Nancy Drew in overdrive

EVERYTHING OLD IS NEW AGAIN

Coming home from the doctor appointment today my phone took an email from a loyal follower that said, in essence, where are the pages about how to buy towels that should be at the top of your blog? Well, Linda, I've searched several hours for an answer and do not have one. There must be an answer, and Nancy and I will not quit until we solve this one.

The poor doctor burst into the room, x-ray copies flapping and said he wished all the rest of his difficult cases were progressing at the rate of this difficult case. Pause for happy remark from me, and he heard "Doctor, my heel hurts, my foot hurts, my calves are swollen and filled with fluid, and finally, my legs are noticeably different lengths and causing my hip to hurt when I take a step."

Poor fellow. He helped me peel away my shoe, sock and orthopedic stocking to take a look. Everywhere he poked or prodded, there was a reaction! We agreed on a visit to an orthopedic shoe maker. I may be cured by the time that comes around on February second.

There was quite a surprise on the way home. I wonder if I ever reported the cure to Akron-Peninsula road caving into the Cuyahoga River was to cut a new road through the leading edge of the golf course. I turned on A-P and could go home up Truxell, past my golf course.

And here's another shot, isolating my willow even more:

Nothing worth saving, but fun to know it all still exists, though a bit more shabby. And no great heron.

I've decided, until I find the missing pages problem, I'll just put a link to the towel site at the top and bottom of my pages.

EVERYTHING OLD IS NEW AGAIN

I may go to sleep

EVERYTHING OLD IS NEW AGAIN

Here's a fun fact about rehab, or my rehab facility at any rate. They do not stock drugs like a hospital. The patient transfers from the hospital with no non-essential drugs. Their drug list is reviewed and scripts for the drugs are written, signed, submitted, then your drugs straggle into the repertoire.

When one goes home, all the left over drugs go with him. Miss L and I spent an afternoon punching pills from cardboard and putting them into the appropriate bottle. We even made a bottle for the oxycodone, and my physical therapist was so happy I wrote the strength and pill dose on the bottle. Such sticklers for the whole story!

When I was struck down by the attack of muscle pain, foot bottom and ankle pain, swollen calves, and inability to perambulate, my PC was grateful for all those oxy's and will even write me one more week's script if needed. Gawd, I hope not.

However, nothing is going away. And here in the great midwest, home of secondary lake effect snow storms, I keep being referred to doctor after doctor, racking up appointments for which I fill out an hour's paperwork.

My PC called to cancel our four o'clock because her three o'clock cancelled and she could get home to her blizzard ravaged county if I would agree to phoning it in. We had such a fun time chatting that a while later her PA called to fill in the facts and details, like my BP's.

Did I mention she put me on the pee pill? I despise them. The first time I took them against her script of several times a day, I like to killed myself. My kidney doctor helped my whittle it down it one a day, and eventually two a day. I'm on two a day now. I do not use the bathroom all day, but visit at least four times at night.

When not going to the doctor, I'm weaving. I've restocked two towels. 

The next color will be cerise. Then a fun dark purple; I haven't looked up the name yet. 

I decided last summer to buy CD's for each of my grands. That means Certificate of Deposit, in case anyone thinks the little dears are getting greatest Beatle hits. The two extra payments last year allowed me to go way over budget, and when I wrote the six of them a mass email, I certainly did not expect a reply. But almost at once, from the family of four children, I received a thank you from the two youngest.

And today, a thank you from France. I'm counting it as timely since I promoted the CD as last year's birthday, Christmas gift, and France celebrated each (both) only two weeks ago.

And France is his own promoter. He says the next time he is in town, we'll get together to reminisce.

Well, the last oxy has its fingers around my throat. I'll do something that will be OK to sleep over.

Well, I paid another due!

 In case you have not paid incredibly close attention, I am in a business that must collect sales taxes, and pay up occasionally. In my case that is twice a year, January and July. We lucky fools use the Ohio Business Gateway. For all it's fine name, it's a complex program that is easy after twenty years of bi-annual use, and probably a year of daily use. I'll never be in either category again.

Texting back and forth with my sister I discovered her Ohio sales were sufficient to earn a five dollar discount. That's another joke; the discount for collecting, banking and then remitting "their" money does not cover the cost of the credit cards we collect it on. And that's a really old gripe.

Speaking of gripes, my left heel and sole of my foot hurt enough to cry, if I wanted to. I just moan and shuffle. I see the surgeon who repaired my femur on Tuesday. I'm beginning to wonder if they pinned my ankle somehow to aid in screwing in that long shaft. I sure will ask him.

I believe I mentioned the EMT fellows cut off ALL my clothes down to my skivvies before they transported me. My favorite front button fleece--zip--up the sleeve, across the shoulder seem, twice and it was history. And I know all their names and begged them not to cut anything. Today I asked Amazon to send me a new fleece jacket. But first I had to find it.

"Front button fleece jacket" only returned pullovers with decorative buttons on the front. Fools. Eventually I flipped enough pages to find a category, For the Older Woman. After I got over the aspersion I clicked, and there they were! Front button fleece jackets. I bought an even better one. A green, Aran knit, front button cotton jacket. Sadly, I cannot copy the picture to show it off. Oh, well.

More of the same

I saw my primary yesterday. She and her entire family are recovering from a bout of Covid-19, which makes me glad I'm not.

My sorry body was wheeled in by a volunteer. I shuffle in the morning until the first ibuprophen kicks in. I take another in the afternoon. In the meantime, my body is retaining so much water. Bla, bla, bla. We discussed me for a bit and she told me the ibuprophen is the cause of that problem, screwing with my kidneys. She switched me back to oxycodone. I guess the dose has to accumulate for it to be effective. And I just got "off" it, worse luck.

Before I left she gave me a pill to lower my dangerously elevated blood pressure, and it is working, I guess. Frankly, I'm in too much pain to much care. Today at 4:30 I remembered to call the pain doctor, to learn they close at four. Rats.

I did make it to the furniture store where Jan and I shopped for years. I had called to ask how handicapped accessible they were, to be greeted by a ramp over the step up into the store and then a transport wheelchair. I was wheeled from footrest chair to footrest chair, and picked the one I wanted for delivery by 3 p.m.

Am I tired of this nonsense? You bet. Tomorrow I see my dentist. I wonder if she will have a solution! Or the orthopedic surgeon, next week. Or my kidney doctor the week after. I cannot wait to be leveled out with all these doctors! On a fun note, the new (replacement) receptionist at my primary doctor's office had an identical pair of horn rimmed, round glasses, like mine. In four years, the first pair I've seen on someone else.

That's it! I'm out of stuff. Wait, I'm still weaving. Past half done on the current color!

Extra excitement!

After the festivities ended, the guests gone, the excitement died down, we learned two of the assembled had contracted Covid. K was able to find testing kits, and most of us tested negative, including negative tests for L and myself. I sent a message to my primary doctor before the tests, and received a call from her shortly after I'd used the second test. She was just recovering from a break through infection. She is double inoculated and boosted, and happy for that. She says she only feels bad cold crummy.

I've exchanged a couple of texts with a nurse I befriended in rehab. They jokingly say Covid came in right behind me. There have been double shifts, nights with no aide personnel, and worse, providing nursing for all three wings alone. Those halls are soooooo long. 

Back at the hacienda, I've had three therapy visits. The first was an evaluation and some gentle exercises assigned. The second my actual therapist, and some more exercises, including "stand up, sit down" twenty five times. Then we headed off to the stairs to try to step up, step down. I made it part way and then told her she must find her own way out; I could go no further. Each morning thereafter, I could barely walk without excessive application of pain killers.

When the nurse stopped to evaluate my progress yesterday, I told her I had been fine up to "stand up sit down". She said it wasn't the exercise, it was the reps. They will be reduced to a reasonable number. And that's what is going on with me. My body and soul are aware of the time and work it will require to get back to the cane. And I cannot hurry it, as the stand up, sit down business showed.

Otherwise, it's business as usual. The blue towels are done; the melon towels are almost half done. I have some jackets and a coat I want to sell on eBay, but must wait until I find someone tall enough to hang them high enough for a good picture. A green corduroy  trench coat, a red barn jacket and a brown corduroy dress jacket, all LL Bean. I un-grew them, all favorites!