Mrs. Kravitz and the Case of the (In) Disposed Mattress

Mom's been staying with me while Niece is visiting her parents for 10 days. Normally would not require Mom to stay with me full time but because my leg is so wonky lately, I have requested she spend more time with me. I know I'm on shaky ground here because so many boundaries will get blurred but me? I'm emotionally fragile right now. That little tumble in the tub upset more than just my physical equilibrium. Any little wobble on my walker has me freaked out. If I'm taking a shower (even though my shower is completely handicap accessible) I need to make sure someone is near enough to help me, in case I fall again. Hoping this phase will pass quickly.

I live in a cul-de-sac. From my front windows, you can see everything going on in the neighborhood. Mom, aka Mrs. Kravitz, enjoys this viewpoint. Most cars are scrutinized or I'm asked, "Who's that car belong to?" as if I know what my neighbors drive. If there's someone walking by the house, "Who are they? What are they doing?" You get the idea. Anyway, today, one of my neighbors put something of great interest outside their door.

Couldn't understand why Mom was hopping back and forth between the shutters on the front windows. She kept adjusting the width of the shutter openings for a better view of...something. I asked her, "Hey Gladys, what's caught your attention now?" Mom replied quite seriously, "The neighbors have put out a refrigerator on the front porch. Why do you suppose they've done that? Are they dusting it?"

Dusting a refrigerator? What the hell is that all about? "Maybe they're just cleaning it and then they'll bring it inside. Or maybe they're going to donate it - oh I know, today is the Veteran's Donation pick-up. I bet they're donating the fridge!!" Mom crowed triumphantly that she'd figured it out. She looked out the window one more time. "Huh. That doesn't look like a fridge. Huh. What is it? Oh, wait, I was wrong. It's a MATTRESS!!"

Mom has a habit of mis-identifying objects. Reminds me of the time we were on a cruise and Mom, in quite a state, kept saying loudly, "OH MY GOD!! IT'S A SURFER!! WHAT'S A SURFER DOING OUT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE OCEAN!! OH MY GOD!!!! A SURFER!!! IN THE OCEAN!!!" Now, it was just a little bit past sunrise so Mom's vision was obscured. "OH MY GOD!!! THE SURFER!! IT'S A...WAIT...THAT'S NOT A SURFER!! WHAT IS IT?!!! IT'S, IT'S...OH, never mind. it's a piece of trash. go back to sleep."

Turns out, the neighbors were simply moving furniture around. Case solved.

Birthday Greetings

Yesterday was my birthday! I'm 47 years old - quite proud of it, too. I had a lovely afternoon with Missy R. and her Hubby. Bittersweet, though. Earlier in the morning they had to put down their dog, K.B. We called our lunch, "The Circle of Life" and talked about K.B.'s years with them. Loved that little puppy. She was sweet and smart, sometimes too smart.

All in all it was a quiet birthday. The years of wanting stuff and making a big deal out of my day are past me, I think. I would have demanded a tiara (or two), cape and scepter (which my friends provided) and I would have worn it proudly the entire day. At work. In a restaurant. Or bar. Didn't matter. I was the Queen. (I'm making shouty noises in my head, "Bow down to the Queen!! Bow down to the Birthday Queen!!) because I think I might have even said that to total strangers before. Not the first time, either.

I spent the morning with my Mom and Dad; an afternoon with some great friends, and an evening, by myself, to think about my life. By my account, it truly was a great day. Happy Birthday, Scooter Girl!!

Starbucks and your local crackwhore

Starbucks in Barnes and Noble (love that convenience) - rolling up to the counter. Woman dressed (I'm being generous when I say "dressed", it was more of a "I'm wearing my pajamas" ensemble) in a do-rag, long sleeved sweatshirt over a tshirt, baggy sweats and tennis shoes. I'm smiling because it truly is a gorgeous day in America's Finest City. As I stop in front of the counter, I look at the Starbucks lady and the crackwhore in line (well, she looked like one and besides, it's 80 degrees outside. Even with my cold blood it was nice and warm) and I hear the pajama wearing bitch say, "Maybe if you lost some weight you could get out of that wheelchair".

OH. YES. SHE. DID!!

Now, you would expect me to say something in the way of, "Listen Miss Crackwhore, what do you know? I mean besides the street price of selling your puntang to anyone stupid enough to come near your disease ridden body. You don't hear me telling you that I can smell your stank all the way in the clearance aisle, do you? You don't see me pointing out to you that maybe brushing your teeth might save the two left in your "I'm going to die alone in some ditch" mouth. And I certainly won't mention that covering up your hair with that less than fashionable do-rag doesn't hide the dirt, twigs and most probably 7 or 8 kind of insects living there."

But I didn't do anything.

I just smiled at her. Really. Because in that second after she insulted me, I didn't care. If she's so far gone from humanity that she had to attack a stranger in a wheelchair, then nothing I said would make a difference. Besides, it was too pretty a day to deal with the likes of her. Doesn't mean in my mind I wasn't running over her again and again in my wheelchair screaming, "Betcha you wish I HAD lost some weight, right, crackwhore bitch?" Sigh. Thankfully, nothing made it out of my mouth.

Sometimes it's not worth the effort to get mad at people. While I sit here and type this, I still don't feel any anger or mortification that some crackwhore (okaaaay, maybe I'm a little peeved) called me out on my weight gain. In the words of Suzanne Sugarbaker, "Big Woo!"

P.S. I haven't put on so much weight I'm a hideous beast and look like I need a wheelchair because I can't walk. I still wear clothes from regular stores and guess what? They have zippers, buttons and belts. The Blob I am not.

The hits keep coming...

I've complained lately that there's a new pain in my left leg. Centered around my ankle bone and not unlike a burning screwdriver thrust inside the soft tissue (I'm imagining this since I prefer never to feel the real thing) then spun around the ankle bone, toes and calf muscles for extra "flavor".

Ick. Had a scheduled appointment to see my orthopaedic surgeon on Monday. I told him about the new and fun pain. When he asked if anything had happened that might be related to the pain, I casually mentioned my fall in the bathtub last month. He grabbed my foot and started touching different areas asking about pain. I don't have much topical sensation so I didn't react - until he pressed his devil thumbs in the soft tissue around my ankle bone. I rolled backwards so fast my foot did a little twirl before hitting my wheelchair. All I could say to him was, "I DON'T LIKE THAT!" Guess something really is wrong.

Yup. I have a pulled ligament. Doc said it would have been easier if I broke a bone because medically speaking, ligaments take longer to heal. Considering my history, it would probably take longer. 4-6 weeks if I'm lucky. Maybe 5 months, possibly a year.

Oh. Did I mention the cuts on my leg? Little skin breaks that keep growing. Plus little white bumps and red squiggly lines running from the top of my foot to the middle of my ankle. Inneresting. Infectious diseases here I come!

Sigh. Guess the vacay from my foot is over.

And Mother Nature Sneezed...

Hmph. Our European Vacay didn't quite happen the way we planned. My niece and I made it to Zurich but then Mt. "SinceIcan'tpronounceitwhyspellitright?" volcano blew up the day we arrived. I contemplated changing our flight to Lisbon right away but decided not to worry about it - we were leaving in a day, what could possibly happen?

HA! Mother Nature sneezed.

Trapped in Zurich. I know, I know, sounds exciting and romantic, doesn't it? Except we were trapped in one of the most expensive cities in Europe and c'mon, I was stuck with MY NIECE - who could not appreciate our circumstances. It's hard to accept that the trip you've been waiting and planning for a year is over that quickly.

Missy J. says our trip was doomed from the start. Upgraded seats in business class but row 13. My TV/electronic entertainment system didn't work. Driver in Zurich was an asshole and made Missy J. load up the car. Sheraton Zurich was lovely but the staff was not familiar with the motorized ramp and I spent a lot of time sitting on that ramp watching buttons and controls being pushed; also, my niece displayed varied stages of impatience watching the staff - she had it figured out after the first attempt.

I fell down in the bathroom the first morning.

Oh, yes. I fell down in the bathroom. First time in five years. I asked for a shower chair and in Europe, shower chairs are not even close to what is required in the States. European version? Plastic stool, no bathmats (travelling with my own from now on - lesson learned) and marble tubs. Pretty pretty but pretty slippery. I knew it wasn't completely safe but I stupidly thought I could handle it. Yeah. I shifted a little to my left and I felt the chair go out from under me. I slammed backwards into the faucet and all I could think as I flew up then slammed down into the tub, "Protect the foot! Protect the foot! Hey, I'm lying down in a tub!" Yes, the mind settles on the least painful part instantly - at least mine does. I heard my niece shout, "Auntie? AUNTIE?!" followed by her running into the bathroom to find me lying naked (my cash and prizes laid out for her to see) sideways in the tub, shaking violently. Luckily I wasn't hurt. It wasn't fun for either one of us in the next ten minutes. I flashed my niece all kinds of naked (my cash and prizes had no shame) while we figured out how to turn me around without breaking my foot. After that I refused to shower without my niece helping me. Poor kid. Again, on the plus side - I was able to lay down in a tub for the first time in five years!!

On the fifth day, our hotel kicked us out because they were overbooked. The only handicap accessible hotel available was (and typing this is so difficult) $1300 per night. Yes folks, $1300 per night.

Before I forget, let me talk about the food in Zurich. Ate a lot of grilled sausage. At the Wolfe Beerhaus, Missy J. returned from the restroom and told me that there were vending machines selling various adult toys - vibrators, c*ck rings, lube, condoms...so I made her go back and buy Missy R. a vibrator. A gag (HA!) gift - I knew she'd appreciate the gesture. BTW, that little sucker is loud! There are three watch batteries that power it up. But I digress...everything is expensive in Zurich. Bottled water ranged from $8 to $15; most meals averaged around $80.

Luckily we were able to leave when the airports opened up, seven days later. Missed our cruise but still headed to Lisbon to check out the city. Had a lot of fun seeing the historical sites, ate some great seafood and finally, after three days, found a flight back to the States via JFK. Two days spent travelling out of Europe and completely over budget, we were back in sunny Southern CA.

I don't regret one moment of this trip. While there were many, okay, too many, reasons to stress out during our adventure, it was still an adventure in Europe. One day my niece will appreciate our journey instead of viewing it as a curse.

Oh, and Mother Nature? Next time? Use a Kleenex.

Auntie Pain

Just one day without pain. What I wouldn't almost give for one day without pain. Four and a half years of non-stop pain. If I slow down and think about it too much, as I am today, it drives me a little bat shit crazy.

Frankly, I don't know how I do it. I mean, I should be addicted to pain killers by now or maybe even the illegal stuff. I'm not complimenting my stamina, I'm simply amazed at how I cope. Because now that I'm thinking about it, I can't figure it out.

Pain is relative, as the saying goes. Earlier last week, Missy R. and I had lunch with a former co-worker. At one point, the co-worker said, "Scooter Girl, you don't know how much pain I'm in - it's terrible. You can't even imagine." I almost fell out of my seat. Then I remembered that I'm not the only one suffering. I forget sometimes that it's not all about me. Seriously. I focus on me so much everyone else is kinda fuzzy. I don't think in a bad way but more of a "it's all about me so why bother?" kind of way.

Today is an exceptionally horrible day for me. Off the chart, can't be measured, just cut my leg off already, sort of pain. I know that I've trained myself to ignore pain as much as I can but this is waaaay worse than normal. If I could gnaw my leg off, canine style, I would seriously consider that option.

Are there great rewards in the next life for enduring excruciating pain in this life? If there is, I'd like to submit my list of demands (I can demand, can't I?):

Two good legs (to be precise, all extremities should be in working order)
Matching shoes: pretty, pretty matching shoes. Left and right.
Places to walk and wander for hours. Lots of flowers and grass.
Stairs to climb. Not many, enough to prove that I can do it.
No pain of any kind. That's all.

There is probably a long line of people ahead of me, each one thinking the same thing - just one day. Just one day without pain.