The last of the condo

Well, the condo is sold and I do believe closing will be this Monday, which kinda sucks as I have paid the mortgage and dues for September as the gentleman who purchased the condo was not going to be in town until this Friday.  Oh, well, I guess I will get that prorated back to me.  I didn't expect closing to come this quickly and assumed the realtor meant the 31st of September, which is a fictitious date as only 30 days hath and you know the rest.  Anyway, it looks as if it will be this Monday, which will mean more time away from work this month.  Oh, well.  So it goes.

It will be nice to unload the condo, aside from the financial burden of having two mortgages.  It means a real closure to my past, my crazy past, in the condo.  The death of a dear friend.  Finding his body will be the last and permanent image of him I will have.  That death really was the end of my considering the condo a safe home.  Then there were the crazies in the building.  The shut-in who wanted me to be her pal and play Jeopardy every night and keep her company.  Her rants became too much to bear.  And then there was the alcoholic Mr. Smith who, again, tried to monopolize my time with his needs,holding me hostage to music.  No,more. In the house I have me and nice neighbors.  No one truly obtrusive in my life now, save for everybody who is helping me out in my condition, what condition my condition is in.  The neighbor lady across the street is a dear, if a somewhat poor driver.  Vehicles come to my house to be hit by other vehicles backing out of driveways.  It has happened twice now.  Best to park in the drive if you come to visit, or down the street.  Danger, Will Robinson, danger!  Don't part in front of the Czarina's abode. 

Yes, the condo is just a fading bad memory.  The suicide attempt, the drinking, the sobriety.  The dear neighbor.  I used to work with the little guy and he helped me to find the condo and move next to him as I was in the throes of a deteriorating relationship.  We became close over the years and in the end I was checking in on him every day and that is how I happened to find him, cold as the snows of January.  Well, it was just a matter of time before I moved.  I was afraid to move, initially, as I had packed quite a bit of stuff into a small condo and was deathly afraid of having to pack.  But that was solved by the good folks at Sunrise who packed and unpacked me as I sat idly by.  The worse part about getting the house was first it being a short sale and waiting that out and second waiting out the remodel and having some buyer's remorse when I saw the kitchen torn out with holes in the walls and the bathroom destroyed.  It's all lovely now.  But for a while in January I was a mess.  Hyphen 1 was a saint, as was my reflexologist, both of whom soothed my jangled nerves.  Now the angst over the physical health and the lack of walking has put me in a short position.  I feel like I need more of Hyphen 2.  I think she believes I may not need a great deal of therapy.  Boy, is she ever wrong!  Maybe after telling her my trials of loss changed her mind. 

Loss is a funny thing.  What do we really mean by a loss?  A sports loss is so different that a physical or emotional loss.  Look at all we all have lost.  How is it now hard not to constantly think about our losses.  I obsess at time.  My family is mostly gone.  My friend is gone.  We all are getting older, which is better that the option but does not preclude the final outcome. 

And so it goes.  Closing is Monday.  Yet another closure in life.  Time to move on and make do.  And so it goes...a homage to Kurt Vonnegut.

Progress of sorts

Not exactly the Pilgrim's Progress, with apologies to Bunyan, but my progress, healing the leg-wise.  Things are progressing nicely with the boot, although it is more comfortable without it at home.  I can put more weight on it but still, with or without the boot, I need the crutches.  I am somewhat accustomed to people opening doors for me (with the exception of the crazed MPT) and, in general, most people have been very helpful, especially Sophie and JB.  Even Ethel Nussbaum has helped haul garbage out.   I really need, however, to get all the boxes out of the house and off the porch.  Maybe I can get Natural Clean to do it for me.  Anyway, it is taking a while to heal and taking me more time to learn to let people take care of me while I am unable to do some basic functions, like hauling the garbage out and breaking down boxes.  I feel not unlike a turtle on its back: out of my element and marginally helpless.  I can only image what Hyphen 1 is going through with her recovery. 

Today is Hyphen 2 day and I have been writing down some things that concern me, like the intrusive thoughts that plague me night and day.  Death, dying and destruction elements (and don't tell Sophie your darkest nightmare as it will come back to bite you in the ass) all float in and out of my stream of consciousness.   Also, I'd like to know if Hyphen 2 just wants me "back on my feet" or will accommodate my desire to have a consistent fall back position.  Something else to ponder with her today.  Right now I view therapy as a continuous process of self-discovery.  Insights, if you will...even if you won't.  The long journey to death...Oops, there is an example of my intrusive thought processes.  So, that is on the agenda for today.

Yankel the Cat has conjunctivitis and some seasonal allegies.  Right now he sounds as if he is constantly rooting for truffles.  Snort, snort, sniffle, sniffle.  He is waiting to see the vet Thursday and getting his own Benadryl for kitties.  Still the snorting and his size makes him the perfect analogy of a truffling pig.  Or a trifling pug.  In any event I can't wait until I have to chase after him to give him his eye drops in my condition.  Crutch, crutch, thunk, step.  That should be too much fun.  Oh, Sophie...more help please.  Yankel is big and strong and not easy to medicate.  This should be fun...not!

Alright, enough for this morning.  On to the mundane.

Alright, I know I promised

I just had an almost literal run in with the Magic Plastic Tuna.  It may not have escaped some people, but then again...I am on crutches and have a walking cast on my right leg. So, that being said I was en route from the restroom to my desk and the MPT approached and stopped in place, gave me an exasperated harrumph, and made me walk around her.  Now, I could have stood my tenuous ground and made her move, which is what I will do the next this happens.  And there we will stand by the copy machine, neither one of us moving to give ground.   See looked at me as if my fly was undone and something aromatic was coming from my person.  I don't deserve this.  I know the clump, clump, clump of my approach could be annoying but her personage is annoying.  I am not injured because I have nothing better to do than annoying the piss out of her.  But she seems to think this is the case.  So, just so we are clear, I have a broken tibia, some tendonitis in the Achilles, arthritis in the foot and, in general, am a mess.  So, hopefully, this is the last you will hear my mention the MPT again, foul person that she is.

Pain redux

Here I sit, loaded up on drugs for pain and the pain is merely swimming upstream.  I can only sleep for forty five minutes at a time.  So I decided to take a hot shower and try to relax.  I have a call into the Putz, really that is his name, and I am hoping he sees fit to order a walking cast.  It is a new experience in pain everything I put even the slightest weight on the leg. I am not a happy camper.  And I basically feel like a turtle on its back having everyone taking care of me.  What would be lovely would be a scooter.  I haven't been back to work since Tuesday  when I believe I took too many aspirins and made myself sick to the point I thought I was going to faint at Hyphen 2 and she was very concerned.  I had to cancel my appointment that day.  It wasn't until Thursday that I started feeling better and could finally eat something.still, and when Hyphen 2 called to see how I was feeling I felt very guilty and ashamed and this is a new twist for me.  Something to work on in therapy.

I am not used to having so many people take care of me.  Sophie, who counted the number of times I invoked the Diety's name (sixtyfour times) in my painful state, and has sinced reminded me of that.  I am still saying that as I am still in a great deal of pain and nothing seems to be helping.  I really don't want to go back to work only to make the pain worse.  It is hard for me to feel so helpless and to allow people to take care of me.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the closing on the condo is looming.  I ordered the payoff on that mortgage.  That is good news. I received a quick note from The Original Hyphen. Must respond in kind.  And work on the backyard jungle continues and should be landscaped in a week.  I am trying to focus on some positive things,  back to work Monday and I hope to have either a scooter or walking cast by then.  I fear if we aren't mor aggressive the leg will continue to ache and not heal.

1:09 a.m. And still wide awake and in pain and this is my uplifting message for the day.

Can I say a few things?

First...OUCH!!!  This leg crap is seriously hurting.  Being at work is hellish.   Second...crutches suck.  And, to wit, to woo, it hurts to walk with them and without them.  I can't put full weight on my leg and I can't tolerate the shooting pain in my arm pits.  Maybe I needs a pit stop.  In any event I am stuck with them.  Sophie has been of immense help.  Mrs. Shankland called yesterday and asked if she could do anything so I suspect the neighborhood has and will be mobilized on my behalf.  I hate being this helpless and asking people to assist me in my daily tasks.  It, like the crutches, suck. 

I meet with Hyphen 2 today at 4:00.  I may let her know what her name is.  She, I suspect, Google'd me as she knows more about me that my history sheet.  She is good and a great fit.  I just wish her office wasn't on the second floor with no elevator.  But she has given me a standing appointment I can live with.  I shall talk about more serious stuff today than my not feeling grown up.  Especially now with so many people taking care of me.  It's hard to let that happen.  But back to Hyphen 2.  She's a keeper.  She also looks a great deal like Hyphen.  So that is a help in the therapeutic setting.

I apologize for not writing more but I seem to be fixated on the pain in my leg.  I shall endeavor to write more.  More about Sophie/Gastric.  More about JB and LAD and all my helpers.  Dang, I hate being this helpless...

The report

The MRI report basically is a mish mosh of old age problems, including osteopenia related fractures. Also, some tendinitis in the Achilles, arthritis in the foot, a hematoma, and as the king said, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.  Couldn't bear to go back to work this week as walking with crutches is about all the work I can tolerate.  I have been sleeping a lot and much to Sophie's dismay not eating very much.  Simcha Cat has been giving me repeated Cat Scans and basically staying by my side all day and night.  Yankel seems content to want me to trip over him, or maybe fall on him, while Gonif is happily slumbering in his nest.  I endeavored to sleep in bed last night and that was a disaster.  I am running out of places that deliver food and the birds keep rapping on the back door for food.  Sophie will take care of some of that today along with her sister Ethel.   The Rabbi came to see me yesterday and to discuss a music night at the synagogue, and no, that is not something cryptic; the Rabii really did visit with me yesterday.  Basically I feel helpless and depended and you know how much I love feeling this way.

On Tuesday I had my second visit with Hyphen 2 and am confident that seeing her was the correct choice to make.  While it would have been nice to be able to walk to get to therapy, that shouldn't have been the only reason to have seen the $200 an hour Calvin's Mom.  Are you kidding me...$200 an hour for a psychologist...a forty five minute hour at that.  No therapist is worth that.

So home I sit while the town is awash in great events this weekend.  Depression is mounting.  What to do, what to do.  Back to work Monday.  Damn, this sucks.

MRI results

Showed a distal fracture of the tibia...so much for the "crack physicians" at Lansing Urgent Care.  Couldn't find their asses with both hands.  I have to call my primary care doctors in the morning to see what to do next.

But there you go...almost instantaneous results.  Thank God for MSU's Department of Radiology

More when the pain meds kick in.