Well... insert frustrated swear words and sobbing here-

I have to call my knee doctor tomorrow. More on that later. I know you've been waiting to hear about how the Janesville Ren Faire went, so I'm going to do that first, because I was happy there... it was a nice place to be...

The cortisone shot I got in my knee twenty-three days ago (which was about a week or so before the Janesville Faire) worked fantastically through the faire. My knees did not hurt. My only hurt was from my feet and all the standing and walking I had to do. My only hurt on Sunday was from my feet and a little of my lower back because my back was all whiny about having to stand and walk all day.

~Link to the Album of Janesville Faire Photos~

The first day, the heat was somewhat oppressive. It was humid as fuck out, too. I wore my blue "over-archer" bodice with one of the new blue skirts I sewed the previous week. (one skirt is mine, the other is Christine's). The over-archer style of bodice/corset has a collar on it (making it more Victorian than Elizabethan) and it meets in the back sort of in a halter-style (there's a row of grommets, laced like a tiny corset), so the collar bit just LAYS on your neck. Or, my neck. I had four layers of upholstery-weight fabric laying on my neck in the mid-80s temperature and one-billion intensity humidity. That pretty much guaranteed that I won't be wearing it to Bristol this summer.

But, here's a photo of me in the blue medallion over-archer.



And the back view of both my over-archers (blue medallion and "Captain Blood"- with the matching tie-on peplum).



Now, they're gorgeous and I love-love-love the fabric and how the corset/bodice accentuates my curves (because, daaaaammmn, I have a great hip-to-waist-to-bust ratio, even as a fat girl). But with all that humidity, it was uuuugh. And, because it was supposed to rain on Sunday (spoiler, it didn't even rain!) I wore my burgundy courtier.  (here's a photo of me with Jeff, the super-awesome dude I know from the historical reenactor group called GSM-Bristol. They "host" the Janesville Faire).




So, the faire itself was great. Sunday's weather was absolutely gorgeous and it was windy as hell, so the humidity wasn't an issue (I'd have worn my other over-archer had I known it would be that nice). My feet were the usual amount of tired and sore for a faire weekend. But, my fibro wasn't. I told many people that the "new" medicine "seemed to be working" because every time I rave about how good I feel, the medicine stops working. So, at the moment, generic Cymbalta for fibro seems to be holding its own.

On Sunday evening, when I got home from the faire, I had to carry in all my stuff. At the end of a faire day, I take off my bodice and my overskirt, so I end up having to carry my camera basket, my corset/bodice, my overskirt, and my utility belt (I call it that, it's the leather belt with pouches we all almost wear to faire, so we don't have to hand-carry every-fucking-thing). As I went up the steps, I felt my human knee twinge. It was like it was trying to twist itself.

Fuck.

I've spent the last week-ish gimping around, using my goddamn cane sporadically and generally being pissed off about the whole thing.

Saturday, a group of my son's friends asked if I'd take photos of them on their motorcycles, so I did. I was on my feet for almost two hours- my knee was so not happy about it at all. But, the photos were awesome and I even made a couple of the guys do my 365 with me. I haven't uploaded those photos to my Flickr yet, but here's a ~link to the Facebook album~



And then there's today. The "Get to that later" part I mentioned in the first part above.  At around 4 PM, I was walking upstairs to go to the loo (our bathroom is upstairs, and it's the only bathroom in the house and there's nowhere we could add a second one downstairs), and since the Twinge-Knee Incident of May 17th, I've been going up the stairs using only my cyborg knee. I got to the landing and shifted my weight to the human knee to put my cyborg leg on the step and BAM! Sheer, agonizing, blazing-white-hot pain shot through my knee like I'd slipped on the ice and wrenched the shit out of it. I started swearing and sobbing instantly. I shrieked to the Disabled Guy to get me my cane. I couldn't move. I couldn't do anything but sob and gasp in pain. And swear. I swore a lot.

After sobbing off most of my mascara (waterproof my ass) and actually getting to the loo, I managed to gimp my way downstairs where I starting icing my knee. A bottle of frozen-solid water behind my knee and a smooshy, bendy blue ice pack over the top and sides of my knee. I've also since taken a bunch of pain meds (because it was close enough to my usual time). There's still pain, but at least I can breathe now. Unfortunately, I'm too fat to know if my knee is swollen or not. I assume it is, it feels like it is.

So, tomorrow morning, I have to call and make another appointment. Clearly the cortisone didn't work.

Now... about those photos...

Here's a few favorites, with my absolute favorite first.



The rest are in no particular order of favor.

These are things that happened today...

I had a long day. It got to the point where I could no longer wait... the lawn had to be mowed. It was 18 inches high in some areas. The chis would disappear for several seconds and then emerge on the other side, slightly confused and a little scared. Jasper would bound through it like a tiny,
derpy gazelle. So, I did it. I decided to mow the lawn. And these are some things that happened today.

My hair is long enough now that it can go into an actual all-up full-on ponytail.

I used the 110 SPF sunscreen that I got for this year's faire season.

Surprisingly, the lawnmower actually fired up. After six months of sitting in the shed, it turned over on a single pull.

The grass was so thick that the lawnmower stalled. A lot. I lost count at around twenty times. I couldn't go too slow, it would choke to death. I couldn't go too fast, because it would choke while not cutting anything.

When it stalled the second or third time, I couldn't get it to start again. I was sweating profusely. The sunscreen that boasted itself as "sweat-proof" and "won't run into your eyes" was sweating off my face and burning my eyes right out of their sockets. I took off my sunglasses and actually walked from the middle of my backyard into my house with my eyes closed. I knew exactly where the steps were, where the loose boards in the deck were, and the door inside. That's when I decided to take a break.

I went back outside, wearing the O'Hare Towing baseball cap that I stole from the Disabled Guy (to help control the sweat pouring into my eyes, bring all the sunscreen with it).

I did a few more slow passes in the deep grass and out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement on the deck. But it wasn't anything like birds or a squirrel. It was the goddamn flock of dogs! Somehow, smartypants Gypsy got the door open and all the dogs came out onto the deck to see what I was doing. I got them back inside (there was very little shade out there on the deck, I don't like to do that to them).

I managed to mow the lawn, despite the intermittent stalling.

I discovered with the inside of a golf ball looks like. Oh, and I found almost a dozen golf balls in the tall grass. I only saw the inside of one of the golf balls.

I was actually able to turn off my photographer's brain after the first ten or fifteen minutes. Every time I saw something, I thought: "I should get my camera before I mow this..." But, dammit, the lawn needed mowing and art would have to wait.

After another stalling, I took another break and drank two 16.9 ounce bottles of water.

In less than ten minutes, three different people showed me that I was in their email (they posted screen caps on my Facebook). Earlier this week, I was informed via email that I won the "Action Photo of the Week" for ThinkGeek! I won a $100 gift code for their site and they used my Steampunk Wonder Woman T-shirt photo in their email newsletter.
(scroll to the bottom!). Having been outside most of the day, I hadn't checked my email associated with that newsletter and didn't know it was out yet.

My lower back was getting a bit achy after the first hour, but I was expecting that, really.

While mowing the front yard, passing drivers stared at me like I was some crazy person. As if a fat chick wearing a neon yellow baseball cap and tattered jeans and mowing a lawn was a weird thing.

I was finally at the end of the mowing. There was about a six foot by... oh, four-ish feet rectangle of grass in the very back part of the yard. And the goddamned lawnmower stalled again! AGAIN! And after four pulls on the start cord, I said: "Fuck this noise... I'm done! That's it!" I put the lawnmower away, locked up the shed, trudged inside, and drank two more bottles of water.

The baseball cap was almost entirely soaked with sweat. The very outer edge of the brim was still dry.

I got an awesome gift in the mail from an awesome lady named Tricia.

I sat here in my chair for almost an hour and a half without doing anything. Well, I drank more water and caught up on Facebook and so on.

I took the dogs out and fed them. Then I took a shower (finally) after 5 PM.

When I pulled my ponytail out, I found a stick in my hair. And some pine needles (there are pine trees in our yard).

When I got undressed for my shower, I found grass clippings, a few pine needles, and dandelion fuzz in my bra.

After my shower, I discovered some new tan lines on my shoulders. "Sweat-proof" my ass.

I ate my dinner, took that photo of me wearing that awesome bracelet, and as I sat down to start typing, one of my favorite movies came on cable. (it's called The Baytown Outlaws and it's stupid action with a mix of humor. I love it). And now, at the end of this typing and link-pasting, my muscles are only mildly achy. Like you'd expect for spending hours mowing the prairie in the backyard. My feet are sore too, because I wore my old, worn-out boots to mow.

But, you know what didn't happen today?

My knee didn't hurt. Not at all. Still doesn't.

That's what I call a good day.

"Life's funny sometimes"... but Life is also a jerk sometimes

So, 'sup? Been over a month now. Any news?

*waits*

*waits more*

Oh, wait, that's right. This is my stupid blog and I'm supposed to be sharing news.

I wanted to write some stuff a week or two ago, but I was putting it off because I had a problem. My problem was this- my human knee started to hurt. At first, I couldn't tell if it was a "fibro hurt" or if something more was going on. So, I did what I do best- I tried not to think about it. Guess what? If you guessed "nothing happened", you're right. The pain in my knee varied in intensity. Some days were just a mild ache. Some days were so blindingly painful that I cried from it. Driving became a horrible chore. Pressing down on the gas pedal wasn't so bad, but holding down the brake pedal because so painful I'd white-knuckle grip the steering wheel and contort my face into some pretty epic expressions in an effort to not scream: "OW!MOTHERFUCKINGSONOFABITCHCOCKSUCKER!" (because swearing helps ease pain).

Last week, my daughter asked me to come to her college (a 90 minute drive, made mostly with cruise control and a few cooperative stoplights) to take production photos of the play she's stage managing. So I did. And it was fun (and the play was cool). But, I was up and down and standing and walking for several hours. I didn't really feel the full impact of all that till the next day. The next day when every single moment was agony and I cried and I was in so much pain I couldn't even sit here to process the RAW files. And if you know me, you know that I never let a photo sit without processing. It ended up taking me almost four days to do what should have taken two days. Because of this goddamn human knee. It was that day that I called and made an appointment with my knee doctor. I didn't bother to go through the VA first. If I had, I'd still be waiting for that appointment.

I hate using a cane. It pisses me off. I used a cane for three years and a huge chunk of that time was spent with two canes (I named them "George and Gracie"). So, because I was doing this more often than I wanted, I made that appointment.

My worst fear was that I'd have to get another knee replacement. I had my left knee replaced in 2009 and while it was the best thing that ever happened to me (because it opened up my life and I got to go "out" and do "stuff" and have "fun" like "all the normal people do"), I don't ever want to go through that again. I've given birth to three babies. Without drugs. Two of them in Army hospitals (the middle one was at a civilian hospital because the Army is a dick to families). Three babies, no drugs, and one of them was 11 pounds even and 22 1/2 inches tall. And the knee replacement pain was worse. Much worse.

How much worse? Well, allegedly, women "forget" the pain of labor to go through it again. My kids have 2 1/2 years and 1 1/2 years between them, so I guess in my case, that's true. I had my knee replaced SIX YEARS ago and I STILL remember how much it sucked in the three weeks that followed. Pain and agony and so much work to just get normal enough to get out of the hospital. I stayed for two weeks for in-hospital physical therapy and then I spent two weeks at my parents' fully-handicap-accessible house before coming to my own house. Well, I don't have that luxury anymore (since my parents passed away).

So, I did not want another goddamn knee replacement. I've gone through scenarios in my head on scheduling it after faire season because I'd have six months between Teslacon and Janesville Faire. I only needed five months the last time (I had my knee replacement five months before my first trip to Bristol). But... instead, this is what has happened.

I took two photos of my X-rays. One from pre-replacement in 2009 and one from today.

You'll notice that they're leaning (I did them backwards, they're leaning in, not out). That's partly because I'm so overweight that my thighs are pushing them and partly because I hyper-extend my knees, well, all my joints. Christine hates it when I hyper-extend my fingers, it grosses her out. Jason likes it because he can do it to his elbows and he used to do MMA (mixed-martial arts fighting) and his opponents couldn't make him tap-out with an arm bar. I'm not sure how my oldest- Kat- feels about hyper-extended joints.

So, let's zoom in on these bad boys and I'll show you some things.

Here's the right knee. The yellow arrows are pointing to two bone spurs that have started to grow. The blue arrows are pointing to the bright white line, which indicates that the bones are rubbing and starting to wear down. The purple arrows show the gap between the bones, which means I still have a little bit of cartilage in there.

This is my left knee, from 2009, about a month before my knee replacement. The difference here is that the gap is much smaller. The blue arrows are pointing to the white line (which was all around the entire bone, not just those bits on the edges). The yellow arrows are pointing to the bone spurs that were growing, including a third one on the edge (I could feel that one. I remember that quite vividly).  Those bone spurs were worn down, and one of them may have been broken off. The green arrow is pointing to a folding-over-like edge. Like an ice cream cone is just melting a little, the edge of the ice cream is just holding on. That was all around the bone as well. I have a plastic model of my knee joint around here somewhere and it has all the flat spots and overhang of bone. I didn't point out the gap. As you can see, there's a lot less gap there.

So, it is obvious to me (and the doctor, because he explained it to me) that my right knee is in no way as bad of shape as the left one was. Probably because I saw him within a month of the pain starting. When it happened to the last one, I had to wait for almost two years before I was given the consultation letter to see the surgeon away from the VA. (I can see this doctor now, because my knee replacement was done by him, so everything that happens to my knees now falls under his umbrella of care- that umbrella thing is my own analogy, not the insurance's).

Instead of terrifying me with another total knee replacement, we're doing the cortisone shots. I have "significant arthritis", but not enough for a total knee replacement. He said if it works out, I'll be fine for up to six months. So, what's happen next is a photo of a two-inch long needle. And the one after it is a photo of him pressing the syringe into my knee. I didn't feel it at all. He just jammed it in and there was no pain, no anything. I felt a little tingle when he hit the plunger bit down, but other than that, nothing. And, I know if I end up not feeling any relief in the next week or so, to come in again and we'll do something else (I assume the next step up would be "rooster injections", which are so named because they're made out of rooster waddles. Yes, your "what the fuck?" reaction is entirely appropriate).

So, here's the warning, if you don't like needles or what it looks like when a needle is inserted into the knee to the point you can't see the needle anymore, don't scroll down.

This is the end of the blog for you, as far as your needle hate is concerned.

I'm not going to add any photography stuff to this post because it's already laden with photos. So if you stop now, you won't miss anything but needle stuff.

...

Last warning. 

....

One more warning. 

....

FINAL WARNING!! 

....

Okay, you were warned. Here are the two photos-

And this one- I might use this as my 365 for the day.

I see what you did there, Fibro...

I've been doing that thing I do where I plan on updating the blog, but then I don't because I forget or I procrastinate till...  I forget.

I had a bit of a flare up on a perfectly wonderful, sunny, gorgeous day. It was 65° Fahrenheit and just lovely. But it was a weak-ass flareup. It was mostly fatigue with a bit of pain. The morning dose of Vicodin took the edge off the pain. The fatigue stuck around and got worse as the day wore on, like a normal bout of flareup fatigue.

And I didn't really know why, so I checked the weather forecast. Well, let me show you a photographic representation. I've been doing the 365 self-portrait project since 2010. I've recently started my sixth year. I'm in a group on Flickr that calls itself: "We're Here". We pick a theme for a day and then we "invade" a group with our photos of that theme. The theme for that day- Sunday, March 22nd, was "Lazy Photography" and the description was: "The great photographers venture out into the world, fearless and tireless. They search for opportunities, and even create opportunities. god bless 'em. But this group is for when you'd rather park yourself on the couch or on the porch and wait for an opportunity to come to you. and if it doesn't come...just take a picture of your foot." 

I'm a literal smartass, so that is exactly what I did- I took a photo of my foot on the swing on my back porch (which is a massive wooden deck, actually).



And, this photo is less than 24 hours later-



Is it any wonder I was having a flareup?!

Yesterday, I was having one of those low-grade flareup feelings. I felt like crap, but I could at least sit down and stand up when I needed to... And I had to go to the store. I managed to live through it, the fatigue kept trying to pull me down to the floor, but I managed to get home.

A few hours later, my son came home from whatever it is he does when he's not home and not at work. He had two of his friends with him and the girl he's dating- I'm not sure if we're calling her his girlfriend yet or not, but you know... Anyway- the kids- and by "kids", I mean "adults in their early 20s" wanted me to take some photos for them. My son rides a sport bike. You and I probably know them better as "crotch rockets", but they don't like it when you call them that. So, of course I said I'd do it and we left the house to do some photos on a newly constructed dead-end street in an industrial area (no traffic). The girl didn't want to be in any of the photos so she and I sort of hung out while the guys did their drive-bys so I could do panning shots and so on. During the course of our conversations, I told her this about my fibro- "I could either sit at home and feel like shit, or I can come out here, take some cool photos of you guys and still feel like shit. So, I'm here." (and I said that's how I survive the faire on flareup days. I can sit at home and feel bad or I can at least be somewhere fun with great people). I spent a couple hours on my feet, walking around this dead end street (it was a weird dead end, the long street gave way to a 90° turn and that part ended about a half mile up. But there were no buildings around it, just an open field on one side, a highway at the end, and a pheasant farm on the other side).

Then there's today. Today, at 4 AM, my body decided to wake me up. Wake me up out of a dead sleep. Because why the fuck not? I stayed in bed till 430, trying to trick myself into falling back to sleep, but it didn't work. Fibrofuckingmyalgia will not listen to reason. And when I tried to move, my body was quite sure that was a bad idea. It took me ten minutes to get out of bed and get downstairs. After I did my morning stuff (breakfast, reading news, catching up on Facebook, trash day, dogs out), I went back to bed to try and take a nap. It was a crappy, less-restful 90 minutes of semi-consciousness. And today is the first of the month, so I had bill-paying errands to do. I struggled for everything today. Showering, getting dressed, going outside, trying to get into the vehicle (mid-size pickup truck), standing at the bank, walking. Breathing. Blergh.

I took my usual morning dose of Vicodin. I did all those things and at 2 PM, I took two more Vicodin. And about 45 minutes later, I felt the edge slide off the pain. I was still in pain, but at least I didn't have to struggle to get up out of my chair. And here's why-

Tomorrow's got rain (a 90-goddamn-percent chance of rain), then we just drop all the warmth and go back to cold temps. For a freakin' day. The earlier weather (that I didn't screen cap) was predicting snow on Friday, so I suppose I should be glad that we're just getting rain tomorrow and cold on Friday.

So, the Generic Cymbalta isn't an all-out miracle, but damn, there are a lot more good days than bad now. I'm going to accept that. Because a little flareup that goes away after a couple of hours is doable. And today's shitty flareup? Well, it sucks, but it also has a clear reason (the weather) and I feel like there's an end to it. Compared to last Spring when I had a "flareup" that lasted for months- I'll take it. But I see what you did there, Fibrofuckingmyalgia... April 1st- haha, sucks to be you, human! BOOM. Flareup on April Fool's Day.

And because I know you're wondering, here are a few shots from yesterday with the guys.




This one is called "Girls on Instagram be like..."











This is yesterday's 365. I had Andrew (kid in red) hold the camera because he was the tallest. My son is in the black helmet behind me with the girl he's been seeing, and Reese is behind them. And I am woefully underdressed for this party.

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...