I am not in a mental position to sort this out or make a tree of any kind to save my friends list, which makes me sad because there are people I like who I would lose. So, two things. If it does happen, eventually my blog, wherever it is, will always redirect from www.heidicullinan.com because my brother rocks. You can also find me on facebook or twitter (links on side, but I'm Heidi Cullinan on the former and amazoniowan on the latter). If LJ dies and I lose you, if you find me again, please give me a shout somewhere so I can put your new blog on my google reader.
One damn thing after another.
Other things are that I just redrafted "One Night" and sent it to God to be further eviscerated or deemed fairly good, and by Friday I will be sending what I hope is the final or near final version of it to Brad the editor man, and I'm about to sign a contract and then there will be a magazine of it with photos of men whom I am told are hot acting it out. So when I have proof that this is not a delusion I have been tricked into believing, I will provide links. This redraft is part of why I have not been on the net. I needed to do it all weekend, and life kept me from it, so I didn't let myself on the net until I got a good start on the work, which meant I didn't know there was a two hour delay and took Anna to school two hours early yesterday. She was a good sport about it, though.
Dan is putting a desk together for me tonight, which is really, really good, but first he is getting a haircut.
I think that's about it. Well, there's more, but I'm not sure what else is truly interesting. Oh, okay, I'll tell that I'm working on STB again, that I wrote a sort of . . . prologue? that I really like and that was born out of a strange burble of sorrow and rage I experienced while trying to exercise this morning, which will upset some of you, but let it go because the stuff I got out of it rocks the planet. I will actually gladly take pain in trade for getting that, so right now the universe and I are pretty square. I have hopes of writing scene two, but computer work is starting to hurt, and the PT guy has me scared to use my standing desk, so this is going to end soon.
I have full intent to tackle the submission package of TWA, something I never dreamed to let go of this long, and I swear to God it's going out to an agent by mid-month. Swear. End for sure, because I promised Gin. Well, and myself. But I want to keep working on STB, too, because it's starting to feel like a connection to the healing, and I'm very sorry in advance, but I am talking about it to absolutely no one, with sometimes maybe one exception, but sometimes not even that. Why my physical pain and rage and fury is translating into that sucker I do not know, because honest to God, all I did was have a weak core, but it works and it's really fucking good writing, so I"m going with it.
In the meantime, however, here are links of things which amused, delighted, or excited me today.
Thor Scares Off Burglar on boing boing.
There is a new Fables graphic novel, and I still have stuff left after Sandman on a Borders gift card, PLUS I have a $5 reward certificate PLUS I have a 40% off one item coupon.
There is also a book by Paul Auster they might have, and the summary I read on The Reverse Cowgirl makes me want it, and I think maybe Dan would like it, too, but I have to peek at it first.
Finally, two videos.
Al Franken vs. Ann Coulter
Vader joins the Lutheran Church processional
And that, today, is all.
- Music:Hem, "Strays"
- 09:22 The internet is running away from me. #
- 08:13 I don't want 26 email messages, 13 of them unread. #
- 21:30 Soon I will do a proper livejournal update. Soon. But not today. Too busy being quiet in a chair with the best Pratchett ever. (Nation) #
- 14:26 HA! I have the NYE theme. Tip: bring a lifeboat. #
- 17:44 BURSITIS. #
- 17:53 (Bursitis is not the NYE theme. It is my first diagnosis in all this health stuff) #
- 17:53 (Though would that not be an interesting party.) #
Technically I was revising, but it counts as writing, and it was necessary work, and it was good. I'm finding I don't feel sore, and weirdly enough, I'm not stoned-out like i usually am at the computer. I wiggled a lot while I worked, too, but just my legs and hips. Rose up on my toes occasionally, too. I have to work on not jutting out a hip and leaning on it, which is a bad habit anyway, but is deadly now. Mostly, though, I have found this to be a pleasant experiment.
I also shaved 700 words off something that needed shaving. Only 1500 more to go.
- Music:Mozart
As Tom told me several times yesterday, "This is only a mock up." It's built with waste wood, and he gave it to me suspecting it had ended up an inch or so too tall. (He was right, but it's not if you stand on yoga bricks.)
I asked for this on Sunday, and it was waiting for me when I came to see Tom yesterday. I wanted it because I'd read awhile back about people standing and writing, and it sounded intriguing, and because as I explain the back pain story to everyone, they all tell me how they're sure it's all that computer use, and while I'm sure they're right, the scary thing is there was hardly any computer use in December, and it kept getting worse. Since I have big plans to do a hell of a lot of writing through 2009, more than ever if I can get away with it, I thought I'd best figure out how to get around the death-by-back-pain issue. Strategy one is taking all the medication. Strategy two is going to PT and launching carefully back into the exercise regimen that honestly wasn't doing too badly until I kept getting sick. Strategy three is to make sure fifty percent of the day's writing work is done standing.
What I like about this idea is that there is this sense of flee-anytime that is oddly grounding. Standing at a computer makes you feel like you're just there to dash something off. Obviously this will change if I do this too much, but it's a nice mind trick right now. On the other hand, it does in fact mean you can leave very easily. No cat on my lap (though they are loving that underpass, let me tell you.) When I'm doing one of my insane bits where I write a few lines, then run away, it will be so much easier, especially since I plan to write in tennis shoes. Though there's a lot to be said for the yoga bricks. I'm sort of shifting back and forth on my legs right now, and sometimes I kick my heel off the edge and stretch out my calf muscle. All while composing a journal entry. God, the shit this could do for fiction. Of course, standing on the floor has a nice grounding effect, and it keeps my shoulders more square, which makes me think Tom got the height better than he thought.
The only thing I am not liking is that boy does the iMac seem unstable way up here. I think it's because the cats keep walking, and also because I can't bear to center it because there's no wall behind it, just that weird shuttered-window into Anna's room. The nice thing is Tom made it narrower than the desk, so TARDIS (my external hard drive) is sitting down on the actual desk. I think I can beef up the bottom with heavy books--the printed version of TWA just went down there, and that helped. English Furniture and Nelson's Navy will help, too, on the other side. There--actually, this is pretty good. I think if this stand goes any shorter, it should only be half an inch. The real kicker is the keyboard--it hunches your shoulders no matter what you do. I'd need one cut in half so I could put each section in front of each hand. Now why isn't anyone making that, I ask you? I know, the ergonomic keyboard. No. They don't do it for me. Not far enough apart, and I hate that mountain slope thing.
But no, this is very good, this standing up. I keep shifting my feet and loosening my hips. The real trick is to not lock your knees, and that's harder than you think. The tennis shoes are going to help, and might take care of that last half inch, too.
Actually, my favorite part about all this is having somebody like Tom on my team, who not only built this thing so fast, but had fun doing it, and even showed me the wood and spindles he'd use for the pretty version when I was absolutely sure what I wanted.
Back doesn't hurt just now, which is the first morning in like ever. Physical therapy at 4PM, and I still have lots of vicodin and muscle relaxants. Okay, my left hip is a little tight. But hey. I have a standing desk.
I also ordered Absolute Sandman Volume 1 today. Thank you to the many people who have given me gift cards.
- Music:Enigma
It's cross-stitch: Nina is an amazing cross-stitch artist and has been doing it forever. She made me another cat piece awhile back, and she's made Anna two beautiful pieces for her room, one of an angel when Anna was a baby, and a unicorn and a princess for her birthday, both of which are breathtakingly gorgeous. She's also made Anna several sweatshirts with cross-stitched designs, and magnetic play pieces for a whiteboard. This one was mine this Christmas. She said this cat reminded her of Sidney, and I have to agree.
It will be going above the piano; look for it the next time you're here.
- 09:01 This Bath and Bodyworks evergreen candle my mother got me is AMAZING. #
- 15:28 All hail vicodin. #
It began rather early, around 3AM when the Flexiril which had done nothing for the pain the past two nights but had in fact been putting me to sleep stopped putting me to sleep, and so it was back to the usual, awake, uncomfortable, and because I'd never quite gotten over Wednesday, thinking it was really good I didn't have a gun and was too weak to drag the axe from the garage to the clinic. I'd considered calling them on Friday, but I hadn't quite worked out whether I wanted to scream and tell them how much I hated their entire operation, or just be adult and make an appointment with somebody else, preferably my usual doctor, whom I don't adore but don't hate. But now I woke feeling crappy, and my whole body hurt, and I thought, this has got to stop. So I limp through the rest of the morning, half-sleeping when I can, and then at 8AM I call the clinic. I get an appointment with the guy in acute care who is not the guy I saw Wednesday, and I go in.
I mentioned to the nurse in passing that I had a sore throat; according to the episode of House I just watched, this should have been some huge red flag, and she and the doctor (whom I both mentioned it to) should have taken a strep test there and then and saved the whole world some trouble. But this is, I think, against the code of this clinic, which seems to be "Do absolutely only what you must to the patient, and if you can put off something for a few weeks to see if something much, much less can work, do this at all costs." So I was not swabbed. I was given different pain meds than the ones I'd received Wednesday, and an x-ray request. Not an MRI, even though this could be something only an MRI could catch. Better to let me be in pain for two weeks to see if the pain might go away with far less than to test for it now and actually rule it out. This is, I am hoping, more fun. Because why would they make me suffer needlessly? Surely there must be some hugs and puppies farting rainbows showing up any second.
So I get my drugs, have lunch with Dan and get an x-ray of my ass and hip, and then I go home with Anna. Almost instantly I am so tired and weak I can barely move. I made it to the couch and barely rose for the rest of the day, and when I did, I thought I would die before I got to wherever I had to go, and if I didn't die, I would be miserable, because I hurt so bad and was so cold.
It felt a lot like the flu. In fact, it felt like I felt when I had mastitis, and I thought, shit, this must be strep, and I should have had them swab me. I lay there on a heat pad and under several blankets, and Anna, bless her soul, took very good care of her ailing mother. At about 3 I began to feel very disoriented and weird, so I taught Anna how to dial 911 and told her to do it if I wouldn't wake up after falling asleep or just plain seemed really, really werid and not like her mom, not making any sense. She was pretty level-headed about it, but I knew I had her attention.
When Dan came home, he took my temp. Even with the residual popsicle in my mouth I was a temp of 102. He was freaking now, so I told him to call our family friend the doctor, thinking she would calm him down. Instead, she ramped him up, and started talking about the ER. When Lynette gets upset, you don't fuck around, so we packed up our gear and headed in, armed with Lynette's list of things they should do and to call her if they wouldn't, and the fun began.
Of course we had to pick the night that god and everyone went to the ER, and no one, as the check-in lady said, with overgrown hangnails. The ambulance was practically a drive-through, and the waiting room was full. It took a good half hour just to get a nurse to ask a bunch of questions I was increasingly too delirious to answer, probably because now my temp was 103. She told me to take two of my Vicodin and try to hang in there. (I took one--narcotics and I are not friends.)
Two hours later, I finally got into a room, and sometime in that next half-hour, I saw a doctor.
The doctor was nice, and seemed pretty competent, and I'm here and functional today, so I'm thinking this is all okay, sort of. He didn't do, I don't think, any of Lynette's things, but Dan seemed okay with it all, and I was so out of it I could just barely sign all the papers they kept putting in front of me--god, what a farce that was. I could have been giving away my kidneys for all I knew. But he did a urinalysis, asked me the same questions every other person (four at this point) had asked me (why do I bother? are they not writing this down?), and then did a strep test. They were just starting to check for a flu when the strep came back positive.
He said the strep was making everything worse, and the back pain was making the strep worse. My immune system was already fighting whatever this was in my back, and the strep made the back pain worse because there were already white blood cells there, so when the infection started my inner amazons said FUCKING FIGHT EVERYTHING!!!!!!! and went postal on pretty much everything they could grab onto. Which was why I felt like such hell. He gave me penicilin, some steroids, and told me to lean hard on the vicodin and muscle relaxants I'd gotten earlier in the day, and be sure to check in with my regular doctor within a week.
The drugs really did help, especially the steroids, which are sadly starting to wear off. I was all for "let's do lots of steroids!" until Pharmacist Dan started telling me why that was a bad idea, something about soft bones and weight gain and hearts and by that point I'd already decided I'd rather have back pain and stopped listening to all the things they could do that sucked. So now I am taking Vicodin and feeling like Dr. House, and having Anna do everything for me that involves bending over. When it needs lifting, we wait for Dan or push it across the floor. Anna really enjoyed laundry today, as step one involved sending it down the stairs in a torrent then kicking it the rest of the way before carrying empty baskets. She was actually a huge, huge help today, so I bought her a Webkinz at the mall (walking feels great, and it's too slick to walk outside). It was too expensive, so I told her she had to pay me five dollars of it from her own stash, but then she was so fantastic about doing tons of housework, not just failing to whine but being downright cheerful about it that I gave her the money back as soon as she paid me and told her that was why. I'm sure there was a lot of honeymoon over seeing me so sick and watching too much House with us where people go in feeling sort of bad, then vomit blood and then die, but she still earned the five dollars and the little pink cat.
So that's my story. I'm heading to physical therapy this week, and who knows, maybe steady drugs and some good exercises will cure this. Or maybe this is a slipped disc or something sciatic or something else an MRI could tell me about. But I don't want to spoil the farts in technicolor, so I'll just keep waiting. And keep Lynette's number handy.
The end.
- Music:Duffy (who apparently has suddenly become uncool? Whatever.)
- 05:24 well, the muscle relaxant has stopped being any use at all. Damn it. #
- 08:54 ow. #
- 12:32 x-ray. new meds. this is better. #
- 12:32 bed now. #
- 22:52 went to hospital. then came home. Lotsa drugs. Strep throat--again! Had steriods. Back is better, as throat. Bed now. #
- 19:50 I have a desperate need for a treadmill. Actually, a stair-stepper would be better. #
- 20:09 Really, anything to make me feel less like I just ate the whole house. #
- 07:58 Apple really needs to make an eReader. #
- 16:00 I have purchased all of next year's wrapping paper and ribbons! Get a present from me at Xmas 2009. It'll be purty. #
- 19:20 I stepped 2 miles and burned 350+ calories. Plus did some weight work. Fear me. #
- 19:20 Though, the right hip is unhappy. #
My family and friends decided this year to take "make the yuletide gay" a bit literal in my case: I received rainbow coffee mugs, coasters, ornaments, gay themed books, and even a, ah . . . subscription. (I have already viewed a bit, and XO, I said hello to your cousin.) I also received gloves, Panda licorice with herbs (YAY!), and a lot of gift cards, particularly to Borders. I'm very close. If I get to use the money my mother gave me instead of paying off my Ugg boots, I will be in the clear to make the purchase. Oh, and I got a candle that smells like an evergreen tree. Like, REALLY SMELLS. It's great. And some DVDs, and other things that I"m forgetting just now. Lots of great stuff.
Anna got a zillion art set things from other people, from Santa, and from us. She has commandeered the dining room table (which still has two leaves in it) as her art studio. She has not 120, not 150, but 270 crayons. You seriously need to come visit and color. She also got a watch from me, and she informs me every ten minutes what time it is.
Today Anna and I went out and purchased wrapping paper for next year--very gorgeous stuff and lush ribbon and cool tags, all for half off. We're very pleased. I also picked up an iPod action jacket, something I"ve desperately needed for some time. I should have told Dan to put it in my Christmas sock, but hindsight is continuing to be 20/20.
The iPod jacket is part of my plan for how to attack this whatever-it-is body issue; it gets better when I exercise--carefully--so I'm going back to the gym tonight, and beginning next week I will get there to use the stair thingy at least two or three times. I'm also going to call my friend who is a doctor and used to be my family doctor before I go back to the clinic, and unless she has something huge to tell me, I"m going to insist on MRIs and X-rays to make sure this is nothing. I don't know that I have to take Dan with me--I'd rather do it on my own, but we'll see.
The good news is that I've taken the muscle relaxant the idiot doctor gave me for the past two nights, and I feel much better because I've actually slept. It does absolutely nothing whatsoever for any pain; however, it keeps me stupid enough that all I can do is sleep. I've also picked up a Yoga DVD, and once I get someone who will actually give me a diagnosis that assures me I don't have some weird growth or a slipped disc, I'm going to talk to my former yoga practitioner about a few private sessions to set me up with some targeted work. Basically, I'm looking for a fitness/recovery plan that has a doctor with some intelligence at the center of it, someone who won't just whip out fibromyalgia so he can get back to solitare or whatever it was he had to go do instead of treating me. Who knew this would be so difficult to come by.
So that's me. Oops, I need to go start Dan's coffee for him. Gotta run.
However, I couldn't resist making it somewhat macabre. From this isn't happiness, I give you "Him":
So I'm going to dope myself up a little more, and then I'm going to go get Anna and have a lovely Christmas.
Okay, actually, there will be a short, controlled rant.
I'm very angry. I want to drive over to that clinic and gather the staff in the office and yell at them. At some point I will call them and be pointed, but I'm really, really irritated that I have something wrong and was made to feel as if I were a bother, as if I were an idiot, and that after being treated with irritation and impatience after fifteen minutes was given a diagnosis of "probably fibromyalgia." No explanation of what that was, or what I should do, outside of keep taking ibuprofen, and maybe this other drug. That's it.
You know what? It isn't normal for my arms to fall asleep at night, for my ass to feel so cold I can barely tell it is there, for me to have pain in this muscle that I don't know its name. It isn't right that I have to wander aimlessly through energy therapists and massage therapists and acupuncturists because THEY'RE THE ONLY ONES WHO EVEN TRY TO HELP ME. I shouldn't have my feet and toes falling asleep. I should be able to feel all my fingers. I don't give a damn that it doesn't happen every day or in some regular pattern. It's your job, fuckwad, to figure that out. You should order a goddamn test, more than some lab for arthritis, before you give me some disease with no real cure, and if you give the damn disease YOU SHOULD TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IT IS.
I hate that doctor. I hate that clinic. I am furious that I have to go back there or pay through the nose for out of network coverage. I'm furious that I have to do my own research, that I have to steel myself just to go in for a simple appointment and EVEN THEN they make me cry.
You know what, clinic I can't name so I don't get my husband in trouble? FUCK. YOU. Fuck you and your goddamn shitty medicine. Fuck you for being so cold and unhelpful. Fuck you for making me sob through Christmas Eve to the point that I couldn't even go get the lab drawn because I was crying so hard. Just fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.
If I could just ignore this, I would. If I didn't hurt so much, or if I could continue to limp by on alternate therapy, I would. But I need a diagnosis. I need a doctor to see me. I need tests. I need competence. I will give you fuckers one more goddamn chance because I don't want to spend too much money, but I'm already consigning myself to not being able to take Anna to the ocean because I have to pay for out of network medicine.
What I hate more than anything is being so powerless, of being in the position to let anyone make me feel this lousy. I hate you for that more than for not treating me.
I also hate that I am so emotional that I either have to punch somebody out or sob, and I always chose the sobbing. I know it's the right one, but I hate that it makes me look so weak. Goddamn it, you asshat, I'm only crying because it costs too much to go over there and strangle you.
In the meantime, I will get to spend Christmas not just in pain, but without a real plan of how to manage it. Thanks, assholes. Thanks a lot.
Merry fucking Christmas to you, too.
I'm also slightly distracted by the fact that the "Oh, it hurts sometimes" pain which my massage therapist says is sciatic has become a chronic "OW! OW! OW!" and I'm as of this morning on a regimented ibuprofen regimen, and that's only sort of working. Tomorrow is the doctor, and apparently an MRI is in my future. So that's the fun around here.
But there is also snow. It seems to snow about every day or so; last night it cut Dan's family's visit far too short, and it looks like there will be more of that sort of thing to come. Observe our forecast:
My family is supposed to come on Christmas Day--I'm forseeing a possible not-gonna-work.
In the meantime, I'm thinking of switching to a sleep for no more than for or five hours at a time schedule, and I'm seriously considering setting up a standing workstation. Because I kinda hurt, and standing on some yoga bricks while I type sounds really great.
Off to lie on my foam roller and calculate the hours until the next IB dose.
- 10:47 If it weren't for the icons and the friends page, and the friends locking, I wouldn't stay on LJ. Jesus, their shitting coding. #
- 11:52 Heidi's Top 25 : My husband and many of his friends like to do year-end song reviews of music that came out in t.. tinyurl.com/43oclv #
- 17:35 gar. #
This will sort of be in order of importance, because I'll be referencing this list for cues, which tells you how many times I listened to a song in the past 12 months. However, some of those play counts are seriously inflated, so I'll be deviating. I may also make some predictions for 2009 influences, too.
And so, with no further ado:
Heidi's Top Music Picks for 2008
( behind the cut )
- Music:the playlist I just listed here
- 09:03 I would like to give all of the state of Iowa a message: CALM DOWN. It is a snowstorm, not armageddon. #
- 09:03 Armageddon will be so much more exciting. For one thing, there will be fireballs. Which will be welcome warmth. #
- 09:04 Personally I am looking forward to being cast into a pit of sinners. They have the best parties. #
- 09:04 But today and tomorrow, I am afraid there will just be snow. #
- 11:18 Dude--I'm going to get paid $45 to go in and sub for an hour and a half because school gets out at 1:30. NICE. #
- 11:31 I declare my laundry and housecleaning canceled due to snow and ice. #
- 14:19 So. It's 2:18, and the sun is shining and it's too hot for gloves. WHERE IS MY APOCALYPTIC SNOW?!? #
- 14:21 There isn't anything on the radar, even. #
- 20:32 Nine hours late, the GREAT BIG OMG SNOWSTORM has sort of arrived. #
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