Hmm...good question. I think it was in the Recovery Room. OOOKay.
From the recovery room they moved me to my room in the - get this - pediatrics ward. YEAH! What are the pluses of the Lebonhuer ward? Nicer nurses, prettier room, lots of movies, free ice cream, nicer (possibly) pts, and carpet. I had a blast. Okay, as much of a blast as I could have in the circumstances. I think the DVD/VCR was one of the best parts. I watched Finding Neverland (very good, by the way) and ate vanilla ice cream. I'm a big fan of vanilla ice cream. I even dreampt about it last night.
You know what amazes me? The fact that the technology has changed from when I was there 6 months ago. This time, I had a nice little pain pump. This pump sent numbing medication through my back and directly to the muscles around my hip, which really cuts down on some of the pain medication taken. It's kind of funny to feel the numbing medication wear off, though. Sort of akin to a muscle spasm. Also, this time I had feet inflations. As opposed to calf inflations. Why inflatables anyways? The inflation, and hence pressure, on the extremes that there's a good chance you won't be moving increases blood flow and stops your feet from falling off. It's much like massaging the feet to increase circulation. But this time around, they had the little inflatables on my feet. Why is this such a monumentous relief? Because imagine having m0ving plastic around your legs pretty much 24/7. It gets hot and sweaty real fast down there. Having it on the feet kind of changes most of that. My sweaty calves grin in relief.
What else comes with hospital visits? Visitors. It's always fun to welcome friends in your room. And it's kind of an incentive not to wallow in your pain and selfness. Cause people are gonna see that. And you might as well get cleaned up a little before the nice visitors come. And the boys. ;)
Ach, but I dramatize. With the visitors also come the mean pts. And this time, I lived up to the expectations. I fainted, or almost fainted again. I have a terrible habit of doing that. But by the third day, I was able to walk down the the nurses' station and back. Mission Accomplished.
By the way! Let us remember today a fellow hip sister, we shall call her, even though she does not own a blog. She goes to my church and just received a total hip replacement. A speedy and safe recovery to you, Kesha Burns!
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
If you haven't noticed....
I've already had the pre-op, surgery, and have come home already. Oops. Ok. My power was out until the day I went to the hospital, so that's half my fault. But still my fault. I apologize.
Pre-op: Normal. They took blood, and it was icky. I swear, I have track marks now! Ok. Mostly on my stomach - of all places - but they're there! Next day:
Surgery: ick. I had the same prep nurse! And that was an up. I love that lady. She's one of those people that are so blunt and down to earth it makes you smile. While I was laying there, in the bed, Mrs. Donaldson walked in! She had come with snacks. Mostly for my parents because I couldn't eat. It was pleasant to see her, especially because she was her summer-self, which is very more relaxed than her school-self. After a few words, she departed and I followed soon after, except I went to the block room. Oh, the block room. You hate it because it introduces to your life wires and tubes that are somehow connected to your person. But you love it because you stop caring when you get in there. It's great. Next stop: OR.
Recovery room: Surprise! I remember it! I wasn't throwing up and in a half-dazed state talking about nutella and ravioli. I was fairly lucid and able to remember the doctor, then my father, then my mother.
Well, I'll see you in Lebonhuer when I post again!
Pre-op: Normal. They took blood, and it was icky. I swear, I have track marks now! Ok. Mostly on my stomach - of all places - but they're there! Next day:
Surgery: ick. I had the same prep nurse! And that was an up. I love that lady. She's one of those people that are so blunt and down to earth it makes you smile. While I was laying there, in the bed, Mrs. Donaldson walked in! She had come with snacks. Mostly for my parents because I couldn't eat. It was pleasant to see her, especially because she was her summer-self, which is very more relaxed than her school-self. After a few words, she departed and I followed soon after, except I went to the block room. Oh, the block room. You hate it because it introduces to your life wires and tubes that are somehow connected to your person. But you love it because you stop caring when you get in there. It's great. Next stop: OR.
Recovery room: Surprise! I remember it! I wasn't throwing up and in a half-dazed state talking about nutella and ravioli. I was fairly lucid and able to remember the doctor, then my father, then my mother.
Well, I'll see you in Lebonhuer when I post again!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
PAUSE! RETHINK! Ok - you may proceed.
Yes. Pause. Because, the date of my surgery has been moved. Yes, I repeat, my surgery is not on Thursday, but on next Tuesday the 16th. Why? My doctor's son is graduating. Yay him. Meanwhile, I don't want anyone showing up to the hospital and crashing Germantown Methodist when I'm not there. Reminder: "Have fun storming the hospital!!!"
So, my pre-op got moved to next Monday, and my surgery is next Tuesday. If you want to visit me, and I'm definitely not against visitors, please come on Wednsday or Thursday. Because, while I love visitors, I really don't think I'll be very relieved to see you on Tuesday. Judging from last time, I may be passing out and vomiting, which is not really the point where I want to welcome someone in and hug them. I want to see you, and I want to enjoy your company. I love you all!
Please don't show up this weekend!
So, my pre-op got moved to next Monday, and my surgery is next Tuesday. If you want to visit me, and I'm definitely not against visitors, please come on Wednsday or Thursday. Because, while I love visitors, I really don't think I'll be very relieved to see you on Tuesday. Judging from last time, I may be passing out and vomiting, which is not really the point where I want to welcome someone in and hug them. I want to see you, and I want to enjoy your company. I love you all!
Please don't show up this weekend!
Friday, May 29, 2009
A bit of a recap - a refresher!
T- 14 days
Everywhere I turn, there are decaying blog posts - on my blog as well - except one at one blog. I hope that this summer will revive these writings. By the way, today is the first day of my official summer and I shall celebrate it by updating my writing with the songs I am listening to! *The Summer Obsession* This whole week I've been up and about and at the school doing things and this is the first day to sleep in (well, mostly) and not have to do anything, even though I have been doing some things. But this is it, man!
Well, since I actually haven't talked about the medical side to Periacetabular Osteotomies in a while, I shall refresh everybody's memory including mine. Periacetabular Osteomy is a fancy way for saying: "We are going to cut open your hip, disconnect the socket, and turn it around"! Well, hopefully I won't be going in a 360 degree angle! Haha. *I Am the Highway, Audioslave*
My story, and why my situation is so unusual: This surgery, called a PAO, is used mostly on people who have developed hip dysplasia. Hip dysplasia is a condition developed by people, usually women, whose femoral heads have become dislodged from their hip socket, or their acetabulum. *Blow up the Outside World, Soundgarden* Now, there are two kinds of people who get hip dysplasia. There are those who receive it as a birth defect and those who develop it later in life. Those who develop it later in life usually have led active lives and are in their mid-20s or 30s when they realize the problem. And this is why I'm so unusual. There's almost no one else receiving the PAO, or any other kind of hip reconstructive surgery, that is in his/her teens. You see, I had hip dysplasia as an infant, which would have been fairly easy to fix, but it was only caught when I was 1 1/2 years old. By then, the bones had fixed in their place, and we resorted to surgery. But then again, the doctors had no idea how the bones and the joints would react to growth. By the time I was, oh, about 13-14? I had started getting pain in my hip. Which is why I had my first surgery on Dec. 18. And now June 11 for the other hip. *Moonchild, Chris Cornell*
So there we go, all around full circle in a never ending loop. I have feelings of nostalgia. Sorry, I'm being driven crazy by my latest giant novel, One Hundred Years of Solitude. Very good. Very long. Very...long wearing. But, on the plus side, Mrs. Donaldson has promised to read The Alchemist this summer! Hopefully it will be placed on the reading list for future generations... *Wonderwall, Oasis*
Everywhere I turn, there are decaying blog posts - on my blog as well - except one at one blog. I hope that this summer will revive these writings. By the way, today is the first day of my official summer and I shall celebrate it by updating my writing with the songs I am listening to! *The Summer Obsession* This whole week I've been up and about and at the school doing things and this is the first day to sleep in (well, mostly) and not have to do anything, even though I have been doing some things. But this is it, man!
Well, since I actually haven't talked about the medical side to Periacetabular Osteotomies in a while, I shall refresh everybody's memory including mine. Periacetabular Osteomy is a fancy way for saying: "We are going to cut open your hip, disconnect the socket, and turn it around"! Well, hopefully I won't be going in a 360 degree angle! Haha. *I Am the Highway, Audioslave*
My story, and why my situation is so unusual: This surgery, called a PAO, is used mostly on people who have developed hip dysplasia. Hip dysplasia is a condition developed by people, usually women, whose femoral heads have become dislodged from their hip socket, or their acetabulum. *Blow up the Outside World, Soundgarden* Now, there are two kinds of people who get hip dysplasia. There are those who receive it as a birth defect and those who develop it later in life. Those who develop it later in life usually have led active lives and are in their mid-20s or 30s when they realize the problem. And this is why I'm so unusual. There's almost no one else receiving the PAO, or any other kind of hip reconstructive surgery, that is in his/her teens. You see, I had hip dysplasia as an infant, which would have been fairly easy to fix, but it was only caught when I was 1 1/2 years old. By then, the bones had fixed in their place, and we resorted to surgery. But then again, the doctors had no idea how the bones and the joints would react to growth. By the time I was, oh, about 13-14? I had started getting pain in my hip. Which is why I had my first surgery on Dec. 18. And now June 11 for the other hip. *Moonchild, Chris Cornell*
So there we go, all around full circle in a never ending loop. I have feelings of nostalgia. Sorry, I'm being driven crazy by my latest giant novel, One Hundred Years of Solitude. Very good. Very long. Very...long wearing. But, on the plus side, Mrs. Donaldson has promised to read The Alchemist this summer! Hopefully it will be placed on the reading list for future generations... *Wonderwall, Oasis*
Monday, May 11, 2009
A moment...suspended in time...
I forget what that quote is from. At least, I think it's a quote. And perhaps it's familiar.
But anyhow, I am here to announce that it is only 30 or 31 days until zero hour. I'm rather shaky on the math, you see. It will be my last surgery until several decades from now. Yay. So, in short, I have only 1 month to frolic. To play badminton and make bukus (however you spell it) of muffins and to go to events or casual coffee with my friends without worrying about accomodations. After that, I'm resigned to Tracy, the wheelchair. It's kinda sad, but you probably read my "I am a woman" speech earlier, so that attitude still resides in me. Well, one month. Until I go to senior picnic in a wheelchair. Even at school I'll be on crutches. Sorry! I don't mean to sound depressing. I broke 2 dishes today and so that's probably why I sound down!
This is just a psuedo announcement. I am beginning countdown!
30 (or 31) days
But anyhow, I am here to announce that it is only 30 or 31 days until zero hour. I'm rather shaky on the math, you see. It will be my last surgery until several decades from now. Yay. So, in short, I have only 1 month to frolic. To play badminton and make bukus (however you spell it) of muffins and to go to events or casual coffee with my friends without worrying about accomodations. After that, I'm resigned to Tracy, the wheelchair. It's kinda sad, but you probably read my "I am a woman" speech earlier, so that attitude still resides in me. Well, one month. Until I go to senior picnic in a wheelchair. Even at school I'll be on crutches. Sorry! I don't mean to sound depressing. I broke 2 dishes today and so that's probably why I sound down!
This is just a psuedo announcement. I am beginning countdown!
30 (or 31) days
Friday, May 8, 2009
Saving Grace
Who/What/Where is your saviour? Most of us would say, off hand, that Jesus, or God, is our Saviour. But spiritually aside, what is?
Maybe I'm phrasing this wrong. What I'm trying to say is that there are things in our lives that save us from insanity. Things that save s from feeling that life is hopeless. Things that save us from ourselves, even. School, oddly enough, has been my saviour many a time. A saviour from enclosure, from boredom, from caged feelings. Baking, especially when it come to muffins!, has been my saviour - Abigail (and pretty much everyone else)! I can see you laughing! - from impossibility, from lack of purpose. This summer, I have already picked out my saviours. That sounds odd. Estem...I know what shall do this summer. When I lie in bed lacking motivation or purpose. A list, for I have recently come to appreciate, yet still not love, lists. Oh, Mr. Knight's class...
1. Muffins - Yep. You could probably see that coming. As I have declared that I will someday open a pastry/cafe, I think that this is perfectly normal. :D
2. Books. - Oh, yes. Along with the regular AP English books - Frankenstein, something, and something else - I am trying to get as far as I can on my "100 Books You Should Read Before College" List. I just finished number 23 on my list! Yay!
3. Friends. - Oh, I'll make them come back from vacation or die! Just kidding. I do love all of you.....
4. LOTR? - I have the urge to watch Lord of The Rings again. I'm planning on getting the extendaversion and watching all of them!!!!! Oh, and I'm gonna fly over to the Lira's and steal Spirited Away!
Haha. There is my summer. So, question. What is your saviour? And yes, I meant it, Michael.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Limits that FAIL to exist: Finding the lemons
If these limits fail to exist, why do we learn about them?
Anyhow. That's really not why I am writing. I am writing to include a way that I failed recently, for the sake of adrenaline! So, as for setting the scene...
Band tour: Yipeeeeee!!!! I loved band tour so much. Ranks the best ever. Even though WOF was a bit of a let down, we OWNED as far as music went. We had fun nights in the hotel with the girls in my room: Jesse, Ashley, Catherine, and Maria. I somehow gashed my leg open with a ... soapdish??? We went to a dinner theatre and I got the prize for...most ridiculous answer. Mrs. Pinkerton, Agatha Christie would've been proud of me. For real. In my answer, I had someone who was really someone else, and seeming strangers who were really partners in murder! It was thrilling. Turns out I was wrong, but I really think it's the other way around. The writers are wrong! Anyways, it was marvelous.
After we competed, we went to WOF (aka, worlds of fun!!!). Whereever I went, the road broke down. It was terrible! I'm cutting all of the middle stuff, but me and a five other people ended up on the Mamba. And were late. And we didn't even get to ride. But here's the deal. We were way late. So we ran back to the entrance and hastily onto the bus.
My mistake? Running, my friends. To the Mamba and from the Mamba. I'm really not allowed to run by doctor's orders. I've already paidd for being late, but I hope I don't have to pay too much for being...foolish. My mom got mad. Really. She wasn't on the bus, but she heard about it later...
And that's the way I've failed recently. Thank you very much.
42 days, if anyone's interested...
Anyhow. That's really not why I am writing. I am writing to include a way that I failed recently, for the sake of adrenaline! So, as for setting the scene...
Band tour: Yipeeeeee!!!! I loved band tour so much. Ranks the best ever. Even though WOF was a bit of a let down, we OWNED as far as music went. We had fun nights in the hotel with the girls in my room: Jesse, Ashley, Catherine, and Maria. I somehow gashed my leg open with a ... soapdish??? We went to a dinner theatre and I got the prize for...most ridiculous answer. Mrs. Pinkerton, Agatha Christie would've been proud of me. For real. In my answer, I had someone who was really someone else, and seeming strangers who were really partners in murder! It was thrilling. Turns out I was wrong, but I really think it's the other way around. The writers are wrong! Anyways, it was marvelous.
After we competed, we went to WOF (aka, worlds of fun!!!). Whereever I went, the road broke down. It was terrible! I'm cutting all of the middle stuff, but me and a five other people ended up on the Mamba. And were late. And we didn't even get to ride. But here's the deal. We were way late. So we ran back to the entrance and hastily onto the bus.
My mistake? Running, my friends. To the Mamba and from the Mamba. I'm really not allowed to run by doctor's orders. I've already paidd for being late, but I hope I don't have to pay too much for being...foolish. My mom got mad. Really. She wasn't on the bus, but she heard about it later...
And that's the way I've failed recently. Thank you very much.
42 days, if anyone's interested...
Monday, April 6, 2009
Pride.
Less than a week without a cane and suddenly I'm in Chicago. The A cappella trip really did suprise me. I mean, more than usual. Usually, these trips sneak up on me, but this year it is as if I only half believed it existed and only half believed that I was actually going. And then, I was packing and then I was on the bus. I was excited as all get out. I love big cities. Cities with a dramatic history and something to be really proud about. Where all of the people have a personality. I can just see myself setting up shop and living in these places...
But there I was in Chicago. You know what's in Chicago, more than anything else???
Lines.
And sidewalks.
Suffice to say, I was on my feet a lot. From when I awoke in the morning to when I slept at night, only a few hours-eating and riding on the bus-were not spent walking or standing. And what did my hip/leg/foot feel about this? Splendid. I felt like ROLLMAN. I could do anything. I didn't run, really, but I twirled (and fell) and moved with vivacity. My legs, though tired at the end of the day, were strong and stable under me and I never felt pain. And so pride swelled in my heart like Fozzie's american pride. And confidence.
With this pride and confidence, I'll be able to get through it. Through what's ahead. I'm proud of my hip and its solidarity. I'm proud of the recovery of my body. And I am confident that I can do it again! I am stronger than this. I always believed it, but now I know it. I am braver than I think I sometimes am. I am a survivor in my own mind, surviving my own mind and my own insecurities even more than the hip dysplasia. I am independent despite dependency. I am only physically dependent to the place where I know I won't provide detriment to myself. I am daring. I am proven, refined. I am humble. Just kidding. That was a joke!
I have proven to myself that being halfway through this chapter of hip issues is a pretty good place to be right now. The glass is half full. I am halfway done and I'm proud of that. I could say that I'm halfway done and look at what I have to undergo this summer. But I won't. Apparently, I'm too proud for that. :)
I will be stronger than whatever comes at me.
I can do everything through HIM who gives me strength. -Philippians 4:13
I am invincible.
But there I was in Chicago. You know what's in Chicago, more than anything else???
Lines.
And sidewalks.
Suffice to say, I was on my feet a lot. From when I awoke in the morning to when I slept at night, only a few hours-eating and riding on the bus-were not spent walking or standing. And what did my hip/leg/foot feel about this? Splendid. I felt like ROLLMAN. I could do anything. I didn't run, really, but I twirled (and fell) and moved with vivacity. My legs, though tired at the end of the day, were strong and stable under me and I never felt pain. And so pride swelled in my heart like Fozzie's american pride. And confidence.
With this pride and confidence, I'll be able to get through it. Through what's ahead. I'm proud of my hip and its solidarity. I'm proud of the recovery of my body. And I am confident that I can do it again! I am stronger than this. I always believed it, but now I know it. I am braver than I think I sometimes am. I am a survivor in my own mind, surviving my own mind and my own insecurities even more than the hip dysplasia. I am independent despite dependency. I am only physically dependent to the place where I know I won't provide detriment to myself. I am daring. I am proven, refined. I am humble. Just kidding. That was a joke!
I have proven to myself that being halfway through this chapter of hip issues is a pretty good place to be right now. The glass is half full. I am halfway done and I'm proud of that. I could say that I'm halfway done and look at what I have to undergo this summer. But I won't. Apparently, I'm too proud for that. :)
I will be stronger than whatever comes at me.
I can do everything through HIM who gives me strength. -Philippians 4:13
I am invincible.
Friday, March 27, 2009
freedom, Freedom, FREEDOM
Look at me: no crutches, no wheelchair, no cane, no nothing! I went to the doctor (the doctor named Dake), more correctly, the physical therapist. I just have urges to quote Seussical, is all.
Starting over because I probably confused you, I don't have to use a cane anymore! I'm a free woman! True I still have an assignment of probably a hundred excersises per night (only a slight exaggeration). My psuedo therapist looked at the sheets of paper in her hands and looked at me, then said: "Wow. This is a lot of excersises." So she said I didn't have to do all of them every night. Which was good, because I would probably expire every night from a combination of boredom and exhaustion, and on top of all that, I wouldn't get any homework done and my grades would suffer along with my entire left leg. And then my leg would fall off which would kind of defeat the point. The point of everything. I said my psuedo therapist. I should explain that for those of you still reading. My old therapist, Julianne, took off to Collierville, never to be my therapist again. So, I guess I don't know who my therapist is anymore. Which doesn't matter, because I don't have to go any more!
At least until my next surgery. So, the reason that I have so many excersises is because I have some foot/ankle issues now. Why? No idea. My therapist thinks I'm overcompensating or something because my left leg is shorter, but really, I have no idea. Which brings me to the reader participation part: If you are reading this, stand up. Either push your chair back or move beside it, to get some room for moving. Now stand on your tippy toes and come back down. That's right. Okay, now do it again, except stop somewhere in the middle. Now imagine a kind of steady pain welling up in the bridge of your foot. That's what is in my foot, when I walk and etc. I wanted to show you where the pain was, as well as imagine all of you standing near your computers with slightly confused looks on your faces. Teehee.
By the way, I have dubbed today Mexican Culture day. Aka: Listen to all of the songs in Spanish that you know, as well as some new ones. Tips: Me cai, or pretty much anything by Pacifika, and Juanes, my favorite is Fotografia.
Starting over because I probably confused you, I don't have to use a cane anymore! I'm a free woman! True I still have an assignment of probably a hundred excersises per night (only a slight exaggeration). My psuedo therapist looked at the sheets of paper in her hands and looked at me, then said: "Wow. This is a lot of excersises." So she said I didn't have to do all of them every night. Which was good, because I would probably expire every night from a combination of boredom and exhaustion, and on top of all that, I wouldn't get any homework done and my grades would suffer along with my entire left leg. And then my leg would fall off which would kind of defeat the point. The point of everything. I said my psuedo therapist. I should explain that for those of you still reading. My old therapist, Julianne, took off to Collierville, never to be my therapist again. So, I guess I don't know who my therapist is anymore. Which doesn't matter, because I don't have to go any more!
At least until my next surgery. So, the reason that I have so many excersises is because I have some foot/ankle issues now. Why? No idea. My therapist thinks I'm overcompensating or something because my left leg is shorter, but really, I have no idea. Which brings me to the reader participation part: If you are reading this, stand up. Either push your chair back or move beside it, to get some room for moving. Now stand on your tippy toes and come back down. That's right. Okay, now do it again, except stop somewhere in the middle. Now imagine a kind of steady pain welling up in the bridge of your foot. That's what is in my foot, when I walk and etc. I wanted to show you where the pain was, as well as imagine all of you standing near your computers with slightly confused looks on your faces. Teehee.
By the way, I have dubbed today Mexican Culture day. Aka: Listen to all of the songs in Spanish that you know, as well as some new ones. Tips: Me cai, or pretty much anything by Pacifika, and Juanes, my favorite is Fotografia.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Just a small cosmic question
Is the past tense of "forgo",
"forwent"?
or, "forgoed"?
Saying either of them kinda gives me the shivers anyway.
"forwent"?
or, "forgoed"?
Saying either of them kinda gives me the shivers anyway.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Hip Hip Hooray!
(Just a little point of irony: Just as I was finishing the post above, I realized I was listening to the song Thunder, by Boys Like Girls. Haha.)
Tuesday morning:
I awoke on the cot in Witchita. For a while I lay half awake, half asleep, and half listening to the talk in the kitchen. After a while, I realized I should probably get up. After all, there was coffee just waiting for me in the other room. I half took off my covers so that I may roll over and look at the floor. My crutches, Doppleganger, were laying there, quite innocently, in the little aisle between my cot and the bed. And then I half smiled. Because today was the day that I could stand without them. So I stood up. Going down the hallway, I half clutched the walls, at least as far as it is possible to clutch walls, because I was so unsteady. But hey! I was walking! Okay, half walking. Limping in fact. But I walked into the kitchen, where I was received with joy at my new found freedom. And then I limped over to my coffee. After my coffee, I can stop half doing things, and actually do them. But the limp remained. I think I'm uneven, which is really weird. And I move really slow. But Tuesday, I just walked around just to feel it. It felt so good.
Tuesday morning:
I awoke on the cot in Witchita. For a while I lay half awake, half asleep, and half listening to the talk in the kitchen. After a while, I realized I should probably get up. After all, there was coffee just waiting for me in the other room. I half took off my covers so that I may roll over and look at the floor. My crutches, Doppleganger, were laying there, quite innocently, in the little aisle between my cot and the bed. And then I half smiled. Because today was the day that I could stand without them. So I stood up. Going down the hallway, I half clutched the walls, at least as far as it is possible to clutch walls, because I was so unsteady. But hey! I was walking! Okay, half walking. Limping in fact. But I walked into the kitchen, where I was received with joy at my new found freedom. And then I limped over to my coffee. After my coffee, I can stop half doing things, and actually do them. But the limp remained. I think I'm uneven, which is really weird. And I move really slow. But Tuesday, I just walked around just to feel it. It felt so good.
YAY!!!!!!!
Ditching crutches, yeah
On that Tuesday morning, yeah
It felt so good, yeah
Becoming Helen Hunt
For (half of) spring break, I went to Witchita, Kansas. That's where my Grandparents on my mother's side live. Waiting for us were mis tios, my uncles and aunts on that side. Along with my cousin. Witchita hadn't had any wet weather in a couple months, so it was quite due by the time we were rolling in. On this trip, I drove quite a bit. The ten hour trip was divided about 40/60 between my mother and I. On the way into Wichita, I was driving. To the northwest of us (I think), storm clouds were brewing, with occasional bursts of bright thunder looking like scribbles coming out of those dark clouds. Of course, I just thought We would never quite hit that mass of darkness and if we did, it wouldn't really affect us, right? It would just be some rain. Wrong. Coming straight toward Wichita was a tornado.
...or at least the possibility of one. My grandfather called us to warn us. Suddenly, every flash of lightening frightened the hooey out of me. My eyes opened wider and my hands gripped the wheel just a little tighter. As we entered the city, th storm was right above us, even though they had called off the tornado warning. Gack. I really did feel like Helen Hunt. But we survived it! I spent a lovely weekend+ with my family. I even got to go shooting for the first time. I got to shoot Grandpa's legendary pearl handled pistol! As anyone could guess if they just hung out around me for a while, my aim was definitely not static. My shots were all over the board, or paper, rather. But I got a wicked -sorry- filthy bullseye. That's the word with the new connotation that Uncle Joe taught me. Yes, I shot a bullseye. I shot a rifle and a .357 along with the pistol. Unfortunately, the .357 shares something with the lovely tornado lightning, in that they both scared the ness out of me. Wow, that gun packs some punch, like Tang! So let's get down to the part that's actually relevant: my hips. Yay!
~Keep reading for more episodes from Melora's Dysplastic Life at 8/7 Central~
...or at least the possibility of one. My grandfather called us to warn us. Suddenly, every flash of lightening frightened the hooey out of me. My eyes opened wider and my hands gripped the wheel just a little tighter. As we entered the city, th storm was right above us, even though they had called off the tornado warning. Gack. I really did feel like Helen Hunt. But we survived it! I spent a lovely weekend+ with my family. I even got to go shooting for the first time. I got to shoot Grandpa's legendary pearl handled pistol! As anyone could guess if they just hung out around me for a while, my aim was definitely not static. My shots were all over the board, or paper, rather. But I got a wicked -sorry- filthy bullseye. That's the word with the new connotation that Uncle Joe taught me. Yes, I shot a bullseye. I shot a rifle and a .357 along with the pistol. Unfortunately, the .357 shares something with the lovely tornado lightning, in that they both scared the ness out of me. Wow, that gun packs some punch, like Tang! So let's get down to the part that's actually relevant: my hips. Yay!
~Keep reading for more episodes from Melora's Dysplastic Life at 8/7 Central~
Friday, March 6, 2009
The Allusion of Life (can you find it?)
Points to Melora for keeping her blog updated at a critical time in her progress!
Not.
Sorry. I guess I've meant to update. And now I'm here! The day before I depart to into an undiscovered country. Namely, Witchita.
So what's new? I can walk! Kind of. I am allowed to put 50% of my weight on my left leg. Only several more days now till Tuesday, and then I can put my full weight on it. Right now, I'm hobbling around at school with crutches. And they do have a name! Their name is Dopple/ganger, though it is often difficult to distinguish one from the other. I will admit, I did have help coming up with the genius name Doppleganger. I owe that one to Jasper Fforde, a wonderful writer who writes about...literature. But not in a dry way.
Back to subject!
I have a triumph! I have moved back upstairs to the lighter colored realms. Those of you who have witnessed the happiness of my room know what I am talking about. For those of you who haven't...
My room is a burst of sunshine. The walls are covered with blue, orange, and pink paint, alternately and the walls also slant up at the top. There are even little alcoves that wander off with windows at the end. A pink shag rug adorns the floor while and almost identical blue coverlet reclines on my bed. My bookshelves are stuffed with books which lay haphazard because there isn't enough room. My CDs are in a similar state. In all, my room is an oasis of brightness and happiness and cherrfulness and nicety. And especially since it is smelling like spring outside, my room now smells like nothing is impossible. But then I return to "the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" as life sometimes feels. But my room is always a reprieve, an escape, to these feelings. So moving back upstairs has been feeling like a kind of heaven for me. I can drive now, by the way. I'm a fairly good driver, so this has been such a lovely thing for me.
By the way, not to damper the feeling, but yes, to damper the feeling, my next surgery is already scheduled for June11. yay.
Not.
Sorry. I guess I've meant to update. And now I'm here! The day before I depart to into an undiscovered country. Namely, Witchita.
So what's new? I can walk! Kind of. I am allowed to put 50% of my weight on my left leg. Only several more days now till Tuesday, and then I can put my full weight on it. Right now, I'm hobbling around at school with crutches. And they do have a name! Their name is Dopple/ganger, though it is often difficult to distinguish one from the other. I will admit, I did have help coming up with the genius name Doppleganger. I owe that one to Jasper Fforde, a wonderful writer who writes about...literature. But not in a dry way.
Back to subject!
I have a triumph! I have moved back upstairs to the lighter colored realms. Those of you who have witnessed the happiness of my room know what I am talking about. For those of you who haven't...
My room is a burst of sunshine. The walls are covered with blue, orange, and pink paint, alternately and the walls also slant up at the top. There are even little alcoves that wander off with windows at the end. A pink shag rug adorns the floor while and almost identical blue coverlet reclines on my bed. My bookshelves are stuffed with books which lay haphazard because there isn't enough room. My CDs are in a similar state. In all, my room is an oasis of brightness and happiness and cherrfulness and nicety. And especially since it is smelling like spring outside, my room now smells like nothing is impossible. But then I return to "the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" as life sometimes feels. But my room is always a reprieve, an escape, to these feelings. So moving back upstairs has been feeling like a kind of heaven for me. I can drive now, by the way. I'm a fairly good driver, so this has been such a lovely thing for me.
By the way, not to damper the feeling, but yes, to damper the feeling, my next surgery is already scheduled for June11. yay.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Hoy es el dia!
Today is the day! In roughly 1 hour I walk into Dr. Guyton's office to see if he deems me worthy of that lovely blessing, walking. A blessing which I will probably take for granted again, but not for a very long while.
'Count your blessings' is all I'm saying.
I'm very excited. I've had a countdown, oddly enough not on here, but other places to this day. Finally, walking. Putting weight on that leg. I get to go upstairs so I won't fail out of my classes. I used to say pre-cal, but since I aced my last test, I'm more concerned with AP English. Anyways, interesting news which calls attention to my bum leg even though it sounds weird: my left thigh grew a half inch! This is good, because it means I'm not atrophying or anything. The pool work has payed off. Possibly the hydrotrack would've been better, but I'm too stinking tall. Alas, my long, impossibly troublesome legs!
Well, there it is: I might be able to soar on 1 1/4 leg in a couple of hours! Wish me luck!
'Count your blessings' is all I'm saying.
I'm very excited. I've had a countdown, oddly enough not on here, but other places to this day. Finally, walking. Putting weight on that leg. I get to go upstairs so I won't fail out of my classes. I used to say pre-cal, but since I aced my last test, I'm more concerned with AP English. Anyways, interesting news which calls attention to my bum leg even though it sounds weird: my left thigh grew a half inch! This is good, because it means I'm not atrophying or anything. The pool work has payed off. Possibly the hydrotrack would've been better, but I'm too stinking tall. Alas, my long, impossibly troublesome legs!
Well, there it is: I might be able to soar on 1 1/4 leg in a couple of hours! Wish me luck!
Friday, February 13, 2009
Deviating from the norm
This has really nothing to do with hips. Unless you construe it in some weird, unseemly way. These are about recommendations, you could say.
The first is a recommendation of - drumroll, please - cartoon (ism?). Yes. Me, getting into cartoons. Unlikely, you think. But really, this guy who does them is a friend of my sister. AKA, I don't know him personally. But funny enough, I like most of his work. Especially his space/time continuum comic. The outlay is not very professional (or so I've been told), but I like his stuff.
So here it is!:
http://lewis.comicdish.com/?pageID=56
The other is for creative people, you might say. People who like to get inspired occasionally and would like to have a nice place to do it. It's full of arts and crafts and ideas and ...well....pretty much everything. Here goes!:
http://blog.freepeople.com/
Yay! And yes, this is the third post today. I am breaking records all over the place!
The first is a recommendation of - drumroll, please - cartoon (ism?). Yes. Me, getting into cartoons. Unlikely, you think. But really, this guy who does them is a friend of my sister. AKA, I don't know him personally. But funny enough, I like most of his work. Especially his space/time continuum comic. The outlay is not very professional (or so I've been told), but I like his stuff.
So here it is!:
http://lewis.comicdish.com/?pageID=56
The other is for creative people, you might say. People who like to get inspired occasionally and would like to have a nice place to do it. It's full of arts and crafts and ideas and ...well....pretty much everything. Here goes!:
http://blog.freepeople.com/
Yay! And yes, this is the third post today. I am breaking records all over the place!
Plans for the future.
Guess what arrived in the mail today!
This did!:
I need to give it a name. Like Elsa, my walker, and Tracy, my wheelchair. Funny enough, I haven't named my crutches, even though I got primer all over them the other day. Now that was a chilly day.
So I know have a cane with flame decals up the bottom! I'm keeping it till I die, pretty much.
It's Free Hug Day, by the way! I posted a piece of paper on myself to day that said "Free Hugs", but I made the H too wide so a lot of people thought it said "Free Mugs" instead. It's funny. I hardly got any hugs at all, except from my close friends during the day. When I came into the band room, everybody hugged me. It was so much fun! If you aren't familiar with the Free Hugs Campaign, watch this video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vr3x_RRJdd4&feature=related
Yay!
This did!:
I need to give it a name. Like Elsa, my walker, and Tracy, my wheelchair. Funny enough, I haven't named my crutches, even though I got primer all over them the other day. Now that was a chilly day.
So I know have a cane with flame decals up the bottom! I'm keeping it till I die, pretty much.
It's Free Hug Day, by the way! I posted a piece of paper on myself to day that said "Free Hugs", but I made the H too wide so a lot of people thought it said "Free Mugs" instead. It's funny. I hardly got any hugs at all, except from my close friends during the day. When I came into the band room, everybody hugged me. It was so much fun! If you aren't familiar with the Free Hugs Campaign, watch this video:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vr3x_RRJdd4&feature=related
Yay!
I have a dream...
...that one day...
Just kidding. To quote MLK Jr. is not the purpose of this post. To relay a dream I had, however, is.
I had a vivid dream the other night. No, it did not concern Goodwill in outer space, but it did concern something with my "situation". Even though there were a whole lot of other things that happened in the dream-something that had to do with a hotel or motel where 1100 Cherry road should be and a lot of....emotion- I still retain the part of my dream that pertains to walking. You see, I was charged with some emotion, and whether that was anger, fear, disappointment, grief, or anything else, I don't know. All I know is that it was a negative emotion. And when I feel like that in real life, I just want to fly away, or more accurately, run. But I never do, in real life.
But in this dream, I did just that. I ran away. I started walking up Cherry Road as hard and as fast as I could, digging my heels into the concrete like I usually do when I'm passionate about something. And then I tried to run. But every time I started to run, my left leg would crumple under me and I would fall to the ground. So I was forced to walk. And then I tried to run again and I still couldn't do it. So I turned around and started back to where I had come from, alternately walking and then falling on my face.
In real life, I have only once or twice encountered that terrible feeling that my body was abandoning me. A couple times when I tried to do something before my surgery, and my left hip fell out from under me. And then in the hospital the few days after my surgery, when my leg wouldn't move. I was exerting a force that would have normall kicked my leg like a can can dancer's, but all the ground I was attaining was a few inches.
I don't know why this terror visited me in my sleep. Some might read this account of a dream and say that it is pathetic and feel sorry for me. Some might read it as a longing to get a way. Some would probably get metaphorical with it. Some might think it is funny, in a light moment with a light telling of the tale. I see it as desperation. I've had dreams like it before, is the funny part. I had a dream where I was walking with a huge tray of fruit-don't ask why, even I don't know- and I suddenly remembered in the middle that I was quasi-disabled, so I would start limping in the middle of the dream. Then I gave it up and started walking normal.
Food for subconcious thought.
By the way, anyone, from my sister to Mrs. Pinkerton, to any other friends who are not commenting, are free to comment. I'm pretty sure I have it opened to all people.
Just kidding. To quote MLK Jr. is not the purpose of this post. To relay a dream I had, however, is.
I had a vivid dream the other night. No, it did not concern Goodwill in outer space, but it did concern something with my "situation". Even though there were a whole lot of other things that happened in the dream-something that had to do with a hotel or motel where 1100 Cherry road should be and a lot of....emotion- I still retain the part of my dream that pertains to walking. You see, I was charged with some emotion, and whether that was anger, fear, disappointment, grief, or anything else, I don't know. All I know is that it was a negative emotion. And when I feel like that in real life, I just want to fly away, or more accurately, run. But I never do, in real life.
But in this dream, I did just that. I ran away. I started walking up Cherry Road as hard and as fast as I could, digging my heels into the concrete like I usually do when I'm passionate about something. And then I tried to run. But every time I started to run, my left leg would crumple under me and I would fall to the ground. So I was forced to walk. And then I tried to run again and I still couldn't do it. So I turned around and started back to where I had come from, alternately walking and then falling on my face.
In real life, I have only once or twice encountered that terrible feeling that my body was abandoning me. A couple times when I tried to do something before my surgery, and my left hip fell out from under me. And then in the hospital the few days after my surgery, when my leg wouldn't move. I was exerting a force that would have normall kicked my leg like a can can dancer's, but all the ground I was attaining was a few inches.
I don't know why this terror visited me in my sleep. Some might read this account of a dream and say that it is pathetic and feel sorry for me. Some might read it as a longing to get a way. Some would probably get metaphorical with it. Some might think it is funny, in a light moment with a light telling of the tale. I see it as desperation. I've had dreams like it before, is the funny part. I had a dream where I was walking with a huge tray of fruit-don't ask why, even I don't know- and I suddenly remembered in the middle that I was quasi-disabled, so I would start limping in the middle of the dream. Then I gave it up and started walking normal.
Food for subconcious thought.
By the way, anyone, from my sister to Mrs. Pinkerton, to any other friends who are not commenting, are free to comment. I'm pretty sure I have it opened to all people.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Guess which picture is not like the other...
Since I know that several casually following this blog have a slight interest in photography (granted, some more than others), I decided to include this quote I just heard which was quick to move to the top of my favorites:
"He never recovered his sanity. Luckily, he was a photographer, so it didn't matter much."
-Garrison Keillor
Now, down to buisness. Even though I received this latest update a couple of weeks ago, I haven't put it up yet, and for that I am truly sorry. Well, here goes: all new and improved.
Sorry about the crummy scanning. I have to admit, I am absolutely pathetic when it comes to scanners. But you get the gist. I promise, if I get a better scan, I will post it. I haven't gotten the chance yet, but the first chance I get, I'm going to see if I set off metal detectors. I have actually come across a half-chance to be wanded, but he passed me over because I was in a wheelchair, and late. :( I will find out though. Maybe after a second surgery...
I've started going to physical therapy twice a week. At first, they threw me on the hydrotrack, an underwater treadmill. Since the water lifts gravity's spell, people like me are able to walk without giving pause. When I told them that I remembered these vividly from when I was 3, even the physical therapists gave me a shocked look. Apparently, they don't get too many two year olds as candidates for surgery and recovery. Unfortunately, after only one appointment on the hydrotrack, I got kicked off. What got me kicked off? My height. The water needs to come up to a certain level for full effect, and apparently 5'8"ish is too tall for the machine. So I'm subjected to pool work only, which is actually kind of fun. My main therapist is a graduate from Harding, so we chat about former teachers and classmates that might have come back. Ironically, one of her best friend's is (former) Coach Myatt, now Coach Myatt Starks. When she asked if I knew Kevin Starks, I almost laughed, considering I was in his first and only 7am Bible class last year. An....interesting experience. Filled with Basketball talk, racist jokes (but only black and white people), and some very interesting glasses of sweet tea (right Melanie?).
The person who owns the first blogspot for hip dysplasia and PAO I looked at named her hip/leg Uber Uma. I remembered that. And though I have not named my hips - yet - despite yelling and thumping (not after the surgery, of course) and some more talking, I have named my modes of transportation. My wheelchair, because of its title: the Tracer SX5, has earned a name as Tracy. My walker is named Elsa, for no apparent reason at all, though it may be related to a very good book, Winter of Fire. I don't know. For now, I must bid you adieu (which is a really good word to use in scrabble or speed scrabble)!
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
New Years?
Ok. I'm a little late. As in half a month late. But I have finally decided on my new year's resolution, even though I decided long ago that they are worthless. My new year's resolution: learn to walk for the third time. Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen. The third time. How many of you can lay claim to that?! Hmm? Hmm? For a status report for those not in the area presently or who just don't see me often or those whom I lie to about my condition (sorry y'all, it gets really tiring to give a full status report to everyone, so you just end up saying "fine" a whole lot): I am practically painless. I'm just waiting, waiting, waiting for the bone to heal. Sometimes my incision hurts cause I stretch it too far when laying on my side, or my muscles decide they don't want to move so that I end up sore, but for the most part, I'm painless. I've started going back to school, in a wheelchair of course, so that I don't fall over and die. The death refers to a HUGE reconstructive surgery I would have to go through and approximately 4 more months of immobility. Yeah. Not happening. But there are some good things that come out of the surgery.
Pros:
*My seven inch scar. Some ask if I have my vitimin E handy, which is a formula that actually reduces scar tissue. The thing is, I have a weird affection and pride for my scars. This scar will be the sixth permanent scar I have. Five are from hip surgery/leg breakage and one is from cracking my head open. In a weird way, they seem to represent all that's happened to me and therefore are a natural part of me. I wouldn't erase them away for the world.
*My dead spot. I actually feel like Mal (Firefly/Serenity) on this one. Instead of having a dead, unfeeling spot in my kidneys, I have a dead, unfeeling, nerveless area about 2 inches to the left of my scar. It's actually pretty neat. I keep getting freaked out though cause I accidentaly feel it, realize I don't and then get the shivers. My dream, though, is to get into a fight and someone stab my in my hip and then I shake the hair out of my eyes and say in a deadly voice "I don't feel that. But you'll feel this!" and then plant a flying kick into their chest. It'll be great!
*The incredible support. Everyone at school, faculty, staff, friends, colleagues, have showed incredible support to make sure I can still learn everything, and go everywhere I need to. It's so amazing.
Cons:
*The explanatory process. I hate explaining to people what happened to me. I don't mind for about two people, but after a while, explaining to everyone what happened is just so tiring. And you can't just run away from the question, cause you're either in a walker or crutches (muletas!) or a wheelchair. One girl who I didn't even know responded this way when I told her I had hip dysplasia: "You mean, the things that dogs get!?" Yes. The things that dogs get.
*The death of spontaneity. Every once in a while you get an impulse. The impulse to tickle someone, to sneak up behind them, or to dance in the rain. All that was taken away for a while. I realized about a week ago that I won't be able to dance for a bit more than two months. Not that I dance professionally, or even as a hobby, but I like to. I do a twirl when I feel happy, I dance when that certain song comes on that just makes you want to move, I move like that all the time. It's so sad to feel that you can't do that anymore.
*Oh yeah, I can't walk.
*Friends you didn't know you had. I won't say her name, but there's a girl at school I am acquainted with. I don't know her that much and really don't care to. But know that I'm in a wheel chair, I'm her best friend. Wow. I'm really working this italics thing, aren't I? People want to push you around everywhere. Personally, it's a little hit on my pride. Like I can't get myself to places, or what?
Well, that's pretty much it. Sorry for my inattentiveness lately. Wow. I seem to apologize everytime I write. Oops. (But I won't apologize.) :D
Pros:
*My seven inch scar. Some ask if I have my vitimin E handy, which is a formula that actually reduces scar tissue. The thing is, I have a weird affection and pride for my scars. This scar will be the sixth permanent scar I have. Five are from hip surgery/leg breakage and one is from cracking my head open. In a weird way, they seem to represent all that's happened to me and therefore are a natural part of me. I wouldn't erase them away for the world.
*My dead spot. I actually feel like Mal (Firefly/Serenity) on this one. Instead of having a dead, unfeeling spot in my kidneys, I have a dead, unfeeling, nerveless area about 2 inches to the left of my scar. It's actually pretty neat. I keep getting freaked out though cause I accidentaly feel it, realize I don't and then get the shivers. My dream, though, is to get into a fight and someone stab my in my hip and then I shake the hair out of my eyes and say in a deadly voice "I don't feel that. But you'll feel this!" and then plant a flying kick into their chest. It'll be great!
*The incredible support. Everyone at school, faculty, staff, friends, colleagues, have showed incredible support to make sure I can still learn everything, and go everywhere I need to. It's so amazing.
Cons:
*The explanatory process. I hate explaining to people what happened to me. I don't mind for about two people, but after a while, explaining to everyone what happened is just so tiring. And you can't just run away from the question, cause you're either in a walker or crutches (muletas!) or a wheelchair. One girl who I didn't even know responded this way when I told her I had hip dysplasia: "You mean, the things that dogs get!?" Yes. The things that dogs get.
*The death of spontaneity. Every once in a while you get an impulse. The impulse to tickle someone, to sneak up behind them, or to dance in the rain. All that was taken away for a while. I realized about a week ago that I won't be able to dance for a bit more than two months. Not that I dance professionally, or even as a hobby, but I like to. I do a twirl when I feel happy, I dance when that certain song comes on that just makes you want to move, I move like that all the time. It's so sad to feel that you can't do that anymore.
*Oh yeah, I can't walk.
*Friends you didn't know you had. I won't say her name, but there's a girl at school I am acquainted with. I don't know her that much and really don't care to. But know that I'm in a wheel chair, I'm her best friend. Wow. I'm really working this italics thing, aren't I? People want to push you around everywhere. Personally, it's a little hit on my pride. Like I can't get myself to places, or what?
Well, that's pretty much it. Sorry for my inattentiveness lately. Wow. I seem to apologize everytime I write. Oops. (But I won't apologize.) :D
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
