Post Guantlet Roundup.

[cabbitzilla]

Eleven doctor and therapy appointments in five days. I'm not sure what I did to deserve that kind of beating, but I survived it, at least. I just wish the results had been a bit more on the positive side; there were some good moments, but the overall wasn't very nice.

Good Points:

• I have a new therapist, at long last. Her name is Stephanie, and she seems thus far to be immune to the Omni Bullshit Threshold problem that's plagued the last three. Her last gig was federal government, which means she's accustomed to it.
• After a truly frightening upward spike a couple months back, my blood pressure is proving to again be stable and good. I'm the healthiest overweight, crippled, and chain smoking cabbit in all of cabbit history.

Bad Points:

• Three months of hard push in physical therapy down the pipes and useless? Why? Next point...
• The knee will require surgery to repair. The ACL (ever wonder what that stands for? Anterior Cruciate Ligament) is torn completely through, there're several mediscus, and severely abused inner and outer ligaments. The problem seems to be that the forward musculature in my calf and thigh are damned determined to pull the knee apart whenever weight comes off it, hence to frequent (chronic) relapses.
• My stress levels have been through the roof, which has kicked the psoriasis back into hyperdrive. Hands, feet, elbows, and yes, knees. This is so much fun. Crippled and bleeding.
• The clusterfsck that is Apple's announced abandonment of PPC architecture. I'll not pound this one, as others have done it to death... but it sucks, and has a goodly chance of killing any chance I had of getting the upgraded CPU for this G3. Not pleased, I am. Nooo. Mmm. [/yoda]

To give a taste, this was yesterday morning:

Let's see. I got up and went to the first doc appointment. Upon arrival, I discovered that the address I'd been given was two years out of date and the current office residents said (and lied, the bitch) they had no idea where Dr Grosso's office had moved to. I raced home, watching my preciously rationed fuel dwindle, thrashed google for a phone number, called, and got a fucking answering service telling me their office hours... a half hour AFTER they'd opened. Thrashed google again for an address, bolted for the door. Knee gave out at the top of the flight of stairs; I went head first into the steel door of the apartment one level down (who wasn't home, thank God). Dragged myself to the truck and screamed back out of the parking lot and hauled ass for the new address. Got VERY lost. An hour late, I finally drag into the office... secretary takes one look at me and fetches me a cup of tea (I must've looked totally beaten at that point). Turned out Dr Grosso had a cancellation, they could see me. Fill out all the paperwork, and then realize that the X-Rays and MRI scans are still out in the truck. Drag myself back out to the truck, grab the films, and the LEFT knee (the one that's still supposedly got an intact ACL, but is arthritis-ridden) buckles and pitches me face first into the Buick in the next space. Little old lady gets out of said Buick and helps me up, then half carries me up to the doctor's office.

Ever been carried by an 80+ year old woman? It's humili-fucking-ating. Sink into a chair. Immediately am called. Get up out of chair, right knee (without the ACL) buckles again, head first into the receptionist's counter. I don't remember how I got into the exam room. Doc looked me over, looked over the scans, confirmed that yes I do need surgery. *sigh* Finish up, wobble downstairs and out the door, reach for my smokes... and they're missing. Back UP to the doc's office, retrieve smokes from exam room where they'd fallen out. Get back outside... and no lighter. Said fuck it and wandered to the truck. Found the lighter in the floorboards, and had the much needed smoke. Little old lady comes out, bums a cigarette, and tells me how much I remind her of her (now passed on) sister and hopes I'm not offended or anything.

Got into the truck. Looked at the clock. 9:55 AM. Time to go face the new therapist...

Bumpy, to say the least. But it's Friday, which counts for something. No phys therapy appointments next week, one appointment with Stephanie, and one appointment with Dr Nwaneri to try and get a surgery date locked down. A much lighter load.

On a final note... how many of you (that're still reading, that is) knew they could use tendon tissue from cadavers to rebuild an ACL injury? I may end up the world's only undead cabbit...

Footnote: cabbitcomputing has been created, to save regular readers here my tech notes and hardware diatribes.

Comments

[freakishspleen.livejournal.com]

That feeling when you've realised you've lost or forgotten your cigs stinks! I can only image it was worse than usual for you that time. I can feel you on part of that at least, heh. It's even worse when you have your cigarettes and no lighter huh? It's like that sinking feeling.

Also, I think you should wait for cyborg ligaments instead of cadaver ligaments. Robot stuff is way cooler than zombie voodoo!

[maggiebowgirl.livejournal.com]

Aww, sweety. *huggles*

H

[corona688.livejournal.com]

I'm sorry. :( Don't know what else to say.

[corona688.livejournal.com]

Ack, that should have been a new reply.

[invader-tak-1.livejournal.com]

Don't smoke! Don't you have enough health problems? How long can they keep super gluing you together?