The Tale of the Left Half of My Left Foot

Last weekend was Opening Weekend of the Bristol Renaissance Faire!

[wait for audience roar]

I KNOW! And it was just as awesome as I knew it would be, despite certain people not being there when they totally usually ARE there.
(yeah, I'm looking at you, Loki or, I guess I'm NOT looking at you right now. Dammit, Loki!)

The weather was hot and humid, so my asthma was SO NOT HAPPY, but that's why I carry an albuterol inhaler in my pouch. I'm not going to die of asthma for the sake of authenticity. Besides, have you see what I wear? I'm definitely NOT authentic. Well, that and the fact I whip out a DSLR at any given second.

Speaking of that DSLR, I chose to wear my cross-body strap on Saturday. I thought that by wearing the camera instead of basket-ing it, I'd take more photos. Well, I didn't. All it did was make BOTH my shoulders tired. See, I usually carry my basket on my right arm and I carry my mug in my left. If I get completely fatigued, I'll carry my basket in my left hand for a while. But mostly, it'll be on my right arm (crooked into my elbow). Well, by having the cross-body strap on, all I did was create drag on my other shoulder, so by mid-afternoon, my shoulders were just killing me. I went back to the basket-ing for Sunday.

Surprisingly, I didn't have any extra pain. My body wasn't in agony (I was a little itchy from the humidity, but no extra pain). And on Sunday, I even forgot to take my Vicodin before the final joust. (Just in case you don't remember or didn't know of this blog, this is what happened 3 years ago when I forgot to take my Vicodin before the final joust). I remembered about ten minutes after the joust ended, so I took it then (because I STILL had to walk up that damn hill). The only pain I was suffering from was in my left foot. That stupid, stupid left foot. Not even the whole left foot, just the left half of the left foot.

I finally figured out a way to describe the pain in the Left Half of My Left Foot. You know when you're sitting down and your foot falls asleep? And then you get up to stand and your leg crumples under you and suddenly your foot is on fire with a thousand white-hot sewing pins and knitting needles burning through your very bones? THAT. That's the feeling I have in the Left Half of My Left Foot almost all of the time. Right now, I'm seated at my desk with my foot resting on top of my man-sandals, so The Top Part of the Left Half of My Left Foot isn't so bad. But the second I slip into my man-sandals, that white-hot agony will be there.

The Monday and Tuesday that followed were normal days, except for the Left Half of My Left Foot. I wasn't in any extra pain like I've been for years after a faire day. Even my human knee didn't hurt. (my shoulders were a bit achy, but that's because of the camera/basket thing I talked about above). In fact, I wasn't in any real Not-Foot-Related pain till Wednesday, but that pain was the tendinitis in my shoulder letting me know that rain was a-comin'. Yes, "a-comin'" because that's how you say it when you have a body part alert you to its arrival.

So, I'm going to mark this up as another success for that Generic Cymbalta for fibro. So far, so good. I'm not going to be excited or overly complimentary. This is good. That's all I'm sayin'.

And now, let's talk about photography OPENING WEEKEND!! And there just so happens to be photos. As usual, ~here is the link~ to the entire album of Opening Weekend photos. And below are a whole bunch of them. Just take a look at whichever you want- the link or scroll down. How can I NOT love the faire? These people are awesome.

OH!! SIDE NOTE- I nagged convinced my son to come along to Bristol finally! He's going to come with me on Sunday!

Now, on to the photos!!

Sir Mauldron, Baron of Blackburn! (FACEBOOK)



Sir Maxmillian, the Jousting Earl of Braden! (FACEBOOK)



Duchess Anastasia of Warwick! (FACEBOOK)



Sir Edgeron of Aquataine! (FACEBOOK)



Don Vincenzo di Scicilia! (FACEBOOK)



Squire Archer!



Squire Freya!







Awwww, yeah... I missed this!



Squire Savvy and Squire Murley!



Dandelion fairy!



By the Sword!







The Royal Falconer (Flight of the Raptor)





On Sunday, Mauldron's horse had a bad hoof, so instead of "on with the show" and causing further harm, he opted not to ride in the joust. Instead, he sat in the stands with the audience, walked around to other areas, talked to kids, and was otherwise genuinely hilarious. This is my favorite shot from that whole thing.



This is Alexx, Sir Maxx's new horse. The Lady of Chivalry is riding him at Bristol while he continues his joust-horse training.

Some kind of update... (and the pun was intentional)

Hi there. I know it has been over a month since I updated. Not much has really been going on around here. I never did call my knee surgeon about my stupid knee. It started to feel better and now it only seems to bother me if I spend too much time standing or walking. The good thing about the faire is that I can absolutely go at my own pace and sit down a lot. (faire starts next weekend, by the way. July 11th is opening day).

I had a six-month followup at the VA hospital today. My blood tests look good and while a couple things are a little elevated, that'll change as soon as I get my ass moving next weekend. The Disabled Guy came home from his yearly Trip of Stupidity in May, then left again three weeks later. He got back on Monday (four days ago). On Tuesday, we had an extremely heated discussion (if by "heated discussion" means "all-out shouting match") about our central AC (heated discussion... AC... yeah). It seems that he's cold. I told him I can't have the house over 72° because the summer humidity sets off my asthma (which is mild) and exacerbates my fibro issues. And not even the pain issues, that's being pretty well controlled at the moment by the Generic Cymbalta. I'm talking about the under-the-skin itching, swelling, and general lack of sleep... that sort of stuff.

He kept yelling at me about how cold he was and I said that he could just put on a hoodie or something. He yelled again about how he was cold and I said- surprisingly not yelling- "You honestly cannot be mad at me for having a medical condition!" I had to repeat that a few times and added a few terse: "Fibromyalgia is a legitimate medical issue. So is asthma!" I get the feeling one of his less-than-reputable relatives (not naming names, but my kids would know who without me even saying) told him that fibro was fake.

Trust me- it isn't. And not just basing that on my own experiences, I say that because it is damn near impossible to get the VA to diagnose anything that is considered an "invisible illness" or even just a chronic illness (like, say, arthritis). So the fact that the goddamned VA hospital went through all that it has to actually diagnose me with it, well... that's a fucking legit thing. (I also found out today that my doctor had to jump through hoops, promise her firstborn, and sacrifice a small animal to get me on that Generic Cymbalta. Apparently, the VA is a dick to fibro patients *ding* (that's a CinemaSins joke)

Anyway, the I told the doctor about the conversation- minus the actual asshole behavior, because nobody really wants to hear about The Disabled Guy not being funny- and she said: "When it comes down to 'being cold' versus 'possible death', you win. When it comes down to 'being cold' versus 'severe physical discomfort', you still win." and we joked about it. Then she added: "Even though we're using a joking tone, even mild asthma isn't funny. Make sure he knows that."

I told him. He wasn't very responsive because he was watching old war movies and then eventually he was catching up on "Game of Thrones" episodes. (when he comes back from his visits to his family, he's cranky and extremely well... asshole-ish. There's a lot of extremes in living with a stroke person. Especially since his stroke is of the old-school variety. A few minutes after our blowup, he was back to normal and talking about me having two feet). I don't know if anything I said to him sank in through all the talk of dragons, random soft-core sex scenes, and whatever the hell else goes on in that show.

But, I did learn something good at my doctor appointment- the reason for my ridiculous amount of fatigue is that my thyroid has yet again gone a little wonky. So my Synthroid dosage is going to be tweaked a little. That's good news because it means that it can be fixed and it ISN'T the fibro! And that means that the Generic Cymbalta still seems to be working.

I am very awake right now- at 227 AM as I type this- because when I went to bed at 10 PM, my legs and lower back/abdomen area decided those millions of hairy-legged spiders wanted to set themselves on fire and crawl out through my skin. I'm pretty sure that was caused by the fact I had a fasting lab today (which meant no caffeine, no food, and no Vicodin in the daytime) and I had to speed-walk through the VA hospital. For some reason, I have to go in, walk halfway down one wing of the hospital to the lab, then trek all the way to the other end of a different wing to pick up a piece of red card stock with my name on it, and then go all the way back to where the lab was to the clinic where I see my doctor. Today, I said: "It'd be nice if you'd move this office, I dunno, a little closer to the clinics." They agreed, but of course, that's not going to happen.

I'd like to talk about photography, but all I got is the same old stuff. Macro flowers, raindrops on leaves. I've been adding text to photos from last season at Bristol and doing my "countdown" by uploading two to four photos at a time. If you'd like to see it, here's the link to the Facebook album. And since I don't have much else going on at the moment, here's some photos of bubbles I took last week. The pink-tinted blob in the bubble is a reflection (refraction?) of the extremely bright pink shirt I was wearing.












This is my 365 self-portrait from day 121 of Year 6. I'm blowing bubbles while being back-lit by my flash. It took a lot of attempts and a lot of dripping bubble solution on my shirt to get this shot.



And, for funsies, here's my 365 self-portrait from day 125 of Year 6. People were sharing the article about how zookeepers and such were "Pratting" with their animals. So, I did the same with mine.



And I did take some macro water drops, so here are a few...

The Return of the Flipper Foot

I have a triple threat when it comes to my left foot. My left foot is on the leg that I had my knee replaced (strike one). My left foot is on the body that has fibrofuckingmyalgia (strike two). My left foot has absolutely no talent and will never be an inspirational story that will win an Oscar when it gets adapted to the big screen (strike three).

Seriously though, I've had edema issues since late 2004. It has been blamed on everything from early menopause to a shrug followed by a mumbled "I dunno". What is the most likely thing is the fibro. Sure, the fluctuating hormones that are par for the course in early menopause probably don't help, but hey, fibro is the big thing.

With the new fibro medicine (the generic Cymbalta), my swelling has gone almost completely away. My feet and lower legs will sometimes get puffy, but they get puffy in that way that says: "the human we're attached to is morbidly obese, so I get a little puffy" way. Well, last night, the flipper foot returned. Actually, it made some weak attempts to return, but last night the flipper foot reappeared. I'm going to share the photo as a link, just in case swollen flipper feet gross you out. You see, I'm wearing a too-big pair of Nike slip-on sandals as slippers. My son gave them to me. I wear a size 8 in men's sizes and my son's feet are size 13. He got these for free or something, I dunno. All I know is that they're thick-soled and have memory foam on them. So, this photo will show the flipper foot with a dent in it, where the sandals press into it. It was funny to me but a little gross for someone who isn't attached to the flipper itself.
~~link to the dented flipper foot~~ SEE WHAT I MEAN!?

Anyway, I have no idea what caused ol' Flipperty to come back last night. I just checked- Flipperty is back tonight too, but not as intense as he was last night.

I had a flareup on Saturday that lasted less than a day. And by a "day", I mean I woke up feeling like hell and by lunchtime, I felt okay again. So, let's just keep that up and I'll deal with Flipperty.

Now to take it down a notch. Or sideways. I'm not sure where I'm going with this because I'm not sure where this whole thing is right now... but whatever...

When I talk about how good I feel with the new fibro drug, there's still pain. There will always be pain. But the pain is more tolerable. I can function like a normal person instead of just pretending everything is fine. And it pisses me off a little bit that no matter what I do, there will always be SOME kind of pain. I mean, fucking hell, I'm sitting here right now, 1016 PM as I type this sentence. I'm three hours past my drugs for the night. I shouldn't be feeling anything, much less be able to type without looking at my hands and hit the control+i keys to make my text go italics. And I've still got pain. I'd say the pain is at about a two or three on that stupid pain scale.

Anyway, I am going to end this with a few photos of sparrows that I took the other day. Because Pahz Lives with this Bullshit, Talks about that Bullshit, and Never Shuts up about this Other Thing that Isn't Bullshit and don't you ever call it that! (whew, I don't know where THAT came from- but dammit, don't call the faire "bullshit" because I love that place).






All birds are majestic eagles on the inside.



Also, I have asthma (a very mild form of it, and yet, it can still kill me), so when it gets cold in the single or negative digits, I have to cover my mouth and nose when I go outside so it doesn't trigger an asthma attack. And I say it looks like I'm going to rob a stagecoach.

This is Day 11 of my 6th year doing the 365 Self-Portrait Project on Flickr- (yes, those are tiny snowflakes in my hair and yes, that is my real eye color). I called this: "The Great Northern Stagecoach Robber" because I think I'm clever. So, one bonus of the weather changing is that I don't need to cover my face to take the dogs out.

What a refreshing change of pace!

Wisconsin weather was doing the usual thing it does this time of year and it triggered a bit of a flareup. What's the thing it does this time of year? That would be shooting up 30° (Fahrenheit) in a 36 hour period, erratic humidity, and then dropping to below-freezing at night. But, the flareup was more of the "drag me to the floor" exhaustion than pain. There was pain, but not as much as a "normal" (haha!) flareup.

"But wait," you say, "You said something was refreshing... well, what was it? WHAT WAS SO GOL'DURNED REFRESHING?!"

Calm down, Shouty Pants. The refreshing bit was arthritis. Yeah. My right hand was sore and a bit achy. ACHY. I had arthritis pain in my hand! Just your normal, run-of-the-mill arthritis pain in my knuckles! My fingers were a bit stiff too. STIFFNESS and PAIN NOT ASSOCIATED with fibro! I was so happy, I almost cried. But instead, I had ice cream.

I'm always amazed when something feels normal. I spend a lot of days weighing my energy levels against the pain/lack-of-pain and how much I need to do. But this last little flareup, I sat down in the living room, on the sofa, covered in Chis (say that out loud!) and found myself rubbing the knuckles on my right hand and my brain didn't automatically go "FUCKIN' FIBRO!" My brain said: "What the hell, man? Arthritis? Why the hell- OH MY GOD! THIS IS ARTHRITIS!"

I tell ya, man, it's the little things.

So, the new medicine seems to be working (as long as I don't fuck with things!) and aside from the mind-numbing exhaustion, the flareups haven't been terrible. I'm also still having pain in my foot from the plantar fasciitis, but it comes and goes. I also still have neuropathy (painful numbness) in that foot, too... but dammit, let's stop with the negativity.

I've got 67 days till the Janesville Renaissance Faire.

I've got 123 days till the start of the Bristol Renaissance Faire.

There are 207 days till the Stronghold Olde English Faire (and my birthday!).

And 214 days till A Gathering of Rogues & Ruffians! (date subject to change)

AND about 255 days till Teslacon!

Whew... those are my standing events. I don't know what else I have going on, but those are the important things.

And yes, I DO happen to have some photos to share. That's the name of the blog- "Pahz Lives with Fibro and Talks about Photography". (although, technically, I should call it "Pahz Lives with Fibro, Talks about Photography, and Never Shuts the Hell Up about Renaissance Faires.". However, the joke's on you! Teslacon is a steampunk event!!)

So, on to some unrelated photos-

Gypsy-



Luna-



Jasper-



Bruno-



And a few shots of the sparrows who live around the house. And in various small openings in the house.

And then I had to go and try to change things...

So, I found that wonderful sweet spot in the medicine cocktail I take for my fibro. I had a long stretch of feelin' good and doing stuff and baking things and photographing people and being a human and all that neat stuff you guys do all the time like you're Superman or something.

And I thought to myself: "Self, the whole point to you finding a fibro treatment that works is so you can stop taking so much pain medicine."

And like I dumbass, I replied: "You know, Self, you're right! Let's fuck some shit up like the dumbass we are, because I hate feeling good enough to live life like a goddamn human!!"

So, I decided that since I was feeling so good, I could cut back on the amount of muscle relaxers I was taking.

Just a reminder, here is what I have been taking for the fibro- the "sweet spot" I referred to in the first sentence- One 10 mg muscle relaxer between 530 and 6 AM, two 5/325 Hydrocodone tablets between 10 and 11 AM, three 5/325 Hydrocodone tablets between 6 and 630 PM, and two more muscle relaxers and the generic Cymbalta between 7 and 730 PM.

This is just the pain meds. This doesn't include all the "stay-alive" pills
I take in the morning after my first muscle relaxer.

My first step was to take only ONE muscle relaxer at night. I still fell asleep that night, I still slept, and I still woke up. Except I didn't sleep good. I woke up at least twice. But hey, it was one night and this is winter (our weather is unpredictable). So, I took only one muscle relaxer a second night. (this is along with everything else- I just cut back a single 10 mg tablet of muscle relaxer).

I woke up the next day with my arms, shoulders, neck, and hands so sore and so stiff that I could barely move. I said "Fuck this shit" and took two muscle relaxers at night and damned if I didn't feel better the next morning. Not 100% better, but significantly better.

So, what I can garner from my absolutely unscientific shot in the dark experiment is- Don't fuck with a good thing. If it ain't broke, stop fucking with the ain't-broke thing, you stupid, stupid human. It took me another two days before I felt better. And I still don't feel as good as I felt before I tried to fuck with things. My hands are still a bit sore and yesterday, my right elbow and wrist were so sore that I couldn't fully straighten or bend my arm. I walked around with one arm crooked slightly, like the worst C3P0 cosplay in the history of terrible cosplays. When I woke up this morning, my elbow didn't hurt at all.

I'm not going to mess with any doses of my fibro cocktail until it stops working for me. And then I'll talk to my doctor first. Because I'm a stupid, stupid human.

And to end on a much prettier and less-stupid note, I took a bunch of macro photos the other day. My son gave me a batch of tulips for Valentine's Day (and also some chocolate, because I have a good son). So, I took them over to the window, spritzed them with a water bottle, and snapped a few shots. The purple flowers are from a hyacinth I picked up at the grocery store a week or so before Valentine's Day.  Click on any photo to go to the Flickr album...