ZOMBIE ARM!! I mean, the open Carpal Tunnel Release Surgery

I did a video since I'm only able to type one-handed and I think faster than I can type with one hand.  In the video, I mentioned some photos and I'm sharing them here.



 On the way to the hospital... not nervous at all!




At the hospital... still totally not nervous at all...



Snazzy jewelry!



Sexy hospital gown!!



The doctor laughed when I took this photo.



Super-sexy hat!!



ZOMBIE ARM!!

Ice and elevate, Chihuahua is optional. #surgery #carpaltunnel #chihuahua #dogsofinstagram #dog

A photo posted by Pahz (@pahz_on_instagram) on Jan 22, 2016 at 4:29pm PST

Ice, elevate, two chis- for extra healing power. #surgery #dogsofinstagram #dog #carpaltunnel #chihuahua

A photo posted by Pahz (@pahz_on_instagram) on Jan 23, 2016 at 12:20pm PST

Cough-cough-cough! *brushes dust off blog*

I'd like to apologize for not updating this like I should. I mean, I kept thinking about it, then I'd think- "Nah, let's wait till after _____" and then after whatever happened, I'd think about updating... and then no, let's wait till... I was a week behind uploading my photos to Flickr, then eventually two weeks... and well, things got busy.

First off- the generic Cymbalta is still a big help. It isn't perfect, but the good outweighs the bad by a huge margin, so I'll take it!

There is no news to report about the left half of my left foot. It still acts stupid and refuses to have any kind of reasonable conversation with me about why it keeps acting like a dumbass.

The bad news is that my human knee- the right one, which, incidentally is the wrong one- hurts now. I carried a cane with me at my last two faires (Stronghold- photos here; and A Gathering of Rogues & Ruffians-
  photos here and all the Bristol photos are here) and used it a little. And since my last blog post, I actually had my son go to faire with me. I was shocked! And he enjoyed himself! He went to Bristol three or four times with me and even came to GRR with me.

On Week 7 of Bristol, both my son and older daughter came to faire. She's been there before, but hadn't been for a few years. So my son got to have more fun because he didn't have to hang out with gimpy ol' me and Kat showed him around and they saw a lot of good shows.

Left to right- Kat, Jason, Christine
Christine is a stage manager at Bristol.

Jason's first time at Bristol was Week 2- and he learned that it is both awesome and a curse when your mom and sister are on the inside of the faire. This is Cameron from Barely Balanced. I've known them for a few years now. On this day, I made sure to introduce Jason to Jimmy ("Large"), and Margret ("Small"), but didn't get a chance to talk to Cameron ("Medium") till right before the show- like less than a minute before he went on stage. And he took right off with it and made Jason come up and help him. All the photos are here... 

Cameron said: "Where's your mom?" and pointed at me.
Then he exclaimed: "Profile photo!" 

Okay, I've gotten away from my point. That happens when you ask me about the faire. What do you mean you didn't ask? Of course you did! I clearly remember you saying: "Hey, Patty, we haven't heard from you since August... how was faire?" Don't deny it. If you didn't ask, then why did I go off on that tangent with photos? Yeah, obviously your fault! So, back to the topic...

In all of my updates and doctor visits, I never complained about my hands. I've had problems with carpal tunnel syndrome (I don't even think they call it that anymore) for more than 20 years. I started off wearing a wrist brace on my right hand- but not all the time. Just when I needed it. Then it became an every-night thing. Then my left hand joined the mutiny and for over ten years, I've slept almost every night with two wrist braces. In 2007, the VA hospital gave me new braces because the ones I had were the slightly bent kind and nowadays, (or thenadays, I guess) the braces are flat. I actually have trouble falling asleep if I'm not wearing my wrist braces. 

Several months ago, the numb-tingling in my hands got worse. And worse. A few weeks ago (or a little longer, I don't recall exact dates here), the thumb, index, and middle fingers on my left hand went numb and haven't come back at all. My right hand comes and goes in varying intensity, but the left hand... gone. I called the VA to schedule an appointment, because the doctor always said to do that- if anything changed. The scheduling department transferred me to the "nurse help desk". They took a list of my symptoms and then said they'd call back. They did and made me an appointment for the very next day. I nearly died of shock at that because damn, that's fast! 

Well, it turns out that I'm looking at surgery to fix this. Today, I missed a call from the VA and have to call back in the morning (I didn't see the message when I got home around 3-ish. I saw it at 4:05 PM and they close at 4). The doctor had to refer me to the Rheumatology clinic for steroid shots to help with my hands. They're also referring me to the neurology clinic for a "nerve conduction test". When she asked if I'd had one before, I said I wasn't sure. She replied: "You'd remember, there are needles and they poke you in your arm..." nope, never had one. Sounds fun though! 

So, hopefully all that will fix what's going on inside my hands. Because not having feeling in my fingers and hands sucks, but not as much as what happens when I use them too much. Like, you know, doing my hair, putting on makeup, brushing my teeth, doing dishes, cooking dinner, and something I obviously never do- typing. What happens then is that my thumb, index, and middle fingers on both hands go completely numb, a thousand tiny hairy-legged spiders start burrowing around under the skin, and sharp, stabbing pain shoots around my hand and down to my wrist. (as I type now, the numbness, itching, and pain are quite mild. But I'm also two hours past all my pain drugs, so bleeeeeehhhhhhh...) 

And now, let's switch back to some photos. What photos? Well, Teslacon, of course. I ended up using my cane for that entire weekend. I was resentful about that, but in all honesty, it did help. Plus, my friends made sure I got to sit down a lot. Because they're cool. First of all, all the photos are here. Secondly, they made space for me again, so I was able to take cast photos. 

And, here are some of those photos! For anyone wondering- we did this against a black curtain that was already in the room. I used my flash with a remote trigger, on a light stand with a large umbrella to diffuse the light. I took this photo from across the room. But now- on to a bunch of the cast photos!

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.

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...