Thursday, December 1, 2016

Forget waterboarding

I was watching a James Bond movie the other night, Spectre, which was awesome.

But it doesn't really matter which one. You don't really watch a Bond movie for innovation. They're all great, and they generally follow a familiar script:  Bond is shown to be dedicated to his truth, lots of beautiful women, crazy car chases, gun battles, gadgets, a supervillain, more beautiful women and elaborate torture device Bond escapes from.

Now, the best way to deal with a captured Bond would be, as Scott Evil says, to just shoot him, but bad guys tend to have their idiosyncrasies, so I'd like to propose the torture that sent me to the ER Wednesday and still hurts.

Put Bond in a power wheelchair. Drive him up to a keyboard tray. Raise tray to upper sternum height. Drive him into tray, not fast or anything, just consistently.

It doesn't sound like much, but it is probably the worst pain I have experienced. I had to take a few seconds to regain my composure and convince my arm that moving to the joystick and moving backward was  better idea than passing out or crying.

The doc at the ER suggested I just bruised everything in there, and because I could breathe OK, he didn't think an X-ray was needed. "Ice and Advil was his advice.

It's OK if I don't move my chest, but as you might expect, I cough, yawn, use my arms to move, burp, etc. Then it hurts like #%#^.

And I write this to keep myself from thinking about the other aspect: the "Hey God, give me an effing break" one. I have a broken, or injured, rib. I hit my head this week before this debacle. And it'S not just me, but everyone it affects. Fortunately, for me anyway, a lot of people help me, so it affects a lot of people. But come on!

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Siri saves the day

Siri and I have a complex relationship, especially on my iPhone.

For the most part, I ignore the option to ask for help on my phone. On the rare occasion I do use it, Siri responds that she not quite sure what I said. Very politely.

On my  watch, Siri works better, not perfect but better. I use her to call people on my watch when I need help. It's never really been life or death, though.

To be clear, yesterday wasn't life and death. It was just fall and use the phone or use Siri on my watch and don't fall.

I was pulling up my pants in the bathroom when my feet slid forward so my armpits were resting on the arms of my chair. I couldn't reach my phone unless I let myself fall.

"Call Sam," I asked Siri on my watch, and she did!

Saturday, November 26, 2016

The dark is rising

It is no secret that I don't care for Thanksgiving.

The season is part of it.

I have had plenty of energy the past few days, but the sun going down robs me of it.

It is rotten to deal with the cold, too. I hate all the extra work dressing becomes.

But it is not just that. My body seems to be failing more regularly.

I am exercising more, but my body seems not to care. And I fall or whatever. Maybe it is that I can't save myself like I used to.


Sunday, November 20, 2016

FA doesn't care

I am struggling.

For the past several weeks, all I have wanted to do is nap, read comic books and watch TV. I combined the last two by catching up on Arrow, watching 18 episodes over the past three days. (That Felicity Smoak!)

But amid my struggles, regular life with Friedreich's ataxia does not slow down, leading to a new catchphrase: There is nothing FA can't make worse.

I fell last week. Unlike my usual falls. this one hurt. I bashed my right side on the heating grate in the floor and think I probably cracked a rib.

Not much to do,  I hear.

The problem is, though, that normal people can avoid using the muscles that stretch across the ribcage. I can't. Or I can, if I want to stay immobile in bed. But I only have a few more episodes of Arrow.

Sunday, November 6, 2016

Really?

On Friday, Mom said that no one would believe my life. She was referring to an incident where I lost my socks and had to get dressed without socks, then ask my sister my sister to take off my shoes, put on socks and then shoes. (I should perhaps point out that I lost my socks on my bed. I can't get up safely without shoes.)

I think more unbelievable is the coda to my hearing aid fiasco over the summer. The company never informed my insurer  that I returned the aids.

I learned this when I tried to buy another set of aids from a third audiologist .

Blog Archive