like the worst case of PMS induced hunger, imaginable.

I can't seem to stop myself.

In an attempt to have some semblance of control, I've tried filling the house with healthy things to choose from.  I snack on baby carrots and hummus, or crisp gala apples.

The problem is, I'm still eating large quantities.

Also?

If it's edible and it's within five miles of me, it's fair game - healthy or not.

I'm currently a prednisone-influenced out of control eater.

It's easy to say "Well, just stop eating."

It's easy to say that, that is, if you've never been on massive quantities of prednisone.

Don't mess with me and my food, ya hear?

**  Posts about dieting to follow, sometime in January **

© Twenty Four At Heart

An Alternate Reality?

Since I began writing Twenty Four At Heart, I've had readers occasionally ask me what my life was like before the car accident, how it was changed by the accident, and/or what positives have come about in my life in the aftermath.

I haven't spent much time addressing my old life, or the life I thought I was going to have before the accident disrupted everything.  I haven't, because I can't change reality and for a long time it was just too difficult to think about.  Also, it almost seems to give The Accident more power than I'm willing to, by writing about the what ifs.

I got this comment a few days ago:

I'm glad you are starting to feel better -- and I hope this surgery brings better things. It sounds hopeful! I don't get much sense of your life before the accident, other than that you were an active, busy mother (and not in constant pain). Do you ever think about the person you might have been now if you hadn't had the accident? I get the feeling that in some ways it has not been all loss, despite the pain. For instance, do you think you would have become a writer and photographer? (Forgive me if you were already both -- I only "know" you post accident.  Duchess Omnium

It isn't the first time I've been asked these questions, but for some reason they are nagging at me now, wanting my attention.

My life before the accident was extremely busy.  I never seemed to have a free moment.  I'm married to a man who travels extensively for business.  Although I used to be a manager for a Fortune 500 company (yes - really!), dual high pressure careers were too difficult for us once we were onto our second and third child.  Let's be honest, one high-pressure career in a house is hard enough to maintain.

I was burnt out on the corporate world, hotels and airports.  I was ready for a change.

I embraced being a stay at home mom.  

Because Briefcase is gone so much, my life was more similar to that of a single mom of three than to that of most married, stay at home, mothers.  I did the mom stuff, I did the dad stuff, I did all the household stuff, paid the bills, maintained our lives.  We entertained a lot.

I had no help, paid or otherwise.  We have no family close by.  I did everything for everyone, all the time and rarely took time for myself.  I didn't mind - I liked being busy.

I loved the beach then, as I do now.

I loved photography too, and spent a lot more time with a camera than most people probably ever do.

I loved gardening and my house and yard were maintained beautifully.  I took a lot of pride in my planters and gardens and planted pots.  Our patio and deck overflowed with hanging baskets and pots of beautiful flowers.

Sometimes I would "work" for pay too.  I took on odd jobs, here and there, depending on my time and interests.

The plan was always for me to go back to a full-time career.

I'd be working, at this point, if the car accident hadn't happened.  Our family was counting on the income to offset college expenses, etc.  It's very expensive to raise three kids.  It's very expensive to live in Orange County.  

But then, there was the accident.

Life changed, literally, in the instant it took for one man to accelerate through a stop sign.

It has been four and a half years since that day.

Eight surgeries.

Thousands of hours spent at physical therapy.

Hundreds of doctors appointments.

Millions of tears.

Entertaining is rare now and friends have disappeared.  Seriously, if you ever want to watch your friends disappear - go through multiple surgeries and watch them run.

There's been no time to think about a career.

My days have been spent recovering, putting the pieces back together - trying to hold the lives of my family together while my husband continues to travel nonstop.

Who would hire me now?

I have one working arm and it isn't my dominant arm, which makes the simplest tasks slow and difficult.  I can type, but only with a laptop on my lap.  I wouldn't be able to work on a desktop computer or at a desk.

What am I qualified to do with only my left, uncoordinated, arm?

Nothing.

Or so it feels ....

At home, not one flower has been planted since the accident.

My planters and garden and pots remain empty and disheveled.

Every time I look at them I despair.

"You can only do what you can do," I whisper to myself in consolation.

But it's not enough, of course.

The feelings of failure and frustration haunt me. 

Some days are worse than others.

Some days the waves of pain and frustration overcome me and I feel like I'm sinking so far down, I may never rise to the top again.  Other days, I notice some small token of progress - an improvement that makes me hold my head high and feel triumphant.

What is my life like now?

I love my life.  

Of course, I don't love the situation with my damaged body and the pain I live in.  I don't love the disability and all the frustrations that come with it.

But I love what I'm doing with my, very imperfect, life.

My biggest post-car accident victory has been my return to photography.  For three and a half years I couldn't lift a camera.  Now I can, albeit sparingly.  I've had to re-learn photography-related things I forgot.  I've had to make adjustments and modifications so I can hold a camera with a near useless dominant arm.  I have a long ways to go, but oh - I have come so far!

Do I love photography now more than ever?

Yes, I do.

Losing photography made me realize just how much it means to me.  For years, I stared longingly at everyone who passed me with a camera in their hands.  The day I bought my DSLR camera, three and a half years after the accident, I wasn't even sure I'd be able to hold it. 

But I was determined to.

Photography brings me so much joy.  It also brings the challenge of wanting to constantly improve and learn more.  I like being challenged.  I thrive on challenging myself.  It also provides me with a creative outlet I crave.  Photography is my oxygen and I'm not exaggerating, in the least, when I say that.

On the other hand, I have always been a writer and I didn't lose my ability to inscribe as a result of the accident.

As a child I wrote, as a teen I wrote, and as an adult I wrote.

Some of my adult writing was public relations related, and some it consisted of boring things like press releases.  However, communicating through the written word has always been a part of who I am, and I hope it always will be.  

I'm very shy in person.  Writing is liberating for me.

I enjoy the writing I do now more than any other writing I've done in my adult life.  I consider myself extremely lucky to be able to combine both my writing and photography.  

Yes, the writing I do is different now, but I enjoy it more.

Now, most of the time, I write less formally than I did in my pre-car accident life.

Now, I write to you.

What could be better than that?

© Twenty Four At Heart

A Little of This, A Little of ...

I think I can, officially, say I'm over the hump with the worst of the post-surgery misery.  It's going to be a long recovery process, but the horrible-as-hell stuff is retreating.

Halleulujah!

THAT was not fun.

On Saturday, for the first time since Surgery #8, I was able to wear a "real" (very soft!) shirt and it didn't make me cry.

I still have to wear yoga pants every day.  I can't imagine wearing "real" pants ever again - my abdomen is still too sore.  I may have to make a run to The Gap to buy a few more pairs.  (I think they have the most comfortable ones.)

But hey, I wore a real shirt on Day #10.  Woo hoo!

Also?

If the doc makes your fat stomach hurt enough, your arm won't seem so bad.

Heh ...

I also checked my battery on Saturday and found I was still fully charged.  Then I turned myself UP for more pain control which really helped.

Yes, it IS freaky to be bionic.

It was beautiful here this weekend.  Temperatures in the mid-eighties (28+ C), a nice breeze - spectacular.  I took turns sitting outside on my patio, my upstairs deck, and by the pool.

I am so exciting!

I spent a lot of time playing with my new point and shoot camera too.

My dog, Mocha, might have gotten a little tired of all my practice clicks.

Not a bad photo for a point and shoot.  I used Aperture Priority Mode for the above shot which is why her face is in focus and the rest of her is blurred.

In contrast, later in the weekend I took this one with my 7D.  (Oh yes, I did - but I completely supported the camera with my left hand.  I've got crazy camera skillzzzz!)

The above photo was also taken in Aperture Priortity Mode, but with my 7D and a macro lens.  I think it's a beautiful portrait and beautiful photo quality.

So, this is the deal ...

In my opinion, the Canon S95 is probably the best, small, point and shoot camera on the market at the moment.  So far, I've been impressed at what it can do.  (Not that I'm a point and shoot expert or anything, but several of you have contacted me to say you're in the market for one and wanted to know my opinion.)

For example, it has a fish eye feature:

However, I've also realized how spoiled I am with my 7D.  

I knew I wouldn't get photo quality anything like what I'm used to - and I didn't.  I'm a perfectionist so it's frustrating for me not to.  

I need to get over it.

Shutter Priority Mode did pretty well when I tried it on one of the many hummingbirds living in my yard.  Have I ever mentioned my backyard is home to dozens of hummingbirds?  Dozens!

They love my house ....

Did you know hummingbirds will "dive bomb" right at you?

Well, they will.  And they do!  (I haven't had one hit me yet, though.)

Briefcase took me to Dana Point Harbor for a short visit on Saturday.  The harbor is flat.  There are benches to rest everywhere.  I wanted to get out of our house, have a change of scenery, and be by the ocean. 

I decided to try the "beach" setting on the camera.

It sucked.

I didn't like any of the photos I got.

Next time, I'll handle the settings myself - which is what I should have done in the first place.

I did, however, get this awesome self portrait.

I think my legs are growing.

So far, it's my favorite shot with the new camera.

© Twenty Four At Heart

High Surf?

I think I'm, finally, turning the corner.

I'm starting to feel a little bit human again - !

Let's hope the worst is over now ....

© Twenty Four At Heart

Orange County Has a Drug Problem

I'm not exaggerating when I say my biggest fear, in the first couple years post-car accident, was becoming addicted to pain meds.  I went through surgery after surgery after surgery.  Addiction will be a concern as long as I continue to need pain drugs of any kind, but I (and my doctor) don't feel it's something I'm in danger of at this point in my journey.  

I've gone through eight surgeries in four and a half years and I've lived with high levels of pain the entire time.  I'd have to have my head in the sand not be concerned about the narcotics I've consumed during that time period.

Fortunately for me, I don't like how I feel while under the influence of narcotics.  I like being clear-headed and in control.  Feeling foggy and loopy isn't a sensation I enjoy or seek out.  

I also think some people are chemically more inclined towards various addictions.  I'm, in part, just lucky I don't have a predisposition towards addiction.

I look back at a few of the more difficult surgeries I've gone through and I realize now I should have taken MORE pain meds.  I was so afraid of taking them surgery after surgery - of becoming addicted, I tried to get by on minimal doses.  I put myself through a lot more pain than I needed to because I was trying so hard to tough it out and NOT take many drugs.

And yet, here I am doing it again.

A few days ago I told you how proud I was of only needing two pain pills on my 5th post-surgery day.  On day #6 I needed three and a half pain pills and I felt like a total failure.  I beat myself up mentally for not being able to "take" the pain ....  

Never mind, I had been more active the prior day (my trip to the doctor which involved driving for over an hour, walking, showering, dressing)  and, of course, it resulted in an increase in post-surgery pain.

I should know by now, that's how surgical recovery goes.

Two steps forward ... one step back.

Eventually I'll get where I want to be, but it takes a lot of patience which is not my strength.

Because appropriate drug use is an issue which I've spent a lot of time thinking about these last few years, I find it shocking to realize how many people in Orange County are intentionally using prescription pain meds to get high.

I must be really naive.

Almost every time I'm at Dr. Painless's office, his office is turning away someone who is seeking drugs by "faking" a medical condition.

It floors me.

Sometimes I see older people in the waiting room, clearly addicted, who seem to have habits they can't break.   I wonder if anyone cares after a certain age?  One woman, in particular, sticks in my memory.  She must have been at least in her mid-seventies ... an over-nipped, over-tucked, over-made up, over-jeweled, and over-dressed aging OC woman.  She sat in the waiting area talking loudly on her cell phone about her need for her "meds."

She was pathetic.

I honestly wanted to put her photo on a trading card and hand it out in the Newport Beach bars to the younger, plastic, OC women.

One woman called into the office and I overheard (one side of) the conversation because I was seated near the receptionist.  The woman was insisting she was out of pain meds and needed them refilled immediately.  She had just picked up 60 tablets (of Norco - a stronger version of Vicodin) the week before.  The doctor refused to give her more.

On my last visit, I asked Dr. Painless how often he has to turn someone away who he feels is only there to seek drugs.  He answered, "Probably about once every two weeks."

Dr. Painless actually runs a report on all his patients so he can see who they are getting medication from and how often.  A woman had been in to see him the same day I was there.  She had been to ten different doctors in a six week period.  He referred her to a dependency clinic.  She's either using or selling - or both.

Will she go to the dependency clinic?  Probably not.

How many doctors run checks on their patients?

I'm guessing not many.

Oxycontin appears to be the drug of choice in Orange County.

People want it to get high with, and it seems they're having no trouble getting it.

People with absolutely nothing wrong with them.

It's hard for me to fathom inviting prescription narcotics into your life when I've struggled with so much pain in my own life.  I can't imagine just taking the stuff for no reason.

(And due to the highly addictive nature of Oxycontin it's a drug I've chosen to never use, even when it has been suggested by doctors.)

Dr. Painless told me in Newport Beach and *ahem* Emerald Bay, in particular (which he compared to Sodom and Gomorrah), adults party and use drugs side by side with their teens.  They get high on Ritalin, Oxycontin and Vicodin and mix their drugs freely with alcohol.

It's all the rage, apparently.

It boggles my mind.

Do people realize how highly addictive Oxycontin is?

How many lives it destroys?

They are getting high on it and mixing it with alcohol, at parties with their teenagers.

I brought the subject of prescription drugs for recreational use up on Twitter the other day.  I was surprised at how many people responded saying prescription drug/alcohol parties are all the rage where they live too.

I can't get over it.

Whatever happened to smoking a little weed and throwing back a few beers?

Do you see these type of parties where you live?

Have you participated?

People ... what are you thinking?

© Twenty Four At Heart

Resting Might Get (Very) Expensive

I readily admit, I'm not the greatest patient.

I'm not a big TV watcher, I like to be doing stuff not sitting around ....

I get restless immediately easily.

I do, however, love my laptop.  I'm a geek, a nerd, a frustrated techy.

So, already - one week into this "recovery" stuff, I find myself turning to my laptop and asking it to keep me busy.

Unfortunately, if yesterday is any indication, I'm going to go broke in a week day.

* Ahem *

Online shopping, anyone?

I've already instigated a self-imposed rule.  I won't buy  one.more.thing  unless it's a holiday gift for someone on my list.

Why?

Because yesterday I splurged and bought myself a point and shoot camera online.

And no, not a cheap one.

Yes, I DO currently have a point and shoot camera but it's old and outdated and the photo quality is poor.  A camera is like oxygen to my soul - dramatic, but true.  The best way for me to stay sane through the next several weeks is going to be by taking photos.  I realize there isn't a point and shoot out there that can match the quality of my Canon 7D, but I knew I could do much better quality-wise if I upgraded my current pocket camera.

So, um, yeah ....

Rationalization, much?

I bought the Canon PowerShot S95.

It's due to arrive on my doorstep on Friday, and I hope to be taking my first photos with it this weekend.

I frequently get emails from people inquiring regarding camera recommendations.  The right camera depends on many factors and there's not "one" perfect answer for everyone.

I chose the S95 primarily for these reasons:

•  Very simply put, I couldn't find a small point and shoot on the market that would be able to match its picture capabilities or quality.  I need a very small, and lightweight, camera because of the surgery I just had.  The S95 weighs only 6 oz./170g.

•  It shoots in RAW and JPEG.  I realize most of you could care less about being able to shoot in RAW, but I'm thrilled.

•  It's designed to perform well in low-light situations.  That's why it's a 10 megapixel vs. a 12 or 14 ... less noise in low light situations.  (More is not always better regarding megapixels!)  After I'm done "recovering" I will mainly be using this camera in situations where I can't easily take my 7D.  (Think - out to dinner with friends, evenings out, etc. - situations where lighting will be less than ideal.)

•  It has Image Stabilization which, even in a lightweight camera, will be important with my weak arm.

•  It has 26 modes to shoot in, giving me a lot of flexibility which I will be craving until I can get my 7D back into my hands again.

Do I feel guilty buying something expensive for myself?

Yes, I do - very much so.

Do I really believe this camera will be the key to keeping me sane through my two month recovery?

Yes, I really, truly, do.

It may sound ridiculous to some of you, but this little camera is going to be my lifeline to normalcy.  I can't wait until I can take short, leisurely, recovery-type walks and take my new toy with me.

Yeah, I know - I'm a photo geek ....

© Twenty Four At Heart

Squeamish? Come Back Tomorrow!

* This is the post where I lose all my readers.  If you're squeamish, skip this post and please come back to visit tomorrow! *

I'm making baby steps in this whole post-car-accident surgery medical mess.

For instance, today I'm allowed to take my first shower!

Woo Hoo!

(I've been bathing in a half inch of water in our bathtub up to this point and washing my hair one handed in the kitchen sink.)

It's all about baby steps ...

Each small step is a milestone - minor to you, but huge to me.

Yesterday, I drove myself to the doctor.  It was my first outing and, in reality, I was in no shape to be driving but I needed to get there - and I did.  

Baby steps.

My bandages were removed.  My stitches will dissolve on their own, in time.  They're covered with surgical glue so I can shower now.

My shoulder looks like this right now:

The electrodes were turned on yesterday and I have one, beginning, program they run on.  

As time goes on, I will have multiple programs.  Right now my body is still healing and sensitive from the surgery.  I will be getting "tweaks" to the programs and the strength of them for probably a few months to come.  (I think they told me I will be up and running 100% at the five month point ... it will take awhile to get the full benefits of the system.)

I have incisions down my back where the wires were "tunneled" down, and around, to my abdomen.  I have no photos of those to share with you.  Some of you love science and medical stuff and WANT to see this stuff.  Others of you definitely do not.  I understand BOTH types of people!

The right side of my tummy looks like this:

My skin looks yellow in the above photo because it's stained from the iodine they used on me during surgery.  Inside that tummy incision is a "pocket" my doctor made where the generator (little computer!) is.  It tells the electrodes in my shoulder what to do.  I can turn it on and off by using a little remote that goes right through my skin.  Kind of like a TV remote ... but smaller.

The technology is amazing!

This is the good news ....

The day prior to having the electrodes turned on, I took five pain pills to get through the day.  Yesterday, with the electrodes working - I took only two!  Keep in mind, today is only my sixth day post-surgery.  Also, the electrodes don't help the surgical pain in my abdomen which has been significant.  As I heal, I expect my need for pain medication to decrease even further.

I can't wait!

The very bad news?

It is going to take me weeks to do a "gradual step down" of all the steroids I had to be put on due to the allergic reaction/medical screw up that took place.  The steroids make me feel like crap and I had hoped to be off them within a week.  Instead, it will take another three full weeks to be "weaned" off them.  (It's dangerous to stop taking them cold turkey, I guess.)  

That means another three weeks of feeling like crap on them.  Yes, it does make me angry that I'm going through this and shouldn't be.  I do hope to hear that whoever's incompetence is responsible for my misery has been fired.  I'd fire them personally if I could.

Sorry if I seem bitter, but I could have died due to the "mistake" made.  I've been through a hell of a lot in the last four and a half years ... I didn't need someone's incompetence to nearly kill me during a "safe" surgery.  

Nothing like adding misery to the miserable!

Ok, off my soapbox ....

The other, not so great - but expected - piece of the puzzle is I have to be very sedentary for the next eight weeks.  I knew it going in, but once I start feeling a bit better it's going to be really hard NOT to do stuff.  The electrodes, the wires, the generator ... they all need scar tissue to form around them to hold them perfectly in place.  If I do more than I should do - they will become displaced.  The last thing I need is to have another surgery to fix them.

So, I will have to find ways to entertain myself in sedentary ways for the next two months.  No lifting, no exerting ... not much of anything.  I suppose I will get caught up on movies, and reading, and do my holiday shopping online this year.  

Time will pass, and everything will get better.

When January rolls around, I hope to find an indoor pool and get back to my daily swims.  I may upgrade my very old point and shoot camera in the next week or two so I can take some decent photos over the next two months.  I'm not sure when I'll be cleared to use my DSLR again, but I know it's too heavy to use for quite awhile.

In the meantime, if you have favorite websites for shopping, good movies to suggest, great music I might be interested in, wonderful books you've loved - I'd love to hear about all of it.  

Today is definitely better than yesterday -

Tomorrow, I know, will be even better.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Appraising the Waves

I'm not doing well.

I hate to be a downer, but since I was rushed to the ER yesterday I've really been struggling. 

I've got high pain from the surgery, my whole body itches unmercifully, my face is red and swollen from the allergic reaction ... ugh!  My eyes are swollen nearly shut.  I look like a monster leftover from Halloween.  If you've ever experienced a severe, life-threatening allergic reaction, you understand how horrible it makes you feel.

And why?

Because someone really blew it and ignored my medical chart and the hospital warning bracelet I wore during my surgery.  This process wouldn't have been fun anyway, but now it's just off the charts miserable.  I guess I'm lucky.  I'm so highly allergic to the medication they used, I easily could have died.

Lucky me ....

At this point, it's just a matter of waiting it out.  The allergy symptoms will take days, possibly over a week, to subside.  I'm taking all the meds I can and ... I'm waiting.  

The surgical pain will ease with time too.  I'm trying to take it minute by minute and just get through it.  Time seems to be moving incredibly slow.

When I'm not asleep, I'm trying to distract myself by going through some of the many photos I took over the last two weeks.

I took this photo of a group of teen boys appraising the waves last weekend.  I love it.  I also relate to it.  I feel like that's exactly what I've been doing the past few days ....  appraising the waves.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Rushed to the ER

Before dawn this morning (Thursday), I was rushed to the hospital emergency room with a severe allergic reaction to some of the medication used on me yesterday, during surgery.

It's been a scary, nerve-wracking, awful day.

I now sit with an epi-pen by my side.

The hospital wanted to admit me because they can't seem to make the reaction go away, although it is slightly (?) better than when I went in.  In time, the doc agreed to let me go home but he was reluctant to put it mildly.

This isn't fun, and it IS scary.

I'll hopefully be back by Monday with regular posts.

In the meantime, expect to see short, little, updates like this.

Although, the doctors are "trying to get to the bottom of what happened," they suspect a nurse used a medication that was clearly marked on my chart as one I'm highly allergic too.  In addition, it was marked on my hospital bracelet in bold letters.

I'm in bad shape and miserable.

Hope to be back to regular posts soon .....

© Twenty Four At Heart

Surgery #8

How sad is it that I have to refer to my car accident surgeries by number in order to keep them all straight?

I won't lie.

I'm hurting.  

A lot.  

I'm also having an allergic reaction to one of the medications I was given.

Can you say miserable?

I've been told yesterday's surgery to implant the neurostimulator went well.  I now have 24 (twenty four!) electrodes in my shoulder.  Sixteen electrodes are in the front of my shoulder and eight are in the back.  I have wires inside my body traveling the length of my torso.  

The wires end at the generator.

I borrowed the above photo off the St. Jude Medical website.

The generator, which is sort of like a pacemaker for my arm, is implanted in my abdomen.

It's nice to know my leftover baby pouch (read:  tummy fat!) is being put to good use.  (Kind of like a kangaroo's pouch?)  The generator in my abdomen won't be visible once I'm healed.  I'll be able to walk around naked and no one will know how bionic I am.

There's nothing quite like a naked, bionic, woman - right?

The generator normally goes in the back of a person's hip, but since I can't move my bum arm to reach BACK at all, having it on my hip wouldn't work for me.  Thus, Dr. Painless put it in my abdomen.  The battery is rechargeable, and needs to be recharged regularly, right through my skin.  I have to be able to reach, with my disabled arm, the area where it's located.  

The technology involved in this device is astounding.

In a couple days, I'll be turned on.

(Ha!  Don't you wish you could count on being turned on too?)

Right now the device isn't programmed.  Which means it isn't working yet.

Once the stimulator is programmed, I'll be able to control it with a small remote.

The remote is small enough to fit easily in a purse.  It will allow me to control the strength and type of sensations I feel in my shoulder and arm.  Amazing, isn't it?

I have a home nurse coming to the house every afternoon for a few days.  She seems very nice.  I didn't know she was part of the deal, but Dr. Painless ordered her for me.

My shoulder and shoulder blade (and back) hurt quite a bit.  That's to be expected, of course.  That's where the electrodes and wires were put in.  

The more intense pain, however, is coming from the battery pack itself which is in my abdomen.  Every time I sit, or stand, or move - the movement uses my abdominal muscles.  (I didn't even think I had any abdominal muscles, but apparently I do and they're protesting loudly to all this surgery/generator/foreign object in my body stuff.)

So yep, that's where the worst pain is - not in my arm or shoulder, but in my stomach.  I'm sure it will ease up in a few days.

I hope.

I'm very tired from the anesthesia, etc.  I slept most of yesterday.

In other words, mentally I'm a bit flaky and fading in and out.

I'm swearing a lot whenever I have to move because - sheeeeeet it hurts!  It's also difficult to find any position I can get semi-comfortable in.  Sitting up hurts, laying down hurts, standing hurts ... basically I just hurt right now.  I know it will be better soon.

I did want to give you an update though and let you know I'm okay.  After all, I don't think this surgery would have happened without your help.  By the way, everyone on my medical team is quite proud and amazed by your efforts too.  It's all they were talking about during my pre-surgery time yesterday.

You, dear readers, are the very best!

© Twenty Four At Heart

Um, Hello?

So, I was staring at my blank laptop screen thinking to myself, "Do I tell my readers friends about THIS or do I tell them about THAT today?  Or maybe I should come right out and tell them THE STORY ABOUT YOU KNOW WHAT instead?"

The thing is, I'm not good at bluffing my way through anything.

My stomach is in knots.

Knots!

The situation is this:

1)  I've been having a really bad pain flare-up.  Except, I don't know if you call it a "flare-up" when my arm/shoulder/adjoining parts have hurt like hell ever since the removal of my temporary arm implant.  It has NOT been fun.  

I guess my body didn't like that whole implant in/implant out of my arm process.  The positive aspect of all this pain is it makes me feel quite sure I want to go through with Surgery #8.  If my arm was feeling better, I'd probably be having a zillion doubts about the surgery.

2)  I normally, no matter what, only allow myself (at most) one pain pill a day.  If I took them whenever I'm hurting I'd have become addicted a long time ago.  The only exceptions (in my imaginary book of pain med rules) are right after surgeries or when I get to the point where I feel like throwing things because I'm literally "losing it" from pain.  (Like when I got back from Boston last summer - ugh!)  

By the way, these are my personal rules, not my doctor's.  He's quite comfortable with me taking more pain meds than I do, but I'm not comfortable with it.  This last week I've been taking TWO pain pills a day ... still not a lot by my doctor's standards but it's enough to mess with my concentration for writing.

3)  Next Tuesday is my 24th birthday, again.  This upcoming birthday is contributing to the knots in my stomach.  I'm not a big fan of my own birthdays.  I usually host a giveaway on my birthday, but this year I have to postpone the giveaway.

4)  The above photo is not an intentional cleavage shot.  It's not easy to take your own photo with one working arm.  It's also not easy for me to NOT have cleavage.  I needed a little photoshop help with the eye bags wrinkles in celebration of my almost 24th birthday.  Photoshop is cheaper than plastic surgery, I suppose.

5)  In case Halloween weekend wasn't already busy enough, Briefcase has told me he's whisking me away on Saturday night as an early birthday celebration.  I'll tell you (almost) all about it next week.  *wink*

6)  My birthday is next TUESDAY and my surgery is at 6 a.m. on WEDNESDAY.  (Stomach knots, stomach knots .... aaack!)  And yes, the surgery is the reason why I'm postponing my usual birthday giveaway.  I'll be in no shape to pick a winner or get a prize/gift out.

7)  The holidays are really (!!) important to me and with Surgery #8, and a two month recovery, ahead of me I'm already having some a lot of anxiety about how I'm going to do everything this year.  (stomach knots!)

8)  I'm not looking forward to putting my life on hold again due to another surgery.  I wouldn't be going forward with the whole thing if I didn't believe the outcome will be positive, but still ....  I have to do this again??  Dread!  (stomach knots, stomach knots!!)

9)  I'd be lying if I didn't admit I'm scared.  I've been to hell before, and I don't want to go back.  I don't think (??) this surgery will be as bad as what I've gone through in the past, but my doctor has led me to believe it isn't going to be easy.  (So many stomach knots!)

10)  I apologize for whining and sharing all my anxieties with you.  Thank you for letting me vent.  I know, in my brain, everything will be fine.  My doctor is ranked #1 in the world for this procedure.  I couldn't be in better hands.  Unfortunately, knowing he's a great doctor doesn't make the fear and anxiety go away.  (I think a lot of the emotions involved are tied to the not-so-distant memories of the last seven surgeries!)

P.S.  Yesterday I got a pre-surgery pedicure and my toenails are now polished with OPI's William Tell Me About It.  I love it!  Now, I just need to find panties to match so I don't clash on surgery day!  (Do other people think about things like panty/toenail polish clashing for surgeries??)

P.P.S.  Sorry for overdoing the parentheses and exclamation points and blah, blah, blahing in this post!!  (( !! ?? ))

P.P.P.S.  I hope everyone has a safe and fun Halloween weekend!

© Twenty Four At Heart

The Day After

The last few days have been an emotional roller coaster.

First, I was extremely upset, angry, and stressed out.

Then, I was overwhelmed by an amazing outpouring of love and support.

To be honest,, I'm still floating on a cloud of wonder and astonishment and gratitude.  It is REALLY a warm, cozy, incredible feeling.

Thank you - again, and again, and again!

Due to some scheduling necessities, my upcoming surgery got moved up to November 3rd.  This causes a little unexpected chaos in my life which I'm not going to complain about for a second.  

A big goal of mine, for quite some time, has been to get dedicated photography time prior to my "big" surgery.  I've been told I'll have a two month recovery and I know I won't be able to use my arm much, if at all, during that time period.  

I'm going to go through terrible camera withdrawals.

Yesterday, I got in my car with a backpack of camera gear and started driving up the coast towards Los Angeles.

Hindsight being twenty-twenty, I would suggest none of you do any such thing when you are just two weeks post-arm/shoulder surgery.  Ouch a zillion times over!

Yes, I AM an idiot - why do you ask?

(Have I ever mentioned what a major inconvenience it is to be a one-armed photographer?  Such a pain in the ass!)

Eventually, I found myself in Santa Monica where I spent a lot of my time as a kid and a teen.

I have a list of places I want to photograph in Southern California.  Most of the places on my list are places I'm very familiar with, but have never taken the time to just stop and photograph.  The Santa Monica Pier was one of them.

I arrived in late morning.  We're just finishing up with three days of rain here.  (It's very unusual for us to have rain in October.)  The sky was fairly cloudy, the weather was cool, and the sand was still wet from the storm.

I ended up taking over 250 photos in just a few hours.

No, I won't make you look at all of them.

Yes, I will probably post a few of them on weekends here and there.  

(For those of you who are new readers - I rarely write full posts on weekends.  I usually just put up photos on Saturdays and Sundays.)

It was exactly the type of day I needed.  I had time to myself, time at the beach, time with my camera, and time to come to terms with everything going on in my life.

You know what I was reminded of this week?

I'm a very, very, lucky person to have the life I do.

What a wonderful way to end the week.

© Twenty Four At Heart

Humbled. Touched. In Awe of You.

Yesterday, in the early afternoon, I received a call informing me Anthem Blue Cross had reversed their decision to deny my benefits for a permanent neurostimulator.

Just like that, the surgery is now approved!

(It's currently scheduled for November 10th, but the date could be changed.)

I never thought I could be so happy about facing another surgery.

For those of you who don't know what happened yesterday - let me tell you.

First, I wrote this post sharing my story of being denied medical benefits by my insurance company, Anthem Blue Cross.

And then ...

And then - you dear, sweet, amazing, Internet Friends astonished me with love and support.

I've never seen anything like it.

Never.

Several bloggers put my story on their blogs.  (I love each and every one of you!)

Powerful, wonderful, friends put my story on facebook and twitter.

My twitter friends?

Twitter went absolutely insane - in a good way.

So many people were telling my story, linking to my blog post, contacting important/influential people and/or media on my behalf.  Thousands upon thousands of people heard about my story on Twitter alone.

Some of you even offered to help pay for my surgery ...

(I would never, ever, accept such an offer - but I was SO touched by the thought.)

By early afternoon yesterday, NBC, CBS, Clear Channel and just about every other media outlet you can imagine had stopped by to read my story.

Have I mentioned - I'm still amazed at what you accomplished?

I was then contacted by Anthem Blue Cross, and an hour or so later by their parent company, Wellpoint.

Just a short while later I got a call from my doctor's office saying, "It's the weirdest thing - Blue Cross just changed their mind and approved your surgery!"

They were baffled.

I wasn't.

I love you guys - I really do.

I wish I could hug each and every single one of you.

I wish I could email a thank you to each one of you, but there were literally hundreds (thousands!) of people involved in helping me.

I hope this will suffice ...

Thank you, thank you, thank you!!

© Twenty Four At Heart