Things That Make You Say Owie!

I've had a very interesting two weeks. Not in a good way. This should have my Tumbles and Stumbling heading to it because that was the start. A stumble followed by a hard fall. I was walking towards the rabbitry trying to unkink the garden hose.

The south side of the property is bordered by a 10-foot high ridge line covered in small trees and ivy. There is a sort of leveled patch (about 16 feet wide between the ridge and the house). This is where I was walking. There is a thick undergrowth of ivy now

covering the area until we get the new driveway built. I'm focusing on the two hundred feet of hose and trying to straighten it.My AFO clad foot caught on the vines. I pitched forward without anything handy to grab for regaining my balance. I went down hard on my left knee, finally stopping my forward momentum with my forehead colliding with the ground.  Seeing stars was an understatement. My whole world was cockeyed for a few minutes. I tried to get up. I failed. I failed again and again. There I was sitting on the ground. It was a "help! I've fallen and can't get up: moment. I hollered for Mel to help me up. This was one of the reasons for me not living alone anymore. We had been planting the front vegetable and herb gardens. The last thing we had to do was water them in...thus the need for me straightening the hose.

Well, my body was already hurting because of my post stroke spasticity and the Botox wearing thin. With my advancing age, I knew I'd feel worse tomorrow from this fall. I always do. As expected, I had the bruising and scrapped knees and elbows that usually accompanies such falls outside. I found each and every one of them when I showered later. I truly did not know how banged up I really was until my Botox started kicking in. Similar to my bad fall just after my stroke when I tore my AC ligament in my shoulder. This time it was my left (functioning) knee.

About two weeks later, I could barely able to bear my own weight. Climbing stairs to get out of the house or back into the house brought tears to my eyes. Of course, the Botox was kicking in again so I noticed the pain more. I couldn't brush it off as my left knee compensating or being strained by the affected side.

I went to my PC. Sure enough, a badly sprained left knee and deep tissue bruising down to the bone. Nothing broken or torn, thank God. But then comes my dilemma. His orders...stay off of it. Now for normal folks this is fairly simple to do with crutches or a cane. But, for a stroke survivor who only has one fully functioning side? It's impossible. Sure my roommate can cook , clean, garden, tend to the animal, etc. But what about things she can't do for me like going to the bathroom. Sitting down and rising up from the commode has been killer. Even with a wheelchair there are transfers in and out of bed, and such. While I can walk with my AFO, I still depend on my functioning side to do most of the grunt work.

The "stay off it" lasted about three days. I went stir crazy. I wanted to be out with our new chicks, our rabbits, and the garden. Those three days felt like weeks by comparison. There's only so much time you can spend on the computing, knitting, and watching television. My mind was turning to mush and for an active person like me, that was as long as I could stand inactivity. Yes, it hurts to move my knee and honestly, it was close to a week before I tried the stairs. Going down I always lead with my impaired leg, but climbing up I lead with my functioning leg. I knew that if I was going to climb four steps down, I'd have to be able to make it back up again. I satisfied myself, grudgingly, with a porch view of our homestead.

Today, I'm back to taking the stairs again. I still grimace at climbing back up the four steps, but I'm doing it ever so s l o w l y. But cane in hand, I walked around the garden beds today. I couldn't help myself picking a few weeds that have popped up with the rains. Should I be? When has that ever stopped me? But then again, if you don't use it; you lose it right? Yes, I should probably have given it more down time to heal, but if it ain't broke then I should be fine. It's stiff from all my inactivity, but I am using my cane. I had gotten to the point that I rarely used it close to the house but until the pain is gone, my shadow (cane) will be with me constantly again. I'm taking things slow for the time being.

But it makes me wonder. What if I had broken or torn something. How could I function? I mean they make a hemi walker for us one functioning sided folks, but what if you had no functioning side? What could I do then for weeks or months it would take for me to heal? Would I be bed bound the whole time? What a scary thought. I'll just resign myself to being more careful so I won't have to find out. Yeah, you believe that, don't you?!

Nothing is impossible.

Thursday's Tumbles and Stumbles: I Wish I Was A WEEBLE!

As we age in the Murphey Saga household, the more we go into age regression. When my kids were young they had these toys called Weebles.

Weebles wooble, but they don't fall down.

Wikipedia describes the reason they don't fall down is a weighted bottom. I have a very weighty bottom and I still fall down. I haven't this week, fallen down that is. I've been stumbling and tripping over imaginary tufts of carpet. Before y'all start worrying, it's because I got new shoes and the soles are thicker. I just have to adjust raising my foot a 1/4 inch higher with each step.

But talking about regression, how about toileting...

 

Or eating...

 

How much difference is there between this 

 

and this?

I mean besides the flavoring.

Young at heart and dependent in body. The more we age --the more we regress. My father had the right idea when he started counting backwards at 50. Now, he's in a stroller and a crib again (wheelchair and bed rails) as he calls them.Life goes full circle. Enjoy it while you can.

Sunday Stroke Survival~ Odds,Ends, and Thanks!

Thank you for all the good wishes and concern about my hand and my fall. Y'all make it the best of a bad situation. I do appreciate you. My left hand is better. See all you naysayers out there it wasn't broken. You know who you are.

I call this blog the Murphey Saga because nobody would believe what life throws at us on a daily basis unless I write about it. My tagline remains the same although I'm not writing (book or article wise) right now. Because my stroke and my life IS getting in the way of my love of writing and storytelling.

I thought I would explain this to the fifty odd new followers and readers (maybe more) of this blog that didn't know. The title came about in the Compuserve Writers Forum too many years ago. It was in answer to a response I got to a post. I don't remember what it was about now.

I answered, "The Murphey Sa-a-aga-a. The ongoing story of a family in a small town in Georgia. Where the Luck of the Irish and Murphy's Law collide in writing. A soap opera so unbelievable that if it was truly on-air you would not watch it because it had to be fake."

There you have it. That's the reason behind my title of this blog. Any questions?

Notables-

• I reached 100,000 hits on my blog this week. That figure boggles my mind. Maybe if I had written 1,000 blogs it would be feasible, but 100,000!
• The second thing is I've written just over 500 blog posts. That has to be a record of some kind for me. I didn't think I had that much in general to write about my life. But there is so much going on, I can't help myself.

Thanks to the Stroke Tribe.( Amy, Dean, Barb, Rebecca, John to name a few) No matter what. They've got my back. Through them I gain

valuable information so I at least sound more creditable. When I talk to professionals about what works and what doesn't, new innovated techniques, and their support has been invaluable during this recovery period since my strokes.

My cheerleaders along this journey from the Compuserve Books and Authors Forum (Zan Marie, Sara, Lara to name a few). We tag-a-long after each other like long time pals though we have never met in person. Thanks! You brighten my days.

Without all of you I couldn't have reached these numbers. Aw shucks! Y'all have got me bawling now just thinking of y'all. OR, maybe it's just my PBA kicking in again. Got ya!

Well, rehab has stopped for the time being while I wait for my next series of Botox injections. Spasticity has raised its ugly, fat head once again.

But something is different this time around. The spasticity doesn't seem as bad. Yes, I'm hampered from moving as much as I did when the Botox first started working. But I am still able to move instead of being drawn up. I'm happy to say the Botox has worn off totally in my leg. The ankle was so unsteady that walking was down right a dicey proposition at times. And no, it didn't stop another pressure sore from coming up.

Speaking of pressure sores, I'm not so sure that's what I have going on with my foot. A large blister will form under the callus on my foot where the AFO rubs. Sort of like you get when you wear tight shoes. When the blister pops it takes the callus with it leaving an open wound. This wound gets bigger and deeper with each occurrence. In that way it's like a pressure sore. It is also from pressure of walking while wearing my AFO. Still fighting the insurance company for a new one.

Yes it takes ointments and wet/dry dressings to heal like a pressure sore. It takes a doctor or me to cut away the dead tissue with a scalpel at the edges to heal.  But is it really a pressure sore...I dunno. I take the same attitude with it as dealing with Southeastern Legless Lizards...

1. If it looks like a snake
2. If it moves like a snake
3. If it has a forked tongue like a snake
4. Has dead, glassy eyes like a snake...

It is a snake! Quick kill it!
Therefore until I'm actually told otherwise...these are reoccurring pressure sores. I don't feel like taking the same advice about this lizard though. As long as it stays away from me...it can live.

Probably sometime next week I'll tell you how the week went. Once again, it's the continuing s-a-ag-a of the Murphey household.

Nothing is impossible with determination.

Sunday Stroke Survival~ What Goes Up...

Credit

When I was in inpatient rehab, I made the statement..."It's not if I fall but when I fall." Well, I did it again Wednesday.

Let me backtrack to Tuesday's OT. I awoke later than usual so I decided to double up on my Baclofen before therapy. The tightness in my bicep and pectoral muscles gave me an inkling that therapy may have to stop after this week. Higher tone is the precursor for me that the Botox is wearing off with the spasticity to follow quickly after. Therapy confirmed it even after ice and heat were used but the fingers still stretched.

I got home to find the sitter gone and daughter #2 and her youngest son at the house. Triston (15 next month) is my yard man. They'd been at the house long enough for him to mow the front and half the back before I came home via the tractor. Next came the mandatory Skype call to our #4 daughter in AZ. During that time daughter #1 comes in from Savannah with daughter #2's oldest son and her two boys (13 &7). A houseful! I set each of them on a task, mostly outside to keep them busy. As you can imagine, my hubby and I were both exhausted by the time all of them left.

Wednesday morning was bad from the start. I had slept hard so everything decided it wanted to play at Rice Krispies (snap, crackle & pop). With a groan and several attempts, I got out of bed. I waddled my way into the living to administer my husband's medicines and empty his urinal. Then it was, hop into the shower for a bath before therapy at 11. Needless to say, all the energy from a good, solid night's sleep was diminished by half by just these simple acts including getting dressed. Getting dressed was more of a chore than it usually was. I got my panties in a wad, fought with my compression knee-highs, and my shirt wanted to bunch up and make life difficult. But I fed the animals, watered them, and gave each of them undivided attention that they craved. So now I've used six of twelve spoons via the spoon theory of energy.

Before leaving and the sitter arriving, I checked in with my hubby to see if he needed anything. Coffee. Keep in mind that the pressure sore on my foot ruptured three days ago and walking is difficult, I waddled to the kitchen and made his coffee. Thanks to my #2 daughter buying him a Keurig one cup coffee maker for Christmas, this was a quick fix.

But then he mentioned the bottom sheet on his bed had worked loose. I managed the tug and pull the fitted bottom sheet back into place. I might mention at this point, his mattress is an air mattress with a hose that is attached to the electric compressor unit... another spoon or a spoon and half gone.(7-8 spoons expended with 4-5 left until nap time at 3pm) Knowing I had therapy (2-3 spoons, fix lunch, administer meds, and odd & end things before I got a nap another 2-3 spoons worth).

The sitter arrived and I headed out the door. Fifteen minutes to get to the rehab place. I stepped onto the ramp and surfed hanging ten halfway down the ramp. It had rained heavily the night before. I landed in a half split and on my rump. For once I was thanking God for my six ax handles across bottom...plenty of padding to land on.

I did a quick assessment. Everything moved without much pain so I rolled over and ungracefully got to my feet. I rushed at top speed, a glorified slow walk, to my car and drove to therapy...not even concerned what I looked like. I was going to be late and I hate to be late.

All seven traffic lights were green and no serious idiot drivers were met. All the handicapped spots were taken. I mean really! There are only twelve of them! I ended up parking in a regular spot about three hundred feet from the door. That doesn't sound like much but try doing it with an open pressure sore and opening your car door wide enough to get out of your car in a regular size parking space.

Anyhow, I wobble through the door and look at the clock over the check in, three minutes late. My OT escorted me back into the therapy room a moment later. I began telling her about my morning. She asked ice or heat? I answered both. Ice on the spastic muscles in my bicep, pectoral, and left wrist that was beginning to smart and swell. Heat to the shoulder, neck, lower back, and the tricep which were knotted up from the fall. She off offhandedly mentioned I might want to get an x-ray but bit her tongue at the look on my face.

Well my therapy session did not go well, but then there is always Friday. Come Friday we'll make an assessment on whether or not to do another week or stop until after my next Botox injections. While I was resting between stretches, she grabbed a towel with a bottle of alcohol and cleaned all the scraped areas that I didn't know I had. Believe me when I say I felt every single one after the alcohol. My wrists, right hand, and knees had too many to count sharp intakes of breath.

We both examined my left, only one working right now, wrist. No point tenderness, but swelling, pain upon moving the thumb and pinky fingers but not sharp enough for a break. Yeah, I know what that feels like. A humongous bruise turning shades of black and purple on the outside edge of the palm, but both of us didn't think anything was broken. So I wrapped it up in an Ace bandage and called it a day.

Trying to do anything with an Ace bandage on your only working hand is ridiculous! Everything else I'd planned to do went out the window. The exception was changing out my husband's M6 oxygen tank. It was so much fun changing out the regulator with three working fingers. I won't even bother to go into it here. I'll leave it to your imagination. But you gotta do what you gotta do. I did leave putting it back in its bag for my hubby to do. I did try but bent my thumb back farther than it wanted to go. Stifling a scream, I grabbed it all and carried it to his bed.

Thursday morning was a bear. All the abuse I put my body through the previous day told the tale. Accidents always feel worse the day after. I basically took it easy. The hospice aide was here and daughter #2 and our oldest granddaughter (14) were here to pick up my slack, but God knows I needed the help. Shuffling around like a little old ( much older than I am think 90+) lady was an improvement. I got on Facebook and my emails typing with three fingers. I didn't think that there was one part of my body that didn't ache.

I looked at a pair of fingerless gloves that's on my loom for my eldest granddaughter for her birthday and knew it would have to wait. What's to sense of having a do nothing day when you can't do something you want to do? It's one of those Grumbling, growling moments.

Friday was OT again. One more week of therapy and we'll be done until after the next series of Botox. (sigh) How was y'all's week?

Nothing is impossible with determination.