Today I had a lovely day with the chiropractor, then the dentist (then an iced coffee at Panera) and email exchanges with my OVR counselor.
So this will be a discussion of health, disability and my job search. I’m at the midpoint of my unemployment benefits and I’m freaking out a little.
Let’s back up…
I have only been visiting my beloved chiropractor (who used to be a physical therapist) Nicole Jenson of Back in Line Chiropractic and Wellness Center every three weeks or so, in part because without the physical labor of my warehouse job and without any complications in my gait I have not needed her. (And that’s kind of great because I also have terrible health insurance right now and no job.)
But today I went to see her, and she was very relieved to hear that my condition has been good and I have not had a fall since Sept. 30. And this was my second visit in a row with no symptoms to report. She was also very impressed with my progress with my fitness and strength coach Andrew at Apex Training. He has been pushing me hard with the weights and the core exercises all because of some pre-New Year’s resolutions we made at the gym.
Get weight under 150 (oh, how I was so close and failed so hard. I got down to 156 and stress ate my way to a new high)
Bench press 100 pounds (and I’m at 95 with more than a week to go)
Squat 150 pounds (Andrew sneaked this one in, and I have no idea if I’m near it)
Plank for 2 minutes (personal best currently at 1:10)
A dear friend pointed out that some of my exercise-induced asthma symptoms might actually be connected to caffeine intake, and Nicole definitely concurred that I needed to watch that also because of my balance issues.
And I’m still doing really well with balance and walking thanks to Andrew’s “lead with the knees” guidance.
After leaving Nicole’s, I headed to my six-month check up at the dentist. My dentist recently sold her practice– and she’s been my dentist for almost 35 years– but luckily the new dentist seems personable, smart and efficient. The staff complimented me on taking care of my beautiful teeth, to which I laughed and said, “really, let’s thank genetics because my dental habits are not what they once were.”
Then, at 1 p.m., I grabbed a KIND breakfast bar out of my bag for breakfast and headed through the Panera drive-through for an iced coffee. They offered a $3 per month subscription to their unlimited sip club for three months, and I love Panera’s iced coffee. So I treated myself. I had a meeting at Panera with the Echo City Team on Friday and I subscribed Friday a.m. I have since gone two more times.
By the time I got home, I had an email waiting from my OVR counselor. I decided that since I have some disability-related concerns about finding the right job for my next move, I would apply for assistance from the Office of Vocational Rehab. That way, the state knows I am doing everything I can to find a job. I spoke with my counselor on the phone yesterday, and had her chuckling. She said I am not her typical client, and in a way, it sounded like she was intrigued by seeing what she could do for me.
I compiled all the initial paperwork, and gave her another round today based on her subsequent requests. She’s had some interesting ideas on what her office might be able to do.
Then tonight at the gym, I was doing dumbbell rows with a 40-pound dumbbell and doing incline presses with a 35-pound dumbbell in each hand.
This week presented many challenges. Monday I was hurting, probably from too much computer work during my 10-hour weekend editing sessions each day. I survived Monday, but barely, only to learn that Tuesday I would be moved to a different station in the Stitch Fix warehouse.
Change is never easy– but in this particular instance, as a person with a documented disability and doctor-derived medical accommodations, I struggle in my normal environment to perform at the same level as an ordinary employee. And that’s my job, to do the work, with a reasonable amount of help.
The main consideration used by management to determine assignments on the warehouse floor is table height. Is the work surface the appropriate height to match the ergonomic needs of the employee? In my case, my performance also relies on which side of the line I am on and who is “on support” that day. I work on “the B side” which does not mean I am not a radio song. It means the conveyance system that moves the fixes to the next stage of the process is on my left side.
I rely on my left side for balance. Therefore, to minimize potential issues with my hip and ensure my balance and stability, I need to work on the side where I turn to the left to put my boxes on the line.
My original table assignment for Tuesday was on the right, or the A side.
Requesting a B-assignment got me moved from line two to line four, which meant I would no longer have my regular support team. (That’s the role of the people who deliver work and supplies to those of us who fold the clothes.) I have been told that it’s my job to remind these folks of my medical needs. And they don’t always like that. So it makes me uncomfortable. Because in my view, it’s not my job to tell someone else how to do their job.
And to make matters more fun, it’s up to the individual to decide how to provide my accommodations. The deviations are small, but the impacts are major. The cart typically arrives with eight fixes on four shelves, with five to eight boxes lying horizontally on top of the cart. Most people move the boxes (I often take them) and pile the work from the bottom of the cart on the top. Some people even put the fixes from the two bottom shelves and place them in boxes on top.
I don’t even ask that pack slips be placed with them. I have myself trained to flip them to match the new order. Which confuses everyone but me.
This particular day, my support person, who I believe is a delight, so this is no reflection of who she is as a person, decided she would place the clothes around the boxes without moving the boxes at all. She tucked them all over the boxes. Which meant if I moved the cart to my station or reached for the boxes, the clothes fell on the floor. How does this help me? Keep in mind– I go through three carts an hour.
I eventually complained to a supervisor and said something like this:
“I know it’s too late now, as we’re closing, but there really should be a system in place where Stitch Fix defines what the accommodation is for the doctor’s orders, because it really shouldn’t rely on individuals who don’t understand the disability. And maybe it’s a violation of privacy, but those of use who need the extra attention should be arranged together so support automatically knows if we’re in that section, we have an accommodation and it would also cut down on people requesting accommodations when they haven’t done the paperwork.”
The supervisor said that was a great idea and lamented that I hadn’t mentioned it earlier. I didn’t mention it because it’s basic logic.
Somehow, I survive, and I make numbers. My body is so twisted I can feel that if I move wrong I’m going to pull a muscle in my lower back. But it’s okay because I have the chiropractor on Wednesday.
And then I get the table from hell on Wednesday. It’s the right height, right side, good support people. But it’s a front-of-the-line table, so I have to keep pushing the boxes toward the end. The fan keeps blowing my pack slips, which means I need to tuck them under my craft paper roll instead of on my laptop keyboard. But I keep forgetting, which means every cart I repeat chasing a paper, and tucking the others under my craft paper roll. My scanner keeps disconnecting from my computer. And if I need to go get a large box, which is common now as we are transitioning into winter clothes, I have to walk to the back of the line to get it.
These things add ten to thirty seconds to every fix. That’s 40 minutes over the course of the day. And I finished at 91% which is bad enough to get me a warning. And so I’m stressing, which tenses my muscles, and since my neurological condition already creates issues with my muscles not relaxing just makes everything worse.
And midday, the leaders got out an inflatable beach ball so every one could bounce it around to each other. That upset me more because I don’t have time to have fun. How dare they think I might be able to survive this and have fun?
Nicole Jensen of Back in Line Chiropractic aligned my lower body and stretched out my legs and I left her able to stand up straight and move my legs without stabbing pain.
This is where the difficult mental part of disability takes over. It’s so much easier to give in, to rest, to eat ice cream and watch TV and be done. But I knew my body needed to stretch and move in order to correct whatever issues had been caused by my misalignment and muscle tightness.
My brain and my muscles don’t have good conversations– so it seems like I can to manually perform a motion for a while to teach my body how to do it, even if that is reminding it how feet go or how a gait is supposed to work. That’s why I go to the gym. Not just so someone forces me to exercise, but also so someone can make sure I am using body parts correctly.
But I have to tell you, I dreaded going to the gym. I had been in pain all day. I wanted to take a hot shower and go to bed.
Andrew texted. He had a situation at work. Maybe the universe thought I needed a break. When Nicole works on me after such bad body pain, I’m often achy the next day.
Then Thursday went fine. Great even. But the pain crept back Friday, not nearly as bad but it took me most of my day to get my metrics at work to solid ground. And Friday night I went to the gym, and despite how I was feeling, I had fun and did well with some heavy weights.
I made some salmon and trendy smashed potatoes with vegan tzaziki sauce for dinner and the Teenager loved it. I fleshed out the writer’s proof for the erotica book. And went to bed feeling like I had been successful.
This morning I got up, discovered I had low blood pressure after I took my beta blocker (oops) and had a light breakfast– coffee with PB2 and cream, PowderVitamin Electrolyte Powder Plus in strawberry cucumber and these breakfast biscuits from Olyra. I thought they’d resemble a Reese’s peanut butter cup or a Tastykake Kandykake.
They were hard, dry and the peanut butter cream was minuscule and didn’t even moisten the cookie. Terrible. And I love their yogurt breakfast biscuits so how could this taste like someone managed to shape chocolate-flavored protein powder into a cookie?
Anyway, the moral of the story is: sometimes what you can achieve one day is much less than what you achieved on a different day.
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.
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.
So, I left work for an early lunch yesterday to go visit my primary care provider. I had an appointment with one of his residents for paperwork for an update of my intermittent FMLA leave. She gave me a once over and went to bring my paperwork to my doctor, at which point he came in and gave me a little fist bump and a sad, concerned look.
“What happened?” he asked.
Concerned that I had fallen again, but also impressed that I had spiraled down 7 concrete steps with no other injuries other than a sprained pinky and some horrible bruises, he referred me to physical therapy for fall prevention. I’ll probably be the youngest person in there.
I start hand rehab on Monday at The Institute for Hand and Upper Extremity Rehabilitation, the same occupational therapy practice that handled my mallet finger last year.
I made an appointment for a consultation with the physical therapist on March 20.
But yesterday my tailbone area started hurting again and today my knee hurt and my right quad was burning. The leg felt stiff and off and it felt reminiscent of the early days of pain I had in February. And I was worried that whatever caused my recent fall– because I still don’t have any clues as to the specifics of why it happened– might be starting again.
So I left work early to go to see my beloved Nicole Jensen of Back in Line Chiropractic and Wellness Center. She said I wasn’t crooked, I wasn’t that tight or spastic, and that it sounded like my issues could just be nerve and muscle tissue still recovering from the fall. She actually said I felt better than usual, that even my feet were facing the right direction.
That was a relief. But I wanted to have her insight to get the neurologist, my primary care physician and the physical therapist coordinated. Because every clue we have is a step in the right direction.
And I have to wonder… Does my body feel painful, awkward and hard to control because it’s moving more correctly and healing and I’m not used to that?
I am so sick of disability-related posts. My goal today is to start the March newsletter for Parisian Phoenix, which I will be distributing via Substack. Yesterday felt like a beautiful spring day and today, today there is two inches of snow on the ground.
I’m tired. And sore. And stiff. I called out from work today, although I’m fairly certain I have no paid time off for it. The Teenager and I have major bills do this week, and they scare me, but I have (and she has) placed every spare penny we have into paying them. And they will be paid.
So, before I back up, and explain exactly what happened since I closed my computer yesterday afternoon, let me say that my plan has been to take better care of myself. To stop pushing myself to keep up with the people who don’t have the same issues that I have. To ask for help. To be honest– not only with others, but with myself.
I have planned to organize regular long weekends every three-to-four months to give my body time to recuperate from the stresses of being on my feet folding clothes all day, and to give myself time to finish larger projects for Parisian Phoenix Publishing. That hasn’t happened, in part because I’ve spent so much time sorting myself out with medical appointments, and also because November through February incorporates a lot of paid holiday time.
I closed my computer yesterday afternoon and The Teenager asked if I wanted to take the dog for a walk.
Now, let’s think about the conditions yesterday:
It was a beautiful pre-Spring day and the sun made everything alive.
I woke by alarm at 6 a.m. to meet Southern Candy at the diner, where I ate salty food and drank three cups of coffee so my blood pressure was creeping up.
I went to the orthopedist, but was unable to get an appointment with the hand rehab people.
I was going to the chiropractor in about an hour, for the appointment last week that I had to reschedule because of my fall.
I have not gone to the gym in a week because of the fall.
My legs are covered in painful bruises.
I was a little hungry.
I had taken Baclofen* in the morning, but not since.
Interesting side note: CVS ordered my baclofen refill last week, as they did not have it in stock, and I haven’t heard from them since.
I felt good. Nothing hurt. I hadn’t noticed any balance issues. So, although I felt a little wiped out, a short walk sounded good.
The Teenager suited up the dog and put her cat in the cat-backpack and we headed up the street. We made it halfway up the block, cat screaming in fear, when the dog noticed other dogs and got nervous. And I had what The Teenager called “a three-point fall.” I immediately assumed it was a basketball reference but she explained. I stumbled, froze in the air for a second, and then fall. I believe the fall at work was a three-point fall as well. That frozen time she witnessed was me actually making a decision what to do next. That is the second where I have to decide whether to fight the fall and try to regain my balance or use that second to frame the fall and try to control the impact.
In this case, I opted to throw the fall to the left to protect my already injured right hand.
The sidewalk and the meat of my palm met as I aimed for the grass, now a barely visible scrape. The Teenager declared we would turn around. I told her I could turn around and she could keep going, but she promptly declared this was a less-than-ideal experience for everybody.
Now, at this point, I have a new short-term disability claim open with Matrix, waiting to hear when and how often the hand rehab people want to see me. With past experience, I’m fairly certain it will be once a week. But, before committing to returning to work, I would prefer to talk to them and was hoping they would call back and see me today, and then, if necessary, I could email or hand-carry paperwork to my PCP to decide whether we would pursue the new STD claim for my hand or amend my intermittent leave parameters that cover my cerebral palsy.
My claims examiner is confused, and since I have not received all the information I need to make a decision, my answers are rather wishy-washy.
Also, the weather is calling for snow. And I have this nightmare of me leaving my house in a snowstorm when I already have mobility and hand issues.
I head to my beloved chiropractor, ready for her insight and her physical therapy knowledge. Meanwhile, my neurologist/physiatrist who I had had a brief texting conversation earlier in the day, texted and asked if anything else could be happening in my body to cause these issues. I’m typing the list of answers: lack of chiropractic care, lack of gym, lack of Baclofen, bruises on my legs, high blood pressure. I am scheduled to see her in early April.
And meanwhile– we still don’t have an answer for why my quads were burning a couple weeks ago and why my “normal” issues in my hip joints seem to be moving into my sacrum.
So when Nicole the Chiropractor gets her hands on me she declares that my hips and my sacrum are all locked up and my lower body is stiff. She gets everything moving and pushes everything around. And I stand up feeling like a jelly fish, so loose it takes me a while to remember how to walk.
I haven’t heard from the hand rehab people. The neurologist has probably finished her day. My right side is starting to ache a bit. I drive The Teenager to the post office and we stand in line behind a Karen who criticizes every customer in front of her for not using the post office correctly, gets to the counter, and very promptly gives my favorite postal clerk a hard time when she discovers that Priority Mail box she has packed her materials in is a Priority Mail box and will cost $17.10 to mail. Even before she hears this news, she badgers the postal clerk about how much it will be, and he’s confused because it’s a medium flat rate box so it’s $17.10. And she then snapped that she had to text the person receiving the package because that person will have to pay her back. The postal clerk suggests maybe she buy a different box from the postal supplies station in the lobby and then he could mail it for $10. But she grumpily agrees to pay the flat box rate.
We return from the post office– having mailed cookies to a friend of The Teenager who has joined the service– and I head into the house and realize I left my glasses in the car as my prescription sunglasses are on my face. I head back out to the garage and walk down the narrow cement steps to the car bay. Half way down, my ankle gives out, twists underneath me, and I somehow manage to lower myself to the ground without falling down the stairs.
I pick myself up. Everything feels solid. I text the neurologist. I return to the house. The Teenager expresses concern as I took too long to walk to the garage and back. I explain what happened.
She orders me out of the kitchen and she says she is going to make dinner and I am going to sit. I use the time to email my supervisors and call out for today, because I think it would be best if my body had some rest. I email my claim examiner and tell her to cancel my hand-related claim, because this whole incident is definitely something we have to deal with as a cerebral palsy issue. And I tell her if I need to contact my primary care doctor and have my intermittent leave parameters amended I will.
I ate a pile of peppermint kisses, a moon pie, and a rice krispie treat after dinner and washed it down with Diet Coke. Despite that, my weight is down more than two pounds this morning and my blood pressure is fine. My lower back and right side of my lower body hurts, but I’m hoping my morning dose of Baclofen will reduce the stress on my joints. My arm still hurts from my Tdap booster.
I had a mammogram scheduled for this morning with my “regular” radiology tech. I went into work late, which meant I could sleep in and isn’t that the best way to start a Monday morning? At five a.m. I woke and starting cuddling my foster cat, Tripod Louise, debating whether or not I should get up. I normally rise for work at 4 a.m. so I have time to do Parisian Phoenix stuff or creative writing before clocking into my shift at 6:30 a.m.
But as I lay there at 5 a.m. today, I realized that I had set up the delay feature on my amazing coffee pot, and yes I still adore my Ninja K-cup, travel mug, and standard carafe brewer. I had coffee waiting in the kitchen. If I waited much longer it might not be fresh. If I fell back to sleep, it might not even be hot.
I fed the fat cats their weight management food and went downstairs where I promoted my latest idea, the photo scavenger hunt book. Check Parisian Phoenix’s submission page for more info.
I arrived at the hospital for my mammogram at 8:05 a.m. I went into the lobby and grabbed my registration number. Luckily it was two away from the last number I heard called. I started rooting through my purse for the doctor’s order and found it crumpled and stained with coffee.
A Dose of Anxiety
While I don’t normally suffer from panic or anxiety, when my stress levels increase I am prone to physical sensations of anxiety. And I had forgotten how stressful I find doing any outpatient procedure at the hospital. Grab a number, sit in the main lobby, go to the registration office, go across the hall to radiology, check in at radiology, get called to mammography, traverse the hall, get changed, go into the mammography suite, chat with the tech, get smooshed.
It’s a lot of steps in rapid succession. I could feel my hard pounding and had to keep inhaling deeply through my nose to keep my chest from closing up.
Was I nervous? No. Afraid? No. Shy? No.
It was pressure. I felt rushed and out of control.
Building Up Another Woman
Once in the mammography suite, I learned my favorite tech would be retiring in eight days and staying on per diem because if she works one day a month she will maintain her medical insurance.
I told her I was happy for her, but also disappointed, because she did my first mammogram and she always made me feel comfortable. I told her I’m sure she helped a lot of women and that I hoped she enjoyed every minute of her retirement.
She called me sweet.
And she remembered me by my tattoo. Which is on my breast.
Foster Kitten Jennifer Grey and Bean the Dog
When I left the hospital, I got the sweetest text that our foster kitten Jennifer Grey (who moved to the Teenager’s room last night for better socialization) is adjusting well.
Forgive me, but I’m finding myself too exhausted to continue,
so from this line down, I am writing about Monday on Tuesday
4:30 a.m. Tuesday, drinking exceedingly strong coffee as prepped on the delay setting by the Teenager.
Measuring Challenge at Work
My anxiety from my hospital visit followed me to work. I clocked it 9:07, which made it hard to do the math of where my numbers should be for the day, but I settled on a total of 85 fixes. And I hit 85 fixes. I was at a table on the right, not my regular table on the left, which meant a subtle shift of balance and more pressure on my right hip. The warehouse outbound supervisor herself brought me 22 refixes, or the work already in a box, which were pivotal in keeping my numbers where I wanted them.
I heard rumblings among my colleagues that no one is hitting “full performance,” so I’m not the only one. We were joking at lunch that in a few months they may reduce their workforce by 50% if they dismiss everyone not meeting the new numbers. I don’t think they’ll do that. The company has always been more than fair in the past. At lunch, Southern Candy gave me homemade fudge. I ate too much of the deliciousness and spent the next couple hours a little queasy.
The murmurings report that employees that are shared to other departments must still hit 90% of the new numbers and that their performance in those other departments will count toward their monthly miss-the-mark allowance.
The goal for my department is 16.25 per hour, but does not include time off for our ten-minute paid breaks. So I use my own numbers. Hour one should be 17, hour two also 17, then ten minute break, and 15 to finish the third hour to reach the official numbers. It’s two more hours until my lunch, and I try to maintain 17 per hour to “make up” for our final ten-minute break of the day.
So I missed two hours and 37 minutes of work yesterday. If I divide one hour (60 minutes) by 16.25, I get 3.7 minutes per box. (For argument’s sake, let me point out that doing the same using 17 unites is 3.5 minutes. So we are talking about the impact of seconds, but it adds up.) I missed 157 minutes of work, so using their numbers I should have lowered my goal by 42.5 fixes but I couldn’t do that math in my head. We are six days into the new system and I’ve already missed my two days a month. I thought I made it with 85 fixes, but my official target might have been 87.5. That means I did 97%. We’ll see what they say today.
I know I talk a lot about the numbers at work, but honestly it’s part of what I love about the job. 1. Numbers don’t lie. You can discuss why the numbers are what they are and develop strategies to meet them. I find calculating the numerical benchmarks to be soothing and an objective way to see how my day is going. And, while my employer would hate to hear this, it’s a good reminder that sometimes you can’t work harder only smarter and not everyone had the capacity to hit 100% of arbitrary numbers every day.
The calculations and my podcast keep my mind busy and allow me to brainstorm what I need to do for my publishing business. If I have to work full-time, I would rather work the blue-collar warehouse job than a white-collar office job that destroys my intellectual capacity and short-circuits my brain with stress. 2. I preserve my creative energy for myself. Listening to publishing-related podcasts, various sources of news, other creators and even some bizarre non-fiction stories keeps my mental focus on my goals and allows me to give my full effort to my employer while still working toward my personal goals.
3. I love the clothes. I have followed Stitch Fix since they launched, when The Teenager was a preschooler and I still had a subscription to vogue. I love seeing, touching and preparing the clothes for their clients. I love seeing the fixes, their color combinations, their textures and I love imagining the person who would wear them. I also like to make judgments of whether or not we could be friends based on their box. Because if you’re on fix #72 and I think all the clothes are hideous, that’s your style and we can’t blame the stylist or the algorithm. And since I write fiction in the fashion world, I love seeing the new trends and which items become perennial offerings.
I also took two muscle relaxers, after not taking them during the weekend. I’ve been curious if some of the strange feelings I have in my legs are from when the muscle relaxers wear off or from missing a couple chiropractor appointments due to other doctors’ visits. The jury is out– but the bottom line is with the muscle relaxers, working out and chiropractic care my body moves easier.
A much awaited visit to Back in Line Chiropractic
After work, I filled my water bottle and headed to my friends at Back in Line Chiropractic and Wellness Center. Not only is former physical therapist and chiropractor Nicole Jensen super smart and personable, but the staff contributes some extra care as well. When my schedule got out of control, office staff person B (as I don’t know if she would want me calling her out in a public forum) made sure I got not only one but two appointments so I could survive the holiday season with my mobility in tact.
I apologized to Nicole for letting three weeks go by without an appointment, and reassured her that I did not fall out of love with her. I summarized how life had gotten away from me, and by the time my trainer Andrew noticed that my legs were turning inward in an unusual fashion and I noticed I felt like the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz, I luckily had called B and had my appointment on the books.
The noises my body made were brutal, but it’s a weird feeling when you stand up and your feet and legs feel loose, move freer and have a more easygoing gait. It’s disorienting. But it’s a good reminder than sometimes I need more help than I realize.
Nicole then shipped me off to Andrew at Apex Training.
The brutal workout at Apex
I love Andrew. I really do. I respect the way he has learned my quirks and can read my form. He has learned ways to troubleshoot what my podiatrist calls my “challenging gait” due to my cerebral palsy. But last night was a killer core and shoulders work out. It was awesome, and murderous. I am gaining so much upper body strength and am very impressed with my lower body function gains.
We missed some workouts recently because Andrew caught a cold and then took some family time for the holidays, but I told him it wasn’t fair that he was punishing me with heavy weights when we lifted and high reps in the more cardio-based exercises. After all, he had canceled not me.
Needless to say, when I got home I ate the lovely dinner The Teenager (lamb, broccoli and hand-cut, homemade parmesan fries) prepared and collapsed in bed. To wake at 3:56 a.m. before my 4 a.m. alarm.
I asked for a table on the left today, because my body was so stiff, my hip sore and my toe felt like someone forced a knife through it and used it to anchor me to the warehouse floor. It happened about every hour, when the clock struck 20-something for some reason and lasted about four minutes as the pain slipped up the inside of my calf and hit my knee.
By 9 a.m., I had had enough. Interestingly, whereas yesterday I did 85%, today I believe I did 95%, and at 9 a.m. I was still about 97%. The left table had alleviated most of the stress on my hip.
I called the neurological physiatrist, and they could see me in April. The person who answered the phone would leave a message for the doctor, and her nurse would give me a call. Now, for the record, I missed that call which was around 4:45 p.m. because I was in an appointment with my chiropractor. But it looks like they may see me next week.
I also called my podiatrist, whose office manager scheduled me for 2:15 p.m. Friday and asked if she had a cancellation if I could come tomorrow. I said yes.
Around this time, a form went around via email asking who might be interested in a day off tomorrow. So I filled out the form.
I rushed home to take off my shoes and socks, and the toe looked fine. Well, red and a little swollen but not as bad as it felt. When I poked my toe and bent them all, my sore toe throbbed for several minutes afterward. So I elevated it.
I could feel the stiffness in my body and the phone kept registering asymmetry. I was very much looking forward to my visit with Nicole Jensen of Back in Line Chiropractic and Wellness Center. Even lying on the table, it felt like my right hip was higher than the other. And when she put her hand against it, she verified that it was. And she pushed on it, like her palm was kneading bread. But in one motion, not back and forth. Okay, maybe the analogy is no good.
We both agreed that the toe thing needed to be sorted out, and that skipping tonight’s workout with Andrew might be best. Nicole manipulated my toe gently, and asked what hurt, and since nothing really bothered me at the angles she was working, she started adjusting my toes. They made some funky noises.
I also feel two inches taller and as relaxed as I can get when she gets done with me…
The predominant theory of what is happening: (according to Andrew, myself and Nicole) I had some intense turning inward of my left leg this week, which may be in part because of a 5-day-a-week work schedule when I’m used to a 4-day schedule in two different jobs versus just one now. Add this to the fact that my table is on the right, forcing me to constantly rely on my right side to move shipments, stand on tip toe to grab boxes and twist to get clothes. When my left leg twists, my right side compensates. And all of this might have caused me to stand forward on my toes more. The added pressure and their curvature made them rub and irritated them and maybe some nerve pain is resulting. And maybe a blister. Or not. Who knows?
But a year ago, I would have horrible pain and difficulty moving. Around the beginning of the year, I started falling. That makes me want to investigate and not take the chance that this toe could start the downward spiral all over again.
Unlike that magic splinter I got. But that’s an old story. Read it here.
Let’s hope the podiatrist has some ideas for prevention and relief.
Today was my first Monday day shift at the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy. I worked second shift, then 10-hour shifts and now I have moved to Monday to Friday 6:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. After almost a year of 10-hours, 8-hours feels so short. And it feels like we’re always on break. And transitioning from a 15-minute break to a ten minute is disorienting to say the least.
After work yesterday, I went to the chiropractor, the amazing and dedicated Nicole Jensen of Back in Line Chiropractic and Wellness Center. I feel like she’s learned my body to the extent that it’s personal to her, the challenge of keeping my misconstructed extremities functioning. I think she has this zone she gets into, where she’s plotting a strategy and it’s her against me, well, the physical form of me.
I felt my body start to compensate for my hip falling out of place yesterday. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t even feel wrong, but I noticed elements of my posture changing. A little more protest from the right side, leaning that way more heavily, occasional back pain.
I don’t have the best understanding of mechanics or physics, so my brain is slowly clicking when it comes to considering my femoral anteversion, which means the head of my femurs sit in my hip sockets kinda facing the wrong way making my legs kinda face backwards I guess, makes my bones put pressure on the socket at the wrong angle pushing it out of place? Maybe?
And me, either being a trooper or an idiot, did a 8-hour work shift on a Monday, where I performed at 95%, went to the chiropractor and then visited Andrew, my also amazing and dedicated coach at Apex Training. I think I scowled at him more than usual. The work out was brutal and ended with… what did he call them… offset dumbbell rows? Imagine kneeling on the bench and doing a dumbbell row with a 20 or 25 lb weight while holding the other leg up in the air.
Meanwhile, I reached out to David from The Cerebral Palsy and Fitness Podcast and asked if my discovery and fitness journey would be something of interest for his show, and he said yes. I also updated Andrew Gurza of Disability After Dark Podcast about my upcoming “Sex in the Text” panel at the Easton Book Festival. We had recorded an episode in June, but my parakeet (may he rest in peace, that might be what reminded me of the interview) made so much noise, we hope to rerecord an interview in November.
That’s fine with me, as so much has happened since June: my service dog application, new physical struggles and this “Sex in the Text” program for Easton Book Festival among them. I’m lagging behind on my preparations, which means I’ve been scanning my Fashion and Fiends novels for sex and jotting notes about themes, goals and techniques.
But then, my new computer Midnight came with a free trial of Apple TV, which made it ridiculously easy to subscribe to a free trial of Motor Trend‘s streaming channel. Why on God’s green Earth would I as someone with no understanding of physics or mechanics need Motor Trend? Three words: Top Gear America. It’s the only way to see Top Gear America featuring Dax Shepard and cars.
I don’t think it’s readily apparent from this blog, but I adore cars. If I had any sort of skill with tinkering, I would be more hands-on, but I am useless. But, I can still drive and appreciate cars. And I certainly admire and appreciate Dax Shepard from more than one angle. I just want to watch every available episode (there are two seasons available) and forget about the rest of the universe.
Which right now is tempting… because the episode on the Lamborghini, Bentley and Porsche SUVs had me laughing out loud. I started the hot rod episode but pried myself away for what ended up being a very trouble night of sleep. Bad dreams and body pain, to the point where I was up for an hour from midnight to 1 a.m., debating whether to pull the laptop into bed. I, instead, smeared my back and hips with CBD arthritis cream and drifted away into another uneasy three hours of sleep.
So much to do before the book festival, but the cars… and the Dax… call to me.
Yesterday might summarize recent trends in my life. I know I posted a blog post before I left for my last 10-hour shift at the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy. Monday I start a more traditional Monday through Friday shift. I’ll get home earlier, but I lose a day off. And I’m used to having Thursday and Friday off which is nice for running errands, making appointments with doctors and professionals, and for connecting with people regarding my business, Parisian Phoenix Publishing.
I still had my Friday nights and Saturdays, even if I had to head to bed earlier than most people want to on Saturday night.Many well-meaning friends and everyday people have made comments like “well that will be nice,” “no more long days” and “you’ll have your weekends back.”
But I’ll no longer have that feeling of “getting work over with” and I’m no longer part of a unique cohort. We worked alone in the building on Sundays, and that was peaceful, and for two hours every afternoon, we more or less finished the work the traditional day shift left behind.
So, I arrived at work yesterday morning, basking in the bliss of using my new Ninja DualBrew correctly. (I still have to buy coffee filters, but I love the ease of use, the temperature of the coffee, the different settings for the strength of coffee, AND how I can select just the right amount of coffee for me. The reservoir is cool for me, because it removes one more decision or step to screw up. I have been known to double fill the coffee pot when I forgot I already did it.)
On Sunday, I normally perform between 100 and 105 percent of daily metrics. I may have once hit 108. This Sunday, I hit 97. This annoyed me. It was the first sign that something was off. On Monday, I kept struggling. I didn’t really notice anything physically wrong but I did note that my toes on my right foot were really burning by the end of the day. Andrew, my wonderful coach at Apex Training, had asked if we could move Monday night’s session to Tuesday. I said sure.
I busted my butt for the rest of the day and hit at least 99 percent, but I may have hit 100. That’s when I noticed some residual issues in my body. Just that nagging sense that something was not right. I attributed it to working hard and not having my regular Friday appointment with Nicole Jensen at Back in Line Chiropractic and Wellness Center. She had a class on Friday, so she had moved clients.
Tuesday I could feel my right hip turned wrong. It was a weird feeling, like my leg was facing the wrong way. In reality, it might not work that way but that’s how it felt. And my right hip was very tender to the touch. I still didn’t have any pain, but movement was getting harder. So I tried to stretch my hips during the day, but by the end of the day, I had only hit 90 percent and it had been hard. I asked Andrew if we could move the Tuesday session to Wednesday, worried that this was more of a structural issue than a muscular one and working out could push me from discomfort and mobility issues to actual pain.
And a year ago, I was in pain every day and I don’t want to go back to that. Ever. I was flipping through my journal and last year at this time I was starting every journal entry with a number from the pain scale. That broke my heart to see.
I took a muscle relaxer, stretched some more and went to bed after a nice meal. Wednesday morning I didn’t move any better, but I was no longer stiff. But by the time I got to work, my gut said this hip was really struggling to do its job. And I was about to stand on it for ten hours.
At 6 a.m., I called Nicole’s office and left a message. At 9:15, they called me back and scheduled me for 5:15 p.m. I knew that if I waited until my regular Friday appointment and forced that hip to work out, it would lead to pain and harder-to-fix problems.
I emailed my boss as I couldn’t find him and it turned out that he had called out sick. I arranged to leave at 4:30. By my calculations, I hit 87 percent. My right side just didn’t have the mobility it should. The drive to the chiropractor took about 20-25 minutes, and when I got out of the car, it felt like my right leg had fused and stretching it into a step felt ridiculously hard. But still no pain.
This is when cerebral palsy plays tricks on the brain. As I’m (what feels like) dragging my leg into the chiropractor, I started wondering, “maybe I just need to stretch,” “maybe there’s nothing really wrong and I’m just lazy and my muscles stiffened.” But then I remembered the burning toes. Something was pushing my posture forward and my body was fighting it. But I still had my doubts.
Now, no one has ever gaslighted me in the medical community, except maybe my first primary care physician who referred me to the wrong specialist in the days when I had an HMO. I now always have plans where I chose my physicians myself.
When Nicole entered the room, I explained what’s going on and she quickly confirms that yes, my hip was crooked. Like really crooked. She even made a hand gesture. And that my body had done other weird things to compensate. It all moved beautifully when she manhandled it. She pondered what caused this when we had just considered potentially spacing out my weekly appointments to every other week. Did I overdo it at work? Was it missing the adjustment Friday? Was it skipping my workout?
When I got up from the table, my feet did, as Nicole put it, sexy normal feet posture. My balance has improved dramatically in the last few months, and my strength has returned, and my stamina is definitely increasing.
I stepped out of the chiropractor and took some long, beautiful, easy strides.
It. Felt. Good.
No, it felt GREAT.
So, I don’t know how Nicole would feel about this, but I went to the gym. And let me tell you– Andrew delivered a brutal work out. We did split leg squats in sets of 20 reps each leg with weights. He said I was moving better than I ever had before and I said, yes, because Nicole had straightened my body and stretched out my lower extremities. Like, literally, just did. We did military presses with 25 lb dumbbells. We did core. We did upper body exercises like IYTs. And shoulder taps and mountain climbers and rope slams.
And then, before a shower or dinner, and it’s 7:30 p.m. now, I had to deal with the hellions in my room. I had to swap out and refill three litter boxes for the six cats in my room. I had to vaccuum. I didn’t clean the bird cages, but I did feed and water everyone. And I’m still wondering how the heck those four kittens have trashed my closet without opening the door.
I wanted to blog all this last night after I ate my omelet of cheddar, peppers, homemade farm-procured, roasted tomatoes. But I was exhausted.
Angel Ackerman 