Minerva is the last foster cat from the second litter of kittens we fostered for Feline Urban Rescue and Rehab. Her brother, Mars, is The Teen’s foster fail. I can only assume their siblings Jupiter and Vesta lived happily ever after. Our Roman Pride of kittens.
Every month or two, I take Minerva and usually someone else to keep her company to the Meet the Cats event at the Phillipsburg Petco, because it’s a quieter and smaller event than the organization’s usual pre-adoption mixers at the Petsmart in Lower Nazareth Township. It’s a different state and a different crowd.
Mars and Minerva spent almost six months in various habitats — Petco, where one volunteer couldn’t read directions and got bit by Mars; then Petsmart, and then the other Petco in Phillipsburg because everyone thought they would do well with the coordinator there. And they did. And we did. But they spent too long in pet stores which made Mars unflappable and social, while Minerva became shy and nervous.
So they came home. They are both soft, cuddly tuxedo cats.
And when the same person who cared so well for them two years ago asked if Minerva could return, I said yes.
I was told a family wanted to meet her today, so I went to Petco to warm her up before they arrived.
It became apparent very quickly she was happy to see me.
And after a lickable treat, she became downright flirtatious with the young man/teenager feeding her. He had never had a cat before and the two of them seemed to have quiet souls. He pet Minerva for 45 minutes, and then she made eyes at the mother and soon came out for proper greetings.
It was a friendly, charming side of Minerva I’ve never seen around strangers before.
And when we started to leave, she followed us to the end of her enclosure, hollering, as if to say, “Hey! You can’t leave without the cat!”
Minerva is the perfect first cat. They sent a text saying they are heavily leaning toward adopting her.
And they go to the same vet who already treats Minerva. My fosters will always have a home with me, but I have long believed that Minerva needs more quiet predictability in her life to blossom. A teen who enjoys video games in his room is the perfect companion for Minerva, and she’s a low maintenance cat with no baggage.
The mom asked me why she had been in foster so long– as if she had to have some secret flaw. But she really doesn’t. Her flaw is she hides, and she hates loud places so she doesn’t “show” well. She’s merely been overlooked.
Once upon a time, as the French would say, “il etait une fois…” I was a newspaper reporter. It’s a rare breed of professional that existed before the internet made the job so much easier, before the best news coverage was the team who did it most completely and factually, not the people who got it to their public first. So much “news” is a person standing around reporting what they see, versus doing the research to tell the story. We’ve lost sight of the full story.
This morning, as my alarm went off at 6 a.m., I read some posts on social media that read that people all over the Lehigh Valley were seeing (and posting their views of) a fire in tiny West Easton, a borough nestled among Easton proper, Wilson borough and miniscule Glendon, all part of the 18042 zip code.
I put on my glasses, as dawn threatened to break, and I thought about how bright the sky had seemed when I woke about 40 minutes before my alarm and went back to sleep. With my glasses secure on my face, I saw black smoke and orange glow billowing in the distance.
I walked to my sun porch and surveyed the scene before returning to my lap top to seek reputable news coverage. WFMZ was the only local media outlet who had any coverage of the three alarm fire (which if you know the area, it logically has to be a three alarm fire because West Easton has, depending on the website and the census attributed, about 1200 residents. That’s according to the 2010 census, and other less easily confirmed statistics credited to 2019 don’t seem too different.
So, West Easton has what is common in small communities around Pennsylvania– a volunteer fire department. With fire of this visible magnitude, even without getting the other facts: that it’s an industrial fire, that it might include propane or chemicals, it threatens multiple buildings, it is near the river, etc… (This is also a town that has disbanded and reinstated their police department to save money.) They are obviously going to get assistance from the two professional fire companies near the site.
Both Wilson Borough and Easton City have professional fire stations about a mile away.
This is an expanded version of the original news coverage produced by WFMZ, and they did a decent job. Probably because they are the only local media with a morning show, so they had bodies in the newsroom at 5 a.m. No one else locally does.
Now, I had an 8 a.m. appointment on the other end of the valley. So I called up Google maps to see what businesses were in the area reported by WFMZ. They had mentioned “large warehouse” and “Main Street and Lehigh Drive.” That’s about all the info you need to pinpoint a location in a town as small as West Easton.
The map suggest that the warehouse complex itself contains several businesses: Johnson Motor Lines, Sandt Honey, Lehigh Custom Components and Ferocity Metal. A different map shows Latro Cellular Forensics Lab and Xtreme Custom Coatings.
But the next news “update” was from the new news organization, LehighValleyNews.com, which does not have a print operation, only online, but has recycled many familiar faces from the Valley’s daily print journalism past. I found this post around 7 a.m.– two hours after the fire started– and much of the so-called reporting focused on what casual observers had posted on Facebook and other social media sites.
Speaking of social media sites… There are reports of hazmat crews, exploding propane tanks, air quality issues and, of course, parents terrified to send their kids to school both in the community where the fire is burning (Wilson Area School District) and the one next door (Easton Area School District). There were also unconfirmed reports of fire hydrant failures in West Easton (which, I can’t imagine they have many of them in that general area to start with) and rumors that firefighters had to rely on water from the Lehigh River and pumper trucks from various area fire departments.
From the bevvy of amateur drone and street photography from the fire that I have seen, I have noticed firefighters using river water on the fire, but regardless of the status of the fire hydrants, this makes sense.
Also around 7 a.m., a news helicopter appeared above my house. I assumed, correctly, that it was a news helicopter because 1. it retreated from the smoke instead of going deeper into it to fight the fire. I also guessed it was from Philadelphia, about 60 miles away, because none of our news agencies have the resources for a helicopter. Not in today’s world. It appears that original helicopter was from CBS, followed by two news helicopters for the lunch broadcast. One of which was ABC. Seriously? A fire in a small town in Northampton County warrants this much attention?
The Morning Call, who used to employ me as a print community reporter for its weekly paper and allowed me to freelance for the daily, followed with their piece by 9 a.m. Again, no real news added to the situation, they all appeared to be recycling each others’ coverage.
By the time I returned from my appointment around 9:30 a.m., the view from route 78 suggested that the fire had blanketed the county in a layer of smoke and ash, but the color had already started to pale. In the photo, taken at the route 33 exist, the plume on the right is the smoke, and one can see it traversing the nearby municipalities.
The electricity is out for a wide range of people, creating a lack of traffic lights in busy 25th Street intersections, like by the Aldi and Lidl. It looks like Freemansburg Avenue may be the dividing line for those with power versus those without. And, for the record, the average local driver seems to have forgotten that busy intersections with no signal become a four-way stop. But what I witnessed was a great big game of chicken.
I haven’t called any mayors, or police departments, or fire departments. And I didn’t attempt to get to the scene. Which are all things I would do if I were still a reporter. And I’d call council members if I had to.
And the web reveals that Latro is a lab that helps law enforcement extract data from cell phones. Sandts sells multiple varieties of local honey. According to the Federal Carrier Motor Safety Administration, Johnson carries a little bit of everything and has an unblemished safety record. Ferocity Metal’s Facebook page calls them a metal supplier, though the pictures imply the business is small and specializes in artistic, individualized pieces. Xtreme Custom Coatings is a powder coating business with many positive Google reviews.
It’s now 12:30 p.m. The helicopters have departed and the skies look normal, even if the air does have a strange ash smell to it.
It’s early Monday afternoon. I did a lot of work for Parisian Phoenix and made some bad dietary choices– a bag of jelly beans on Sunday afternoon and a Whopper for dinner Saturday night. I don’t know if the incidents are connected, but my blood pressure has been higher than usual and my heart racing in an anxious fashion.
I slept in until almost 7 a.m.– and had a lot of trouble pulling myself out of bed. I just felt exhausted. And I had this cutey to snuggle, foster cat Tripod Louise.
I recently received a get well soon card from my colleagues at Stitch Fix, hopefully the cardiologist will receive the information from the heart monitor I took off Friday and have no reason why I can’t return to work next Monday.
Physical therapy today was challenging. Even with the anti-gravity treadmill, my left foot kept twisting the wrong way. It looks like my hip mobility is improving, but my left hip was tight today.
Also, hand rehab is tomorrow and I can’t bend my pinky enough to get it into the elastic strap I’m supposed to wear.
I started my day with some blogging before starting the morning round of doctors and my final day with the Zioheart monitor. I left at 8:30 for my chiropractor appointment, which also involves some physical therapy stretching and some balance assessment. With Nicole’s background, she serves an important cog in the wheel to know what she’s seeing and feeling as my body goes through it’s day to day.
But I’ve been feeling physically great, even if the beta blockers leave me prone to crashing and sometimes my blood pressure falling too low, but hey– that’s part of what the heart monitor is all about.
I went to the chiropractor and tried to demonstrate my impressive “trying to walk like a normal person” skills. And Nicole was encouraging. It’s exhausting and requires ridiculous amounts of focus, so I’m hoping it makes a difference to my hip issues and my femoral anteversion.
My chiropractor is just-about next door to the Lafayette College Store, where I needed to pick up some copies of our Not an Able-Bodied White Man with Money anthology that we provided for last night’s Jean Corrie Poetry Reading and Ice Cream Social. You can read about that on the Parisian Phoenix Publishing web site here.
They were having a store meeting when I arrived, so I excused myself to a couch by the store manager’s office to wait for Gayle who wanted one of Maryann Riker’s unique handmade journals. I’m in the middle of Suzanne Mattaboni’s Pencraft award winning novel, Once in a Lifetime so I can safely amuse myself.
They also have some fascinating tile in the bathroom.
When she arrived, we went for a walk around College Hill, which Gayle had not visited since she left her job at Lafayette College circa 2015.
We walked about 4,000 steps and I stumbled three times and caught myself every one. It’s the longest walk I’ve taken since my hospitalization.
And I asked The Teen to evaluate my walking and she immediately said, “Nope. Your left foot is still messed up.”
And I was trying so hard.
Gayle and I then met up with Joan and the guys from Echo City Capers, where we discussed our upcoming events and book launches.
Then I came home and ripped off the Zio monitor, only to realize quite quickly why it itched so badly.
Our long-term foster Minerva is off to a habitat at the Phillipsburg Petco tonight.
Yesterday, I started the day with physical therapy, having taken one of my muscle relaxers to see if that impacts the mechanics of my balance. Then, I had a lovely visit with my mom friend Janel— her oldest and my teen are one week a part and we met during pregnancy. After eating too much quesadilla at one of our favorite local diners, I went to the gym.
Now I don’t know if Andrew was particularly sadistic or if I’m just not keeping up, but it felt brutal yet satisfying. He kept throwing some serious challenges at me, but it felt like I kept nailing them.
Physical therapy and a gym session in the same day is a lot.
I’ve been reflecting a lot— on what our bodies do, what it takes to maintain them, and how different these current medications make me feel. For the better.
Today my only doctor’s appointment is my neurologist/physiatrist and I’m waiting in her office now, with no restroom in the lobby. And they are already behind, which gives me more time to think.
And I wonder— as our bodies age, ache and change, how do we even know anymore what it means to be healthy and feel good?
I think about if my medicines might have long term flaws, and worry about their interactions. I question my own expectations. And I also ask— will they be able to put the pieces together and diagnose what has happened to me? Why do I keep falling and almost passing out? Will it happen again?
Is every mood I feel a consequence of my heart? When I’m stressed, when I’m anxious, when I’m exhausted… are those my moods or are they my heart?
I feel silly for thinking and overthinking and even sillier for having some fear regarding You returning to work.
Notes from my neurologist appointment:
She shook her head at me when she came in; I told her I’ve had enough of that from my PCP
She refilled the baclofen the pharmacy says she canceled, but she likes my theory that the refills got mixed up.
She does not think the baclofen has contributed to my recent falls, and if anything I should be more regular with it.
She wants me to keep very close note of my symptoms and my blood pressure and alert her if my hands continue to tingle.
She ordered a CT scan and a CT A to make sure there’s nothing wrong with the vascular function in my head
I passed my neurological exam with flying colors
I am in the best shape she’s seen me in since we started our relationship
She will follow up to see the cardiologist’s report
She reviewed my written long to accompany my heart monitor
She concurs with my assessment– that so far this does not appear to be a cerebral palsy issue.
She said I’m “a joy to be around”
She remarked that my facial laceration is healing very well and they did an amazing job stitching it
I am doing all the right therapies.
She did not see any scissoring in my gait!!!
She’s glad they didn’t put me on blood thinners. Everyone agrees– medication that will make my bleeding and bruising worse does not correspond nicely with my fall history.
Yesterday was Monday and I went for my second full physical therapy session. I admitted to him that the weekend got so crazy that time got away from me and I didn’t do as many stretches as the paper told me to. My therapist told me that was okay, as long as I was trying to walk as we practiced on the anti-gravity treadmill and kept stretching my hips to fight the internal rotation.
And I had another great session on the treadmill.
I also did extensive editing before and after physical therapy, to the point where I think I will have Larry Sceurman’s short stories ready for his approval tomorrow and I don’t see any reason why we wouldn’t send them to Gayle for design by early early April.
Later in the day, I went to the gym where we did primarily back and shoulders but also hip and core. That right hip, in a very specific location, was very unhappy with me. It’s something I’m going to have to look into with my physical therapist and my chiropractor and maybe my neurologist. My fitness coach Andrew wondered if it might be my IT band.
I noticed my fingers have not been tingling as they had.
I texted Gayle last night–if I made it up the stairs and to bed I would have earned my “fourteen days without a fall” graphic.
It arrived today.
I went to bed at 8 p.m. last night but couldn’t fall asleep until 9. I woke up around 2 a.m. and cuddled Louise for a while. I think she woke me, and I can’t help but wonder if she senses something about my heart rhythm. I heard my neighbor start his car at 5:45 and forced myself out of bed as my alarm was due to go off at 6.
I was exhausted. My blood pressure was perfect– 115/76– which made me think I should skip the morning coffee. But I needed to drive about 20 miles in morning highway traffic. I needed my wits about me.
A handful of peanuts, my SSRI, a beta blocker and a muscle relaxer, and a cup of coffee and I was good to go.
Hand therapy is always fascinating. Today I did the exercises I did last time (read about those here) and squeezed some putty. My therapist John took some measurements of my finger, and other than the swelling, there is only one angle that still has limited motion. So he gave me a piece of elastic and a safety pin to try and stretch it.
After hand therapy I called Nan, as I had promised to take her to the bank and to CVS. I had run out of Zyrtec the day before, and CVS had texted me and said my SSRI refill was ready. Still no word on my baclofen, the muscle relaxer prescribed by my neurologist. She had called me in late February (mere days before my first fall) and said she was sending in a prescription with six months of refills. The next day, CVS texted that they had received the prescription but the medicine was out of stock. I never heard from them again. I am almost out, but haven’t been taking it because they didn’t give it to me in the hospital.
I stopped along the way at Panera to use the bathroom and grab a cookie for breakfast. Panera makes an amazing oatmeal cookie with dried blueberries and raisins. When you consider the sodium, calories, sugar and protein, it’s one of the healthier choices. And it’s delicious. So I got one for me and for Nan.
I almost got back on the road forgetting my cookies, because I ran into a fellow library board member who called to me from across the store.
Once I picked Nan up we had a great time visiting her usual teller at the bank, whom we hadn’t seen in a while; going to the Dollar Tree (or as we like to say now the $1.25 cent store) for Easter decorations and cookies, where we ran into someone who lives in Nan’s old apartment building; and the most magic place of all– CVS.
We went to the pharmacy first. My SSRI was free, and I asked about my baclofen. They said my doctor canceled the order. I showed them the text, and I was told that was very weird and that I should call my doctor. I wonder if they asked her for a refill on the old prescription at the same time she sent a script for the new one, so she said no to their request, and they canceled both.
Nancy needed ibuprofen, a hair barrette and some Lysol wipes. I needed allergy medicine.
I had a coupon for $10 off 90 count Zyrtec or the house brand was on sale buy 1 get 1 50% off, with a $4 off coupon. I got 2-120 bottles for $40-something, versus the $60 the name brand would have cost for 90.
CVS brand pain relief was on sale, the big bottle was $19.49 and the smaller bottle was $14.49, but we had a coupon for $4 or $5 off $15 purchase, AND the smaller bottle had an expiration date of this summer versus late next spring like the bigger bottle. I had a 40% off coupon. So I thought that could cover the barrettes. The Lysol wipes were also on sale and we got the 35-count, and we had a 40-cent manufacturer coupon. (All the coupons came from the CVS app.) Nan’s total started around $32 and she ended up paying $19. In other words, she got everything for the original cost of the ibuprofen.
She loves accompanying me to CVS.
I brought Nan home, and when I got to my house I discovered that MY FIRST FIX ARRIVED FROM THE BIZZY HIZZY! I have been waiting to get a fix from Stitch Fix for 12 years! Joan opened it with me via Zoom.
I then ate a massive bowl of falafel and vegetables. I sent out a newsletter on Substack. Read that here. And attended a library board meeting tonight.
And don’t forget: Darrell Parry is hosting (and served as judge) for the Jean Corrie Poetry Reading & Ice Cream Social at Lafayette College Thursday. See the Substack or Facebook for details.
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.
A brief summary for anyone new here: I am getting closer to 48-years-old every day. I have spastic diplegia cerebral palsy which is a bunch of fancy words that mean my leg muscles don’t relax, my brain and my lower body don’t communicate well, and my hips, knees and ankles don’t work efficiently or even have a normal constitution.
I walk funny— I have an abnormal gait where my leg scissors and I toe walk. Decades of walking funny can cause wear-and-tear on the body.
But the last six weeks have thrown some new challenges at me: high blood pressure, unusual falls and now atrial fibrillation with rapid ventricular response.
The Splinter
Last night I got a massive splinter deep in my foot, in a place so deep that we couldn’t dig it out without really tearing a hole in my foot. So I asked the Teenager to slap a raisin on it and she did.
This did draw the splinter to the surface more but I haven’t removed it yet. The start of my last raisin-splinter journey happened a little more than a year ago. Read about that here. Especially if you want to hear how my splinter improved my gait and my hip pain and how the raisin and my cockatoo got the splinter out.
The Chiropractor
I visited Nicole Jensen of Back in Line Chiropractor and Wellness Center today— where she commented how loose everything was and how my body parts were all facing the right directions.
Feet facing feet directions
She got me ready for physical therapy where I’d be the youngest person in balance therapy today.
Physical therapy for balance and fall prevention
I have spent a lot of time in physical therapy — about every two years I turn up for few weeks with a physical therapist because even though a lot of it tends to be a repeat and I know what to do, it’s important to have an outside professional evaluate my status so I know I am doing the right thing for the problem.
In this case, we discovered:
The physical therapist approved of some of Nicole’s phrases for things— like “make my feet do feet things.”
My fitness coach Andrew and I are doing all the right things at Apex Training, using my sense of my body and Nicole’s insights on what my innards are doing.
The physical therapist is also impressed at my capacity to manage to take what could be catastrophic falls with relative ease. The Teenager says it’s because I “puddle,” relinquishing myself to the process instead of fighting it and tending up.
My static balance is impressive, but my dynamic balance “throws everything off,” meaning standing still I’m good, but moving or on an unstable surface, the issues can occur.
We will be working on exercises that open the hips and rotate the knees outward. And doing some gait work with a zero-gravity treadmill.
The physical therapist was also impressed with my ability to self-correct my gait, but I don’t know if he picked up on how much focus and energy that requires.
Angel Ackerman 