My body seems to have finally adjusted to my beta blockers. My blood pressure has stabilized around 110/70 for about a week now. If I have coffee it goes up to 120/80. I lived on caffeine and sugar yesterday to keep my energy up at The Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group The Write Stuff Conference, which you can read about here.
Today, I have to deliver cats to a Feline Urban Rescue and Rehab “Meet the Cats” event at the Phllipsburg Petco. One of the organizers has a soft spot for my sweet Minerva and all of my fosters are long-termers at this point and need homes. But this means I need to sneak up on Minerva and Louise which is practically impossible.
But Sassy, my friend who recently left Stitch Fix to return to the medical field, texted me yesterday on her birthday to invite me to breakfast this morning. And she said she would call Southern Candy to join us. I was charged with selected a place.
Well, I said, if you don’t mind coming out my way, there’s a place I’ve wanted to try, Big Papa’s Restaurant and Catering in Easton. And so we did.
I ordered the State Theatre breakfast– scrambled eggs, cherry tomatoes, these adoarble square breakfast potatoes, and spinach. They didn’t have avocado. It was listed as also having avocado, but they offered me extra spinach. Sassy ordered The Big Papa Feast with a side of toast. Southern Candy had biscuits and gravy.
Sassy’s breakfast came with French toast and it was a full order of French Toast. She ordered bacon for her meat and it was a massive pile.
And the amount of food they served Southern Candy looked like two breakfasts to me.
The staff was delightful. The decor lovely. The colors and the music a little quirky and upbeat.
And the biscuits and gravy… their effort in making them homemade showed, but Candy said while delicious, their spices in the gravy wasn’t southern. So we’re going back in a few weeks so the chef can make them her way.
And we ended up being silly and doing a fashion show.
I had my full activity session at Physical Therapy today. I did my stretches, got strapped into the gait belt, and did a series of single leg stability exercises under the supervision of the computer’s measurements.
Then we headed to the zero-G treadmill. I was advised to make my feet and pants have contrast. So, I wore my bright green shoes, my purple polka-dot knee socks, and my black-and-white cat leggings from Purr Haus in Emmaus.
He chuckled while remarking that I certainly followed directions.
The Zero-G treadmill required some rubbery pants surrounded by what resembles a surgical/Elizabethan collar (cone of shame) that get zipped into a treadmill pretty much encased in plastic. When it filled with air, it reduced my body weight. I was able to walk the treadmill at 50% of my body weight.
The reason for contrast is that the treadmill offers an image of your feet. Three views on a monitor: front, side and back. So I was able to watch my feet, move my legs, angle my feet and reinforce the improved gait pattern by watching it as I walked.
I was only on the treadmill for 15 minutes, but it that time I discovered what part of my foot I normally don’t use. It was exhausting– and exhilarating– and so fun to show the Teenager the results when I got home.
But before I got home though I had an appointment to have my stitches out and on my goodness did I have the most personable and confident resident yet. I only had three stitches but that last one gave her a terrible time. It took her thirty minutes to get all of them out. I had her laughing and she was very patient and determined, and so afraid she was going to hurt me because “if it were me I’d be jumping out of my seat!”
She said I was the best patient ever, that I sat so still and I must have a high pain tolerance.
Between the two appointments, I stopped at Dunkin for a decaf coffee and saw they had a new “egg taco.” I read the nutritional info and with 500 mg of sodium, 180 calories and 8 grams protein, it had less salt and more protein and less calories than the avocado toast. I am so sad they no longer have the hummus.
When I got home, I did some little things and ate the homemade chicken and dumplings my Pennsylvania Dutch mother-in-law is known to deliver when people in the family are sick. And then I tried to take a nap, but a little birdie was guarding me.
Here I am, looking less exhausted and beaten. My scabs were flaking off and healing nicely but some of them cracked today (vigorous chewing? It happened at lunch time) and started bleeding. I’m still impressed at how quickly the body can heal, but these stitches feel like flies on my face.
I left the house early today to visit Koch 33 Collision. In early February, a work colleague’s car happened to give mine a love bite on the entrance ramp of 22– this was early on in the days of my unknown cardiac troubles when the symptoms were starting to show. I remember not because my heart had anything to do with that situation but because I joked about minor car accidents just adding more stress to my life. The estimate will cost less than $1500, hopefully the insurance companies can agree to that.
When I came home, I made myself my first cup of coffee for the day. I have slowly been changing my morning coffee habit into a morning water habit, unless my blood pressure is low, then I go ahead and make the coffee (which my occupational therapist at hand rehab thought was hysterical).
“What?” I said. “This is my first week on this medication and my blood pressure has been low when I have to take it. They don’t know what caused my a-fib, so I can’t skip the dose, but I also can’t take a beta blocker with a blood pressure of 97/56.”
Today my blood pressure was perfect so no coffee.
The neurologist’s office called and moved my appointment up a week from 4/4 to 3/30. I mentioned the report from the physical therapist should be in my chart, and that the news looked good, and that my body had adjusted to the beta blocker so my blood pressure and my blood sugar seemed to be stabilizing.
Gayle had promised me a new graphic every week I made it without a fall. Unfortunately, I was on day seven when the last fall occurred so I never earned it. But today is day eight. So I definitely made it seven days. And I display my new badge proudly.
I worked on Larry Sceurman’s short story “The Vanity Demon” for his upcoming anthology, Coffee in the Morning. I’ve reached the point in the editing schedule where I should edit one story a day to kick back to Larry for final tweaks before sending to Gayle for layout.
Speaking of stories and Larry Sceurman, Gayle, Nan and I spoke to the Apex Writers Group last night on Zoom, about 21 people attended our presentation. The participants seemed most interested in book construction, so Larry’s book, The Death of Big Butch, allowed us to show how we used text and book design to reinforce the nostalgic feel of the 1970s.
I also received my latest copy of the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group newsletter, which included my first official “Podcasts for Writers” column. If you’d like to read all of it, it appears here. More of these lists will be printed and organized in my paid Substack archives.
The Teenager came home from work and we had to run some errands. Somehow, we ended up at my hand rehab appointment more than an hour early. We visited Josh Early Candies, which killed some time. But with our meager budgets we could not afford fancy chocolates.
We ended up at Grocery Outlet, but not our local store, one on the other end of the Lehigh Valley. And we hadn’t made it 20 feet into the store when I spotted Silk Very Vanilla Soy Milk in juice boxes. Now this is The Teenager’s favorite milk for drinking.
She almost bought a pop-top can of artichoke hearts to eat in the car but proclaimed that would be a new low, even by her standards. I bought myself a pack of Maple Donuts because it was time for my afternoon snack, and I seem to do better if I save a carb-y item for around 2 p.m.
The Teenager then made a noise and I wasn’t sure what was wrong and she said it was sad how happy we were wandering around a discount grocery store. I lamented that it was a shame Nan could not be with us. And I didn’t know if that would be a good time to also mention that Gayle and I had exchanged emails with a ridiculous amount of excitement about customized packing tape from Sticker Mule.
Gayle had said she had to check out the template because it was something the business should do when we had more money and I quickly said that despite the fact that we recently printed a new book, this was something we obviously needed. And then she totally outdid herself on the design, so if Sticker Mule delivers a good products, it’s going to be so amazing that you will have to order books just so you can receive a package from us.I pack a good looking parcel to start with, so this will up our game.
When I showed Gayle’s proposed design to The Teenager, the Teenager also got excited and I bet her father would, too, because he did spent most of her life to date as a shipper-receiver so our whole family has an acute appreciation and enthusiasm for packing tape.
But this is taking up way to much space– The Saga of Angel and Gayle and their Polka Dot Packing Tape.
The Teenager and I sat in the parking lot eating Maple Donuts. Maple Donuts are always delicious, but they are not maple flavored. These donuts had a sell by date of March 27 and it’s only March 21 so I knew they would be melt-in-your-mouth soft. And they had cinnamon sugar. I LOVE A GOOD CINNAMON DOUGHNUT.
I ate two cinnamon. They glided down my gullet and I couldn’t help myself from also having a plain cake doughnut. I have no self-control.
The Teenager whipped out a Silk soy milk.
“Are you going to drink that warm?” I asked.
“Room temperature,” she answered. “Do you think I ever drank these cold? How do you think they came out of my lunch box?”
,
Hearing her reminisce about having these in her lunch box reminded me of how many times I worked hard to find sales and coupons and deals to buy them for her because I knew she loved them– and other than that she only got Juicy Juice or Adam and Eve juices because I was very strict on what I fed her and Silk in juice boxes was so expensive compared to the half gallons. And sometimes I worked hard to save money on all the other groceries so I had the $10 extra to buy her favorite milk for her lunch.
And they are delicious.
The half gallons supposedly are only sold at Dollar General these days but we still haven’t found one in our area that sells them.
Once we headed to The Institute for Hand and Upper Extremity Rehabilitation, we had our cravings satisfied.
The Hand Report
When I arrived at therapy, they wrapped my hand in a moist heated pack for twenty minutes and it’s the best twenty minutes of my life. My therapist heard my tale of falling down the stairs and landing in the hospital in the hours after my previous visit, and he said I win for the most interesting story of the day.
Then, he proceeded to talk with me about things I could do at home to prevent future falls and make my life safer– because he is, at the end of the day, at occupational therapist. It was a great talk. It was an even better conversation because he gave me a hand massage during it.
My mobility has improved greatly, and even though it is still swollen, I can make a fist! I did several exercises there. My therapist mentioned that next time we will focus on strength, because he believes he can trust my previous experiences to make sure I follow through with a home rehab plan, he wants to be sure I have full hand strength so that I can fully grip the banister.
“Not that I’m picking on you,” he added.
I did four sets of exercises. First I picked up handfuls of these six-sided dice and dropped them all so that the six was facing up. Then I held the big ball in my hand and drew the alphabet in the air with only my hand and my wrist, not my arm. Then I squeezed the red ball. For the final exercise, I had two balls the size of a golf ball but a tad lighter. I rolled them across my fingers and then tried to reverse the order on the way back.
When The Teenager was the Wee One, we had more than one stretch of time when the budget only allowed a meager sum for groceries. Our average grocery bill from 2008 to 2015 was around $250 a month. Now, I think that might get you an 18-count of eggs and a gallon of milk.
I’m shrewd and I shop with excruciating attention to detail when on a budget.
And when I tell you my cupboards are bare, I mean my cupboards are bare. The Teenager had a rough week this week financially and I’m out of work because of my injuries, heart and balance condition… so we may be living off the 1/2 a month’s wages I have in reserve.
But luckily, the cupboards are not bare. And we took my last $30 cash and a handful of change and went to The Dollar Tree to see what we could do to get some groceries that wouldn’t kill me. (I’m trying to control my salt and sugar because of all of my bizarre symptoms.)
Grocery Haul from Dollar Tree
Before we left, I calculated that with Dollar Tree’s new $1.25 prices we could get 23 items, as long as they did not include non-grocery items, because here in Pennsylvania, groceries don’t get taxed.
My main strategy was to only buy items that included more than one serving or could spread across more than one meal.
I’ll start with the loaf of bread and work clockwise:
White Bread (I have sprouted sourdough in the fridge, and some sandwich thins and who knows what else in the freezer)
Potato Gnocchi (shelf stable, high in protein, four servings per bag)
Chicken Egg Roll for me; Shrimp for The Teenager (we have homemade vegan egg rolls in the freezer that will go nicely with them)
California Blend Frozen Vegetables. (Picked for its bland diversity. Goes with anything. You could pick out the carrots, broccoli or cauliflower if you really wanted to. We have frozen asparagus and frozen baby brussel sprouts in the freezer)
Cheese ravioli (almost bought the meatballs, but they were high in sodium and only had one serving of meatballs per bag so since processed sauce is salty, I put the meatballs back)
Minute Maid Hibiscus Aqua Fresca (I use it to season my iced tea– my unsweetened home brewed tea. I use about an ounce or two at a time)
Peace Tea Peach Green Tea (“Mom, Can I have a drink?”)
** THE GOLDFISH ARE NOT FROM THE DOLLAR STORE. WE TRADED A COPY OF THURSTON’S BOOK FOR A BAG OF GOLDFISH**
Fish Sticks (Now, fish sticks don’t have much protein or nutritional value so I would recommend combining these with the next item, the mac and cheese bites. They are both boxes with 1.5 servings in, so split in half, it could work as a meal for two together)
Mac and cheese bites
Two small cans of tuna in water
a jar of honey roasted peanuts (for when I have to take my meds with food)
A big bag of long grain rice
Extra Wide egg noodles
organic valley Tomato sauce (it was the lowest in sodium)
Lower Sodium Chicken Broth
a can of black olives (great for texture, flavor or snacking)
Prego canned alfredo sauce
fried cinnamon apples in a can
a block of cream cheese style spread
Price: $26.40
That leaves $4 to buy some milk.
I haven’t lost my touch.
Ideas:
chicken flavored rice with asparagus and brussels
fish sticks and mac and cheese bites
egg rolls and rice
soup with chicken broth and noodles
ravioli with tomato sauce and olives
tuna sandwich
grilled cheese
peanut butter and jelly
chomeur pudding with apples
gnocchi with alfredo sauce olives and vegetables
tuna casserole, made with chicken broth and cream cheese
I’ve been sipping strong coffee for about 90 minutes now, munching pistachios as I take my morning beta blocker. I have been trying to get my meds to 6 a.m. and 6 p.m. I don’t want to take them at the time I get up for work, because who wants to wake at 4 a.m. on a day off? The hospital gave me them at 9:30… but in the evening I’m usually asleep by then and working on a typical day. 8:30 a.m. is my morning break at work, so that would make sense from a practical point of view, but it would also mean having a snack at 8 p.m. and not getting to sleep until 9 which means the most sleep I will ever get is 7 hours. 6 a.m. and 6 p.m. sound ideal because I usually arrive at work at 6 a.m. and have a small breakfast and 6 p.m. is dinner.
But today I slept until 7.
Oops.
But when I got downstairs, my legs felt persnickety and my blood pressure was perfect if not a little low– so I went ahead and made the strong coffee. And I took my baclofen for the first time since before I went into the hospital.
One of the generalist’s at the hospital thought the baclofen might be causing some of my issues. Which makes this a test? Maybe?
But this is not a post about my Zio heart monitor or my scabs slowly crumbling down my face, though those things are fun. My gash is healing rapidly and well. I wanted to talk a bit about my weekend and what’s up with the publishing company.
Many of these thoughts will be further explored as part of the Parisian Phoenix blog and Substack newsletter. We’ve migrated from Mailchimp to Substack for better visibility and the prospect of building more paid resources and services for writers and readers. If you didn’t read this week’s recent release, check it out here.
Friday night, a journalist friend and her partner came to visit. I had planned to go visit her, but this close to my hospitalization I wasn’t sure driving on the highway by myself for an hour was a good idea. They have also been involved with cat rescue, so she’s offered some support on realigning the cat book. I’m helping her (I hope) with some of her goals and we’re both trying to help people find ways to publish their books.
My unsolicited submissions pile is growing rapidly.
Meanwhile, the dog is keeping an eye on me.
In the afternoon yesterday, I visited my “office” at Panera where our photographer Joan touched base with me regarding her activities at the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group conference this coming weekend. She’s not fooling me– I know my friends are doing wellness checks.
But I had the most amazing meeting with the duo behind Echo City Capers, and we have a handshake agreement to launch some projects together which will allow Parisian Phoenix Publishing to kickstart Parisian Phoenix Kittens with a second edition of an Echo City Capers Jr. book, a children’s book from Darrell Parry (and maybe someday a puzzle book/older kid story– hint hint Darrell) and perhaps event a story in the vein of Eric Carle from Larry Sceurman.
It’s thrilling to watch a simple “let’s introduce ourselves” coffee meeting can explode into ideas and mutual support.
That little meeting went two hours and when they saw our physical books, they were pleased. They immediately saw the love and attention we give to our titles at Parisian Phoenix, and without even meeting Gayle yet, I think they “know” and trust her.
I ended my afternoon romp with a visit to Larry, to deliver some publicity materials and give him and his wife, Barbara, a copy of Thurston’s book.
When I left, I felt like my blood sugar was dropping. I found a cherry Pop Tart that the Teenager had left in my car more than a year ago and came home and made a lovely lamb dinner. (The teenager saw lamb and potatoes in the skillet and immediately claimed the leftovers.) My blood pressure was high, but it was also time to take my beta blocker.
Finally, I slithered to my bed– exhausted, when I didn’t even do much– in great anticipation to finish Katherine Ramsland’s I Scream Man and Echo City Capers YA Graphic Novel printed in Canada, Who Turned the Lights Out?
I was so tickled and delighted to read the wit, the humor and the “smarts” in this little volume, which the type is uniquely done and the paper quality gorgeous. It made me very sad to put the book down to sleep.
I followed up with one of the residents at my primary care physician’s office today for my “post hospital follow-up.”
It was a pretty big outing, especially since my blood pressure has been hovering around 105/70 for most of the day, I feel weak, occasionally my heart races, my ears are ringing and my pinky keeps going numb. The Teenager would not be around to escort me to the doctor, so I did some morning chores, organized my Parisian Phoenix Publishing email box, and then read for a bit on the couch.
I had plans today to visit Book and Puppet Company in downtown Easton after the doctor, but my partner-in-crime had to schedule a doctor appointment himself.
So, instead, I asked Southern Candy if she’d like to accompany me to the Dunkin’ Donuts on Schoenersville Road because they have the widest selection of Munchkins, and we met up with Sassy, which made me happy because tomorrow is Sassy’s last day is tomorrow and I won’t get to see her as I am out on leave.
The doctor appointment didn’t leave me with many answers, but the resident was competent enough and my paperwork for short-term disability should be in the right hands. Speaking of my accident, the bruises have all come out now. The nasty one on my back is not one I can photograph myself. But I have some on both legs, my back, my elbow and my face.
As anticipated, the munchkins had cinnamon, jelly, chocolate, blueberry and glazed.
Mr. Accordion adored the jelly munchkins and now I’ve taken to them as they remind me of the good times with my roomie at the toxic non-profit with the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde CEO. That was an amazing job. I learned so much and could have done so much if the CEO could have performed as a sane manager should.
I got a text message from the home heart monitor people, apparently they had my name spelled wrong and they were missing a digit from my ID number for my health insurance.
Thurston’s book arrived and I’m hosting a Facebook live in the morning to unveil them.
And to make a completely ordinary day sound even plainer, we had vegan spinach ravioli for dinner with a spicy superfood tomato sauce from Hungryroot. It hit the spot.
I was rather indifferent to the prospect of last night being Sunday and today launching another week of folding clothes.
We kidnapped the neighbor’s dog yesterday– they are away on vacation and the dog sitter hadn’t yet fully transitioned into the role of caretaker and the dog thought he had been abandoned forever. His family is usually with him 24/7 and he didn’t understand the change in household routine. As our house is attached to his, he followed us from room to room barking. So, we texted his family, and the Teenager left a note for the dog sitter and kidnapped the dog. He started barking at 8 a.m., we kidnapped him around 10:30, and his pet sitter returned around 1 p.m. He had been in to check on him at 6 a.m., so the doggy panic was an exaggeration.
I finished proofreading Rachel Thompson’s new fiction anthology and went to bed after the time change to start a new work week and occupational therapy at The Institute for Hand and Upper Extremity Rehabilitation. So I guess I might be considered excited.
My process lead at work informed me that today was my last day in “focus” (or performance-related probation). All I needed was to hit 100% and I would be considered fully performing again. I’m still a little miffed that I was placed in such a situation to start with, as the reason I fell into this category was a lack of adherence to my accommodations.
And hitting numbers today was a challenge. In addition to my sprained finger, the mysterious issue in my hip, quad and glute that may be am injury from my fall or the item that caused my fall, the rain making other injuries hurt, my lack of medication because CVS has been out of my muscle relaxers for two weeks, I also had to advocate for myself because new support people rotated into our department and one of them didn’t know about my limitations.
Luckily, we had an awesome time at lunch because Sassy had made us chicken, rice and potato salad. If you saw my pictures from over the weekend (click here), these look very similar.
I left work at 2:15 to make the 24 minute drive to the hand rehab office for my 3 p.m. appointment. Traffic made it so I arrived at 2:50. They have a new receptionist– which explains why she couldn’t find my records, why she didn’t call me back like she said she would, and why she never sent me the link for my initial paperwork.
The therapist remembered me from my mallet finger, and informed me that the joint in the middle of the pinky finger is the most unforgiving joints on the hand when it comes to recovering from an injury. Likely, I have been taking care of mine and while it is swollen and my range of motion is limited, with heat and massage, it did respond to gentle manipulation. I had five exercises I needed to do for my mallet finger.
I have those five, and an additional five, to do 3-5 times per day (depending on the exercise), with massage.
The traffic on the highway was miserable, so I detoured for a decaf iced coffee and a tiny order of munchkins as my pre-workout. And much to my surprise, this Dunkin, the one I used to frequent when I was managing editor of The Lehigh Valley News Group, had cinnamon sugar munchkins. Had I known that… Those are my favorite and I have not had them in years.
I had a kickass upper body workout that worked a lot of my balance, and it was a good balance day, and for dinner The Teenager let me have most of the Brussel sprouts. A good day indeed.
And by my count, I did hit 100% today at work. We shall see tomorrow.
These are some of the people I spend my days with at my day job. I know their struggles. I see their growth. I feel their stagnancy when they experience it. And they share mine.
Our dear colleague Sassy has procured a new job– one in her field where she will help so many people, just like when she scraped me off the sidewalk earlier this month and stood by another work-friend’s side when she had a very severe heart attack. It’s no surprise that she’s returning to the medical profession where she can use her eagle eye, her sassy but loving mouth, and her wisdom to change people’s lives for the better.
As she changed ours.
These photos look a lot like our lunch table at work. The atmosphere was jovial and a little obnoxious, a lot like our lunch table at work.
We talk a lot about getting together outside of work for bowling or pizza or axe throwing or roller skating. But life happens and everyone has something going on so we don’t force the issue. But Sassy is leaving, and we talk a lot about tequila so this time the plans solidified.
And they involved tequila, in fancy margaritas– my first was cucumber– and Mexican food at a place that used to be a Pizza Hut decades ago (and I remember it as such) called My Tequila House. The food was amazing. The drink menu diverse. And next time, when I have more of a budget, we’re getting the duck carnitas tacos.
What amazes me about the event was how easily the conversation flowed, how different we all are as people but how we’ve all come together. We all worked together on second shift, “Midnight Society,” and moved together to the 4-day 10-hour shift “Sunday Cohort,” and now been relegated to Monday to Friday standard shift with those I lovingly refer to as “the day shift bitches.” These changes all happened with sixteen months or so, so at this point we’re all practically trauma-bonded, moving together through a world that keeps changing: new measurements, new overlords, soon new snacks. You get the idea.
Let your smile change the world, but don’t let the world change your smile
The youngest among us is barely legal drinking age, the older close to retirement. There’s Southern Candy, Sassy, My Faithful Reader, and some others who I might mention from time to time but who haven’t earned full pseudonyms… like the leader who’s also a very talented photographer, the young woman who encourages everyone while she herself has not only had to rebuild her own life but care for parents with serious health issues, the woman who has a sporty, young nephew and an adorable dog, and the supervisor who returned to work too early after surgery out of stubbornness and now advocates for everyone else’s recovery.
Sassy made us small gifts, gifts she made carefully with her own hands, delicate and beautiful. And meaningful. There’s a magic that occurs when people congregate, even more magic when they quietly support one another, and even more magic when something happens and they come together.
Part of that stems from corporate culture at our employer, more comes from the attitude we had on second shift. We learned to work as a team in an environment that focused on individual metrics in very simple, specific jobs. We had a chance to be different.
And even though our backgrounds range from various fields– restaurants, personal banking, medical, communications for me– that diversity strengthens our bond because we know who on the team will support us in what area when we need it. There’s a trust and a sense of integrity.
And as much as we love Sassy, I think we were celebrating our legacy as a team.
A while ago, The Teenager and I decided we wanted to try a Dairy Queen banana split. That we’d share one. And we decided tonight was the night.
We ordered one using the app, and when we arrived we were faced with two new ice cream options: the churro dipped cone and the end of the rainbow shake.
The banana split was delicious. Their strawberry topping was our favorite and it looked like they put two whole bananas in there.
But then The Teenager wanted to try the Rainbow Shake because it looked like it had the crunchies she loved from the cotton candy Blizzard.
So, she went into the Dairy Queen and ordered one. And the churro-dipped cone.
The shake was strawberry flavored and those crunchies tasted like sugary breakfast cereal.
Meanwhile, the ice cream cone tasted like the bastard child of Dairy Queen and Taco Bell, like someone had taken those cinnamon cream cheese balls they have right now and stuffed them with ice cream instead of whatever that cheesy stuff actually is.
It recently came to my attention that March is Cerebral Palsy Awareness Month, in addition to Women’s History Month. So as a tribute, I fell down the stairs leaving work on March 1. Seven cement stairs.
I have a massive bruise on my thigh, a knot of a bruise on my left calf, a swollen pinky that looks like a dog bit it, and wounded pride. As many injuries do, my finger throbbed and ached most of the night.
At work, I was frustrated, cranky and tired and moving so slow. By my calculations, I did 110% on Wednesday and now 88% on Thursday. WTF? I asked myself. Meanwhile I hear my blind friend Nancy Scott’s voice in my head, “Angel, you did too much.”
Several managers came over to ask how I was, I said I was okay but my finger was swollen and would not bend. They all mentioned I might see the safety manager later in the day. I didn’t. The person checking in on me most was my process lead, who also has a disability, and I told him I knew I wouldn’t finish at 100%. But apparently he didn’t know I had thrown myself down the steps.
The conversation went something like this:
“What happened? Did you miss a step?”
“I was on the landing and I lost my footing, and I had that split second to regain my footing but there wasn’t enough room on the landing so I thought I could gain my balance by kind of trotting down the steps but I missed the first step.”
“So where did you end up?”
“At the bottom.”
“So you fell down ALL the steps.”
“Yeah.”
I think I had 24 boxes of refix yesterday so that meant I dealt with a lot of carts, which slowed me down further. And my neurologist warned me that any injury might short circuit the relationship between my mind and my body. My brain and my legs don’t have many communication skills as it is and anything going on with another part of my body will muddy up the whole situation.
My leader assured me that we could come up with a plan, but that still frustrated me, because I’m already on a probation of sorts (which stemmed from a work-related cerebral palsy “flare-up”) and I see this as an endless cycle of me doing my job and then falling behind and getting in trouble. And the more they push me, the more rapidly the situation will repeat. Another friend who used to work for a big local employer in administration said she’s glad this happened because it might make my disability more real for them.
But anyway, after work, I had a lovely conversation with Thurston, our Parisian Phoenix author who has a devotional coming out this month when a certain publisher gets herself sorted, about his book and the future.
When I got home, I removed my final band-aid of the day and had a weird gut feeling something was wrong. Like this needs a doctor wrong. So, bribing The Teenager with a pizza from one of our favorite pizza places that she forgot existed, we went to Urgent Care. Between her ear infections and my injuries, we spent a lot of time there.
The doctor seemed a little perplexed that I broke my “middle phalanx” of my pinky falling down seven cement steps. They expected more damage. What can I say? I have skills. And that friend I mentioned above? She broke several ribs falling down the stairs in her house and ended up as an inpatient in the hospital so she’s jealous right now.
So, once I get a tetanus shot and a splint, we head out. We stopped at Antonios Pizza and Ice Cream at the 25th Street Shopping Center and order a pesto pizza. We haven’t been there in 2-3 years because… Covid… life crazy… lazy… Dominos is cheap and easy and there is an app.
They recognized us! They recognized us, our order, and to prove it they pointed to the booth we used to sit in as a family.
And they love Stitch Fix! The Teenager opened the box and ate a slice in the pizzeria while we pointed out what Stitch Fix clothes we had on our body. And then I had to show off and fold my sweater into a 9×9 square.
It was the kind of small town encounter I love about our urban corner of the universe.
Angel Ackerman 