The Sandcastle

I suppose it’s to be expected that a brain that thinks like mine when awake should also have odd dreams. When I wake while dreaming I sometimes remember them. Here’s a sample.

To start with, in my dream I was a tall man neither of which I am in real life. I had been asked to be umpire for a kids’ baseball game. This was not Little League yet was not just a pickup game, either. One team wore white t-shirts and red shorts and the other team wore white t-shirts and blue shorts. These were the type of clothes that any ordinary kid would likely have in his wardrobe but the fact that one team wore red and the other blue meant there was some organization of the game. It also appeared there was some rivalry between the teams although they appeared to be friends teasing each other more than enemies.

So, the game started and had been going on a bit in an ordinary kids’ game manner when one boy I had not noticed before came up to bat. He was definitely the runt of the litter. A small kid with big glasses. A group of his teammates came up and asked to talk to me before the runt stepped into the batter’s box–not that they actually had a batter’s box but you know what I mean.

One of the bigger kids, a girl, declared that it was not really fair to expect the runt to hit a pitched ball since he wouldn’t be able to see it until it was right in front of him. His teammates wanted him to be able to throw the ball up into the air himself then swing at it. I looked at the kid, then looked at his teammates and wondered exactly what they were after. It felt like they were hoping to set a precedent for pitching to themselves so the rest of the team could have that advantage, too.

I thought a bit then came up with this answer. Yes, the kid could thow his own pitch. The kids faces brightened. But, I added, he’s the only one who can do so. The dissapointed looks on their faces told me I’d been right about their hopes for getting it extended to the rest of them. Then I added that a miss was a miss and would be called a strike, a foul was a foul and would be so called, but if he threw the ball up and it hit him coming down he would not be allowed to take his base. The groans at that announcement shed light on their true hopes.

At that point the phone rang and my dream ended. I wonder who would have won? At that point, I think I did.

TTYL,

Linda

Several years ago I had both my knees replaced with mechanical ones. The left one is fine; the right one is still painful under some conditions.

At my first post-surgical appointment with my surgeon, I reported that pain. She said I was still healing. At the next appointment with her I again reported the pain but she still advised giving it time.

A year later she was gone so I was referred to a different orthopedic surgeon. I reported the pain to him and said I thought it was related to the malfunctioning CPM machine which pulled on my leg during rehab after the surgery causing excruciating pain. I thought that had torn some tendons. He said the x-rays showed nothing wrong with the replacement itself so it sounded like a soft tissue problem–which, of course, was what I said. Then he told me the way they look at soft tissue injuries is with an MRI but they can’t do an MRI on a metal knee because they only see static. The only way to look at that tissue is by opening the knee! NOT! Too soon!

So for about five years I continued living with this pain and letting let it restrict my activities to an unhealthy level.

I finally got tired of that and made an appointment to see the second orthopedic surgeon again. He read his notes from that previous visit which said my ligaments are fine–he never told me that. He said those notes indicate he suspected Regional Pain Syndrome–he never told me that. He does not operate for Regional Pain Syndrome–he never told me that.

So now he wants to refer me to a Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation specialist for consultation.  It’s hard to get those appointments but, in time, I should be able to get one. Why didn’t he tell me that when we still lived here?!!!

He said there are several different things the specialist could try–therapy, meds, and what is in effect rebooting my system by disconnecting a nerve and letting it heal again. It seems nerves can remember pain and express it inappropriately. This is what sometimes happen to amputees who can have an itch in a nonexistent foot. In that case it is a failure to stop communicating.

So, I can either try to get in to see someone someplace where we’ll be stopped long enough to do this or I can call about two months before we come back next summer to schedule an appointment then.

Oh, joy!

TTYL,

Linda

I had the last of our scheduled medical appointments this afternoon. Not all the report cards are in yet, but no one has yet called in a panic and said we need you back soon.  So we have a model railroad operating session tonight and another one next Friday night then, on August 22nd, we’ll be singing every RVer’s theme song: Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again.”

It been a challenge being in a park where we have no yard to speak of and no guest parking. How do we invite over all those people we want to see? We finally had a family gathering at Dave’s sister’s mother-in-law’s house but we still haven’t seen Dave’s former co-workers yet. Come on, guys, someone pick a time and place and let’s do it! The best we can offer is a gathering at the local Perkin’s Restaurant then carpooling down the hill for those who want to see our new house. Do you want to do that?

We also have friends in Scandia we’d like to spend more time with but Scandia is a 70 mile drive one way from our campground and that’s a long way to go for short visit. We do see them at some of the operating sessions so that may have to do it for this year. Next year we’ll try to park closer to them.

We will be back.

TTYL,

Linda

Isn’t it amazing how one medical appointment can lead to another?

We weren’t surprised that Dave’s dentist appointment led to another because his teeth are falling apart just like his mother’s teeth did. But, we didn’t know I would walk out with an appointment with an oral surgeon to see if there’s anything that can be done about my upper lip injury from last year’s Segway “incident”.

Then, yesterday I went to see my primary physician and I walked out of there with orders for:

Lab work, of course.

An order for an x-ray of my right knee, the one still giving me problems.

An order for a mammogram.

An appointment for a colonoscopy.

An appointment for a bone density scan.

An appointment for a blood pressure follow-up check.

And an appointment for an orthopedic consultation to decide if we should open up my knee again to fix what broke all those years ago in rehab from my knee replacements.

Dave is seeing his primary physician right now. I wonder what appointments he will bring home?

TTYL,

Linda

As I age my fingers appear to be getting more stupid. This becomes evident as I read my own writings. This leads me to the urge to write this preface to my future blogs:

“There are no errors in this writing. If you find what appears to you to be a mistake in spelling, punctuation, or grammar be assured it was intentionally put there so there is no need to notify the author of your find.”

Of course, if I do that my fingers’ stupidity will stay out there for all the world to continue reading. Is that what they really want? I’d ask them but I don’t trust their answer to make sense.

TTYL,

Linda