Shock

Inspirational song: Grimly Fiendish (Damned)

Someone has a grumpy face today. Who, you ask? ME. It's me. Nothing is working right. I'm getting news I absolutely cannot accept, and I'm getting frustrated with my old email trying to lock me out for two days when I needed to print out a proxy vote for an HOA and put a wet signature on it. Once I finally got my account back open, my internet tried to crap the bed. I mean seriously. Is there some cosmic reason I shouldn't have basic telecommunication functions today?

I called the movement disorder clinic at Anschutz today, to see whether they received my referral. Without bothering to talk about how long it would take to get the insurance paperwork, the woman on the phone said she'd look to see when the next available appointment would be with the doctor we selected. She said FEBRUARY. I cried out and said NO! I can't make it that long. I'm spending most days trapped in my house and I'm barely driving anywhere. She offered me a different doctor, in a mere two months. I've been on the verge of throwing up ever since. I have to be honest, I've been downplaying how bad this hurts and how terrifying it is, because I'm scared it's something very serious. For more than a month, when my head whips around, sometimes it's as suddenly painful as a car wreck. I feel like I'm in a wreck every six or seven seconds, for hours at a time now. It sends electrical shocks through my skin, across my cheeks and down the tops of my arms and legs. It freaking hurts. Every few seconds, it hurts. And less urgent, but no less valid, it's embarrassing. I am ashamed of my inability to be still. That's why I declined an invitation to the symphony last month. It's why I don't want to go out to eat. It's why I don't want to go to tomorrow's sales meeting at work. I dread Rotary every week, for fear it will get going really badly if I mellow out too much during the speaker's program. I feel helpless.

I tried to celebrate the holiday tonight. I intended to create a costume that matched our selected movies for my kid's Halloween party. I was going to be Nation McKinley from Shock Treatment. But I ran out of energy and I ran out of time. So I thought maybe I'd be a weeping angel from Doctor Who. I watched how-tos on the internet, and it seemed like a lot of labor. So I thought perhaps I'd just drag out last year's Doctor Who scarf. Then I got even more tired after I got out of the hot tub, and I frowned and decided I would wear pajama pants. From there, my entire costume changed. I put on my t-shirt that says "I'm FINE" with the word fine made up of other words like "hurting" or "fatigued" or "fighting." I reset the pins in my hair to mess up the bun I was wearing. I put on slippers and my leopard print bathrobe. And then I grabbed one old spoon from the drawer, and stuck it in my pocket. I went as a Spoonie with only one ration of energy left in reserves. It was the most honest costume I could come up with.

And I got a shock at the party. I thought there was basically no one left over age 15 who hadn't seen Rocky Horror yet. At the party, there were at least five people who hadn't seen it before, and double that who had never seen the follow-on movie Shock Treatment. Luckily the assembled crowd was open to the double feature. I don't think we offended anyone calling back to the screen. I did sing along every song, so maybe it wasn't so much fun sitting close to me, but that is no shock, really.

Memory Hole

Inspirational song: Great American Melting Pot (Schoolhouse Rock)

As I was walking back into the parking garage under the church where we hold Rotary, tugging on my cool suede gloves with fringe on the side, I had a marvelous epiphany about what tonight's subject would be. It was going to be neat, and I knew the song I would use. I told myself to plug it into the phone calendar so I didn't lose it. And then I promptly sat in my car, turned up some cool song I loved in high school that was on the radio, and forgot everything.

My memory has been my worst enemy lately. I can't remember basic obligations. I just logged in to pay for a doctor bill that I got in the mail yesterday that included the most recent trip to the neurologist for Botox a month ago.... and the one four months ago for the same. I have been forgetting to pay the old one for three months. Or worse, I keep thinking about it, and not doing it. My brain just pushes out anything it doesn't like, and it doesn't stick to bills. It doesn't like anything right now. I went two weeks barely taking my medications, because I forgot to fill my pill container, or looked at it, said, "I ought to..." and then walked away. Every day I'm doing things like this.

I don't know whether the new, super-powered clinic I'm supposed to go to can figure out what's messing with my higher brain functions. Yesterday my PCM and I went through a list of doctors at Anschutz and I chose one who specializes in drug-induced neurological side effects, perhaps in hopes that this is all it is. (PCM wanted to chose a doctor whose name was easier to spell on the referral. I stood firm.) The referral is just now in the approval process, so it will probably be ages before I get to see Dr Long-Name. How many important things will I be able to blow off indefinitely between now and then? The possibilities are endless.

So...what to use for illustration? A couple of lizards for my temporary retreat to lizard brain dominance? Sure. Sounds good.

Cat Nap

Inspirational song: Cool for Cats (Squeeze)

For the last three days, I've been on a news breather. Obviously all day Saturday was taken up by Homecoming, as I documented thoroughly. Yesterday was food with the guys, with a couple of football games thrown in for good measure. Today I kept the TV off most of the day. I'm sort of enjoying this reset. I ought to keep it going for a while, paying attention to the little things inside my house, rather than the big ugly ones outside of it. It's especially soothing when I find that focusing on craft projects and household tasks, keeping my hands busy, also has the side benefit of keeping the muscle spasms in my neck to a minimum. Until I get my referral to Anschutz, and actually see the super-specialist, I need something to keep me calm and quiet. I have plenty to fill that need, if I just look to my immediate surroundings.

Today was one of those days when my social media feeds were filled with more pictures of cats than anything else. That was a welcome switch. Who doesn't enjoy a creatively posed or edited picture of felines? (If anyone says they don't, they're wrong.) I spend all of my home time cat-adjacent, usually next to a sleeping Rabbit. She's four inches away from me right now, which is more space than she usually allows. Anytime I wonder how people could possibly live without cats, days like today come along where I am reassured that so few do. Cats are everywhere. It makes me happy to see them all.

I am thankful when I receive images of my own cats, and occasionally I share them here. I have a few I've been saving, thinking good stories would go along with them. It's easier just to share them on this "national cat day," which I swear comes several times a year. (It's not just me, right? This goes around the internet every few months, right?) And just in time for this auspicious occasion, I was gifted with a video of the boy being fed one of his favorite treats: peanut butter. It's not like we ever say no when he asks. Every day is cat day here.

Post script: As I went through pictures to post tonight, I scrolled past one that reminded me of news I received last week. When we toured the local humane society, there was a five month old tabby boy who looked to be the sweetest little lover since my Alfred was a baby, and he seemed destined to be every bit as big as Alfred too. Last week, my friend who had been watching him through the shelter window with me showed me a photo of him on her cell phone. She adopted him. I almost cried, I was so happy that they found true love with each other.

 

(This is the baby my friend adopted.)

Squirrelly

Inspirational song: Who's That Girl? (Eurythmics)

By necessity, today needs to be a light day. I had a great time at Homecoming yesterday, but man, am I moving slowly now. My legs appear to be made of wood, and I don't mean a nice flexible balsa. Forget Ol' Ironsides. I appear to be Ol' Oakcalves.

That stiffness and fatigue didn't stop me from caving in to a very domestic impulse. I ran out for berries early this morning, to make crepes for the guys while we watched the early football game. After a nap, I went back to the same group (plus one) with steaks and baked potatoes, which I grabbed on a whim on my way between where they keep the blueberries and where they keep the whipped cream at King Soopers. Not sure why I had to provide all the nutrition for the group for the day, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

Coming home with bags of food, I was watched intently by a small rodent with a twitchy tail. I asked her whether she would stay in place while I took some pictures of her, and for the most part she complied. I just wish I'd had better aim with the one free hand holding the phone.

Video Playback

Inspirational song: Bad Romance (Lady Gaga)

Oh, it just can't be easy. Lead for 58 minutes of a game, and then blow it in the final minutes. Several years back, when my younger daughter did her one season in the marching band, someone taught her to cal CU the "Buffalose." They did it today. Until those last few minutes, though, it sure was an incredible day.

I didn't play piccolo today in the alumni band. I thought I'd just sit behind the band and watch the game this year. It was probably the right call. I casually walked along the side of the band in the parade to the stadium, getting a bigger dose of the drum cadence that I usually do. (I declared a few years back, that if I were ever to have another wedding ceremony in my lifetime, that drum cadence is what I would use for the processional.) I didn't shred my lips trying to play the fight songs every minute for three hours. And I chose not to march back in parade formation after the game. It saved me just enough energy to stop for pho on the way home. (I'm smarter than you thought I was...)

The day could not have been more perfect, absent a win. It was warm without being hot. There were high clouds over the stadium all day. I still got a tiny sunburn, but it wasn't bad. We were late to rehearsal this morning, but since I wasn't playing, I didn't get wrapped up about it. (It was also my fault.) The tailgate food was a bit more disappointing than last year's. No, make that a lot more disappointing. It was cheap, and we got what we paid for.

Now, let's see how many videos the program will allow me to add.

Tis the Season

Inspirational song: A Change is Gonna Come (Sam Cooke)

By the time I reached the end of the day, there was only one thing I wanted to write about: civic engagement. I filled out my ballot four days ago, but I waited to turn it in until I had time to carry it inside the courthouse and trade it for that lovely, lovely sticker. I live for this. I have had my sticker from the primaries on my iPad cover since spring. I am geeking out over this one from today.

My vote is almost certainly throwing a pebble in the ocean for my congressional district. I know that. Even with only about 850,000 residents of all ages in the entire district, I don't know that my candidate can pull in enough for the win. It won't stop me from using my voice. I encourage all of you to do the same. Sometimes we'll be on the same side, and sometimes we won't. Sometimes we'll win, and sometimes we'll lose.

I have more of a chance of siding with the majorities for local government and state issues. I'm a little uneasy about one of my votes. I went back and forth on an issue, and once I inked it in, I felt bad about it. I'm kind of hoping it either wins or loses by a large margin, so I don't feel like I was the one who tipped the scale.

There's just over a week left. Vote. For reals. Do it. It will always be worth it.

Sense of Completion

Inspirational song: Let Him Fly (Dixie Chicks)

After weeks of work, the project is finished, and I handed the coat off to my kid this afternoon. A few hours later, she flew off to the event where it will be a dominant part of her costume. She is the live model for the lead character in her old friend's comic book that debuts this week at a Comic Con in San Antonio. The book is called Lost Heaven, set in the Old West with a Mexican aesthetic, and it features a blonde bounty hunter named Veronica who is courted by La Muerte. This is as much as I know about the story so far. I contributed to the Kickstarter for it, but my copy hasn't arrived yet. I've watched the artwork evolve over the last dozen years. I'm rather excited to see it fully produced. I'm also looking forward to receiving pictures of everyone all dressed up for the debut.

I was up until 230 this morning finished the hem. I put on the buttons last night while we played D&D, and I missed a social engagement earlier in the evening while I was pinning the lining in place for hours and hours and hours. Somewhere in my sleepy stupor, I missed noticing that the hem wasn't aligned perfectly. This afternoon, before the kids came by to pick up the coat to pack it, I saw that the exterior of the coat bloused a little over the top of the lining on two panels. I was able to fix one, the worse one, before they left with the coat. I sort of had fantasies that someone would see my work while she was prancing around Comic Con and want to commission me, but with the hem still slightly puckered on one foot-wide spot, maybe that won't happen. We shall see.

I'm miles behind on sharing some of the photos I've taken of the ani-mules who live in this house, so maybe tomorrow I can work on catching up on pet stories. Or maybe something big and exciting will happen. It is a Stampede night in Boulder, if I remember to go. I ought to, since Homecoming is this weekend. So maybe the animal stuff can wait until Sunday.

Escalation

Inspirational song: Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For (U2)

Today, quite by accident, I learned that the friendly co-owner of my favorite gluten free bakery has a masters degree in counseling. I dropped in there on my way home from the neurologist, because I was angry and needed to find comfort in bread, but I wasn't willing to hurt myself with wheat. While I studied the menu and asked whether they had anything that approximated a croissant (they didn't), the co-owner casually asked how I was, in the standard social pleasantry sort of way. I told her I was grumpy and I said why. I know something is desperately wrong, but test results came back clean, and while that could mean there's nothing scary to deal with, it also means there is no answer, and thus no treatment for what's bothering me. While she made me a breakfast bagel sandwich (a "Love" sandwich, #5 on their menu, with egg, cheese, spinach, sauteed onion and sweet curry sauce... incredible), she recommended I skip the next several steps, and go straight to the Mayo Clinic. She said that her mom fought her regular doctor for more than a year, and finally had it with them, and went to Mayo to find a tumor on her adrenal glands that had to come off. In her medical records, her primary care doc actually wrote the words "patient is insane." After the surgery, she went back and angrily demanded the doctor write in "patient is NOT insane." The line cook chimed in support for the idea of going to Mayo, and said when you walk in the door, it's like being swarmed with an army of little ants who go over every inch of you to find what's really wrong. It sounded divine, I told them, the idea of a whole bunch of people who like human puzzles focused on me.

I'd love to be comforted that the EEG came back clean. I'm not. I'm furious. Once again, I'm difficult. When it comes to artistic pursuits, I love being unique and unpredictable. If I'm talking about medical issues, I dream of being average. It would be so cool to be someone who could take a couple of Tylenol and be just fine afterwards. The spasm/tic/whatever that keeps pulling my head to the side is getting stronger and more frequent. A wave of nausea heralds the more intense swarms of twitches, and occasionally they release a spritz of stress hormone (I'm guessing) that causes hot stinging pain everywhere that blood flows in my skin, most especially in my face and arms. It's not the sort of thing that lends itself to "wait and see." The best the neurologist could offer was to suggest going off the Botox to see whether it clears up when that's out of my system. But this means that the migraine aura will come back right before Christmas. (I cancelled my Christmas Eve appointment for the next round of Botox.)

The neurologist didn't just tell me to go home and never come back. He is escalating my case to the CU Medical Center, Anschutz campus. It's not quite Mayo, but it is a research facility that might house people who would be intrigued enough to figure out what this actually is. He is referring me to the Movement Disorder Clinic. I googled them from the car, before I drove away from the parking garage in Boulder. This is the sort of place that deals with Parkinson's and ataxia, so I have no idea whether this weirdness fits in with them or not. I had to spend the day being angry and frustrated and get used to the idea of moving up to this clinic, so I haven't asked for a referral to them yet. Tomorrow, I'll call up my PCM and ask her to set the wheels in motion. I'll have updates later.

Geometry

Inspirational song: Wonderful World (Sam Cooke)

Exactly as predicted last night, this entire day was devoted to assembling and finishing the cosplay coat. I took a short break to go to Rotary and buy cat food, and that was it. I have only a few hours left in which to work, and I'm really stressing over this now. I need to hem the bottom, tack down the facing, and apply buttons and buttonholes. It doesn't sound like a lot, but it really is right now. The lining is slippery, and the facings are unwieldy. Nothing wants to go where I want to put it. I'm frustrated and angry. It has been about six hours since I said out loud that I'm at the stage where everything F's up. Hours later, and dozens of F ups later, I am exhausted and uncomfortable and throwing my hands up until tomorrow. I've been reclining on my bed to do most of the hand work, and I regret it. I had to lean back against pillows because my back was tired, but leaning back has made my back hurt even more.

The collar and cuffs were every bit as awful as I thought they would be all along. I cut four different versions of the upper collar. None of them was correct. Not one. Not even the one that is now permanently attached to the coat. I've stopped caring. I used to think I was so good at geometry, like I had Euclid living in my brain. Apparently he moved out.

It's almost 01:30 as I write. I was still trying to pin the front facing to the slick lining until five minutes or so ago. I can't do it anymore. I have the feeling this coat is going to the comic con with some basting threads somewhere along the way. It will have to.

Pockets

Inspirational song: What a Piece of Work Is Man (Hair)

Whoops! I hate those moments when I pack up what I'm working on after midnight, and think, aaah, now I can go straight to bed, only to realize that I never blogged and made no plans about what to write. I am up against a hard deadline for this cosplay coat, and I found out over the weekend that I had sidelined several key pieces of it without noticing they were missing until it was truly inconvenient to back up and get them done.

I thought I would bang out the lining on Saturday and Sunday, and then sit and hand sew it in while I sat next door watching football. It was only as I was piecing it together that I found I never cut the side back or the sleeves (two-part sleeve pieces). My dining room table that had been doubling as a cutting table was covered in D&D stuff at the time, and I was uninspired to clean and then cut. I saved that for this morning. The lining is now fully assembled, but it is not yet attached to the main coat. Just in the nick of time, I remembered that I needed to put in the pockets before the lining, else I would be in serious trouble. Recall that this is a pattern I designed myself, so I didn't have ready-made pockets with instructions handy. I spent a solid hour watching videos on YouTube on how to make welt pockets with flaps, and then I had to hope that I absorbed enough information to do it myself from memory. I worked slowly and over the course of the next five hours (with a popcorn and Rachel break) I managed to put together what may actually be a proper set of pockets. For any regular wearers of men's clothing, this probably won't seem so wondrous, but for those who prefer women's clothing, know that I made HUGE pockets -- deep enough to keep a phone and wallet and keys and more, with a flap so no one can reach in and grab without permission. They are fantastic.

My shoulders are sore now, and my eyes are fatigued. The light in my spare room is woefully inadequate. The fabric is a dark royal blue, and I had to remove my glasses to see it clearly. This meant I had to lean in very closely to keep my stitching lines straight.

Tomorrow I'll attach the lining to the coat, and then do the things I dread even more than the pockets: the upper collar and the cuffs. The cuffs will merely be tedious. The upper collar shape is proving to be elusive. I just can't figure out the angles and the proportions. It has to be done by Wednesday, so I have no choice. I must keep going.

Opportunistic

Inspirational song: Every Picture Tells a Story (Rod Stewart)

So there I was, driving back from a quick trip to Lowe's for sandpaper and an X-acto knife, stopped at the first light. My mind was on the view from the bridge in the industrial area that overlooks the recently completed flood mitigation that will be our town's version of a river walk/tubing and water activity zone. From that spot, you can see the snowy peaks on the second range. It didn't occur to me until the light went green that I was in the wrong lane. My lane led to the inner circle of a roundabout (of which there are newly hundreds in Northern Colorado -- it is the "in" thing to do in city design in the last decade or so). I sort of sped up, thinking I'd bully my way in front of the SUV in the through lane. Before I actually entered the traffic circle, realizing that I'd cause a wreck if I tried to move over in the short distance I had left, I made a judgement call: I'd fake it. I'd pretend I actually wanted to turn left at the roundabout. That way I could both save face and prevent smashing up my cute little car that I still love madly.

As soon as I exited the circle on the left side, I realized that I had accidentally put myself exactly where I wanted to be. If I wanted a picture of the mountain view over the river, I couldn't stop on the car bridge. I needed to park in the lot next to the Dress Barn, or whatever it is down there (I honestly don't know). I parked, got out, and took my pictures, at my leisure. There were Canada geese in the area that still has plastic fencing, honking at me, telling me to stay on the path and not come any closer to them. I took their advice.

There was a van in the Lowe's parking lot with a message I wanted to share. I appreciate that they wrote "Register to vote" on their window, but I think they need to add a line: "Now turn in your ballot." Everyone here should have gotten their ballot in the mail last week. Colorado makes it easy. Everyone gets paper, in the mail, and you can mail it back now or drop it off in town for the "I Voted" sticker (the best stickers a grown up can get, even if they aren't scratch and sniff). I wish everyone in the country had it as good as we do. A few states do. All of you: do your civic duty. Make your voices heard. There is no excuse not to have record turnout for this congressional election. Do it now.

Decline

Inspirational song: Bitter Sweet Symphony (The Verve)

I had plans for today. There were important things I was expected to do. My brokerage had a big (our biggest to date) volunteer project. I was supposed to spend the morning there, and then race home to go up and visit an old friend who was in town, at his parents’ house. I did neither of these. I feel awful about it, but to be clear, I did neither because I felt awful. The volunteer project was supposed to start at 9. I woke for the final time at 9:15. I became verbal no less than fifteen minutes after that. I spent the morning feeling like I was bouncing my brain into a slow-rolling concussion. It’s honestly exhausting, waiting to find out why I have this muscle spasm/tic in my neck that’s making me shake my head all day now. I swear, if it turns out to be something stupidly minor, that could have been fixed easily, and I had to wait four weeks to learn that, I will lose my cool. It has ruined my days and nights. It has caused me to cancel plans almost daily. I’m sticking close to home, with just s few people around me. I’m avoiding everyone around whom I would feel awkward twitching uncontrollably. I’m certainly limiting my driving, either as a passenger or behind the wheel myself.

I feel like I wasn’t aware just how many things I do for people until I found myself saying no so often. Last night my foster daughter asked me to go shopping with her for party decorations, and I declined. That got me thinking about how many activities I’ve pulled back from lately. It started early in the year when I actively demanded that someone else take over the PR duties for Rotary. I also said no thank you to requests to join committees for the same. I felt the impulse to offer to make costumes and furniture projects for friends and family, but held back on all but one special request from my daughter. And while I really enjoyed the construction on the cabin, I’m super glad it’s done for the year so I can recharge my batteries.

It was all I could do to lie around on my neighbor’s couch and watch football today. I’m just good for nothing. By turning down everything that makes my life interesting, what am I going to do for subject matter here? Sure, in a few days I’ll have more medical stuff to share. I’d better force myself to come up with something interesting between now and then.

Texture

Inspirational song: Dead Man's Party (Oingo Boingo)

Some days you just need to crawl into a fresh, clean pile of laundry to soothe yourself. Harvey insisted on it this evening. I spent most of the day doing something similar, hugging a blanket and taking comfort in the softness, if not the warmth. The electrical misfires in my nervous system are getting more frequent. I lost the whole day to them today, as I did yesterday. I sort of expect them to get worse as the next few days pass, as they have done over time for more than a month. I'm so sick of this.

At the same time tonight I felt like a hip young person and a super old uncoordinated one. Neighbor got Mario Party for his game platform, and I joined the 20 and 30 somethings playing it tonight. I lost a lot. I came in last out of four both times. But once in a while I did well in the side games, usually by accident. I think I missed out on a lot by not playing video games as a young adult. It would have been nice to be coordinated in that way.