I have been saving these for a night when I needed a quick dinner. It’s been a challenging week at the Bizzy Hizzy. So I’m glad I had them. The teenager and I both enjoyed them. and this multigrain flat buns are one of my favorites.
Sunday I made this:
The teenager made the meatballs out of ground bison, also from Hungryroot. The tomato sauce was Classico Italian Sausage with peppers and onions and I sautéed everything with some fresh green peppers, Brussel sprouts and sliced green olives. It was amazing. Both served with small shells and also with melted cheese as a sandwich.
The other night, the teenager and I watched Black Panther, which will be discussed in a later post. I tried this popcorn that I got at Lidl for 79 cents.
Chesapeake Bay Style popcorn. Very highly seasoned and nasty. I threw the whole bag out after trying it.
And I never waste food.
But this week has been hard— my body has been hurting in ways I’m not accustomed to. And that’s hard physically and emotionally.
Sunday I worked a decent shift at work but we left early— at 2:15 p.m. instead of 5 p.m.!
But yesterday I was moved from my normal spot on line 5 to the spot behind the shipper/style carder on line 1. It was a poorly set up table that required moving three steps from the table to the line, and then one had to rearrange the boxes to make room.
And the person receiving the boxes rejected many for no good reason AND worked so slow the line was always jammed. Finished the day in pain and at 80% of metrics.
But I got to style card too and that was fun.
Today I was back on my line, but my computer was lagging. Finished the day at 80% again.
And in pain.
I cried myself to sleep last night. Hopefully tonight will be better.
Yesterday I cleaned a lot of my downstairs and had a relatively good work out at Apex. I haven’t felt incredibly strong lately, but my IUD must be working because I’m not in pain.
I had a good week at work, so cleaning, working on Parisian Phoenix projects and watching Cobra Kai suited me just fine yesterday.
I even found two of the dog’s Kong balls under the couch which made for a very happy dog.
Today, I was supposed to have my annual physical but my doctor’s office called yesterday and rescheduled for next week— which also means another week without answers from my CT scan and physiatrist referral. Neither the neurologist nor the physiatrist’s office has called me back.
And I need a doctor that can help me understand the motion and mechanics of my body, and not just its individual parts.
Today I scrubbed the exterior of the stove and did dishes. Then I went to help my blind friend Nan with some errands and grocery shopping.
We made plans to pick up some pizza at Little Caesars so Nan could try the Batman Calzony. No matter how I tried I couldn’t explain what it was to the blind lady. So we bought one.
But we had time to kill before the teenager got out of school even after we put groceries away. We grabbed the dog and got drinks and hash browns (for the dog) at Dunkin.
And then we surprised the teenager with the dog at school.
Then Joan stopper by to drop off some hand-me-down magazines and erotica, cupcakes and photos that Joan needed us to sort.
Now, I’m cuddling with Louise, watching Gotham Garage and enjoying kitten photos.
I don’t have many plans this weekend— defined by my work schedule as Thursday, Friday and Saturday— in part because my body has been unpredictable, the weather has been crazy and the teenager’s work schedule varies.
I went to the chiropractor at 5 p.m. on Wednesday, leaving work 30 minutes early to get the last appointment of the day. I wanted Dr. Jensen to see my body after four ten-hour shifts in Stitch Fix’s Bizzy Hizzy warehouse.
And, for the second or third week in a row, I could barely crawl home on Tuesday night but felt pretty good on Wednesday. So I feel like I’m not getting closer to solutions to my physical issues.
Yesterday I tried to do some work for Parisian Phoenix, did a lot of laundry, visited briefly with a friend I’ve missed and haven’t seen merely enough of, taught a high school student how to write a press release, watched several episodes of Cobra Kai, ran the dishwasher and went to the gym.
The teenager working on her squat form
The teenager did a lot of work on her squat form while I did some accessory work. I also weighed myself— 157 lbs. Sigh. Still 20 pounds overweight.
Then we had Taco Bell, including the new Cinnabon balls.
Today I worked on the index for the Parisian Phoenix nonfiction anthology on marginalized identities, Not an Able-Bodied White Man with Money, which I will be blogging about on the Parisian Phoenix web site later tonight. F. Bean Barker was my helper.
Indexing is only half complete and man does it allow me to interact with the text in new ways.
Louise has an appointment with a potential adopter tomorrow and today she was quite cuddly, video here. I don’t know how she’ll do in the backroom of PetSmart but all least we’ll be with her.
Nala and Louise
In the afternoon, I accompanied the teenager to her audiologist appointment for a tune-up on her hearing aids.
Then we went for shoes. The teenager needed some and I wanted to buy a warmer pair that fit more loosely — hoping that would ease the blistering and burning in my toes.
I didn’t buy these patent leather stilettos.I didn’t buy these tie-dye Vans on clearance I bought these.
The teenager got new black Vans and a new design, the orange blossom Vans.
We ran into Target just to use the bathroom and I told the pouty teenager we could get a drink at Sonic. But turns out Sonic is still drive through only, so if you can’t have drive-in service what’s the point of visiting Sonic?
So we went to Sheetz, and had appetizers. Which would have been fine if the teenager hadn’t suggested going to see her grandmother, my mother-in-law. And her aunt— who recently destroyed her elbow falling on the ice.
We’re finishing Captain America: Civil War right now. The ice is slowly building up outside as the cold rolls into town. And Peter Parker just made his debut in the series.
I often hear people comment about my positive attitude and my ability not to be deterred or disheartened by challenges.
But to an extent, people with a congenital disability don’t have a choice.
In my experience, people with congenital physical disabilities who have the capacity to live independently in the world learn early in life that persistent complaining doesn’t change anything, that there are limits to what can be fixed, and that the only way to succeed in an ableist world is to prove that we can contribute and that we are worthy of space.
To do that, to push those messages and to push those behaviors into the world despite whatever pain or physical challenges face us, requires a lot of strength and energy.
So mood and attitude mean everything. Because if my psychological state fades into grouchy or sad or frustrated, my energy drops. My concentration dissipates. And it’s on the subconscious level.
And it takes more energy for a disabled person to navigate the world.
Really.
It does.
For instance, my blind friend Nancy doesn’t necessarily move from point A to point B in a straight line. Often, she is having a tactile interaction with her environment that requires extra steps and physical behaviors whether that be using her white cane, trailing a wall, or following the body movements of a sighted guide. Hell, if she’s with a sighted guide she can’t even determine her own walking speed. She has to match her companion.
But this also applies to me and my cerebral palsy. Because of lower limb spasticity, my leg muscles don’t relax. I have to concentrate on my body, my posture and my movements with every step. This is exhausting.
A 2010 study by Bell and Davies concluded, “that children with mild CP had a lower physical activity level and lower energy requirements than typically developing children. However, during walking the children with CP expended significantly more energy.”
And I honestly believe I that when my “good attitude” shifts into a darker place, I don’t have the energy for that level of focus and my body revolts.
Grammar police— this piece is full of tense shifts. I’m tired. Deal with it.
We’ve all had that corny job that encourages team building exercises and how uncomfortable that can be when they are telling you to trust someone that frankly you don’t trust.
It’s hard to be vulnerable with new people and new environments and this can lead to us seeming aloof or feeling alienated or shunned by the group.
Yesterday I had a painful day at work, and I’m still struggling emotionally with my father’s death, and compounding all of that is the fact that my sleep has not been that restful.
So imagine me… as the alarm goes off at 4:45 a.m., struggling to stretch out my stiff, spastic lower body and my aching spine. I went to the other side of my room to check on the cats’ food and had to use the vacuum cleaner as a cane.
I stumbled to the shower and afterwards managed to get my bra, shirt and panties on but saved the socks and pants for after coffee.
I prepare my coffee directly into my to-go mug, a FURR fundraiser item that keeps my coffee warm until my first break almost four hours later and lukewarm until lunch.
I email my neurologist asking for help getting a physiatrist appointment. I still wonder if I should be going to work at all. I tell myself if I really can’t function, I’ll call the chiropractor at 9 a.m. and see if I can get an appointment.
I decide it’s time to put on my pants.
But then my pants don’t button.
And I’m not talking about “these are snug,” these are all out as if I were trying to wear a child’s pants. Too much Taco Bell last night.
The teenager did a white wash so there is a pair of sweatpants in the kitchen. I put them on and wrestled with my socks.
I go to get my shoes. The teenager has piled the garbage on top of them. I find other shoes.
I then needed to decide between the pizza I can’t even remember when I ordered it and the pancakes from Friday for lunch.
I grabbed both.
Once at work, they have me assigned to line 5, table 8a. Now, they have the tables on line 5 labeled incorrectly. Somehow, they go 0, 1a, 2a, 3a, 5a, 8a, 4a, 6a, 7a. Someone is already working on the ninth table, which is labeled seven. So just to be clear, I ask my supervisor.
“I am to go to the sixth table, which would if you were going by the labels at the previous lines would be table five, because the actual labels are out of order?”
He looked up. “Oh, yeah. They are.”
But then someone is also at the sixth table which is labeled 8a. The lead on the line does the research and this interloper belongs on an entirely different line, but somehow ends up a few stations ahead of me.
I have to organize the station because it was set up for Freestyle not QC.
And then I see the person on line 4b, across the aisle from me, get an entire rack of refixes. That’s about three hours worth of work.
I went back to the lead who I approached about my interloper. I explained I had a disability and I was having a bad physical and emotional day and, let me paraphrase, I said I wanted refixes, too.
I got them.
The day shift support people and my normally favorite support person brought me refixes all day.
And I learned more about my favorite support person’s family history. And we discussed philosophy and gave each other a pep talk. And the day shift support person was also super supportive.
And it made me feel physically and emotionally better to share the weight of my burdens. I made 98%. Which is amazing — and I haven’t seen numbers that high since October.
The teenager and I headed to the gym this morning for the first time in a while. I did a gentle lower body workout to stretch everything and get my body rolling after the chiropractic adjusted just about everything yesterday. Even my ears.
The teenager wanted to find her max weights for powerlifting— which seem to be 100 pounds on bench and at least 155 on squats.
Tomorrow I head back to work after a weekend of falls and rest.
So that means meal planning and meal prep.
Our Hungryroot box came yesterday and since the app showed they didn’t have much product, I focused our box on mostly proteins.
With leftovers from last week’s box, the new box and pantry items I had in the house, I made this:
Chickpea rotini and beef meatballs with marinara and superfood tomato sauce.
Lemon pesto broccoli
Homemade pesto hummus
Omelet (with green olives)
Tempeh bacon
Brown bread
We also have leftover pizza and pancakes.
So for breakfast after the gym, the teenager had omelet with mozzarella and tempeh bacon on organic, sprouted everything bagels. I went vegan and had my bagel with my hummus and tempeh bacon.
And last night, the teenager and I went to my stepmom’s for Christmas and I got my hand bag. I have been admiring this Urban Expressions work tote since I started at Stitch Fix. I have one now.
If you’re a regular reader here, you may recall I had a fall last week, at the hospital, when I went for a CT scan of my brain. If you missed that episode, you can read about it here
What I didn’t mention is that I also took a second rather more dramatic fall in my kitchen that same day.
I’m rather sure Dr. Nicole Jensen of Back in Line Chiropractic and Wellness Center cringed as I told her this story, and the story about my knee totally facing the wrong way.
This prompted her to adjust my ears— apparently I had some left ear congestion. The adjustment was a rather uncomfortable yank in my earlobes.
Anyway, she mentioned that I tend to “just keep doing until I can’t do no more” which is 100% true and something I learned from both my parents. They both have incredible work ethics.
On Sunday at work in the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy, I believe I hit 96% in packing Freestyle orders. Yesterday, we got shipped to women’s returns processing where I struggled in an attempt to hit 70%. Today I hit about 85% in my home department (QC) despite incredible amounts of pain.
My feet were burning. My joints a little achy. My right quad screaming. A slight nosebleed. And both sides of my hips felt wrong. So I checked walking asymmetry in iHealth.
Definitely periodic issues since yesterday afternoon.
If I’m still uncomfortable and having trouble moving in the morning, I’ll go to work and call the chiropractor when she opens.
A little less than an hour ago I left home to walk to the hospital for my head CT.
It was raining, with flurries mixed in, and I didn’t think to bring a hat, a hood or an umbrella. I don’t mind getting damp, and the moisture helps tame my curls.
The walk to the hospital was uneventful. I was confused where to find the radiology department so I looked up the address: 250 S. 21st Street.
Now, I always get 21st Street and 22nd Street mixed up in my head. So to be sure imaging wasn’t in a separate building, I walked down to 21st Street.
That was mistake number one.
Imaging and radiology is in the main hospital. The main hospital was built over 21st Street, so to get to the entrance I had to backtrack, and go up to hills will black ice, to 19th Street.
I walked in, waited in line, and was politely told I needed to go outside, to the left and to the left again.
In other words, imaging was next to the Emergency Room which was where I started backtracking.
Bit extra steps are good. Let’s stay positive.
I leave, go down the concrete stairs between the hospital and the parking garage, trying to confirm where I need to go. I suspected radiology was next to the ER but I had just been told “left and left again” and I get my left and right mixed up, especially when I’m nervous.
And now I’m nervous and hurrying. In winter weather.
I forgot the stairs by the hospital are built like speed bumps… one step… walk more than a side walk square… a staircase of about five steps… more single steps. All painters with yellow stripes.
I missed one. I did a lovely corkscrew spin and bounced along the sidewalk.
I got up, kept walking, fighting tears and trying not to hyperventilate.
Because physically I am not in my best shape today. (More detail here.)
I walk into radiology and I tell the admissions clerk, “I have a CT at 7:30 and I just fell down the stairs coming from the main registration desk, I’m fine but I’m a little shaken.”
She, of course, wanted to know if I needed to be examined. I said no.
Then she assumed it was icy. I said, “no, I have cerebral palsy and I just missed the step and once I go down I can’t stop it.”
Her next thought was, “why didn’t they have someone bring you through the hospital. Why did they make you go outside?”
I replied, “I just did what they told me.”
The next fun part of the journey was once again I was told that Medicaid denied my procedure. I told them I qualified for Medicaid for one month in 2020 and they have not paid for anything since that month.
“But you qualify,” they insisted. “Or it wouldn’t be there.”
Just let me have my CT scan, especially now that I’ve hurt myself.
They take me back, and I thought maybe I should go to the restroom and wash my scraped hands but the tech assures me it will be five minutes. So I figure it can wait.
The scan was very cool. I have never had a CT scan or an MRI. They stuck me in the tube and I noticed the sleek black ring inside the tube that had a bright ball in it, like a star. I was told to be still so I closed my eyes.
The machine roared like my clothing dryer, the table shifted, and I was done.
I then once again thought about the restroom but it was 7:30 and my teenager needed to be at work at 8, and I thought maybe I could catch her.
But the sidewalks were slick and now the snow was coming down. It was coating everything. So I didn’t get home in time to see her.
But, between the cold, my nerves, and the fall, I suddenly realized I needed to urinate. And as the greatest insult to my pride today, I started to pee myself five feet from the toilet.
When I removed my pants, and realized the “accident” wasn’t as bad as it felt, I saw my knee was now bleeding. I have a sore spot on my left thigh up by the hip, two scraped knees, two scraped off palms, a couple scraped knuckles and a sore spot on my left forearm.
My trainer and I agreed that maybe the gym isn’t a good idea today.
And I cracked the screen protector on my phone.
I really, really hope that when the neurologist calls to talk about my CT scan that she can needle the physiatrist about seeing me, because I need help.
I’m scared. And I need to understand what this body can do and what it can’t.
In less than 45 minutes— it is now almost 6:20 a.m. on a mildly snowy Thursday morning— I will be walking out my front door to get the CT scan of my head I originally had scheduled for December 30.
I am drinking my peppermint white chocolate Supercoffee, which arrived during the snow event Monday. Peppermint is my favorite flavor in coffee. Cinnamon used to rank, but there is something about the sassy, refreshing notes of warm peppermint and bitter coffee that excites me.
Last night, my Parisian Phoenix collaborator blind poet, Nancy Scott, joined the teenager and I for a dinner of Asian style cabbage and sautéed scallops over soy sauce ramen.
I have mild anxiety about the CT scan, primarily because I am unfamiliar with radiology at the nearby hospital, but also because of the anticipated cost. (You can read more about that here.)
My toe has been burning for weeks now. So much so I mentioned it to my chiropractor last week, that it burns maybe 15 minutes every 90 minutes or so while I am at work in the Bizzy Hizzy.
I thought maybe my posture is off with my hip persistently giving me trouble, but I noticed last night it’s extremely red and I think a little swollen.
Now I’m debating whether I need to call my podiatrist on top of everyone else.
The interesting news is that in the Bizzy Hizzy this week I probably performed about 65% in women’s returns processing during my overtime shift Saturday. My supervisor informed me I did 83% in Freestyle QC/ship on Sunday. Monday was a paid holiday. I managed 90% in my home department Tuesday and Wednesday— which is folding and wrapping 147 fixes.
While my pain levels are probably around 3 or 4, depending on my movements, my hip is definitely bothering me and my toe hurts all the time now. And of course, the back pain has been minor, but there, and I’ve struggled with touching my toes this week.
And I gained back the weight I’d lost.
I’m anxious to do some items for Parisian Phoenix today and maybe even write some of my fourth novel before a friend comes over for cocktails.
And please consider buying a book or two or three from Parisian Phoenix. I’m saving up for a new batch of ISBNs.
It’s Wednesday night— which is my Friday! The Bizzy Hizzy has been a tizzy of Covid cases during this mandatory overtime week.
I’m doing my eight hours of overtime on Saturday.
Tomorrow I’m returning to the gym—the pandemic has also altered my training schedule.
And tomorrow, Georgie gets adopted! Yes, Georgie, our lovable former community cat from downtown Allentown, will be going home to a family where she will be the only pet.
I’m told Louise has an approved adoption application— but this is her third so I am not as optimistic as I should be. The person who applied for her wants two cats so FURR has suggested Khloe also be considered.
If these three cats get adopted— after Danu, Brigid and Aîné all getting adopted since December— I may weep tears of joy.
This week my body experienced all sorts of aches and pains, but I still managed to fold what I felt was a respectable amount of clothes for Stitch Fix. And today was our monthly employee luncheon— chicken Caesar wraps, tomato soup and carrot cake.
And on our final break of the day, everyone from my old shift got sweatshirts.
It’s kinda silly, but at the same token, it commemorates a special era of my life and celebrates the camaraderie we had on second shift. And believe it or not, even though we are scattered among the day shift, we still function as a team.
After work, the teenager invited me to Tic Toc family restaurant where we enjoyed grilled cheese sandwiches.
Ingram finally shipped Darrell Parry’s poetry book (Twists: Gathered Ephemera). And several other Parisian Phoenix titles are coming together. Perhaps as many as three titles releasing before the end of February.
Speaking of Parisian Phoenix, I emailed my class correspondent at Lafayette College and he ordered my first two novels.
And finally, side note… Actor Tim Daly was on the most recent episode of the podcast Hypocondriactor. I love Tim Daly. And I found myself comparing him to Anthony Stewart Head, you know… Giles on Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
I was specifically comparing Daly’s character on Madame Secretary to Head’s role as the school librarian/watcher on Buffy. Both were nerdy academics with interests in obscure topics.
Angel Ackerman 