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I took this photo today. I dug up my first potatoes (ever!) and got so excited that I forgot how much my leg was aching. I got out the camera for a little shot with the ruler, cuke, and first spuds, and threw my leg in there at the last moment. For more pix of the potatoes, click here.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Still Life with Leg Wound
I took this photo today. I dug up my first potatoes (ever!) and got so excited that I forgot how much my leg was aching. I got out the camera for a little shot with the ruler, cuke, and first spuds, and threw my leg in there at the last moment. For more pix of the potatoes, click here.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Latest Leg Photo
It has now been ten weeks since my leg surgery. The surgical wound is still not quite healed. Here's a photo I took this morning. (Click here for others.)On August 20, Dr. Jacobs gave me permission to resume swimming and even dancing. It was the best news I'd heard in a million years.
I still have to use the Normatec device for several hours every day. Each time I use it, even for just half an hour, more stuff oozes out of the surgical wound on my leg. This weirds me out a little, but I take my cues from the doctors I trust, and if they're not worried, then I try not to worry either.
No worries. :-)
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Halleluyah, Praise the Lord, I Can Drive
I was stuck for a ride to this morning's physical-therapy appointment, so I decided to try driving my own car. This was the first time I've tried to drive a stick-shift since my leg surgery.
(Giant Thank You to William Pike for swapping me his automatic car for two weeks last month, and also to Tom Luongo for the same favor for a few days last week.)
This morning was a good time for such a test: not rush hour, not far, not new, not late enough in the day for my ankle to have swelled too much in advance. (Even better timing would have been on a less humid day and under less time pressure.)
Although my ankle hurt during the appointment, undoubtedly from driving my car, the convenience of being able to provide my own transportation felt nothing less than miraculous.
After I was done shouting Halleluyah I recited the She-heHeyanu. And when I got home I took heavier pain and swelling meds than usual, and rushed my leg back into the Machine for a little while.
The Hebrew word "Halleluyah" really does mean "Praise the Lord." Hallelu is the plural imperative form of the verb to praise, and Yah is one of Gd's many Hebrew names. Praise Gd, Y'all.
(Giant Thank You to William Pike for swapping me his automatic car for two weeks last month, and also to Tom Luongo for the same favor for a few days last week.)
This morning was a good time for such a test: not rush hour, not far, not new, not late enough in the day for my ankle to have swelled too much in advance. (Even better timing would have been on a less humid day and under less time pressure.)
Although my ankle hurt during the appointment, undoubtedly from driving my car, the convenience of being able to provide my own transportation felt nothing less than miraculous.
After I was done shouting Halleluyah I recited the She-heHeyanu. And when I got home I took heavier pain and swelling meds than usual, and rushed my leg back into the Machine for a little while.
The Hebrew word "Halleluyah" really does mean "Praise the Lord." Hallelu is the plural imperative form of the verb to praise, and Yah is one of Gd's many Hebrew names. Praise Gd, Y'all.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Bowel Blockage
Ouch, today I'm suffering from a bowel blockage. It is excruciating. This one has been going on since about 7 AM. It's very serious, actually life-threatening. But I'm afraid to go to the ER because the first thing they'll do is pump my stomach using the dreaded NG (nasal-gastric) tube. I'd almost rather die than submit to that again. My rule of thumb is that if the blockage goes on for more than 24 hours, I promise to find a ride to the ER. Fortunately this blockage seems headed for self-resolution before the 24-hour mark, which means I have once again successfully avoided the ER.
This can happen to anyone, including people with full, normal, functioning digestive tracts, but I never had it before I lost my colon. I've learned that there's so much more room in my lower torso minus that large organ that there's now space in which my small intestine can get kinked and twisted. This is why people who've had complete colectomies get bowel blockages more often.
This is the first one I've had since my leg surgery. Thank goodness I can walk enough to do some of the right things for the blockage, like heat up the Bed Buddy in the microwave for applying heat to my mid-section, and carry it into the other room where I can lie down on the couch. I also made hot, sweetened tea for slow sipping. I couldn't have done any of this by myself during the first two weeks after the leg surgery. Thank Gd it didn't happen then!
One of the other blockage-management tools is to take a hot bath, but I'm not allowed to immerse my leg yet, so that option was out.
What caused this particular blockage? Must be something I ate. Most likely it was those innocent-seeming beets I polished off yesterday evening. When will I ever learn: Do not eat beets after 1 PM, Natasha! Or, if I must, at least eat them in tiny quantities only. Hard to remember when I love them so much.
This can happen to anyone, including people with full, normal, functioning digestive tracts, but I never had it before I lost my colon. I've learned that there's so much more room in my lower torso minus that large organ that there's now space in which my small intestine can get kinked and twisted. This is why people who've had complete colectomies get bowel blockages more often.
This is the first one I've had since my leg surgery. Thank goodness I can walk enough to do some of the right things for the blockage, like heat up the Bed Buddy in the microwave for applying heat to my mid-section, and carry it into the other room where I can lie down on the couch. I also made hot, sweetened tea for slow sipping. I couldn't have done any of this by myself during the first two weeks after the leg surgery. Thank Gd it didn't happen then!
One of the other blockage-management tools is to take a hot bath, but I'm not allowed to immerse my leg yet, so that option was out.
What caused this particular blockage? Must be something I ate. Most likely it was those innocent-seeming beets I polished off yesterday evening. When will I ever learn: Do not eat beets after 1 PM, Natasha! Or, if I must, at least eat them in tiny quantities only. Hard to remember when I love them so much.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Imagine Feeling Like Yourself Again
So, get this: Dr. Jacobs wants me to bring my cowboy boots to my next Normatec appointment! With appropriate socks and everything!!! Of course, I had to wonder, aloud, which cowboy boots? The red ones? The green ones? The black ones? (I didn't even mention the original brown ones, or the Dan-Post multicolored ones, or the blue ropers.) Hm, I'm thinking maybe the red ones. Nurse Mary said she wants to see the whole outfit.
Well, the Normatec brochure does say, right up front: "Imagine feeling like yourself again."
Well, the Normatec brochure does say, right up front: "Imagine feeling like yourself again."
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
My First Squat Toilet
[This is my first posting about guts.]
The first place I ever saw a squat toilet was in Tokyo. In the airport bathroom, May, 1982. Long rows of stalls in the women's room, just like in any American airport bathroom. But each stall door had a label, either "Western toilet" or "non-Western toilet." If I remember correctly, there were about equal numbers of each! I was seventeen years old, had never heard of squatting or anything. I was overcome with curiosity about what a non-Western toilet could possibly be and peeked behind one of those doors to find out. A single glance at a white porcelain flat thing on the floor was enough to scare me and I fled to a Western toilet. (I had just been diagnosed with colitis the year before; I think my bowel problems were beginning to affect me by this point in time.)
Eleven years later, somewhere in the Atlas mountains of Morocco, I finally used a squat toilet for the first time in my life, and it wasn't by choice. In colitis-related desperation I had found myself in a really icky, dirty, rural, impoverished dark place, with a flushable hole in the ground and a bucket of water, to which I had been ushered by a non-French-speaking Moroccan man. I remember being worried about germs, infection, disease, kidnapping, etc. So imagine my surprise when, upon "relieving myself" there, I found myself thinking: "Wow, that was so much easier and less painful than on the toilets at home!"
The first place I ever saw a squat toilet was in Tokyo. In the airport bathroom, May, 1982. Long rows of stalls in the women's room, just like in any American airport bathroom. But each stall door had a label, either "Western toilet" or "non-Western toilet." If I remember correctly, there were about equal numbers of each! I was seventeen years old, had never heard of squatting or anything. I was overcome with curiosity about what a non-Western toilet could possibly be and peeked behind one of those doors to find out. A single glance at a white porcelain flat thing on the floor was enough to scare me and I fled to a Western toilet. (I had just been diagnosed with colitis the year before; I think my bowel problems were beginning to affect me by this point in time.)
Eleven years later, somewhere in the Atlas mountains of Morocco, I finally used a squat toilet for the first time in my life, and it wasn't by choice. In colitis-related desperation I had found myself in a really icky, dirty, rural, impoverished dark place, with a flushable hole in the ground and a bucket of water, to which I had been ushered by a non-French-speaking Moroccan man. I remember being worried about germs, infection, disease, kidnapping, etc. So imagine my surprise when, upon "relieving myself" there, I found myself thinking: "Wow, that was so much easier and less painful than on the toilets at home!"
Monday, July 27, 2009
Nurse says don't worry about a little seepage
[NOTE: I finally realized: If I wait till I have time to spell out the entire history of my leg (nerve damage from 2002 accident) and my jpouch (fake guts), this blog will never happen! So instead, here's what I would have written today even if I had been keeping up better.]
I called Nurse Mary at Normatec this afternoon. She said it's okay to pump for my remaining 15 minutes today as long as I'm pretty sure that the one seeping end of the incision is not infected. She suggested that I put some gauze over the incision while pumping, to absorb whatever is leaking out. We both took succor from the fact that Dr. Upton will be seeing it in less than 24 hours. (If you would like to see photos of my leg, including two from yesterday, click here.)
When I met with Dr. Laura Jacobs (inventor of the Pneumatic Compression Device) on July 23, she was certain that Upton will take out the sutures tomorrow, based on seeing my incision and knowing that it will have been five weeks since my surgery.
So now I'm worrying that a) digging the sutures out of the way-healed skin at one end of the incision is going to hurt; and b) removing them from the seeping end is going to lead to a new gaping hole in my leg, like what happened during summer of 2003. A repeat of that experience is still the thing I most fear in life. (Someday soon I hope to stop rehearsing this worry.)
Well, I'll just have to trust him to know what the right thing to do is.
Speaking of sutures, I'm currently wondering: Can he remove some stitches but not others? Or are they all connected, like a basted hem? And what's up with that one suture on the back of my calf, where there was never any injury to begin with? It can't be connected to the others, can it? That would be so gross. I hope to get answers to these and other mysteries at tomorrow's appointment.
I called Nurse Mary at Normatec this afternoon. She said it's okay to pump for my remaining 15 minutes today as long as I'm pretty sure that the one seeping end of the incision is not infected. She suggested that I put some gauze over the incision while pumping, to absorb whatever is leaking out. We both took succor from the fact that Dr. Upton will be seeing it in less than 24 hours. (If you would like to see photos of my leg, including two from yesterday, click here.)
When I met with Dr. Laura Jacobs (inventor of the Pneumatic Compression Device) on July 23, she was certain that Upton will take out the sutures tomorrow, based on seeing my incision and knowing that it will have been five weeks since my surgery.
So now I'm worrying that a) digging the sutures out of the way-healed skin at one end of the incision is going to hurt; and b) removing them from the seeping end is going to lead to a new gaping hole in my leg, like what happened during summer of 2003. A repeat of that experience is still the thing I most fear in life. (Someday soon I hope to stop rehearsing this worry.)
Well, I'll just have to trust him to know what the right thing to do is.
Speaking of sutures, I'm currently wondering: Can he remove some stitches but not others? Or are they all connected, like a basted hem? And what's up with that one suture on the back of my calf, where there was never any injury to begin with? It can't be connected to the others, can it? That would be so gross. I hope to get answers to these and other mysteries at tomorrow's appointment.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
While Steering with One Foot*
Maneuvering the wheel chair around my apartment feels a lot like maneuvering a kayak. I think I got pretty good at the wheel chair back in 2002 when I first used one at home, for about eight weeks following the accident. I borrowed that one from my Hebrew student Vicky Lyon, who keeps it on hand for when her mother-in-law needs it. This time around I rented a wheel chair, and now I'm even better at using it, perhaps because of kayaking a lot during summers 2007 and 2008, plus a little bit of paddling earlier this season. I'm not popping wheelies or anything, but I do feel pretty confident.
And here's something I can do that has nothing to do with kayaking: I can steer this thing around using just my right foot. Not only steer, but actually propel myself. As long as the foot is wearing a Croc. I can go forward and backward, turn right or left, speed up or slow down, even do tricky things like move through the pantry or spin around in the tiny hallway to achieve best angle for entering bedroom or den. All with just one foot! And of course I mean without smashing into walls, injured left leg first.
Being able to do so much with my right foot frees up my hands for carrying stuff, including open containers of liquids, which can't be carried in the bag I hung off the back of the chair. This means I can water some of the plants, even the tricky, sensitive ones. It also means I can do more dangerous things, like transport a mug of hot tea or a bowl of hot soup. I carefully hold them above the floor instead of above myself as I head for a table or counter top; just in case I spill, I don't want to end up like John Hockenberry with his lasagna.
Best is using left hand on chair wheel while also using right foot in Croc on floor. This achieves even more power and precision, but leaves only one hand free. So it's good for the tea but not so good for the soup.
The biggest challenge to one-foot steering and propulsion is the hill I discovered in my dining room floor. It's so steep that I can't quite get up it with the one foot unless I build up some speed first. (This is when I start comparing wheel chairing to biking, which I haven't been able to do in years.) This head of steam is possible if I'm returning from a trip to the living room to water the plants. However, usually I'm entering the dining room in the chair on a trip back from the bedroom or kitchen, which forces me to approach the hill slowly. Lately I've been viewing the Dining-Room Hill as an opportunity to build myself up more. At least my right foot must be getting stronger.
Sometimes the right foot happens to be bare by the time I arrive in the wheel chair. This is usually because I started out from the bedroom on crutches toward the bathroom, a trip that has turned out to be safer in bare foot. I often forget to crutch back to the bedroom to fetch the Croc. This has got to change somehow, because it turns out that right-foot steerage without wearing a Croc is very dangerous. I really don't want to run the wheel chair over my bare right foot again! So when I find myself in the chair with no Croc on my foot, I squeeze the right foot up onto the chair along with the rest of me. Then I'm kind of perched up there, with injured left leg sticking out in front on the pillows as usual, bare right foot out of harm's way, zero feet on the floor. In this position I need two hands to work the chair.
*Bonus question for my Hebrew students: To what does the title of this blog posting make subtle reference?
And here's something I can do that has nothing to do with kayaking: I can steer this thing around using just my right foot. Not only steer, but actually propel myself. As long as the foot is wearing a Croc. I can go forward and backward, turn right or left, speed up or slow down, even do tricky things like move through the pantry or spin around in the tiny hallway to achieve best angle for entering bedroom or den. All with just one foot! And of course I mean without smashing into walls, injured left leg first.
Being able to do so much with my right foot frees up my hands for carrying stuff, including open containers of liquids, which can't be carried in the bag I hung off the back of the chair. This means I can water some of the plants, even the tricky, sensitive ones. It also means I can do more dangerous things, like transport a mug of hot tea or a bowl of hot soup. I carefully hold them above the floor instead of above myself as I head for a table or counter top; just in case I spill, I don't want to end up like John Hockenberry with his lasagna.
Best is using left hand on chair wheel while also using right foot in Croc on floor. This achieves even more power and precision, but leaves only one hand free. So it's good for the tea but not so good for the soup.
The biggest challenge to one-foot steering and propulsion is the hill I discovered in my dining room floor. It's so steep that I can't quite get up it with the one foot unless I build up some speed first. (This is when I start comparing wheel chairing to biking, which I haven't been able to do in years.) This head of steam is possible if I'm returning from a trip to the living room to water the plants. However, usually I'm entering the dining room in the chair on a trip back from the bedroom or kitchen, which forces me to approach the hill slowly. Lately I've been viewing the Dining-Room Hill as an opportunity to build myself up more. At least my right foot must be getting stronger.
Sometimes the right foot happens to be bare by the time I arrive in the wheel chair. This is usually because I started out from the bedroom on crutches toward the bathroom, a trip that has turned out to be safer in bare foot. I often forget to crutch back to the bedroom to fetch the Croc. This has got to change somehow, because it turns out that right-foot steerage without wearing a Croc is very dangerous. I really don't want to run the wheel chair over my bare right foot again! So when I find myself in the chair with no Croc on my foot, I squeeze the right foot up onto the chair along with the rest of me. Then I'm kind of perched up there, with injured left leg sticking out in front on the pillows as usual, bare right foot out of harm's way, zero feet on the floor. In this position I need two hands to work the chair.
*Bonus question for my Hebrew students: To what does the title of this blog posting make subtle reference?
Today's email request for ride to doctor appointment
Surprise! The big exciting revelation of the surgical incision, to have been conducted yesterday by the Visiting Nurse, did NOT happen after all. Instead, if one of you can help, it will happen this coming Monday or Tuesday afternoon in Chestnut Hill.
I am looking for a ride to my first post-op doctor's appointment. Either Monday July 6 or Tuesday July 7. This ride would entail...
a) picking me up in Arlington at 2:15 PM and driving me to Dr. Upton's office* in Chestnut Hill.
b) driving me home after the appointment, which should end by 4:30 or so.
c) Arriving back in Arlington around 5:30 or 6:00 PM.
You could spend the hour+ between (a) and (b) with me in the waiting room and/or at the nearby malls (Chestnut Hill Mall and Atrium Mall).
This is an urgent request for a ride. Please email me back or call me at 781-643-1346 to let me know if you could help me out with this ride. I will write back to you or call you back ASAP.
Natasha
*
I am looking for a ride to my first post-op doctor's appointment. Either Monday July 6 or Tuesday July 7. This ride would entail...
a) picking me up in Arlington at 2:15 PM and driving me to Dr. Upton's office* in Chestnut Hill.
b) driving me home after the appointment, which should end by 4:30 or so.
c) Arriving back in Arlington around 5:30 or 6:00 PM.
You could spend the hour+ between (a) and (b) with me in the waiting room and/or at the nearby malls (Chestnut Hill Mall and Atrium Mall).
This is an urgent request for a ride. Please email me back or call me at 781-643-1346 to let me know if you could help me out with this ride. I will write back to you or call you back ASAP.
Natasha
*
830 Boylston Street Suite 212 = Route 9
Chestnut Hill, MA 02467
(617) 739-1972
Chestnut Hill, MA 02467
(617) 739-1972
Worrying about red swollen toes
My toes looked really red and swollen when I first got up today. It scared me.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
The Accident
I broke my left leg in October, 2002, when I fell down a flight of stairs while carrying my bicycle. It was a bimalleolar ankle fracture. In other words, smashed to smithereens. It took thirteen screws and a plate to put all the pieces back together. You can see them in this x-ray of my leg, two months later.
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