THIS makes me want an I-Phone.

Sorry, honey. I feel like a traitor! Heh.



Found via Technabob.com

Late Birthday Presents Pour Moi, Unwanted

Arthritis.

Arthritis = Suckage.

Yup. Yes, I state the obvious.

I suppose one could move to a different state if the obvious is a bit annoying.

The rest of you could perhaps forgive me for being a bit cranky; the . . . broad effect of the arthritis resulting from what I knew would hurt a little but had no idea would cause so much, over such a myriad number of joints, bones, my body, etc. . . . .something that is a normal part of living . . . . . it was such a simple thing, too.

And for it to result in what I felt yesterday and today, and continue to feel as Sunday begins now . . . . Just it is a shock of a psychological kind, at the sheer breadth and depth of the pain and debilitation, at this stage anyway. It wasn't excruciating, and I COULD get out of bed at the worst of it, although I CAN say that one wouldn't want to, because added up altogether it really just was more than unpleasant, which is what I would call the pain individually in any one joint or area. Also, the psychological shock of it also played it's part as well, and I'm still . . . . dealing with that.

This is also affected by another unpleasant suprise the arthritis recently dealt me a couple weeks ago, out of the blue . . . .

I am just startled, VERY, by the . . . seeming ferocity of it . . . . . see, there, it's like I want to . . . . give it some kind of animal or human emotion or something, so I can fight it, I guess . . . . . but this . . . this, it's genetic. It gives me no terms, gives no ground, no quarter. It just . . . . is. It does what it does. It always was going to tear me apart.

I am a bit alarmed by the level I'm feeling lately in these incidents, as well as for what this latest may MEAN for me in terms of functioning physically within the next say two years down the road, but perhaps that's the alarmist/anxiety disorder in me . . . .

Anyway, saying hi as well.

Hi.

Oh, we also received a quick lesson in breaking and entering the other night. Geez, if you knew how easy it was . . . . Anyway, went down to Wal-mart, got a tool or two, and got into our mal-functioning doorknob apartment (with the landlord's permission to break the doorknob - he gave us the B&E lessons over the phone, it was rather late at night - knob is nice and fixed now, but I still feel slightly criminal lol).

I just love an odd juxtaposition . . .

Clink would like this, I think, for a shrink, though, as I think, it's got not a think to do, with being a shrink, but somehow, I think, this is just the kind of think that'd catch her eye, anyway (I thunk).

I dunno, Dinah, am I right? Or Roy? If you are reading here, that is.

What do you other pro's think, Deb, Dr. A? Heh . . . .

Embroidered MRI knee image "slice"

I've found a pattern for an embroidered brain (nothing this detailed), and I've seen a knit brain supposedly done anatomically correct by some neoro-something or others or some medical types who also like to knit and then put the . . . things up in an online gallery but I still haven't seen a knit brain pattern for a more regular knitter. There's anatomically correct hearts, and other things, and organs I'd rather not, er, ahem, I'll not discuss those, but, there's plenty of discussable ones.

No, I'm not obsessed with knit brains, although a t-shirt I've seen that says "I've got knit for brains" in a well the sheep's wool looks very shaped like a brain, or something, or maybe it's in someone's head, I don't know - it just strikes me as funny. I suppose I'm a knit-wit . . .

heee . . . . . .

You can needle me all you want, I embroider and cross-stitch too . . . pointedly . . . .

Crochet is also welcome - there's a broken bones "scarf" (well, the bones are three dimensional so it's hard to call it a scarf) that I've oft thought would be fun for a doc to wear on Halloween . . . . . . speaking of body parts. I've also seen the crocheted green Frankensteinian finger to hold a lip balm stick to attach to one's keyring . . . . heh.

Parts is parts . . . I surely did not intend to wind up here . . . . how did I get here, again? *waves one lonely disembodied crocheted green finger around . . . . . .*

Hee heee heeeee . . . .

Hey Doc, Over Here, You Know, the Patient, Remember Me?

Recently I posted this in a comment on a post at the Shrink Rap blog:

a way to drive ME crazy: keep rambling on about Pristiq (a "newer" form of Effexor XR kind of, for those who don't know, that cuts one of the two substances (venflafaxine / desvenlafaxine, one being part of breaking down Effexor XR in your body, but they both do the same thing, really) out of the picture, when I've been telling you for a year that I think the anti-depressant isn't working . . . . . Effexor XR, btw . .

I swear, he's driving me crazy. I point blank asked him this last time, um, if the XR isn't working for me, then what good would Pristiq do . . .. and he answered, "none, then . . ." or something like that, and moved on. Lol.

Well . . . . Today, as we walk into the psychiatrist's office, the Wyeth drug rep was there (I believe they're the maker of Effexor and, thus also, the newer Pristiq, correct me if I'm wrong); he'd just walked in the door 20 seconds ahead of us.

My husband and I took a seat and I listened to an enlightening, interesting, and somewhat dismaying conversation, that also helped later inform me as I tried to understand why my psychiatrist was behaving the way he was.

The two of them discussed an event that apparently had been held the previous week I believe, that sounded like a dinner, dinner party, fete, something-or-other, with some Pristiq education question-and-answer at least available for the docs attending (and who knows, perhaps there was more education there on the med, but, what my doc said was, "and I like to ask questions about the medication too" when the rep had thanked him for attending and discussed the dinner event a little . . . . I don't know if he said that because he had me, as a patient, sitting there, to make it "look better", but . . . that's how it came off, to me . . . that's why I assume there was at least some question-and-answer education available, though).

There was some wierd discussion on the rep's part about not just any old person being chosen but somebody real, and my doc replied with thanks, and s'more stuff about that . . . . then it was sample time, as it usually gets down to with drug reps and it was all Pristiq samples, which disgusted me because Wyeth's patent on Effexor XR isn't up for another THREE years, and as expensive as the medicine is, they need to keep supporting it with samples . . . . but they aren't. OH, there was a bit of talk about a card program to help make the prescriptions more affordable on the Pristiq, etc., and then the rep left.

Now, I know drug reps and all the sorts of . . . well, what might seem like . . . or in some cases . . . BE . . . ethically problematic . . . . marketing techniques they use on docs, is part of the territory of being a physician. Of any kind, I suppose . . . . but I was a bit disturbed just hearing he'd been to a, well, "Pristiq Party" . . . lol. Since I suspect it was more for his . . . entertainment, than education, but also to keep putting the pressure on to prescribe it. Also, to switch Effexor people over to it.

Still, I didn't think a WHOLE ton of it as I go into my appointment, because as I said in my comment up above, we'd discussed it AGAIN at my last appointment and I was like, um, helloooo? Anyone in there, doc? NOT gonna fly, lol, if the Effexor isn't, or does your medical degree give you some magical power that I don't know about . . . . (ok, so this was more my attitude than spoken, what was said is in the comment, but hey, the internal stuff is kinda funny, heh).

After the initial stuff, we finally get down to the discussion about seriously changing my anti-depressant. He suggests . . . wait for it . . . . .



PRISTIQ.



ARRRRRRRGGGGHHHH.


I sat there for a minute, speechless, taken aback, dumbfounded, flabbergasted . . . you name it. I had said, RIGHT before this suggestion of his, that I felt it would be of no use at all. After less than a minute, but then, surprisingly (guess therapy is working, woohoo!) I speak the words I need to speak, they somehow come to me, and I am surprised that they do, but they are the right ones!

I do not feel I am being heard.

I spoke up for me, and the therapeutic relationship. I didn't think about these words, they just came, and I spoke them as they came. He looked a bit startled himself upon hearing them, and he reconnected with me visually, and, I suspect, replayed what I had recently said to him, and we reconnected and proceeded to discuss options, costs, etcetera. We had had occasion to discuss cost earlier in the appointment, given that I had recently discovered that my mood stabilizer is an astronomical $600 a month!!!!!!

He cautioned me that Cymbalta, another anti-depressant that also acts on the same two things (serotonin and, what is it, norepinephrin? correct me if I'm wrong, I always forget the 2nd one . . .) that Effexor XR and such do (whereas Prozac and the like only act on serotonin, as an example) is not an inexpensive medicine either (hopefully not in the range of my mood stabilizer, but understandable if it's roughly in the range of the Effexor XR which was $226, hoping for even less of course but *sigh* these things are pricey . . . . . . .

That last paragraph sucks for parentheticals and construction but, oh well, no matter how I reconstruct it, it gets the point across, I hope. I'd already slowly reduced my Effexor dose down, to a lower dose, because I was between a rock and a hard place; now I've got his written instructions on starting Cymbalta and slowly lowering the Effexor, slowly raising the Cymbalta . . . . . at various intervals.

Today was the first day. Here goes nothing. Sorry for all the pharma mumbo-jumbo, for those not into that.

I'm suspecting that once my psychiatrist gets a certain number of patients to switch to Pristiq, or on it new, he'll get to go on a trip or something, or some other perk or whatever is allowed; not sure how these things are regulated. Kinda sours my mouth but at least I know what's up with THAT, anyway.

Brings to mind scenes from the Harrison Ford version of the movie, The Fugitive . . . . . eeee.

Almost 37-year streak of no accidental broken bones, broken . . .

And you KNOW if I'm gonna do something, it's gotta be in a funky way.

Foot vs. Toolbox, Toolbox wins. Dec. 26, 2008, so at least it was before we ticked back over to having to pay out of pocket again for awhile . . . .

I saw the whole thing in slow-mo. If you're squeamish, don't read further.

I kept thinking, "It's just a TOE, it's not like they can do much ANYWAY . . . ." so I elevated it and such and stayed in bed except for necessities. The next day though, 24 hours later, hubby at work, it just became clear, even tho it's just a toe, I reluctantly decided I'd better go in, because, as I say, when it happened, I saw it in slow-mo, and it kept replaying . . . . like this:

I was rushing out of the bedroom to answer the phone or something, and the front right third corner and side of my right foot bashed into the Red Handy Toolbox of Doom. It caught on the second to smallest toe, snapping it 90 degrees to the left of the rest of the toes and foot, or maybe 100 degrees, and then as I guess the muscles, tendons, ligaments, whatever helped try to spring it back, the bashing was still in progress and the toe did crumpled as it was coming back to a normal orientation and folded completely under my foot.

Still, I kept telling myself it's just a toe . . . and besides, one bashes toes all the time, so after the initial injury I elevated and gave it some time, to see how it'd feel later. Although later I gently probed the base, because in my head, after what I saw, I knew I had snapped the toe "off" at the base, and "things" moved there. Ewwww. In a way far distant in my head it was fascinating; it was also shocking, as well as a . . . . novel experience . . . . I suppose you could say. I believe I was in shock, "just a toe, or no". I was freaked, and dared not "gently" probe further up the toe at all, although I suspected a further break, farther up, given the replay I kept seeing in my head.

See, I'm not this obsessed with my toe. What I AM worried about, and WAS worried about, was the bother to others, over "just a toe", and of course people say, and did, well there's not much they can really do for a broken toe anyway, they just splint it to a neighbor toe, etc.

I "had" to "explain" to such people, that this was a . . . . funky kind of break . . . . at least, I THOUGHT it was, myself anyway. I mean, who snaps their toe like that 90 degrees or more to one side? Let alone the rest of it, not that I was seeking more attention, or justification really, but . . . . since I DO have anxiety disorders, I didn't want my getting treated for my toe, seeking treatment for it, and worrying about it, to be seen as just part of my mental illnesses, I guess. I didn't want to be dismissed . . .

Also, I'd never broken a bone before; well, as I say in the title, never ACCIDENTALLY. I've had jaw surgery, after some years of braces, with the surgery as the purposeful end point of those braces (at least, with the final orthodontist who knew what he was doing, anyway, he took a look and KNEW my jaws were WAY well I'll show some sketches, and pics, some other time. 9 out of 10 on difficulty scale, the surgery was . . .). They had to break both jaws for that.

So, not having broken anything before, I was also very unsure that way too. Especially with the "everyone knows it's 'just a toe' factor". That's kinda how it is in society, about broken toes anyway.

Then, I felt guilty that I hadn't decided earlier in the day when my husband had been home, but I wasn't as sure then . . . . I mean, sometimes it takes time to, inside . . . come to the decision that you need to see the doc for something, you know? But the fact that I had to bother someone, even now that brings me almost to tears . . . I guess I'm afraid of being judged.

Maybe the most, by myself. Secondly, by the person who helped me . . . thirdly, by my husband . . . . . Fourthly . . . . . I don't know . . . .

They x-ray'ed it and told me it was broken; oh, I also got the hippie woman doc at the Instacare, the lady I HATE, but oh well . . . . I hadn't seen her there in awhile, and had hoped she was gone . . . . she had thought something had fallen on the foot, and late in the appointment she told me that, and I told her some of what happened but she didn't seem to give me much time to say, and didn't seem to listen much and I felt it important that the HOW of the injury was important . . . . I mean, the toe snapping to the left like that was much different than something dropping on it and having a crush-type injury, I thought.

They gently splinted/wrapped it to the third from the smallest toe, and "gave" as they put it (ha, lol) me a special shoe (had to size me up to a men's medium, my toes hung slightly over the biggest woman's size they had; my arch length is long. It's a bit wide, even when velcro'd tight, but with thick wool socks on it works nicely, and those socks work nicely when out in the elements.

I'm supposed to wear the special shoe for a month. About 12 days post-injury the splint slipped off, partly because of the work around shower earlier in the day I guess and other things, and I hadn't noticed, and the injury became aggravated, and later in the day all of a sudden, BAM I feel the worst pain I've ever felt in my LIFE, including childbirth, all the back spasms I had in the couple years after that, and stuff . . . . . this pain felt . . . . the only word I could think to describe it was . . . . METALLIC. NOT like there was metal in there, or metal on metal, or metal on bone, or like i was feeling bones or anything, but the pain was INCREDIBLE and TERRIFIC (in the bad sense of the word), and it was METALLIC. I've never felt pain with that aspect or descriptor or quality to it before . . . . My husband when he got home from work gently re-splinted my toes (thank goodness for a first aid kit stocked w/medical tape and such) and, for this night, I put the shoe on to wear in bed; usually I took it off for bed. I didn't sleep though. Not possible.

Anyway, if you've endured this post, Hallelujah. Oh, and I'm feeling much better, been GINGERLY SLIGHTLY waving that area around a bit the list 6 days as I could feel things getting tight, and I know that's not good. Not tight anymore. Connection of the toe to the, what is it the metatarsal bone the toe connects to? feels weak, but it's there . . . . afraid that my being "careful" with the foot in coming months may get more "it's just a toe" stuff from people", but like when I folded my one foot completely under and in half, under itself, with some force, and severely injured it and that one ankle, it was QUITE some time before it ever felt close to being itself again.

I need to quit worrying what other people think . . . . but hey, that's one of the reasons I'm in therapy. Rofl. Anxiety Disorders Suck. Agoraphobia Sucks. Panic Disorder Sucks. Can I just say that right now, k? Maybe I'll go beat on a pillow, or bash some MOBS (that's the enemies, animals, etc.) in a computer game, or something . . . .

I joke that the toolbox is really one of those MOBS, one of those games has what's called a Strongbox Deceiver. Looks like a Chest, or a Footlocker, until you try to open it . . . . then BAM it attacks you, heh. So that's some of humor I've used in this situation . . . .

Sorry for the graphic play by play on the injury, and the extensive post. As you can see, though, I showed how my mental health issues affected the situation, somewhat. Besides, this blog is also about my life, besides trying to show what life is like and hopefully foster greater understanding of issues involving mental health, mental illness, and such, by doing so about my own life.

So it's not all Mental Health stuff, all the time.

Fun Linky, for you Linux geeks, especially if you have a crafter relative or craft yourselves: Free-Penguin.org Because, you know, this quote just pulled me in:

"The starting point of this project was the question: "Why is it that on the one hand in the Linux® world all code of software is freely available and on the other hand the code to compile a soft toy penguin is still not open source?"