I just published this post on my business web site— showing more of the lighthearted side of building Parisian Phoenix.
We all need a little levity, especially if— like me— the time change is kicking your butt.
Happy Monday to all my Parisian Phoenix readers and supporters! Today, I, as publisher of this lovely small press, went to Staples with my lovely …
Having fun with the business
Today started as an average day in the Bizzy Hizzy. This was welcome in my world as we changed the clocks last night— so as far as my body was concerned it was 3:45 a.m. when my morning alarm sounded.
Yesterday they didn’t open the warehouse because of the predictions of the sloppy winter storm.
I performed as expected in Freestyle, meeting the pace they like us to keep. We ran out of work, so I went out to pick. Now, picking is the act of running through the warehouse gathering clothes. A normal cart for picking fixes holds 40 items. A direct buy cart holds 80. I picked my batch is 41 minutes. That’s pretty good.
But somehow I also managed to ship 515 items— when the goal for a 10 hour day is 500, and I left the department for 45 minutes.
I also learned from the supervisor that I have successfully made it onto the safety team.
The teenager said I could have a cupcake to celebrate.
My lead at work has started calling me a beast— basically because for two days in a row I think I’ve hit 110% of the daily metrics. But he also mentioned it when I lifted a heavy box (probably 35 or 40 lbs) from the floor and carried it to my work station.
At the moment it happened, the phrase irked me and I wanted to take some time and think about why.
I know he meant it as a compliment, in that same way we celebrate achievements in sports or the gym. But that’s not how it felt.
It felt like he underestimates what I am capable of because he knows I have a disability— but he doesn’t know I work out with a personal trainer. He doesn’t know I considered body building a hobby. He doesn’t know I used to take 1,000 pounds worth of boxes like that into a commercial kitchen’s freezer.
I am a beast. And I hope this good spell lasts long enough to figure out what to do if the issues return.
But I am a beast just for getting up and going to that warehouse on days that I hurt.
It takes way more “beast” to perform on a bad day versus a good one.
My publishing company has news….
Today brought with it more excitement than anticipated. We knew about the impending time change— which gets harder as we all get older, at least …
Parisian Phoenix announcements, including our involvement as a vendor at Lehigh Valley Book Festival March 26
Earlier this week I visited a new doctor, where I learned about my femoral anteversion and need to gain more flexibility in my hamstrings.
After that visit, I had a miserable day at work with my hip bothering me.
But then I got a truly nasty splinter. And I wrote about the unexpected positive consequences of that here:
Part 1: A raisin and a splinter = 110%
Since then, my body has felt better than it has in 15 years (with only some minor discomfort after sitting too long and while sleeping).
And last night, between the raisin and my cockatoo (Video of her here helping me remove the splinter) I got the splinter out.
And I walked into the chiropractor today with no symptoms other than this very mild stiffness in the right hip on the groin side.
I told her the story. We laughed so hard we nearly cried.
And then she popped joints I guess she can’t normally pop.
And then she looked at my feet.
“Your feet look normal.”
We both think that the raisin and the nasty splinter DID impact my walk and my posture forcing me to stay on my heels.
So I need to practice balance and gait training, and also incorporate my doctor’s recommendation of stretching those hamstrings.
It’s so important— especially when you have a disability— to pay attention to your body and really track how you feel and all the changes.
Working 10-hour day shifts after a year of second shift has certainly proved challenging (and this weekend will be one of those challenges as we change the clocks in the wee hours of Sunday morning). And I do appreciate the long weekends, but not the 6:30 a.m. start times.
My “weekends” (Thursday, Friday, Saturday) get hectic— usually one day for errands and medical appointments, one day for chores, and (only quasi-joking) one day for cats.
I woke today at 5:30 a.m. in part because my cat Fog seemed to be in the middle of a panic attack, banging on my door and screaming, wondering why I was still in bed. I thought I might snuggle back under the covers when the garbage man rolled up and decided to bang cans and recycling around underneath my bedroom window.
Now that I’m on day shift and normally wake at the ridiculously ungodly hour of 4:45 a.m., 5:30 a.m. is technically sleeping in. And while the garbage man and his predawn ruckus used to piss me off when I went to bed at 2 a.m. after clocking out at midnight, “he” is merely a minor inconvenience now.
But I woke with a strange chill as I crawled out of bed— but I am always cold so I thought nothing of it.
I picked up Nan and 9 a.m. and as we were working in my dining room, I asked, “Are you okay, I’m cold.”
And she confirmed that it was cold but it was okay.
But I said no, that I couldn’t feel my toes and we needed to nudge the heat even though it was approaching 50 degrees outside.
But the thermostat read “56” even though the heat was set at “62.” And I realized that my fuel oil company, Deiter Brothers, had sent me an email that I would receive my automatic delivery fuel drop in the next day or two.
Obviously, we didn’t make it.
We were out of oil.
I confirmed it and called Deiter Brothers and brought Nan out to the sunporch where it was 60 degrees and sunny.
And the dog kept us warm.
After I took Nan home, I did a headcount on our personal and foster cats and sure enough everyone was someplace warm.
I folded some laundry on the porch, now a toasty 64, and the oil man arrived as I sipped a cup of coffee to stay warm.
And much to my surprise— I had enough summer prepaid gallons left to fill the tank. If I didn’t, my locked in rate would have been $2.399 a gallon. Which seems insane compared to the current price of oil.
This is only the second time in the twenty years I’ve lived in this house that automatic delivery let us run out.
So now we’re toasty again— thanks to the oil delivery man priming the furnace and getting us running again.
I shared some good laughs with Nan, got some good animal cuddles and appreciated the sunshine more than I might have otherwise.
So, if you read yesterday’s post, you know I have a massive splinter in my foot.
What you don’t know is that the teenager told me to put a raisin on it.
Apparently, she saw it on TikTok* and my follow up research suggests that there is something in the chemical construction of the raisin that helps the splinter get out.
*edit: The teenager informed me that the raisin came from a discussion in English class not TikTok.
So I went to work with a raisin under the ball of my foot.
And stood on it for 10-plus hours.
They made those of us on 10-hour shifts in outbound stay the whole day even though everyone else in the building went home at 3. There was probably 10 of us left behind.
But here’s the amazing thing—
We had a meeting and I still managed to fold 175 fixes. The goal for a ten hour day is normally 162, but the 15-minute meeting drops it to 157-158.
My process lead called me a beast.
My supervisor confirmed I did 110% of the daily minimum expectation.
Nothing, other than the splinter, hurt. For the first time, the first day, in years if not decades, I didn’t have some body part malfunctioning.
Did the splinter in the ball of my feet change my alignment?
I slept well last night but still didn’t even get 7 hours sleep. I ate the same meals I’ve been eating all week.
And yesterday I was miserable.
So what changed?
Something to ponder.
I came home and checked the splinter. There was no swelling where the raisin had been.
I took a shower (because I worked so hard today I was smelly), soaked my foot in Epsom salts and applied a fresh raisin to the swollen pocket.
And then the dog forced me off my spot on the couch.
I’ve been trying to gather my thoughts for this blog for 24 hours now. And just when I thought I had them… The Teenager had dinner ready. Then The Teenager left for work and forgot to grab her shopping list.
I went to take a photo of it for her and got the largest splinter I’ve ever had in my life.
(And if you are looking at the photo, you’ll also see all the cracks in my toes from the blisters.)
I hobbled upstairs, dug my tweezers out of the closet and manage to very painfully remove the top half of it.
It’s so wedged deep into my foot and still very painful. I’m soaking it in Epsom salt right now.
Just another reason for my left leg not to work.
It’s already been giving me trouble today and leading to a lot of muscle pain in my back and torso. Even though it’s not responsible of me, I accepted the voluntary early time out at work today and only worked an 8-hour day.
So speaking of work…
Sunday I worked Freestyle which is a department where I can usually hit 100 percent. But Stitch Fix changed our small (#5) envelopes. They had two strips of tape instead of one. They were a tighter fit than the predecessor. And they were just sticky.
I ended the day at 86%.
Yesterday I worked in my home department of QC— at the quirky poorly set up table— and reached 100%. But today I was at a high table and only hit 80%.
Yesterday I saw a sports rehab doctor recommended by my primary care physician for his knowledge and training in orthopedic care. He was going to evaluate my hip pain. I shouldn’t say that— he did evaluate my hip pain.
He also read my x-rays, did a physical exam and used the photos and the exam to measure the extent of my femoral anteversion.
Apparently, the head of my femurs aren’t positioned correctly in my hip sockets. It’s what causes me to look like this baby when I walk:
Apparently, as the screenshot shows, it’s not uncommon in children and even more common among children with cerebral palsy. If the bones don’t rotate into the correct position on their own by age 10, often surgery follows.
A rather invasive hip surgery where the femurs are cracked, repositioned and stabilized with rods.
I have an appointment with the neuromuscular physiatrist May 31– but until then here are my thoughts.
1. I still think I am leaning forward at work causing the issue with my toes blistering. If my femurs fit into my hip sockets at the wrong angle, this lean might be “natural.”
2. The doctor I saw yesterday says nothing I do is causing damage to my body, so my activities are limited only by what I can tolerate.
3. Relieving some of the tension in my hamstrings may lessen some of my symptoms.
4. There is no clear solution on how to move forward.
So, I called Nan to discuss it and get her opinion. I learned she never had a shamrock shake. I rectified that. See video.
Gayle and I had some adventures in downtown Easton today.
Parisian Phoenix Publishing Company has six books— yes, six— books currently on the market and a seventh that might be out by the end of the week. …
Welcome to the Hurricane
So, I’m in the midst of what feels like an incredibly long, never ending journey. I’ve posted frequently about fitness, health and disability.
And I’m getting to the point where I’ve accepted that I will never be done.
It’s probably a long shot that my body will ever be athletic or even dependable, but at least I can commit myself to doing as much as I can to be as functional as I can.
I have hemiplegic cerebral palsy, which means it only effects my lower limbs. On good days, in the right circumstances, with the right concentration, you might not even notice. But those days feel fewer and far between as I age.
I started strength training in college— and if you’ve read some of my previous posts this might be repetition for you— as one of my gym electives. My liberal arts education included gym.
I returned to it on and off, mostly for stress management and then health after The Teenager was born. That’s when I met some very awesome vegan gym owners. (I was still in my vegetarian days. I keep trying to get more into a plant-based diet again.)
I worked out at home for several years while regaining strength after broken bones. And— as I’ve shared before— I got very lean and cut.
Now I have no desire to be than thin again and no discipline left to be that lean. But I am working toward regaining my strength and muscle. Those pictures are from when I was 40. Well, I’m going to be 47 in a few months and progress is slow. I’m still at an all-time high in my weight. I have days where my hips don’t want to work. And my spine hurts most of the time.
My eating habits also don’t match my goals— but my emotional state has to improve for me to fix that.
But I keep working on all these things.
As my marriage ended, I joined Planet Fitness and that kept some of my health demons at bay. The pandemic ended that, and that’s where my weight gain exploded, too.
And I also realized my desire and discipline had faded in direct proportion to my pain and physical difficulties. If I’m going to be crippled away, why bother?
But this summer, I saw a Facebook post by Apex Training here in my neighborhood. So I reached out and Greg got in touch almost immediately. I told him my story— and this meant a lot of vulnerability for me— and he immediately recommended Dan without missing a beat.
Now I was very very intimidated. I had walked by their gym 1,000 times but usually found small gyms and local trainers pushy and unwelcoming. Like a private club.
But I hit it off with Dan and found myself impressed with his knowledge and his creativity. He’d be a gifted physical therapist.
My strength has returned but my body still doesn’t always cooperate but Dan always knows how I’m feeling just my how I’m moving.
This gym is amazing. I see a lot of guys who come together to lift, a lot of women who want to lose weight, and married couples who work out together. And the environment is very family friendly— you’ll often see Greg’s dog Gotti or the babies, Dan and Greg both have toddler sons.
The Teenager has started lifting. She has a love of pushing around heavy weights so Dan has started teaching her barbell sports. Around the same time she started accompanying me to the gym, Andrew joined the team and he has a background in powerlifting.
Well now it’s too late to make a long story short, but I’ve been feeling better and Dan has made some creative adjustments to my sessions to try and improve my range of motion.
Dan had to cancel this morning’s session so he suggested reaching out to Andrew, but Andrew was running on fumes. We weren’t able to schedule a workout but we had a great conversation about the prospect of getting The Teenager into her own sessions with Andrew and I can continue my work with Dan.
Andrew said she has potential and that he’s impressed with the lifts he’s seen. She now squats 155 I think and deadlifts 195. But here’s what I didn’t expect… “Your work ethic,” Andrew said to me, “is inspiring to watch.”
My world has been upside down for the last three to six months. So to hear that is just a reminder of how you never know who’s watching and how you may impact others.
And while I am still searching for the right doctors as I age, I know that strength training serves as a great boon to my future mobility and health. I see the orthopedic physiatrist this week and scheduled a visit with the neuromuscular physiatrist at the end of May.
I’m hoping these doctors can teach me how my body works so I can give this information to the team at Apex and maybe I could have a future in strength sports. Or maybe I can finally jog a 5K.
But more people need to understand—
Physical therapy is a blessing for specific injury. But as we age, most of us will gain a disability if we don’t already struggle with congenital issues. Just as I look for the doctor that can help me understand my whole body and its movement, the right personal trainer can help me strengthen my whole body.
I really wish I could be with the guys at Apex Training five days a week.
And I hope anyone with a disability who wants to improve their physical condition will consider committing to work with a personal trainer.
Last night was pretty monumental for me as the art director at Parisian Phoenix Publishing. I spend the past 1 year, 48 weeks working on the …
about last night
