My Poor Boy

So, the saga continues.  Our boy has no friends, and the prospect of sending him out alone to try to find some?  Terrifying.  Yet that is exactly what he wants to do.  He wants to wander the neighborhood beyond our street to try finding new friends.  Just wander around the streets hoping to meet someone.  Oh, damn, my heart breaks for him.  My poor boy.  He's smart, he's funny, he's handsome, he's got a good heart and loves to have fun, and he is alone.  And me?

I'm afraid to let him wander this neighborhood alone with those scary kids here.  We've got four registered sex offenders with child victims living within easy walking distance.  I've wracked my brain, trying to think of anyplace where teens that don't include the awful kids on our block congregate, and there's not one place.  This isn't a "kid-heavy" area, there aren't older kids out playing or hanging out.  I checked Boys Club, but for his age group this time of year, there are only volleyball and basketball tryouts, and those are skill-based determinations AND he doesn't play either sport.  There is an atheist homeschool group, but the only folks with kids his age aren't open weekends (AND are interested in doing things we don't have the cash for right now).  No, atheism isn't a requirement, but not caring about our atheism is.

Next summer, there's Camp Quest.  Next spring there's the flying club.  Next year is volunteering, maybe at the ASPCA or a like thing.  We thought Smithsonian, but it turns out he has to be 16 or older.  But right now?  Hapkido three nights a week is the extent of his time with other kids, and he wants more. 

I feel responsible for this.  Only I would pick the one place in the state where these particular kids with their animal killing and scary violence hang out.  I wish I could make this better for him.  He's a happy kid, but this is a hole in his life that we thought was filled when he started hanging with the kids in the neighborhood.  But that fell apart, and now that emptiness is there again. 

My poor boy.

Pain, Plants, Slugs, and Embarrassment

So, my back is absolutely killing me.  So's my neck.  I've got a bit of a "buffalo hump" starting back there (not a dowager's hump, which is down farther and caused by tipping/crunching vertebrae).  This is caused by sitting with my head/neck craned forward, which, it turns out, I do a LOT of.  I had no idea.  I knew my posture was a mess, but I hadn't realized just how abysmal it really is until I started trying to tuck that chin and straighten that back. 

Ouchie!

So, the temps were supposed to dip down low, which necessitated a hauling in of the plants.  That was day before yesterday.  Imagine my horror when I came in that night to find our kitchen table crawling with slugs.  SLUGS!  Uncalled for!  I cleaned them up, but ew, you know?

Speaking of plants, I went to a neighbors to warn her about the upcoming cold temps and to ask for some cuttings from her Wandering Jews (http://plantsarethestrangestpeople.blogspot.com/2008/09/wandering-jew-tradescantia-zebrina.html).  She was happy to give (she has many, many plants), but was bothered by my dainty, tender snipping of stalks.  She said, "Just grab a handful and yank."  I didn't want to ruin her plant, so I gave a little tug.  She rolled her eyes, stomped down the back steps, and grabbed an ARMFUL.  She YANKED, and there she was with a brimming armload of plant.  She handed it to me and shooed me out the door.  Told me to come back tomorrow for whatever else I might want.

Wow!

Scheduling wound me up not having a chance to go to her house the next day.  When I got home from taking our boy to Hapkido, there was a GIGANTIC plant, pot and all, on the front porch.  This one Moses in the Cradle ( http://www.ag.auburn.edu/hort/landscape/dbpages/583.html).  Unlike the Wandering Jews, the Moses in the Cradle is toxic, so we couldn't just let it hang out on the floor or on the kitchen table like we did with the WJ (which, along with my lavender, is now occupying the entire kitchen table!).  We wound up taking it upstairs to hubby's office, where it's sitting quite prettily on a stool in front of the window.  Hopefully, it will fare well.  I'd love to have it outside, come spring!

Now, the embarrassment.  My neighbor's house is frightfully clean.  Like spotless.  No prepping for guests, no catching her off-guard--the house is always spotless all of the time.  Even with her two grandsons living there now.  It's . . . humiliating.  My house isn't filthy, it's not awful.  It's usually presentable, and a couple of times a week it's really good (except for the computer desk, of course).  But when compared to hers?  Oh, shame.  So today, my arthritic joints and screaming back cleaned.  One of those BIG cleans, where all the knick-knacks get pulled off the media towers and dusted.  Where shelves that have been the landing spots for all sorts of dreck for a year get sorted and rearranged.  I mopped, I scrubbed, I swept, I vacuumed.  And now? 

I hurt.

I hurt, and it still doesn't look as clean as hers.  But I think she could come in and not feel panicked at the clutter.  And that's going to have to be good enough, because I don't have any more in me this day.

Stop, Hey, What's That Sound?

So, I was reading about this morning, as I do most mornings, and came across a real gem.  A story of student activism and the rallying together of students in a number of states.  These students are standing up for what they believe in, they're joining forces and raising their voices against the evil of . . . healthier school lunches?

Yes, that's right.  Poor, tortured kids screaming out against the abuse of broccoli, the tyranny of skim milk, the violent oppression of lean meat and low sodium.

Holy cow, really?  Really?  Though I hate to slip into the "when I was a kid" rut, I feel absolutely obligated.  When I was a little kid, the older kids were protesting a WAR.  They were storming National Guard Armories and chaining themselves to gates to protest the invasion of a foreign country and the deaths of tens of thousands.  They were burning draft cards and risking prison.  When I was a little older?  Kids were protesting nuclear proliferation and rallying for the rights of women to be paid the same as men.  They were standing up for the integration of schools and the rights of women to enjoy reproductive freedom.  Heck, for years, people have been putting themselves on the line for gender equality.  And then there are the kids in Parsippany, in Pittsburgh, and up near Milwaukee crying out against the awfulness that is veggies with lunch.

I sure hope these kids aren't representative of their generation.  Because boy, if they are, I despair.  Talk about spoiled and inwardly-focused.  And politically nudged?  Considering the scope of Koch-type influence, that's always a possibility.  They are, after all, the masters of masking money and greed with a "grassroots" facade.

Well, enough of that.  They are just kids--there's time for them to develop an appreciation for things truly important, and maybe this silly bit of anti-veggie activism will give them a taste for something more meaningful someday.  Right?

My mind has, of late, been much on the daughter of a friend.  She's been suffering a lot of health problems lately, and has just now been diagnosed with gastroparesis.  In a nutshell, that's slowing or paralysis of the gastro-intestinal tract.  It's awful for her, she's really struggling with discovering what she can eat and how to keep from becoming seriously malnourished.  I don't have  a lot of folks who read, but if you're seeing this and you have experience with gastroparesis, please, drop me a line.  This isn't a very common thing, and there aren't a lot of professionals with in depth experience.  Any help is greatly appreciated.

It was 80 degrees yesterday (Fahrenheit, of course).  Today only 50.  Supposed to get down to 28 tomorrow night, so there go the tomatoes, huh?  Going to bring in the lavender and some of the flowers tonight--the rest will have to handle things best as they can.  No cash for potting soil right now, which is very sad--there are cuttings I wanted to bring in for rooting, but they're going to be toast by payday. 

Oh, well--next year is another day.

Edited to add--turns out I can root those cuttings in water, and grab the potting soil next payday!  Happy! 

Almost 1 pm.  Must be time to wake that boy up!

Drugs, Drugs everywhere

So, I'm something like the opposite of a drug-seeker.  I am, in fact, a drug-avoider.  I dodge medications whenever humanly possible.  They scare me.  I have an arrhythmia, I'm diabetic, and I have a history of gastric ulcer.  Plus I'm on a beta blocker for the arrhythmia.  As a result, I really do fear new medications. 

A few months ago, I went to see an ENT for a miserable pain in my neck, jaw, and face.  Being me, I'd waited for a couple of months before breaking down and going in.  Hey, that $35 copay may seem like nothing to some, but to us, it's a hit.  Especially after the avalanche of copays earlier this year.  The ENT's expert opinion?

Anxiety.  I have a bad case of nerves.  And, considering the stress level, I could go along with that.  Heck, I wanted to go along with it.  He prescribed something called Metataxalone aka Skelaxin, and sent me on my way.  I never took even one of those pills.  I was too scared.

Fast forward a few months.  The back pain, which I've had on and off since the move over a year ago (wowser "on" for months after the move, then a bit better, now brutal), finally drove me to see my PCP (or the doc standing in for her while she's out on maternity leave, actually).  As I posted earlier today, the verdict is osteoarthritis/degenerative disc disease.  Back pain aside, common symptoms are neck, jaw, and facial pain.  Sound familiar?

Luckily, I still have a whole script for Skelaxin.  And I just took one, because the pain tonight is amazing.  It's not like the lower back/blown discs pain.  No, this is a mixture of burning, strained, raw, grainy, pins-and-needles, and, as strange as it sounds, cold.  If you ever went to college, you probably remember the back/neck ache that came from lousy posture and a head bent over a book for hours at a time.  It's like that, but from mid-back through the base of my skull.  Makes me want to scream.

I'll wander back in later and let you know how the pill did.  The prescription NSAID (diclofenac) didn't do squat earlier today. 

Spinal Crackers in Space

So, the x-rays finally made it to my gp's office (though my usual gp is out on maternity leave and my original choice for gp is handling her cases).  Still no promised call, though.  Instead, I received a single page interpretation from Fairfax Radiology, with a scrawled note from the gp once again recommending the in-house physical therapy we can't afford right now.

The radiologist's findings?

Spine, Thoracic Three Views

History: back pain

Comparison:  none

AP, Lateral, and Swimmers views of the thoracic spine:

The vertabrae are intact and aligned.  Vertabral body heights are normal.  Disc heights are mildly narrowed throughout the thoracic spine with small anterior osteophytosis.  No focal lesion or fracture.

Impression: mild degenerative disc disease throughout the thoracic spine.

Not as bad as it could have been, but man, the pain really is getting pretty danged irritating.  We already know I have multiple blown discs in the lumbar/sacral regions. Bet the cervical spine's a mess, too.  I know that the way I sit at the computer and the way I hunch over the iPad to play Monopoly with our boy likely makes it worse, but everyone agrees this originates with my 1993 car accident. 

Marvy.

I'll do some digging, see what I can find for exercises and the like to make this better.  Supposedly, it responds well to non-surgical approaches. 

It's the first Saturday Hapkido class for our boy.  He is so loving this!  Wish it didn't cost so much--it's basically the cost of the physical therapy I'm not getting.  No, my PT isn't more important.  I've got mild spinal degeneration, holding off for a year or so isn't likely to do me much harm, considering I've had this back ache for most of a year.  He is so happy about this, and he is doing so well--no way I'm messing that up.  He needs this, and I need for him to have it.

Did some digging and found my old OB/GYN's assistant on Facebook.  No, that's not as creepy as it sounds--she's the one who found the mystery mass, and she asked that I let her know how that resolved.  But then she left my old doc's office, and I didn't know where to find her.  Found her on Facebook this morning (she, too, had moved out of state), and just dropped her a note letting her know what the mass was and how things turned out.  She was a wonderfully nice woman, very smart, very up on her research, and really was a joy.  In as much as you can miss the person manning the speculum, I miss her.

Only three hours of sleep last night, hence the weirdo title for today's blog.  It makes no sense to me, either.  Going to hit the hay again as soon as Hapkido is over.  Have a wonderful Saturday!

Happy Birthday, Charlie!

Charlie.  Charles.  Chuckles.  Narles.  Charlula.  CharlieErmyArmyOomy.  If the measure of a thing's importance is the number of names you have for it, Charlie is very important to us, indeed.  And today?

Is Charlie's first birthday.

We couldn't just let it pass, of course.  It was good for a trip to Petsmart, where Charlie chose his own toy (a Purple Rhino which will, almost certainly, be toast within a half hour unless we closely supervise).  He was also gifted with a doggy birthday cake (good find by our son!), some dental chews, and a bag of Castor and Pollux grain-free ADULT dog food! 

On the down side, he growled and barked at another dog (who had, before he came in, growled and barked at ME), and later growled and barked at an employee, but it turned out he wasn't growling and barking at HER, but rather at the broom and dust bin she was working with.  Guess that's my payoff for (playfully) teasing him with the broom while sweeping the floors this morning.  Oops.

Short entry today--dinner's just about on, and it's already 10:30 at night. 

Happy Birthday, Charlie-dog!

Chuckles and his Birthday Rhino

The Presidential Debate

Wow.  What a low standard we have, that Romney merely has to show up, fling a few well-rehearsed one-liners, and not blunder too badly and folks call him the winner.  I'm blown away at the sheer number of lies he told without challenge.  The claims he made about health insurance (26 year olds have always been covered by their parents' insurance?), about education (sorry, Mitt--Maryland actually has the best schools, has for four years now), about taxes (come on, not even ONE economist has viewed your plan and called it anything but untenable), and about working with the other side of the aisle (yeah, Mitt, your democrats in Massachusetts didn't come into office making the vow to obstruct and damage you however possible--democrats are funny that way) were breathtaking, they were so absolutely untrue. 

Don't even get me started on how his magical plans are going to somehow fix the deficit, toss bennies to the rich, and yet somehow not be borne on the backs of the middle class and poor.  And Mitt?  Your own campaign stated you were going to slash college grants, you proposed folks should "borrow from their folks" (or maybe cash in some stocks?) to pay for college.  But now you're backpedaling on that, too.  You really will say anything to get elected, won't you?

My dream debate?  Involves a cadre of fact checkers and a big, red buzzer.  Romney'd have been drowned out by that buzzer the whole hour-and-a-half.  Sadly, too many Americans don't care.  They really do seem to feel that "by any means necessary" is a good way to do politics.  Where I grew up, if you have to lie, cheat, and intimidate to win, you're not a winner.

President Obama?  I love that you know the facts rather than spit out flash and shallow style.  But you need to call him on his crap.  Please.  Somehow, you've got to find the balance between professional and bulldog, so you can expose his lack of veracity without coming across as mean or bullying.  It can be done, you've got to figure out how. 

Stayed up until 4:50 this morning.  Just couldn't get tired.  I did manage to kick all the iPad Monopoly ass, whipped those three poor AI players handily.  If that's not pathetic, I don't know what is.

A lot on my mind.  Turns out Fairfax Radiology never sent my x-rays to my doctor.  Allegedly did so yesterday, doctor promised to call back but never did.  Plus I'm near panic-stricken over the annual inspection for the car.  We are paycheck to paycheck these days--a big repair bill could spell the end of us and car for a while.  Not even going to think about the sore hands and elevated RA levels. AND our boy wants to go to summer camp next year--a first for him.  But that's 600 bucks that's just not there right now, though we're determined to find a way.  The sad thing?  We don't miss payments, we're not in arrears on anything, but we can't get a consolidation loan to bring our payments down, which means the interest is eating our payments.  If we could consolidate, it would free up a good 800 or so bucks a month, which would leave us beyond flush.  But because our "credit to debt ratio" is too high, no one will give us a loan.  Even though we make our payments on time, and the loan would actually give us more money each month.  What a mess. 

Hey, Mr. Romney?  How about a $19,458 loan?  That's it, that's every dime of our debt, that would zero us out.  We are absolutely good for it, we'd never miss a payment.

Pretty please?

Oh, and on a totally unrelated note, please, do your family and friends a favor and don't bring the phone into the bathroom with you, okay?  Unless, of course, you're looking to get someone OFF the phone.  Gotta tell ya, the sound of little gasps and grunts while I'm trying to converse?  Ew.  Really.