Friday, October 21, 2005
Alive, but not kicking too hard....
It has been so long since I posted that I'm not sure where to start. Actually, I have enough to say to probably fill at least a dozen posts, but I don't have the energy or endurance to make that happen. So I guess I'll begin by mentioning that I went on a little vacation last weekend.
Decided to go against the conventional wisdom of hanging onto my last paycheck and bought a plane ticket so I could visit a friend. Hadn't seen this person in seven years, so we had plenty of catching up to do. The cool thing about good friends is that you can pretty much pick up your last conversation wherever you left off.
Did the smart thing and travelled with my wheelchair. The chariot does come in very handy in airports. And my hometown airport gave Dan a special pass that allowed him to take me all the way to the gate (they don't usually let non-passengers past security). Once at the gate, an attendant wheeled me right up to the plane and then they put my chariot in with the baggage.
I now know not to fly in the front row. There is no place to store your check-in bag where you can reach it. This really sucks when you need access to your bottled water, snacks (they don't feed you on planes anymore unless you're actually in the air for more than three hours), gum, reading material, eyedrops, air purifier, etc. My check-in bag was too heavy to put in or get out of the overhead compartment by myself, so I had to keep bugging the flight attendants everytime I needed something from the bag. On the plus side, I did meet a really nice elderly couple who had been married 63 years and who were returning from a cruise on the Mexican Riviera. I noticed they held hands.
One thing I haven't figured out yet is how the hell you're supposed to travel with any check-in bags. Dan had quite a bit of trouble trying to push my wheelchair and manage my suitcase at the same time. So did my friend when I arrived. I for my part tried to pack as light as possible, using my usual carry-on bag as the check-in bag because it was small and had wheels and a handle. I used a smaller Samsonite shoulder bag as the carry-on, holding it on my lap while in the wheelchair. I hate needing so much stuff, but that really couldn't be avoided.
I unfortunately made one mistake right away: I was so flustered by not having access to my bag on the plane that I totally forgot to eat. My next opportunity for a meal wasn't for another three hours. So by the time I started shoveling scrambled eggs in my mouth, I was dizzy, weak and in a great deal of pain. I was also quite nauseous, and that didn't go away even after I ate. I took some pain medicine, but it didn't make much difference. One cool thing that happened, though, was that I got to talk to another friend on the phone (he lived in the area) whom I'd lost touch with probably ten years ago. We made tentative plans to meet Sunday after he got off work.
The next day went much better. Didn't have anywhere pressing to be, so I got up at my leisure and took my time getting cleaned up. My friend had to work, but her kids had the day off school, so I just hung around reading a bit of Harry Potter here and there while her youngest boy watched TV and played a motocross game on Playstation 2. Turns out he's a Harry Potter expert, so we chatted some about that.
Another friend of mine came by that evening whom I hadn't seen in about seven years. He took me to a Greek restaurant. I was a little unsure whether I could eat Greek food, but I was able to confirm that the ingredients in what I wanted to eat were gluten-free, so I went for it: lamb kabobs, rice, marinated veggies, Greek salad and dolmas. Delicious! Afterward, we went to an independent short film festival. One of the films was something my friend had worked on. It was soooo cool to see his name up on the screen and hear people applauding! I enjoyed most of the films, which covered every topic and ranged from about a minute in length to a little over 15 minutes. The only downside to the festival was the shortage of chairs. For awhile I had to sit on a concrete ledge, which was extraordinarily uncomfortable. When we got back from the festival, we and my other friend played Boggle, a word finding game. I played better that I expected to but not nearly as well as I used to when I was healthy. It was a great deal of fun, but I just about killed my hips off siting in a wooden kitchen chair despite putting my wheelchair cushion on it.
The next day, I slept in until 11:30. I'd needed the sleep, but was so stiff I could hardly walk once I got up. The local festival we'd planned on attending had already started, so we just took our time getting going. My friend and I went with her daughter and her daughter's boyfriend. My friend pushed me in the chariot; I think we found every single sidewalk crack and pothole along the way, heh heh. I had a great time checking out all the vendors' wares, but I didn't buy anything because I didn't have any space in my suitcase for souvenirs. I lucked out and found something I could eat (boy do I miss funnelcakes!): I had a turkey leg and Fritos. My friend bought some Christmas ornaments. I took photos of the fall foliage and my friend's daughter and daughter's boyfriend climbing trees. My friend's daughter has a learner's permit, so she drove us home. I think she did pretty well despite missing a few turns. That evening, my friend, her youngest son and I played Trivial Pursuit. The boy did very well for being 11 years old. I managed to beat him, but not by much.
The following day, we went to church. My friend's daughter was in the choir. The sermon was about the evils of divorce, but I managed to hold my tongue admirably well, heh heh. My friend thought to bring my wheelchair cushion to put against the back of the wooden pew, which helped considerably. We put in some quality couch time during the afternoon. I finished my Harry Potter book (volume 2) while half-watching "Steel Magnolias".
When time came to get ready to visit our friend in a neighboring town, we decided to stay overnight there rather than come all the way back and have to return in a few hours so I could catch my plane early the next morning. We met the friend who had just gotten off work and decided to go someplace to eat. We decided on P.F. Chang's, an Asian restaurant, because they have a special gluten-free menu upon request. But before we went there, we decided to drop by another friend's house a few blocks away to see if he was home. He was, and was most surprised to see me for the first time in TWENTY years! He decided to come with us. And he called one more friend of ours who was only a mile way. ANOTHER 20 year reunion! So the five of us went to P.F. Chang's with plenty to talk about. We tried to catch up over lettuce wraps and were there until the place closed for the evening. We still wanted to chat, so we went downtown to a bar called The Newsroom which was filled with vintage typewriters. Since I'm sensitive to cigarette smoke, I decided we should sit on the outdoor patio as two of our party smoked. Remembering how sick the champagne at my sister's wedding had made me, I stuck to drinking Coke. It was truly amazing how the five of us looked essentially the same as we had during the 1980's, how we'd all had financial ups and downs (I don't think there was a millionaire among us), and how easily we could still converse and laugh heartily. We had more stories to tell than in the past, but that was the only major difference. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
My friend and I were offered a futon to crash upon for the night, and we accepted rather than drive around and try to find a place to stay. We got there about 2am and needed to be up at 6am, so I skipped my sleep medication and just tried to rest my eyes a bit. I wasn't able to sleep anyway as I found out to my surprise that my friend now snores.
So I found myself at the airport at 7:30am on Monday with no sleep, burning dryness in my throat from the cigarettes at the bar, and pain at the "I need to go to the ER" level. I didn't mind because I'd had such a good time, but I think it may have been a factor in what happened next. I was dropped off at the curbside check-in with my wheelchair and suitcase and didn't even notice that my airline didn't do curbside check-in until my ride was long gone. So there I was in my chariot, trying to figure out out to wheel it and my suitcase at the same time by myself as the guy from the competing airline at the desk chose to ignore me. I inched along for awhile until my suitcase fell over, my check-in bag fell out of my lap and I nearly tipped the wheelchair. Then a very sweet lady who had just been dropped off offered to wheel my bag in for me. Yayyyy! She happened to be flying on the same airline as I. Unfortunately, my bag got picked for hand inspection, so that held up things even more. I was trying to steer myself toward the security line with my weak hands and not making much progress when a very nice man saw me struggling and helped me all the way to the gate. When I started to board, the flight attendant realized my wheelchair had not been properly tagged for being stowed with the baggage, so that had to be taken care of before takeoff. It was a wonder we took off on time. On the plus side, I sat in a regular row this time so I could put my carry-on bag under the seat in front of me and could access it any time I liked. And the seat next to me was empty, so I had elbow room on one side for a change (WHY do the seats have to be so friggin' narrow????). And the sweet guy who had helped me in the airport was in the row behind mine, so after we landed, he wheeled me from the plane to the gate where Dan was waiting. All's well that ends well. So except for the business about being sick, it was one of the best weekends I've EVER had.
It was after I got home that the real trouble began. Those of you either familiar with me or familiar with fibromyalgia know this pattern well: I can have a wonderful time for a few days doing things I'm unaccustomed to, but I never realize how much I'm overdoing it until the fun is over and I relax. Then all hell breaks loose, and it takes me approximately twice as long as the vacation was to recover from it. So it should be no surprise that within minutes of returning home, I lie down for a nap and find myself unable to get up again for seven hours. I somehow manage to drag myself downstairs at 6pm and eat something and then go back upstairs to take a shower. The shower totally wiped me out, and I collapsed back in bed for another six hours. Dan found me unable to get up when he came home from work, so he helped me up long enough for me to drink a Boost. Then I collapsed for ANOTHER seven hours!
On Tuesday, I was in wayyyyy too much pain and mentally out of it to drive, so Dan had to take me to the massage therapist and the chiropractor. Once home, I fell asleep on the couch and drifted in and out of sleep for three hours. Wednesday was not that much different: I overslept and nearly missed my aquacise class, then zonked on the couch for a couple of hours. And yesterday, I overslept AGAIN and was late to my therapy session. Today, I slept another 12 hours. It was the first day I was competent enough to drive, but just going to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription wore me out again. And typing this post has taken over two hours, during which I've nearly dozed off a few times. The price I pay for a good time.
I've got lots more to post, but I'm too fuzzy headed to continue tonight. But I promise more in the coming days: a book review, thoughts on "Lost", my adventures in pain control, a lengthy questionnaire I stumbled upon, and perhaps some Raves of the Day.
"Springsteen, Madonna,
Way before Nirvana,
There was U2, and Blondie
And music still on MTV.
Her two kids in high school
They tell her that she's uncool
Cuz she's still preoccupied
With 1985......"
--from "1985" by Bowling for Soup
Decided to go against the conventional wisdom of hanging onto my last paycheck and bought a plane ticket so I could visit a friend. Hadn't seen this person in seven years, so we had plenty of catching up to do. The cool thing about good friends is that you can pretty much pick up your last conversation wherever you left off.
Did the smart thing and travelled with my wheelchair. The chariot does come in very handy in airports. And my hometown airport gave Dan a special pass that allowed him to take me all the way to the gate (they don't usually let non-passengers past security). Once at the gate, an attendant wheeled me right up to the plane and then they put my chariot in with the baggage.
I now know not to fly in the front row. There is no place to store your check-in bag where you can reach it. This really sucks when you need access to your bottled water, snacks (they don't feed you on planes anymore unless you're actually in the air for more than three hours), gum, reading material, eyedrops, air purifier, etc. My check-in bag was too heavy to put in or get out of the overhead compartment by myself, so I had to keep bugging the flight attendants everytime I needed something from the bag. On the plus side, I did meet a really nice elderly couple who had been married 63 years and who were returning from a cruise on the Mexican Riviera. I noticed they held hands.
One thing I haven't figured out yet is how the hell you're supposed to travel with any check-in bags. Dan had quite a bit of trouble trying to push my wheelchair and manage my suitcase at the same time. So did my friend when I arrived. I for my part tried to pack as light as possible, using my usual carry-on bag as the check-in bag because it was small and had wheels and a handle. I used a smaller Samsonite shoulder bag as the carry-on, holding it on my lap while in the wheelchair. I hate needing so much stuff, but that really couldn't be avoided.
I unfortunately made one mistake right away: I was so flustered by not having access to my bag on the plane that I totally forgot to eat. My next opportunity for a meal wasn't for another three hours. So by the time I started shoveling scrambled eggs in my mouth, I was dizzy, weak and in a great deal of pain. I was also quite nauseous, and that didn't go away even after I ate. I took some pain medicine, but it didn't make much difference. One cool thing that happened, though, was that I got to talk to another friend on the phone (he lived in the area) whom I'd lost touch with probably ten years ago. We made tentative plans to meet Sunday after he got off work.
The next day went much better. Didn't have anywhere pressing to be, so I got up at my leisure and took my time getting cleaned up. My friend had to work, but her kids had the day off school, so I just hung around reading a bit of Harry Potter here and there while her youngest boy watched TV and played a motocross game on Playstation 2. Turns out he's a Harry Potter expert, so we chatted some about that.
Another friend of mine came by that evening whom I hadn't seen in about seven years. He took me to a Greek restaurant. I was a little unsure whether I could eat Greek food, but I was able to confirm that the ingredients in what I wanted to eat were gluten-free, so I went for it: lamb kabobs, rice, marinated veggies, Greek salad and dolmas. Delicious! Afterward, we went to an independent short film festival. One of the films was something my friend had worked on. It was soooo cool to see his name up on the screen and hear people applauding! I enjoyed most of the films, which covered every topic and ranged from about a minute in length to a little over 15 minutes. The only downside to the festival was the shortage of chairs. For awhile I had to sit on a concrete ledge, which was extraordinarily uncomfortable. When we got back from the festival, we and my other friend played Boggle, a word finding game. I played better that I expected to but not nearly as well as I used to when I was healthy. It was a great deal of fun, but I just about killed my hips off siting in a wooden kitchen chair despite putting my wheelchair cushion on it.
The next day, I slept in until 11:30. I'd needed the sleep, but was so stiff I could hardly walk once I got up. The local festival we'd planned on attending had already started, so we just took our time getting going. My friend and I went with her daughter and her daughter's boyfriend. My friend pushed me in the chariot; I think we found every single sidewalk crack and pothole along the way, heh heh. I had a great time checking out all the vendors' wares, but I didn't buy anything because I didn't have any space in my suitcase for souvenirs. I lucked out and found something I could eat (boy do I miss funnelcakes!): I had a turkey leg and Fritos. My friend bought some Christmas ornaments. I took photos of the fall foliage and my friend's daughter and daughter's boyfriend climbing trees. My friend's daughter has a learner's permit, so she drove us home. I think she did pretty well despite missing a few turns. That evening, my friend, her youngest son and I played Trivial Pursuit. The boy did very well for being 11 years old. I managed to beat him, but not by much.
The following day, we went to church. My friend's daughter was in the choir. The sermon was about the evils of divorce, but I managed to hold my tongue admirably well, heh heh. My friend thought to bring my wheelchair cushion to put against the back of the wooden pew, which helped considerably. We put in some quality couch time during the afternoon. I finished my Harry Potter book (volume 2) while half-watching "Steel Magnolias".
When time came to get ready to visit our friend in a neighboring town, we decided to stay overnight there rather than come all the way back and have to return in a few hours so I could catch my plane early the next morning. We met the friend who had just gotten off work and decided to go someplace to eat. We decided on P.F. Chang's, an Asian restaurant, because they have a special gluten-free menu upon request. But before we went there, we decided to drop by another friend's house a few blocks away to see if he was home. He was, and was most surprised to see me for the first time in TWENTY years! He decided to come with us. And he called one more friend of ours who was only a mile way. ANOTHER 20 year reunion! So the five of us went to P.F. Chang's with plenty to talk about. We tried to catch up over lettuce wraps and were there until the place closed for the evening. We still wanted to chat, so we went downtown to a bar called The Newsroom which was filled with vintage typewriters. Since I'm sensitive to cigarette smoke, I decided we should sit on the outdoor patio as two of our party smoked. Remembering how sick the champagne at my sister's wedding had made me, I stuck to drinking Coke. It was truly amazing how the five of us looked essentially the same as we had during the 1980's, how we'd all had financial ups and downs (I don't think there was a millionaire among us), and how easily we could still converse and laugh heartily. We had more stories to tell than in the past, but that was the only major difference. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
My friend and I were offered a futon to crash upon for the night, and we accepted rather than drive around and try to find a place to stay. We got there about 2am and needed to be up at 6am, so I skipped my sleep medication and just tried to rest my eyes a bit. I wasn't able to sleep anyway as I found out to my surprise that my friend now snores.
So I found myself at the airport at 7:30am on Monday with no sleep, burning dryness in my throat from the cigarettes at the bar, and pain at the "I need to go to the ER" level. I didn't mind because I'd had such a good time, but I think it may have been a factor in what happened next. I was dropped off at the curbside check-in with my wheelchair and suitcase and didn't even notice that my airline didn't do curbside check-in until my ride was long gone. So there I was in my chariot, trying to figure out out to wheel it and my suitcase at the same time by myself as the guy from the competing airline at the desk chose to ignore me. I inched along for awhile until my suitcase fell over, my check-in bag fell out of my lap and I nearly tipped the wheelchair. Then a very sweet lady who had just been dropped off offered to wheel my bag in for me. Yayyyy! She happened to be flying on the same airline as I. Unfortunately, my bag got picked for hand inspection, so that held up things even more. I was trying to steer myself toward the security line with my weak hands and not making much progress when a very nice man saw me struggling and helped me all the way to the gate. When I started to board, the flight attendant realized my wheelchair had not been properly tagged for being stowed with the baggage, so that had to be taken care of before takeoff. It was a wonder we took off on time. On the plus side, I sat in a regular row this time so I could put my carry-on bag under the seat in front of me and could access it any time I liked. And the seat next to me was empty, so I had elbow room on one side for a change (WHY do the seats have to be so friggin' narrow????). And the sweet guy who had helped me in the airport was in the row behind mine, so after we landed, he wheeled me from the plane to the gate where Dan was waiting. All's well that ends well. So except for the business about being sick, it was one of the best weekends I've EVER had.
It was after I got home that the real trouble began. Those of you either familiar with me or familiar with fibromyalgia know this pattern well: I can have a wonderful time for a few days doing things I'm unaccustomed to, but I never realize how much I'm overdoing it until the fun is over and I relax. Then all hell breaks loose, and it takes me approximately twice as long as the vacation was to recover from it. So it should be no surprise that within minutes of returning home, I lie down for a nap and find myself unable to get up again for seven hours. I somehow manage to drag myself downstairs at 6pm and eat something and then go back upstairs to take a shower. The shower totally wiped me out, and I collapsed back in bed for another six hours. Dan found me unable to get up when he came home from work, so he helped me up long enough for me to drink a Boost. Then I collapsed for ANOTHER seven hours!
On Tuesday, I was in wayyyyy too much pain and mentally out of it to drive, so Dan had to take me to the massage therapist and the chiropractor. Once home, I fell asleep on the couch and drifted in and out of sleep for three hours. Wednesday was not that much different: I overslept and nearly missed my aquacise class, then zonked on the couch for a couple of hours. And yesterday, I overslept AGAIN and was late to my therapy session. Today, I slept another 12 hours. It was the first day I was competent enough to drive, but just going to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription wore me out again. And typing this post has taken over two hours, during which I've nearly dozed off a few times. The price I pay for a good time.
I've got lots more to post, but I'm too fuzzy headed to continue tonight. But I promise more in the coming days: a book review, thoughts on "Lost", my adventures in pain control, a lengthy questionnaire I stumbled upon, and perhaps some Raves of the Day.
"Springsteen, Madonna,
Way before Nirvana,
There was U2, and Blondie
And music still on MTV.
Her two kids in high school
They tell her that she's uncool
Cuz she's still preoccupied
With 1985......"
--from "1985" by Bowling for Soup
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