Slow, but not

[Update added on Tuesday, June 2, 2009.]

I've been slowly falling behind on blogging this weekend, but for an okay --i.e. good -- i.e. GREAT-- reason... I started walking without my crutches!

Yesterday I made it downstairs from my bedroom to my living room without my crutches. And after determining that the pain was tolerable, Peter and I got lunch near my house and I was able to walk half of the way home without the crutches.

This might not be a big deal to anyone, but it is to me. Feeling good.

My parents are on their way up to DC today. I'm sure I'll have more to come (maybe even a couple photos) after their visit.

UPDATE:

My parents made their way to DC for a visit... and to pick up my car that I can't drive because of my 'cankle' and because my new place in DC doesn't have parking. We got lunch, ventured around the city, I showed my parents my new office, and we metro'ed back to my house, where they put my car on a trailer and towed it all the way back to Yorktown.

I think that's the most movement I've done in weeks... and it was the first time I've taken the metro since the injury. And though a little blurry from the moving metro, but...

Thanks for visiting!

Tiny Tim-like Testing

I took a few small steps by my desk this afternoon and, excited by my progress, decided to take a short walk around the office... with only one crutch.

My boss is now calling me "Tiny Tim."

After Google'ing for an image, I must say it's fitting.

Did I mention I'M [kind of] WALKING?!?!?

Metro opens doors… but not for me.

After determining yesterday that I’ve already spent about $150 on cab rides to and from work, I decided to check out DC’s Metro Transit website to learn about some of my alternative options …or… lack thereof.

In what I consider to be a professional letter I wrote yesterday to Washington Metropolitan Area Transit Authority (WMATA), I explained my current situation and inquired about qualifying for a Metro Disability ID Card – including that:

“I work in the National Press Building at 14 and F Streets and the closest Metro to me is Metro Center at 12 and F Streets; however, there is no elevator at this entrance, and until I am able to walk without assistance, I am unable to ride the escalator. At the moment, my only option is to take a cab to the entrance with the elevator, which -as you might imagine- is becoming an unexpected out-of-pocket expense.”

This afternoon I received a response from a WMATA rep stating, “The duration of your disability must last a minimum of three months.” And because I stated that I will be temporarily disabled for 8-12 weeks… DENIED.

The rep included that I can find more information about Metro’s disability “requirements” at: MetroOpensDoors.com

…When one door opens…

It shuts right in front of my face.

Ensuing boredom...

I tried to cut my stitches out tonight.

They itch beyond belief. And it's too bad I couldn't figure out if there was one long- or two short stitches in each incision.

I guess I'll leave them in until Monday.

Ugh.

Cankle Calculations

FIRST & MOST IMPORTANTLY

[Insert profanity sensor for the would-be-offended readers here…] !@#$%*! I just took the bandage off… And for the first time since the accident... I’m starting to see the ball-looking bone return to my inner ankle! I know you see it too?!


And in other news...

Over the past two weeks, in my semi-stationary stage of trying to get up and get to work, I’ve been keeping track of the cost of cab rides, in addition to other things like: pill consummation and my dwindling reserves, terrible movies on TV that I am forced to watch because I can’t get up… you know… the typical things to think of when thinking is all you can do.

Eventually, when all-things-ankle are said and done, I’ll determine how much this whole ordeal sets me back. But out of curiosity (and cash) this morning, I decided to do an initial add-up…

I might as well have rolled it up and smoked it because… In the past seven days, I have spent $125 on cab rides to and from work.

And I guess if you add on the $30 parking ticket that I got last week (see story & previous blog entry here), that puts me at $155… Also not including the fact that I still have to get home from work today and for the remainder of the work week. I really need to look into the Metro handicap bus and what the service defines as being “handicap.” [Added to today's to-do list.]

Finally...

Monday is my follow up with Dr. Douoguih, whose name I can only spell because the stickers from the day of my surgery will not come off of my crutches...
The swelling and pain have subsided beyond any words I can blog, and I’m almost certain the doctor will remove the stitches at my appointment. (I had to put myself to bed early last night because had I had one more glass of wine with my roommates, I was certainly going to try to ease the itch and take the stitches out myself... with nail clippers. Lessons learned from my run-in-the-family, accident prone father.)

Five more days... Five more days...

Since I couldn't make it to the post office to mail the card...

Things taken for granted # 45

...Walking with an umbrella.

Open to suggestions on how to rig an umbrella to my crutches.

To grandmother's house we go...

You know how whenever you go to visit your grandparents, they're always sitting in their designated chairs, Lazyboys, rockers, etc?

Welcome to my life...

I just came to the sad realization that every time someone has come to visit me over the past two weeks, I've been sitting in this exact same spot.

Insert song:

Colorful cankle

...Compliments of sitting on the couch for the past 12 hours.

Really hoping someone can help me get outside tomorrow....

The dog whisperer

Even T-Bones knows I don't feel good.

Mouth-dropping moment of the week...

Just took a look at Trigon Care First health insurance account.  The cost of surgery, you ask...

$15,984.38!!

Luck restored.

'Get Well' cards are getting me through.

(Including the creative, self-made one in the back left from my aunt.)

And my mom's friend sent me a lotto ticket inside her card.

$3 WINNER!

"'On a Roll' reminded me of you." -Debbie.

...a reference to me and my wheelchair perhaps??

Be gone, Cankle.

Double Wammy

Another rough morning... this time I woke up to my boot hanging half-off the propped pillow. Feels twisted. [Insert Vicodin here.]

And to make matters worse, the cab driver on the way to my office was playing this awful song, which is now stuck in my head:

Birds love handicap kids

Peter and I went to El Rinconcito Cafe near my house tonight, not at all handicap accessible, it's down five stairs in the basement of an old rowhouse.

Knowing this, I brought my wheelchair to get there and crutches to get inside. (And, clever idea if you ask me, my bike lock to lock the wheelchair up outside… see photo above).

Peter pushed me the three blocks that probably would have taken me 30 minutes to crutch to, and as I was getting out of the wheelchair, a double-date group surfaced from the basement.

Seeing me, one of the guys generously went back down the steps to hold the door open for me… not knowing that I still had to get up, get the crutches in place and take the above photo of my bike-locked wheelchair.

So, in his sarcastic [and/or honest] tone, Peter told the guy, “Don’t worry about it, she’s going to be a while.”

Don’t I love Karma.

Just as he was saying this to the man, a bird flew by and shat on his shirt…

Oops.

We laughed and later both agreed...

Pushing your girlfriend in a wheelchair is cool…. until other people see you doing it.

Getting By

I made it into work with no hassle this morning (I even got picked up by a cab driver who is starting to become a regular to me– "Goddy" (see back of head above). Goddy is a talker. Not exactly who I’m looking for to share my morning commute with, but he always gets out of the cab and helps me out, so he’s a winner in my mind.

In addition to my hassle-free commute, I classify a good day with getting to zone out for a minute while reading four of my favorite newspapers, which thankfully arrived at my desk (carrying them on crutches isn't attractive or graceful). Atypical to get to read them all in print, but thanks to two colleagues out of the office, the morning is now a go.

And tonight is the very last DC Community Club event until the next school year. Last the surgery pains made me miss out on the last tutoring session with my sixth grader, Marcellus, but this week is the awards banquet, where parents, tutors and students come to celebrate the school year and the [anticipation of] achievements. Hoping the ankle swelling and pain keep to a minimum so I can make it...

Random Thought: Since I haven’t been able to juggle my crutches and an iPod (not even sure where my headphones are), I just realized I haven’t listened to music since, well, today. Currently listening to B. Fleischmann. Why did I not think of this sooner?

Seamless

(A parking ticket and a makeshift prop.)

Well, I made it into work this working. My first day back. A day I planned in advance to ensure seamlessness. I guess I ripped my seam...

My car was parked outside my house in a spot that doesn’t require a zoned parking permit, but when I woke up this morning, the first thing I remembered was… that sign also says “with the exception of Tuesday.” No parking on Tuesday for street cleaning.

It just so happens today is Tuesday.

Kristen (roommate) was kind enough to move my car to a two-hour parking spot; however, my grocery-getting, lengthy ‘little’ car didn’t fully fit into the spot.

Today I am thankful for the homeless park across the street… A homeless man who saw Kristen moving my car came and knocked on our door to tell us my car was being ticketed and would soon be towed.

Unhappy camper and seam starting to rip, I crutched out to my car where by the traffic cop was writing the ticket. “My roommate is moving this car. She came to open the door for me, because as you might notice, I can’t actually get out by myself,” I said to her in an attempted calm manner. All she said was “I don’t care” and handed me the ticket. So with a smirk on my face I told her to [unfriendly words] as she walked away (…hopefully getting hit by Karma and/or the nearest bus on her way back to Sticky Fingers Bakery on the next block).

Annoyed, I decided to take the car issue into my own hands. And because it was oddly uncomfortable, I didn’t take any photos to document the trip, but I somehow managed to prop my crutches in the passenger seat and lay my gimp leg over them as I drove the three miles to Northeast DC to park my car outside of Peter’s house. (Parking signs do not exist in the ‘hood.)

From there, I caught a $12 cab to work, and now here I sit. My leg is being propped up on an extra foot stool we had lying around the office (probably for many, many years – definitely has the retro feel). Not to mention that I haven’t had a sip of coffee since last Monday in the hospital waiting room (the term “coffee” should be used lightly here, as it was right up there in the running for worst coffee ever, next to the Amtrak coffee on the way to Canada).

Sitting upright at this desk is not doing wonders for my foot. It’s 1:00. I give myself another hour or so, and then I'll make an attempt at a “seamless” commute back home.

I just realized I don't even have the option of taking the metro back to my house. While Metro Center is the only one block from my office, there is no elevator at the 13th and F St entrance. Good planning, WMATA!

[Update: As of Thursday, May 21 at 2:49 PM -- Parking ticket paid.]

[Another Update: One week later, Thursday, May 28, The Washington Times runs this article about parking tickets and how 50% of people who fight the ticket get it dismissed, sigh: Read Washington Times article here]

Cabin Fever

(This --my view-- is getting old.)

Today I woke up with the intent of ending this cabin fever. I didn’t get outside at all yesterday and only went upstairs once (to go to bed) so when I woke up this morning, I was excited to know today would be different.

I actually found it less annoying to shower (i.e.: bathe, laid out, with my head under the faucet and right leg propped on toilet seat) …even if I did sit downstairs for most of the day.

Peter got back from St. Louis today and made time to stop by in between traveling and heading to work. It was good to see him, good to have a visitor, good to have someone to talk to... and great to have someone open the front door for me so I could stand on the porch for 5 minutes to get some 'fresh' DC air.

And once Kristen and Laura (roommates) got home from work, we decided to go to dinner at The Heights. Loving Laura’s lingo, I now say -- Bless them!! Laura pushed me in the wheelchair to the restaurant and Kristen pushed me back to the house.

I can't even begin to tell you how good it was to get out for a couple hours. Not to mention, dinner was great, too (crab cake BLT and a glass of pinot noir... what painkillers?)

I am so thankful to have such helpful, fun and easy-going roommates.

My foot was really swollen when we got home, but I have ice on it now, and hopefully it will feel better in the AM... especially since...

Tomorrow I’m planning to go into work.

Kristen said she would help me get on the bus or to catch a cab. I haven’t decided the easiest route yet, but I guess I’ll figure it out before I go to sleep tonight.

Fingers crossed everything goes well.

Currently watching the TV, having another glass of wine and eating chocolate with the roommates on the couch.

Tomorrow is a new day, hopefully the pain will continue to subside. (And I just realized I wrote most of this entry without –until now– mentioning pain. AMEN.)

Here she is, folks...

Took the bandage off to get a peak.

Early morning hours

The first thing I wake up to is the feeling of pain.

It’s 5:43 AM.

Finally I have slept past 5 AM. I am frustrated, exhausted and my body is aching all over, stressed from pushing myself in new ways – my muscles feel overworked, nerves – irritated, mind – annoyed, heart – slowly, slowly pounding on.

This is incomparable to any of the several "accidents" I’ve had before. The broken wrist snowboarding last year, the three broken bones in my foot in college, passing out on my bike two weeks ago, chipping my shinbone in the snowboarding park, ripping the back of my legs open on the boat ladder… nothing, nothing, nothing is the same.

I feel like I’m on a horror movie where someone is controlling my body and the amount of torture I must endure, giving me just enough to keep me conscious to see me squirm.

Today I would still describe the pain as a 9 on the scale I was repeatedly shown in the hospital recovery room. It feels like my stitches are being burned with matches on both sides of my ankles. I got up to go to the bathroom and now I am content with laying here for another couple hours to avoid the painful pressure of lowering my foot back towards the ground.

Vicodin swallowed. Computer down. Sleep, please.

My Mom

(My mom and I being touristy in DC sometime last fall... fall referring to 'season,' not another previous injury)

This post was also taken from my journal. I debated on posting it, but here it is:

"Today was a day I longed for, and yet, another long day. I slept a little better last night and woke up with the anticipation of my parents’ arrival.

I was at ease knowing that my parent were coming because I wouldn’t feel bad asking them for help, asking them to do things, just asking about asking.

The day was different than anticipated.

The struggle to get my painkillers and nerve suppressants was exhausting, stressful and all the while painful.

My parents brought my grandparents’ [don't worry - currently not-in-use] wheelchair, so I could get outside. Every single bump in the sidewalk, everywhere one piece of cement ended and another began, every manhole, every pothole, every everything was felt as my booted ankle rested in the wheelchair’s leg rest.

For most of the ride, my left hand was clinched to the arm rest and my right hand was death-gripped to my leg brace… anything to try to ease the pain of the bounce, bump, slump, dip… The Pain.

Today the pain has subsided some. Down from a 10 on Thursday to a 9.5 yesterday to a 9 today. I hope that continues. But aside from the physical pain, today was the first day I was able to think outside of this excruciation. Today I started to feel the emotional pain of it all.

Only once in my life can I remember seeing my mom cry, and that was probably when I was seven years old -- She was overwhelmed, my brother and dad were complaining, everyone had had a long day and she cracked. I remember she came into my room, sat on my bed and cried. ….Then she got over it, and kept on keeping on.

Not even two months ago when her father, my grandfather, died did I actually see her tears.

She hid them from me and the rest of my family because she is the spine. She is the glue. She is what keeps the rest of the family in touch, in place, in line, in motion and together.

This evening when my parents were leaving, I was overwhelmed, in need of more medication, a nap, stress relief, mental composure, etc, etc, et al…. and I hugged her to say thank you and goodbye.

When she stood up we looked at each other --The Look -- I felt helpless. And she felt my helplessness. I felt pain. And she felt my pain. And we both broke down.

It was relief. It was real. It was an emotional touch I did not expect. Today I felt a different type of pain. A connection of pain to pain. A connection. A feeling that I am no longer alone."

About an hour before my parents left that day, I realized it was their 29th wedding anniversary. What a way to spend the day. I will forever be grateful for their visit.

FRUITY!

A big "Thank You" to Erin and the rest of my Dudley family who sent me this Edible Arrangement today. It was a rough morning, but the chocolate covered strawberries do help!

Eating a flower-shaped pineapple in my hot wheels.

Foot, Football and Friday

A rough Friday.

When I woke up this morning I was in so much pain that I began to think maybe something wasn't going as planned underneath my cast. The swelling became so intense that any time I put my foot to the ground, it instantly turned a dark shade of blue.

I called the surgeon, who said I should come in to have it checked out...

And after almost FOUR hours in the waiting room, I found out that the swelling had overcome the capacity of the cast.

And I think Dr. Douoguhi sees people in pain so much that he’s become immune to it.

A typical Washington doctor – he walks in and gives me a nice, firm handshake in his sports coat, khaki pants and loafers, sets his Blackberry on the table and speaks to me in terms that remind me that he knows more than me ...and then he starts ripping apart my cast to expose the bandages and stitches.

Though the sight under the cast made me slightly nauseous, it did help relieve some of the pressure and pain.

But I must say, the only concern or care I got was in the waiting room… Packed with no extra chairs to put my foot on, I had to hold it in my arms like a small child.

Meanwhile the woman to my right was yapping on her phone about her dogs, and I guess the look on my face was anything but delightful.

The guy sitting to my left noticed and asked, “Shattered ankle? I know how you’re feeling. I’ve been there.” And he picked up the magazine table, stacked the magazines up and put my foot on top. We chatted about our current and previous injuries and turns out he “plays professional football.” I didn’t pry, but he did refer me to his physical therapist, so maybe I’ll figure out who he is in the near future.

[Update: I later learned that my doctor is the orthopedist for the Baltimore Ravens. So, if you know of a potential lineman on the team with dreads and a torn peck, he is the "him."]

Chuck T in my Hot Wheels

The view from my wheelchair.

Post-Op

(Not even having a beer with all the Vicodin did anything to help/hinder my pain!)

I wrote the following on my laptop journal the day after my surgery. Almost a week later, I decided to go back and read what I had written. The words bring memories of pain to my unforgetting mind, and thought I probably won't re-read this after I post it...

Here are those [to me, agonizing] words...

"For the past week I have pushed myself to the most physical and mental extremes. Not by choice, but by what the doctor said was a necessity. But when is a necessity unnecessary?

Yesterday, overflowing into today, and even down to this very second as my fingers hit each key on the keyboard, I am in the worst pain I have ever known.

I once heard that we don’t remember our own births because it is so painful that “mother nature” blocks that moment from our memories.

That may or may not be true, but this feeling -- this pain -- that I’m feeling right now is so intense that I know I will never forget it.

For the past 24 hours it feels like my foot has been trapped inside of a bear claw, spring-loaded trap. It feels like the metal is pressing, squeezing, clamping down onto my ankle with no sign of relief in sight.

[[Where is the hunter to put me out of my misery!?]]

I try to sleep, but the pain wakes me up. I try to watch TV, but the pain redirects my attention. Even while typing this, I am squirming. My neck muscles are strained. My back aches. I feel stuck. Stuck in the pain. Stuck in this bed. And stuck… in the worst possible situation I’ve ever found myself to be in.

I can’t imagine the thought of having to live like this. I haven’t ventured outside since Tuesday, the day before my surgery, because walking on crutches is almost unmanageable in this city, and the minutes-away commute will easily turn into hours.

I have a new appreciation for those who are disabled in this city. A new interest in pain. why, Why, WHY is it here? What can I do to make it go away? What did I do to make this so intense?

WHY are the pain killers not killing the pain and the pressure?

The Pressure...

The pressure in my ankle is trickling down into my kneecap.

Unbearable. Unimaginable. Unanticipated.

THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT I HAVE EVER KNOWN!"