Unanimity

Inspirational song: Take It Easy (The Eagles)

Amid lingering nightmares from the trauma that was a presidential caucus four years ago, I put my big girl pants on and boldly walked in to lead the precinct breakout meeting at caucus this afternoon. Where we had over thirty people show up four years ago, and four people two years ago, I had no clue what to expect for today. I held my breath as I was the first to sit at our precinct table. Within a few minutes, a few others had showed, including Mr S-P who had to zip back home to get his phone that held his preregistration QR code to get through the door. We had a grand total of eight attendees in our room, counting myself. With the presidential choices already completed by mail-in ballot on Super Tuesday, all of the cranky pants people who were ready to throw down over Hillary vs Bernie stayed home. We had eight lovely people who were ready to open up about our knowledge of and feelings about the candidates. The big surprise was learning that we were all basically on the same page. We all wanted the former speaker of the state house to represent us, we had positive impressions of the neuroscientist political novice but weren’t ready to send her up for this advanced job, and as our mothers all taught us, said almost nothing at all about the former governor. (If you cant say something nice...)

I get stuck between wanting to control everything in these meetings because I enjoy my seat of responsibility and wanting to completely defer to every other person in the room because duh, representative democracy. I hope I found the right balance. We all kept falling over ourselves trying to be polite and encouraging, and I mean everyone did that. We had four people volunteer to hold three delegate slots, and we tried to out-nice each other to figure out who was going to be the one volunteer left out. I ended up getting to be one of the three again. I’m glad that this time the county assembly and convention will be here in town rather than down in Boulder. It means we don’t have to get on the road quite as early.

A year and a bit ago, I wanted to be one of the delegates who goes all the way up to the presidential nominating convention. Last year’s cancer treatment and this year’s blessed arrival to come has taken the wind out of those sails. I don’t have the drive to glad-hand and campaign to be chosen to go to Milwaukee. Besides, after my candidate of choice dropped out of the race, I’m less inspired to go into thousands of dollars in debt to watch one of two old white guys that I don’t particularly care about get the nomination. Shoot, for that matter, I don’t even think I want to step up to go to state convention. I’ll do my duty at county, and then step aside for people who aren’t awaiting their first grandchild right in the middle of the process. I have better things to do.

Spooky

Inspirational song: Welcome to My Nightmare (Alice Cooper)

The newest binge-worthy series has begun at Smith Park, a scary little number called Locke & Key. We’ve gone through all sorts of suspenseful and spooky and gory stuff over the years, but I can’t remember being as fearful watching a TV series as I am for this one. And when I saw the previews, I seriously thought this was for kids. I don’t think that anymore. Just because the main protagonists are young siblings, two teens and their grade school age little brother, doesn’t make this lightweight. It’s possible the book(s) this is based on are YA, but that’s not a foregone conclusion. There are mature enough scenes, and the language doesn’t sound like kid stuff. It’s great at building tension, and I am legit scared at least once during each episode. I didn’t expect to like it this much, but man, I do. This one is on Netflix. If you are looking for a little diversion, give it a try.

We are going ahead with plans of a baby shower in a month. At the rate things are getting shut down and canceled, like today’s surprise that SXSW is off, I wonder whether it will be a wise idea. The virus has definitely landed in the greater Denver area. I don’t know whether it’s all the way to Boulder county yet. It’s probably just a matter of time. Little S-P III is going to be here in a couple months, virus or no. We have to keep preparing for their arrival.

Tomorrow is the caucus to select down-ballot delegates. I will be there to run my room. I wonder whether people will be interested in being all mashed together with the advisories against close contact. Four years ago, when the presidential choice was still done by caucus, it was a nightmare. The big meeting before we broke up into precincts was a literal crush, with thousands of people jammed into a high school cafeteria. It was loud and hot and you couldn’t avoid touching people. This year we have more locations spread out around town, and the top of the ticket was peeled off and voted as a primary. I think turnout will be smaller. I’m still going to take my own hand sanitizer and tissues to be able to avoid touching anything that spooks me.

Roll On

Inspirational song: Folsom Prison Blues (Johnny Cash)

Today was a hard day for lots of people, me included. Misogyny is still very strong in this country, and we had to face it publicly while still maintaining equanimity all day. The most talented, empathetic, qualified human I could have hoped for has been drummed out of the race to lead this country. I have to hope a dream deferred is not a dream denied. I need a day or two to grieve properly before I am back on my feet, ready to keep moving forward. And that's all I will say about that.

I'm used up. I had to get to work early this morning, to do my annual update continuing education class. We were supposed to have this a month ago, but a snowstorm made the roads unsafe, so we delayed it until today. I have been still a little out of my headspace while I keep chasing down the bits of me that are falling apart. Even with noticeably reduced mental acuity, I was much more focused than during this same class last year. This year the details made sense, my questions were relevant, and my participation in class discussion was informed. When the test was handed out, the words didn't dance off the page unread as they did last year. (I failed last year's quiz by a point, because I just could not read words. I've long blamed the illnesses that were as yet undiagnosed, fairly or unfairly. This year I passed with no trouble.)

Among the things we discussed at length were intellectual property rights and permissions for photography in marketing and social media. We talked about what is and isn't appropriate in this age of documenting and posting everything we look at, everywhere we go. It drove home to me how close to the edge I've been playing it by taking pictures as I worked, like when I did open houses. Sometimes I'd take a picture of a bookshelf or a kitchen or whatever. I have decided from here on out, I'm not ever going to do that again. I don't know that I'll go back and scrub out photos I posted in years past (I might), but going forward, there won't be any from inside houses unless I have explicit permission to put in this space. It doesn't seem worth the risk. I can find other ways to illustrate my writing. It's not like the pictures always match the stories anyway. To wit:

Therapies

Inspirational song: Just Between You and Me (April Wine)

For the first time since last May, I paid a visit to the physical therapist associated with the breast care center. I didn't know whether the problem I've had raising my left arm had anything to do with last year's surgery, and it seemed like a safe bet to consult with that particular PT. Besides, she's really cool and nice to talk to. She evaluated how restricted my movement is on that side, and listened carefully to my description of when and how it hurts. She told me it probably isn't a side effect of the surgery, not lymph related. It's most likely inflammation of the ligament capsule that holds the top of my humerus in the shoulder socket. She gave me exercises and recommended daily moist heat. "Hot tub. Got it," I said. Much like the spine doc last month, she said steroid injections would do me some good, but like that other visit, I was reluctant to go down that path. I'd rather see how far basic therapies get me first.

In the discussion of how I've tried to treat this problem (short answer: grit my teeth and tough it out), I explained how little I like to use painkillers, and how I'm already on twice daily anti-inflammatories. I said I usually forget that CBD exists. She asked whether it's something I can take, with my cascade of autoimmune diseases. I said yes, the rheumatologist has approved it. She didn't say a whole lot more on the topic, but she did get a "you understand this is a decent option" look to her face.

This evening was an open house at a new business in town. A young woman who has just joined our Rotary club opened a shop downtown to sell CBD products exclusively. It is a nice little boutique that I drive past almost every time I'm out and about. I stopped in and joined some other Rotarians for wine and conversation. We had a lovely time (although there was an exciting half-minute when someone's napkin got too close to a lit candle and was fully engulfed in flame when we saw it--no one was injured, but there was a scorch on a table as a reminder of our visit.)

I bought a CBD and menthol muscle ointment to try on my shoulder. I tried it the moment I got home. I don't know whether it was all in my head, but wow, it seemed to help within a few minutes. Honestly, even if it was my imagination, I don't usually benefit from placebo effects, so this would be welcome to me. I'll combine it with the exercises and see where this goes from here.

Sad Puppy

Inspirational song: Spinning Wheel (Blood, Sweat and Tears)

There is one unhappy pup at Smith Park today. We don’t know why he is so miserable, but he is obviously off his game. When the Mr left for school this morning, he warned me that Murray was feeling poorly, and he stayed inside on his bed rather than being his usual bouncy self. Whenever I went out to check on him, he barely picked his head up off his paws, and had stayed in the same position where he had been left early in the morning, with his blankie tucked around him. He seemed to be holding his breath when I tried to gently pet him on his head and shoulders. His papa came home for lunch and took him to the vet while I was off at Rotary. When I got home, he was back in the exact same spot, once again wrapped in his blanket. I waited and waited for word from the Man what had happened at the vet. Eventually I took Elsa outside for dinner, and gave Murray his dinner right next to his bed. (I am not capable of putting him in his wheelchair, so even though he looked longingly at the wheels before sighing and positioning himself awkwardly to eat, there wasn’t much I could do to help him. And not knowing what was making him tender around the middle, I wasn’t about to try and risk hurting him.)

The Mr came home late. All of his classes are Tuesday-Thursday this semester, and he had an extra seminar of some sort (which I think he merely attended, not taught). I finally got the report from the vet that they think Murray just strained a muscle in his middle somewhere, and has a little saddlesore rash. We were given antibiotics and pain killers, and I guess he just needs to take it easy and wait to heal. That poor pup has really been through it for the last year. His tail-stub has healed well, but I still shudder to think about how long his body knew that tail was broken, even if his brain didn’t get the memo. There must have been considerable inflammation. And then to lose his tail completely. I know how the body reacts to losing pieces here and there.

So think happy thoughts for Murray. He needs a little extra attention right now. If we are lucky, this will be a short dip and he will be back to bouncing along with his wheels by the end of the week.

Sniffles

Inspirational song: Hurt (Johnny Cash)

This year’s schedule suddenly got complicated. I’ve already begun shuffling and delaying what I can. There’s more that will have to be factored in, but I won’t have access to that data for two weeks. That last bit has the potential to be every bit as disruptive as this morning’s news.

We went down to Anschutz again this morning. I asked the Mr to drive, expecting the roads to be slightly squirrelly after yesterday’s snow. It was wet but clear, but I was still glad for him to be my driver. I barely slept at all last night, waking up for a solid hour at 3:30. He got me there in time for my two appointments, which I doubt I’d have done successfully alone.

I would say that they re-ran the “sniff test” on my lungs, but this bore very little resemblance to the one they did up here. The first one was literally ten seconds tops. They stood me in front of an X-ray machine, had me take two deep breaths, and said, “okay, I don’t see signs of paralysis.” That was it. Today took much longer. They had me lie on a table, take three deep breaths and then three paced sniffs, in three different positions. Part of what they were looking for was a paradoxical movement of my diaphragm, where one side goes up with a deep breath instead of down. When the first radiology folks didn’t see that immediately, they shooed me out the door. Today’s radiology tech explained a whole lot more to me, but the radiologist who read the test wrote a report that was hard to read, apparently. My surgeon and his assistant read it aloud to me, and they couldn’t figure out what he meant. They went into the surgeon’s office to call him, and came back and simply said “paralyzed.” What this boils down to is sometime this year I will have my diaphragm surgically lowered. Three to four week recovery time. From here I expect to discuss with my primary care doc, report back to the pulmonologist, and then play the referral-prior authorization game with insurance.

I have decisions to make. First, obviously, is do I really want to do this? Second, if I go forward, I need to decide when. With a month of recovery, when does that work compared to everything going on this year. I might need to do it quickly, so that I am able to pick up a small person who weighs eight to ten pounds by summer. But geez. It seems like something I really have to think through before I agree to anything.

Photo has little to do with today, other than I was on the edge of a king sized bed, with the rest of it wide open, and this is where the cats insisted on sitting, including Alfred digging his big kitty soft paws into the exact spot where my diaphragm has failed.

Kart Wheels

Inspirational song: Drive My Car (The Beatles)

It seems apropos that the day of the calm before the storm ended with an actual snowstorm. Things are about to get really busy around here, and it may not let up for a long time. Last week I had almost nothing on my schedule. Starting tomorrow, I will have maybe four days in the month that don’t have something penciled in. It’s fairly easily divided between medical events, work stuff, politics, and personal improvement. I’m going to wear myself out if I’m not careful. There is a very good chance I will not be as careful as I will need to be.

For today, I took it slow. I cooked an easy breakfast, and later I used up leftover egg yolks (separated when I made an angel food cake) on a cinnamon creme custard. I watched a disappointing CU basketball game. I closed out the night playing Mario Kart with the boys. The only extraordinary event was a two-parter: one, I answered my phone when it was a local number I didn’t recognize (gasp), and two, the person on the line was the actual senate candidate I had already planned to caucus for this upcoming Saturday (double gasp). He and I had a very pleasant conversation. Previously I knew he was a talented politician whose positions lined up well with mine. I had heard positive anecdotes from local party members who think very highly of him. Now I have a personal interaction with him that cemented my support. (For the record, no it is not our most recent governor; it’s a prior speaker of the state house.) I’m glad I actually answered my phone!

Coming home tonight felt ever so slightly magical. There was no real reason it should have. I was just walking home from playing video games with my next-door neighbor, wearing pajamas and my leopard print bathrobe “in public” (on the sidewalk). It was still snowing just a little, and the snow was just icy enough to sparkle everywhere. I was struck with the understanding of just how much I love living in Colorado, especially at this time of year.