2/28/14. The post where I defy all the odds and have a good day.

2/28/14: another rough night with way too little sleep, and I was sure it was going to be a bad day.  (Spoiler alert - I was wrong.) I started the day in the 7.5-8 range, but by the time I left for work it was down to a 6.5.  

After getting ready, I dressed for casual Friday at work and looked for a pair of shoes to wear.  My shoe collection has elevated me to near-celebrity status among other shoe aficionados, so the last eight months have been a real bummer when it comes to shoes.  As I looked for something I could tolerate wearing, I spied a box on the very top shelf of my closet.  Could it be?

Flashback to about seven years ago.  I bought a pair of suede boots on sale, but by the time I got home with them, I already didn't like them.  The heel was too flat and the toe was too round.  I should have returned them, but I didn't.  I should have worn them, but I didn't.  I should have gotten rid of them during one of the three moves I've made since buying them, but I didn't.

And this morning, there they were, smiling at me from the top shelf.  (At least it looked to me like they were smiling.)  The heel height was just low enough and the toe was just round enough that I could wear them relatively comfortably.  And when I slipped them on, I realized they were actually quite cute.  Either my taste has changed in the last seven years or I was so happy to have a new pair of shoes to wear that I convinced myself I liked them.  I'll let you be the judge.

The day continued to get better. A wonderful co-worker brought me breakfast tacos to thank me for helping her on a project.  I had a manicure and pedicure at lunch ("Schnapps Out of It" from the OPI Germany collection) and my ever-resourceful manicurist, who reads my blog and knows I had trouble after the last few pedicures, had found a new lotion that did not irritate my foot.  Woo-hoo!

I had a nice, calm day at work after a stressful week, which ended with some very positive recognition by my employer.  I got some good news about an upcoming family vacation. My patient, long-suffering husband and I enjoyed the beautiful weather by having a lovely, quiet dinner on the deck of a local restaurant.  Maybe I was delirious from lack of sleep, but other than that pesky pain, everything just felt right.

All in all, a great day.  Still holding steady at a 6.5.  I don't have anywhere to be tomorrow morning, so even if I have to sleep in shifts, maybe I can catch up.  TGIF, indeed.

2/27/14. The post where I talk about safety plans and safety pins.

2/27/14: apparently my body has gotten wise to the almond milk trick.  I had trouble falling asleep and staying asleep, and was already in the 7.5-8 range before I even got out of bed.  This gave me plenty of time in the night to think, which is not always a good thing.  One of the things I thought about was "safety plans."

Yesterday, I read the synopsis of a recent lecture on coping with chronic pain that was posted by the RSD association.  A recurring theme of the lecture was developing and using a safety plan for times when the pain is so overwhelming you can't think rationally.  I'm having a difficult time imagining this scenario.  But then again, I have been dealing with this for months, not years, and fortunately the really bad episodes have been relatively brief.

I like to be prepared. (Those of you who know me well are not surprised by this news flash.)  I could have cleaned up if I had ever appeared on "Let's Make a Deal."  A quick scan of my purse reveals, in addition to the things you'd normally expect to see:

- a Swiss Army knife (complete with a corkscrew, because, well...you know why)

- a small flashlight (which I can tell you from experience comes in handy if you are in a public restroom and the electricity goes out)

- two pairs of sunglasses (in case one pair breaks)

- two sets of ear plugs

- two packages of travel tissue (are you noticing a theme yet?)

- enough medication/first aid to rival most pharmacies

- a coin purse filled with about $4 in change (in case I need to make a long-distance call from a pay phone in 1973) and,

- about 30 safety pins.

This may explain why my purse weighs 20 pounds and my shoulder is always sore, but I almost always have anything I, or anyone in my general vicinity, might need.  I was in a musical a few years ago.  (Bear with me - I promise this is going somewhere.) About an hour before the first show, a piece of fabric tore open on a crucial set piece. As the director began to panic, I ran to my purse and produced my 30 safety pins.  After thanking me, he asked me why I carry so many safety pins with me.  My response? "Hey, don't judge. Just be glad I do."

So, you get the picture.  I like to be prepared.  During my late night ponderings, suddenly it hit me. A safety plan? No one told me I was supposed to have a safety plan.  Why don't I have a safety plan? What should a safety plan even look like? I can't believe I don't have a safety plan.

But after much thought, I realized I do have a safety plan.  It may not be formal, but it exists.  You are part of my safety plan. This blog is part of my safety plan.  My patient, long-suffering husband is part of my safety plan.  My family and friends are part of my safety plan.  It turns out that not only do I have a safety plan, it's a pretty good one.  Can't believe I doubted my preparedness.

Now that I've settled that issue, I can go back to worrying about whether 30 safety pins are enough. Maybe I'll add a few more, just in case. 

(P.S. I had a movie clip I wanted to include, but I couldn't find it anywhere on the Internet.  You'll just have to trust me that it would have been awesome.)

2/26/14. The post where I talk about the foreseeable future.

2/26/14: the angel on my shoulder wasn't taking any chances this morning and made sure I was wide awake two hours before my alarm went off.  Fortunately I'd gone to bed (relatively) early and gotten some decent sleep before my rude awakening.  My patient, long-suffering husband doctored my almond milk last night with a little stevia and warmed it in the microwave, so it was much more tolerable and I feel certain it helped me fall asleep.  I guess it will be on the nighttime agenda for the foreseeable future.

Started the morning at a 7, which is pretty impressive for a cold, rainy day.  I dressed warmly (one more bonus wearing of my winter boots!) and drove to work.  Driving is still uncomfortable and I guess it will be for the foreseeable future.

There is an association that provides information and support to people with RSD.  I keep up with them through social media and their website, and today they passed along a request for volunteers for a 20 year medical study.  Participants are required to complete a survey once a year and may be contacted for more detailed information depending on their survey answers. 

I thought long and hard about it.  Twenty years is significantly longer than the foreseeable future.  I hope to be in remission (and stay in remission) long before that, in which case my participation won't be of much use to them. On the other hand, it's not much of an imposition and while I'm not young, I'm young enough to have a reasonable expectation of participating for the entire twenty year period.  Ultimately, I decided to go for it.  If it helps doctors learn more about RSD, it's a good use of my time, whether it benefits me or future generations.  I read articles all the time about medical break-throughs based on long-term studies and I've always wondered how they get people to participate for so long.  I guess I'll find out.

Ended the day at about a 7.5 and the weather is supposed to be warmer tomorrow.  Hope it stays that way for the foreseeable future.

2/25/14. The post where I talk about almond milk and the angel on my shoulder.

2/25/14: a pretty good night's sleep!  In fact, my alarm woke me up this morning.  This is the first day since I quit taking the Lyrica that I haven't woken up long before my alarm.  The little devil on my shoulder told me to turn off the alarm and go right back to sleep while I was on a roll.  But the little angel on my other shoulder (who was wearing a business suit and carrying a briefcase) reminded me that a restful sleep would help me get through the work day and I should save my time off for the really bad days.  Man, I hate that angel sometimes.  

Last night, in addition to the vitamin C extravaganza, I also drank a glass of almond milk.  Almonds are a good source of serotonin, which promotes sleep.  Being more conscious than usual of my calorie intake these days, I opted for unsweetened, so it tasted a little like drinking dirty dish water. (My patient, long-suffering husband had the pleasure of seeing me make what he lovingly refers to as my "prune face" while I drank it, so I think he enjoyed the experience more than I did.)  I'm not sure if I slept better because of the almond milk, a decrease in pain, or sheer exhaustion. But I can tell you that I intend to choke down another glass tonight, just in case.  

I set off for work with a pain level at about a 6. Woo-hoo!  I took advantage of my well-rested state and did some work that required a high level of concentration.  When I got home, I did some personal work on the computer that I'd been putting off for awhile because I hadn't felt mentally up to it.  I'm trying to take advantage of days like this when I can.  PT for my mind, I guess.  

Even in my flurry of mental activity today, I was subconsciously thinking about the weather change and wondering if/when it was going to cause the pain level to ramp up again.  One of the strange symptoms of RSD is the temperature differential between the affected limb and the other limb, which is a result of circulation issues and, at least for me, an indicator of increased pain.  When my feet get hot, the right foot is hotter; when they get cold, the right foot is colder.  The difference is noticeable enough that you can feel it if you hold both my feet.  (And now, in case the prune face comment isn't bad enough, you are stuck with an unpleasant mental image of yourself holding my feet.  You're welcome. At least you aren't drinking dirty dish water.)   

Tonight, the cold front is officially here and I've moved up to about 7.5.  I'm hoping it won't get any colder or any worse, but in any case, I'm glad I listened to the little angel on my shoulder this morning.  

2/24/14. The post where I like Monday.

2/24/14: lucky roll of the dice! Got a little more sleep last night and woke up at a 7, as accurately guessed by my patient, long-suffering husband.  (He's getting really good at this.)  Maybe not the 6 I was hoping for, but I'll take it.  Good enough to make it through a Monday. 

So far, I have kept up with my PT exercises on my own, but I haven't tried the mirror exercises at home yet.  Maybe tomorrow. Tonight was handbell and grocery store therapy instead.  Even after all that, I am ending the night at about a 7.5.  I think I have finally recovered from the nerve block.  As a friend pointed out tonight, maybe the point of the nerve block is to make me so miserable that the pre-nerve block pain doesn't seem so bad.  If so, mission accomplished.

I continue to read as much as I can about RSD to make sure I'm doing my best to control it.  I've started taking mega-doses of vitamin C, which are thought to help keep the RSD from flaring up after an injury.  As injury-prone as I am, I've decided it can't hurt to take it regularly.  It should protect me from scurvy as well, so I can pursue my dream of becoming a pirate.  And I found some delicious gummy chews - score!

And now, for a weather update.  After multiple days with highs in the 70s, a front is coming that is supposed to bring thunderstorms tomorrow and a high in the upper 40s on Wednesday.  Uh, oh.  I hope Monday is not my favorite day of this week.  Although that would certainly be a first for me. 

2/23/14. The post where I rest.

2/23/14: my prediction was correct.  It was a long night.  I was at 9+ all night, so I don't think I would have slept much even without my extended nap.  Now the tingling in my upper foot and lower leg is pretty much constant.  At least I have something to show for the nerve block. 

I decided to take it easy again today.  I watched a lot of Olympics.  I've always been a huge fan, but this year it's really given me something to take my mind off my foot.  I'm going to miss it tomorrow.  I also did a puzzle for the first time in many years.  God bless Johnny Cash.

I ventured out of the house once, for a quiet, casual dinner with some friends.  No nap for me today.  I think I learned my lesson yesterday.  I have to get back on track so I can make it through the work week.  While I've given up on the nerve block, I'm very hopeful I will feel better in the morning so I can concentrate.  Come on, lucky 6.  Mama needs a new pair of shoes.  Or at least a good night's sleep.

2/22/14. The post where I berate my nerve block.

2/22/14: more of the same.  I had hoped to wake up to a surprise, but no such luck.  Started the day at a 7 and ramped up steadily.  

I think it's safe to say the nerve block didn't work.  And by "didn't work", I don't mean that I can't tell I had one.  At various times during the last two days I've had muscle spasms and tingling all over my foot and lower leg, which I am sure is a result of the nerve block.  What it didn't do was block the pain, which was its only job.  

So now, not only does my foot still hurt, it appears to be angry with me over the nerve block incident.  (I guess it's more fair to say my sympathetic nervous system is angry.  My foot is just confused, and all it knows is that it wants a new boss.)  Way to go, nerve block.

I took it easy most of the morning, then my patient, long-suffering husband got me out for awhile in the afternoon to try to take my mind off it.  We came back home and caught up on yesterday's Olympic coverage, thanks to the magic of DVR.  Then, I made what was probably a big mistake.  After way too many nights without enough sleep, I was overcome with fatigue and decided to take a nap.  I knew when I did it that it was a terrible idea, but rationalized it by telling myself I was going to sleep poorly tonight anyway, so I might as well get some sleep when I feel like I can.  

The good news: I slept for three hours.  The bad news: it is now 11 pm and I am wide awake.  And at about a 9.  It's going to be a looooooooong night...

2/21/14. The post where I don't have to swear off sushi.

2/21/14: the ill-conceived post-procedure sushi dinner didn't kill me.  Slept poorly, as usual these days, but was a little less nauseous than after the last procedure.  Don't know if the sushi helped, but it didn't hurt.  

No relief in the first day after the nerve block.  Stayed in the 7-7.5 range all day, with a few small spikes.  This time, I had a little more pain and soreness at the injection site, but nothing unmanageable.  Was still a little woozy from the sedative, but managed to get everything put together for the concert and it all went off without a hitch.  My hosting skills may not have been up to my usual standards, but I don't think anyone noticed.  So far, I am two-for-two in poor scheduling of nerve blocks.  I will try to be more careful for the next one, if there is a next one.

I am going to give it another day before declaring the second nerve block a bust, but I'm not feeling confident at this point that it is going to work any better than the first one.  I have a follow up doctor visit in two weeks where we will determine next steps.  Not sure how many more of these I have in me, without some evidence that they will give me some (even temporary) relief.  I have read a lot about nerve blocks on the World Wide Web, and some people finally get relief after having multiple injections.  I even read something about a woman who finally had success after #13.  I won't be having 13.  At the very beginning, my doctor said he didn't recommend more than four to six.  Right now, I'm not sure I recommend more than two.

I have a quiet weekend planned, and I am still holding out hope for some relief.  Next week will be a test of my mental and physical resolve - due to a scheduling snafu on my part, I do not have any PT appointments.  But I do have a mirror, and I know all the other exercises by heart, so I will be able to keep up, as long as I convince myself to do so.  I can already tell it is going to be a long week.  

But now is not the time to think about that.  It's the beginning of a weekend, the weather is forecast to be beautiful, and I have nothing on the calendar but fun.  I wish the same for all of you!

2/20/14. The post where I give the nerve block a second chance.

2/20/14: woke up at about a 7.5 this morning after yet another fitful night of sleep. Is it wrong that I am looking forward to the nerve block because I know I will get a few hours of sleep while the sedative wears off?

The procedure was two hours earlier than last time, which meant I didn't have to fast for as long during the day, but I had to quit eating earlier.  No solid food after 7:30 am, no liquid after 11:30am.  Concscious of both my recent whining about my weight gain and my nausea after the last procedure, I opted for multi-grain toast with low-fat peanut butter instead of a breakfast taco this time, hastily scarfed down at approximately 7:29 and 30 seconds.  Also conscious of how thirsty I was last time, I spent the next four hours drinking buckets of water (and walking back and forth from the ladies room at work).  And obsessing about food.

I am perfectly capable of going six hours without eating during the day and I probably do it on a regular basis without thinking twice.  But knowing I wasn't supposed to eat, and being afraid I might inadvertently eat something (which would delay an already difficult to schedule procedure), made it an entirely different scenario.  First world problems...

Got to the appointment early and the waiting room was very crowded.  If you have ever been to a pain management clinic, you know that while everyone has the common denominator of chronic pain (or a loved one with chronic pain), you encounter a wide variety of humanity.  Kind of like going to Walmart.  My patient, long-suffering husband (aka my driver) waited in the waiting room through the entire procedure.  I think I got the better end of the bargain.  My favorite overheard waiting room conversation between two strangers:

Stranger #1: I've lived here for 30 years, but I've been everywhere really.  I've been in Milwaukee...and Minnesota.  

Stranger #2: Oh, you lived in those places, too?

Stranger #1: No, but I visited them. 

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=gjsCSm_9oW4

The procedure was uneventful and I slept for about three hours after getting home. Hallelujah!  In a fit of sedative-induced poor judgment, I let my patient, long-suffering husband talk me into sushi for dinner.  It was the least I could do after leaving him in the waiting room for an hour.  This is a neighborhood place we frequent, where they know us well and I could go in my sweatsuit and post-procedure stupor without feeling self-conscious.  I ate lightly and tried to stick to less spicy items, but be prepared for "the post where I vow never to eat sushi again."

No immediate change in pain level, but I knew not to expect it.  It will be a day or two before I know if it was a success. Thanks for all the well wishes and good thoughts.  Tomorrow is my "rest" day after the procedure, which of course means we have a concert scheduled tomorrow night.  Not a choir concert, so I don't have to sing.  I just have to design and print the program, sell tickets, manage the volunteers, and do all the accounting related to the ticket sales.  What could possibly go wrong? 

2/19/14. The post where I am reminded (again) that it's a marathon, not a sprint.

2/19/14: can't seem to shake this bad spell.  Still at 7.5-8 all day.  I had a PT appointment first thing this morning, and I think it was obvious that I was at my wit's end.  

My PT decided it was time for a pep talk.  (Maybe he intended it as a lecture, but I prefer to think of it as a pep talk.)  I had heard much of it before, either from him or my doctor, but it was a good time for a reminder and I left feeling better emotionally, if not physically. A few things I took away from our talk:

1.  The pain is real.  He reminded me that my brain is not imagining the pain - it is getting real pain signals.  (The malfunction is in the communication system, which is sending the signals without a good reason.)  So when it feels like an 8, it is.  And when it feels like a 6, it is.  It's not that I'm dealing better with the pain on those days.  There really is less pain.

2.  For that reason, there is no benefit in overdoing it physically, either in PT or anything else.  He said I should concentrate on expending the least effort possible to achieve the desired goal.  He reminded me that "we" had already tried pushing and it didn't help.  Stop when it hurts, don't try to ignore it or work through it.  Easier said than done, but I'm trying.

3.  This is going to be a long process.  He told me it is different for every person, but it won't be measured in weeks.  He was confident that I will see improvement, but he talked more in terms of comparing how I feel now to how I will feel this time next year.  It's a marathon, not a sprint. 

My second nerve block is tomorrow.  The point of having the nerve blocks (if they work) is to get some immediate, temporary relief so that I can do more physical therapy, which is what can ultimately bring the RSD into remission. I hope it works this time.  I'm training for a marathon, you know.

2/18/14. The post where I compare friends and acquaintances.

2/18/14: day three of the latest rough period.  Pain is back down in the 7.5-8 range, but still feeling pretty rotten.  I had hoped the warm weather would bring some relief.  Clearly I don't have this figured out yet.

To make myself feel a little better, I wore a new dress to work.  I was a little concerned about how the geometric pattern would accentuate my ever-expanding curves, but decided to risk it.  I was walking in the hall this morning when two men rounded the corner behind me, deep in conversation.  I didn't catch the first part of it, but I clearly caught the end: "...it's nearly 25,000 pounds!"  Total coincidence, I know, but not what I needed to hear.  Think I'll put the dress away for awhile until I've lost a little weight.  Like 25,000 pounds.

Caught up with one of my oldest friends over drinks after work.  (Uh-oh, that didn't sound right.)  I mean, not a friend who is old, but a friend I've known for a really long time.  (Not sure that's much better.)  Let's just say it was a good friend.  Someone who's keeping up with my blog, so I didn't have to tell the long story, which is a relief.

I've been really struggling with how to interact with more casual acquaintances, people I don't see very often and don't know well enough to have given the gory details.  The conversation always starts out the same: "Oh look!  You are out of your cast! (Or boot, depending on how recently they've seen me.) How are you?"  It is always accompanied by a hopeful look, waiting for me to say, "I'm doing well! How are you?"  

Decision time.  I try to assess the situation before answering.  How much quiet, uninterrupted time do we have to talk?  Do I think they want to hear the real answer?  Do I want to develop a reputation as Debbie Downer, incapable of exchanging pleasantries?  It would be easier to answer, "I'm doing well!  How are you?"  But it wouldn't explain to them why I'm slow, grouchy, sleepy, and generally not myself.  More often than not, I try to split the difference.  "Still having some issues, but it sure is nice to be wearing matching shoes again!"  Leave 'em smiling.

Regardless of how I answer, it invariably ends with, "Glad you're getting better!"  Most people, like me, are optimists by nature and want to say something positive.  I'm sure I've said the same sort of thing to acquaintances in similar circumstances on plenty of occasions.  And I really do appreciate the sentiment.  I'm working hard in PT to walk "normally" and I no longer have a cast or a boot (or crutches or a knee-walker), so it probably does look like I'm getting better.  But I certainly don't feel better. At least, not yet.  

It really is nice to be wearing matching shoes, though. 

2/17/14. The post where I (finally) do mirror therapy.

2/17/14: Presidents Day, a work holiday for me.  The last work holiday for several months, absent another pseudo ice storm.  How I wanted to spend my day off = watching Olympics + taking a long walk to enjoy the beautiful weather + making plans for an upcoming trip to Europe.  How I spent my day off = laundry + dishes + paperwork for our fine arts series + PT.  I drew the line at going to the grocery store.

Today was slightly better than yesterday, but still really rough.  I spent all day in the 8+ range.  I don't recall having this long a stretch at this high a pain level.  A friend of mine recently suggested that maybe I should chart my pain levels a few times a day to see if I discern a pattern.  A good idea, and one that appeals to my inner spreadsheet wonk.  (If I ever quit my day job, I may start a lecture series called, "Unleash Your Inner Spreadsheet Wonk."  Should be wildly popular, right?) I didn't want to go to PT, but I knew we were starting mirror therapy, and my curiosity got the best of me.

I read about mirror therapy before I started PT, and they've teased me with claims of starting it a few times, but today we actually began in earnest.  It started with a baseline test, which I completed on the PT's cell phone using an app designed for that purpose.  Technology is awesome sometimes.  The app flashed various pictures of feet and I had five seconds to press the button for "left" or "right".  This is not as easy as you would think.  The pictures showed feet at various angles and positions, sometimes as a reverse image.  While it took me longer than I expected, I scored 100% on the right foot photos and 88% on the left foot photos.  Enough to get me a scholarship into any good foot photo guessing college program, I think.

Then we started the therapy.  I sat on a PT table with my legs dangling and they rolled over a full-length mirror. I straddled the mirror with it facing my left side and leaned forward so I couldn't see my right leg/foot at all, but I could see my left leg/foot in the mirror.  For the next ten minutes, I did various exercises with my left foot while watching it in the mirror.  

Try it sometime.  Sure, I could feel my right foot. After all, the pain was still at "screaming like a banshee" level.  But my left foot was doing a reasonably good impression of a right foot and it was a very strange experience.  I will continue to do it for ten minute increments at each PT session and they will re-test my recognition skills periodically on the assumption that my recognition scores will go down.  Guess I'd better apply for that scholarship now.

Mirror therapy was developed for RSD, but my PT told me it is beginning to be used for stroke victims as well.  As I understand it, your brain has "mirror" neurons that can be used to re-map nerve paths. (As always, my apologies to any medical professionals reading this.)  So in my case, the nerves on my left side can be trained (at least theoretically) to take over for the malfunctioning nerves on my right side.  They haven't told me what plan C will be if the the nerves on the left side malfunction, and I'm not sure I want to know.  In any event, this is highly interesting as an intellectual exercise and I hope it works.

My PT opined that my pain increase over the last day or so is a result of the change in barometric pressure.  While the temperature has been constant over the last few days, some sort of front came in that has caused fog each morning and a huge increase in humidity. Coincidentally, I read an interesting article a few days ago about weather changes and strokes.   http://m.apnews.com/ap/db_289563/contentdetail.htm?contentguid=VvPwn0cZ

The human body is very strange.  I am hopeful this therapy will work.  Otherwise, I am going to start looking into a move to a place with no temperature or barometric changes.  Any ideas?

2/16/14. The post that is not as fun as the last few.

2/16/14: woke up at a 7 this morning and got progressively worse as the day wore on.  This is one of those days where I try to keep my mind occupied and hope it is over quickly.  I didn't want to write a post today - it's much more fun to write when I feel good.   But these are the days it's most important to write.  

Not only did I not want to write, I really didn't want to do anything.  But doing nothing is even worse, so I went about my business. I tried doing my PT exercises. I tried walking to pick up the mail.  I tried a stiff drink. I tried concentrating intently on the Olympics. I tried elevating my foot.  I tried elevating it even higher.  No luck.  I've been hanging out at a 9-9.5 most of the evening.  But I know from experience that it can be worse, so I'm trying to stay positive and hope it has peaked.  My patient, long-suffering husband is doing his very best to keep me entertained, so I'm doing my very best to be entertained. 

A very perceptive friend of mine recently said to me, "I bet you're getting tired of being a good sport about this."  Yes, I guess I am.  But the alternative doesn't seem too good, either.  So for the time being, I'll continue being a good sport.  Don't worry, I'll give you fair warning if that changes. 

2/15/14. The post where I tell you about the worst smell ever.

2/15/14: not as good as the last few days, but still manageable. 7-7.5 all day, with some pretty interesting color.

We were having some very dear friends over for dinner for cioppino, one of my favorite meals.  (These are the friends who referred me to the doctor who was able to diagnose my RSD, so they deserve a special meal.)  I set out for the local gourmet grocery store while my patient, long-suffering husband took a long, well-deserved bike ride.  I live in a city that requires reusable grocery bags, and I realized halfway there that I had left my grocery bags at home, but I have about 700 spares in my trunk at all times, so all was well.  One of the benefits of being, shall we say, overly organized.

I found a parking space right at the front of the building and they had everything on my list, which was no mean feat considering the exotic items on my list and saved me several side trips.  I wasn't fasting before a medical procedure this time, so I was able to enjoy the free samples. I didn't even have to wait at the checkout.  What a lucky day!

I drove home and unloaded my groceries.  I had just gathered up all the bags when suddenly, I heard a loud crash and pop, followed by an unbelievable stench.  For a moment I stood there stunned, convinced I'd been shot in a random drive-by shooting and the smell was my internal organs hitting the concrete floor. Then I looked down and discovered the culprit.  

One of my spare grocery bags had developed a hole and a bottle of clam juice met its maker in a blaze of glory, bursting into a million pieces.  Do you know what smells worse than a bottle of clam juice? A bottle of clam juice hitting a car's hot exhaust pipe.  Do you know what smells worse than a bottle of clam juice steaming from a car's hot exhaust pipe?  Nothing.  In case you need help imagining the smell, here's a little something to assist:

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=CXmp1hLK0tY&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DCXmp1hLK0tY

I assessed the situation and quickly realized I had glass scattered all over the garage, hot clam juice seeping into the concrete floor, and four bags of groceries in my arms (including enough fresh sea food to feed a small army), so I had to move quickly.  I got the perishable groceries into the refrigerator, mopped up the clam juice, and began sweeping up glass.  I am still amazed by the amount of shattered glass and the distance it traveled. I feel certain I will be writing a blog in the next few days titled, "The post where I tell you about my flat tire."  I managed to get things fairly under control, then made myself a celebratory drink.  After all, any day you are not the victim of a random drive-by shooting is a lucky day, right?  My spare grocery bag was not so fortunate - its injury was fatal.  Now I'm down to 699 spares in my trunk.  Better buy another one, just in case.

2/14/14. The post where I admit I like Valentine's Day.

2/14/14: a couple of pretty good days in a row.  Haven't been over a 6.5 since Thursday morning and I even thought I detected a 5.5 this morning when I woke up.  Last night, after several days with way too little sleep, I went to bed early and fell straight to sleep.  As a result, I looked significantly less like a zombie today.  In fact, with my freshly done hair and nails, I looked almost like myself.  (As I've told several friends, the new me looks a lot like the old me, but three inches shorter.) Just in time for Valentine's Day.  Coincidence, I assure you, but a happy coincidence.

And here's where I brag on my patient, long-suffering husband.  I had a wonderful surprise waiting for me when I got to the office today.  A pretty metal tub for chilling wine, filled literally to the point of overflowing with a thoughtfully considered assortment of my very favorite office snacks, which he had one of my co-workers sneak into my office before I got to work.  Best gift ever.

How did I reciprocate? By going to the liquor store and buying a few items that were already on the shopping list, removing my gift snacks from the tub, replacing them with the newly purchased items, and (poorly) re-taping the plastic wrap.  Worst gift ever.  At least I get credit for recycling, right?  Then I came home to chilled champagne and a home-cooked meal, which officially erased my recycling credit.  I tell this story in case any of you were wondering why I refer to him as my patient, long-suffering husband.

The whole day was actually quite lovely.  Between the breakfast tacos, cookies, and Valentine-themed gifts showered on me by co-workers, it felt more like my birthday than Valentine's Day.  And did I mention I have new hair and nails?  I did nothing to deserve any of it, nor did I reciprocate in any meaningful way.  I'm not proud of that, but I certainly feel fortunate.  And loved.  I promise to do better next year.  6.5 feels pretty awesome on a day like today.  And now I'm staring at a warm, sunny three-day weekend.  Bring it on, RSD.  

2/13/14. The shortest post ever.

2/13/14: want to know what is good physical therapy? Dancing in the living room with your true love to Bobby Vee's version of "Everyday".  Try it some time.  

Sending my love to all of you.  I promise to post more tomorrow.

http://m.youtube.com/watch?v=PV2yEIK-Nbo&desktop_uri=%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DPV2yEIK-Nbo

2/12/14. The post where everything happens backwards.

2/12/14: I've gotten into kind of a groove recently.  The pain level is lower in the morning and ramps up during the day, especially on PT days. While the cold weather seems to ratchet everything up a notch, the pattern is basically the same, which can actually be a little comforting. (At least, it would be if I were a control freak.  Which I'm not.)

Fast forward to this morning.  I woke up at about 4:30 this morning, very aware that my foot felt worse than it usually does in the morning.  Uh, oh.  If it's already at an 8 before I get out of bed, things don't bode well for the day, which includes a full work day, PT, and a two-hour choir rehearsal.  I gave myself a pep talk and got up to face the unknown.

The morning was rough.  It was still quite cold and not only was the pain worse, but the color and swelling had returned.  I started dreading PT and promised myself I would skip rehearsal.  But then, when I left work to go to PT, something strange happened.  I walked outside and the sun was out for the first time in several days.  And it was 25 degrees warmer than it had been in the morning!  I got into my car, which was warm from the afternoon sun, and could already feel the change in my foot.  

By the time I got to my PT appointment, the color was much better and the swelling was down.  I let my PT know that I'd overdone it last time and had been in a lot of pain in the morning, but that I was feeling better.  We focused on some "gating" exercises, which are not physically demanding, but require you to multitask.  The exercises are intended to refocus your brain away from the pain messages.  For instance, in one of the exercises, I bounced a weighted ball into a small trampoline so that it bounced back to me and I had to catch it, while trying to keep all my core muscles tightened and answering random questions posed by my PT.  Doesn't sound that difficult, you say?  Well, you aren't the one who accidentally bounced a weighted ball into your gut while trying to multitask.

After PT, I was feeling well enough that I decided I could make it to rehearsal after all.  I'm ending the day in better shape than I started it, somewhere in the 6.5-7 range.  It's great to feel better at the end of the day, but also a little disconcerting.  (At least, it would be if I were a control freak.  Which I'm not.)

2/11/14. The post where I give the nerve block a little credit.

2/11/14: my over-enthusiastic PT performance yesterday didn't seem to do permanent damage.  As my patient, long-suffering husband correctly guessed, I was at a 6.5 when I left for work this morning.  He has gotten so good he can usually guess the number by the look on my face when he asks.  Either he is very perceptive, or I am very predictable. 

I hit a new fashion low today.  It was still very cold this morning, with a constant drizzle and potential ice, so I wore hiking boots to work with my dress pants and sweater.  In my defense, they are nice looking black leather hiking boots, but there is no mistaking them for anything but hiking boots.  More importantly, they are warm and sturdy, which is what I needed today.  I made it through the day without a citation from the office fashion police.  Even with the help from the boots, the cold seeped in and the pain ramped up steadily all day.  The weather is supposed to warm up for the rest of the week, which is a huge relief.  I'm ready to obsess over something other than the outdoor temperature.

And speaking of obsessing, I've been paying very close attention to all my symptoms for the last week to see if I can discern any difference after the nerve block.  While it hasn't made any difference as far as my pain level, I have noticed a difference in the color.  For the last few days, the color has seemed less pronounced and more quick to subside when it gets bright.  That seems significant to me and makes me a little more optimistic about having the second one next week.  So, while the nerve block gets a very low score on the compulsory elements, I will give it bonus style points.  Let's hope it can improve its score on the second run, or it is not going to make the finals.

2/10/14. The post where I try to win a gold medal.

2/10/14: maybe it was a self-fulfilling prophecy, but as I expected, my foot woke me up at 2am to remind me that the weather was getting colder. And that it was raining.  I was awake for the next four hours while my foot shared its innermost feelings about the weather. The pain was still only around a 7, but it was just enough to keep me from going back to sleep. Thanks, foot. No, really. Three hours of sleep seems like just the right amount to start a long, busy work week.

I got myself ready and drove to work, and was in the parking lot before I realized I had left my computer at home.  (My work computer is a laptop with a docking station, which is very convenient when I need to do work at home, but not so convenient when I find myself at work without the laptop.) I briefly considered going back home to get it, but quickly realized that if I went back home, I probably wouldn't return. So I stayed at work, hunched over my cell phone to answer emails and review documents.  Holy eye strain, Batman!

I went to my PT appointment expecting to start mirror therapy, but my PT decided I needed one more day of strengthening exercises first.  After my Saturday walk, I felt emboldened to try the treadmill again, and went about eight and a half minutes.  That may not sound like much, but it was twice as long as my last try. At the end of my appointment, my PT told me more about the upcoming mirror therapy, but you'll have to wait until my Wednesday appointment to hear about that.  He also talked a little more about how they want me to set my short-term goals, and the theme again was moderation. He explained that because of my hyper-sensitive sympathetic nervous system, I am not getting enough oxygen to the tissue in my foot and it is possible to exceed the tissue's capacity if I do too much.  But I need to do enough to keep my brain and SNS occupied and focus their attention away from my foot.  So I have to figure out just the right amount of activity.  Sound familiar?  He also said I should be focused not on how my foot feels while I'm doing an activity, but how I think I'll feel several hours after doing it.  My future prediction skills are a little rusty at present, so this is going to be interesting.

I don't have the equation solved yet.  Four hours after PT, my pain is up in the 8-8.5 range and rising, and it's clear that I overdid it.  (I think we've established previously that I am an overachiever, and doing PT while I'm obsessively watching the Olympics is probably not the best idea.)  We're both still learning - I'm learning to know my limits and my PT is learning that I can't be trusted to know my limits.  Between the two of us, we'll figure it out, though.  In the meantime, if they ever add walking on a treadmill while wearing a harness as an Olympic sport, I'll be the early gold medal favorite.  

2/9/14. The post where I remind everyone how lucky I am.

2/9/14: another good day.  Stayed in  the 6-6.5 range all day.  In the pre-RSD days, that would have meant "stay home from work, icing foot and waiting for doctor's office to open." In the post-RSD days, that means, "dance on the rooftop, packing in as much activity as possible before things get worse."  

Today was a pretty action-packed day.  It started with church and time spent with my choir friends.  Then lunch with family, a block party with neighbors, and a dinner feast and cocktail pairings prepared by close friends.  Wow!  On days like today, regardless of how my foot feels, it's easy to remind myself that I'm a very lucky girl.  Days like today are also what get me through the not-so-good days.

Another cold front comes in tonight, which lingered in the back of my mind as I enjoyed the beautiful day.  The only constant right now seems to be that cold weather is not good.  And this time I don't think I'll get a snow day reprieve.  Time to put on my big girl pants. And socks. And sweater. And extra socks. And gloves.  It's only for two days.  I can do this.  I'm a very lucky girl.

2/8/14. The post where I remember two random stories from my nerve block.

2/8/14: a pretty good day.  After yesterday's faux ice day, today was sunny with a high of almost 70, so my patient, long-suffering husband and I celebrated with an afternoon at a local outdoor mall.  (Mostly window shopping. Even with my really good insurance, the co-pay on nerve blocks takes a big bite out of our disposable income. Luckily, this is the only time there will be two in one month.)  It was a beautiful afternoon, and it was the most I had walked in nearly six months.  

I'm sore now, but feeling good, at least mentally.  My PT gave me a pep talk yesterday about continuing to move as much as I can, even when I don't feel up to it.  My malfunctioning sympathetic nervous system sees movement as a threat, but the less I move, the more likely it is to overreact when I do move.  A downward spiral I don't want to start.  This is why we do arm and core exercises during PT even though I am not having any issues there.  It's all about not giving in to my whiny, self-absorbed sympathetic nervous system.  

Now that I'm a little further removed from the nerve block, I remember more of the experience.  Two random stories:

1.  The procedure is done using an x-ray to ensure proper placement of the injection.  For that reason, my doctor was wearing, in addition to his scrubs, a very bizarre-looking lead vest and skirt combination.  When I saw it, I suspected I would see a similar costume at the Olympic opening ceremonies.  While there were some interesting costumes last night, I didn't see the x-ray kilt/scrubs combo.  Maybe in four years...

2. Prior to the procedure, I was in a room with multiple chairs that functioned both as a pre-op room and recovery room.  While I was getting an IV prior to the procedure, an elderly gentleman was wheeled into the room.  He was having fairly loud conversations with the nurses, other patients, anyone else who happened by.  As my sedative was beginning to kick in, I suddenly realized he was talking to me.  "Excuse me, ma'am, but what does your shirt say?"  I looked down and realized I was wearing a t-shirt I bought at a breast cancer fundraiser hosted by a winery several years ago, with a pink ribbon and a slightly cheeky statement in large script.  "Um," I said sheepishly, "it says, 'Save second base.'"  "Oh, that's what I thought," he replied, looking at me quizzically.  As I was trying to figure out how I was going to explain it to him, a nurse walked in with some information for him and saved me.  Next time I will select my clothing a little more carefully.

2/7/14. The post where I tell you about the best snow day ever.

2/7/14: I found out the previous night that our employer had delayed work until noon, and my PT appointment was not until 12:30, so I was able to stay in my warm bed under the covers for awhile in the morning.  Pain was still at about a 9 all morning, but I made plans to go to PT and then to work in the afternoon.

Then, late morning, in what must have been Divine intervention, I got an email saying the office would be closed the entire day.  Despite the fact that there had been zero precipitation near my home all day.  A single icicle hanging from the eave of the home across the street was the only clue that there were possible icy conditions.  My heart soared.  I've never been so happy to have a snow day.  Could I have taken the afternoon off or worked from home without a snow day? Sure.  But it would have felt like giving in.  This was a free mental health day exactly when I needed it.  And I didn't have to endure the ice storm that should have come with it.

I went to my PT appointment and worked on more upper body and core strengthening exercises.  I had a few false starts on exercises that aggravated my foot, but otherwise all went well.  If nothing else, at least I am getting toned up for spring.  Next week I will be starting mirror therapy, which deserves its own post, so I'll tell you about it in more detail later.

I spent my free afternoon with my patient, long-suffering husband, making homemade pizzas and snacks for the Olympic opening ceremonies.  We had some friends over, friends who have shared the Olympics with me since the 1996 Atlanta games, and for a few hours things felt nearly normal again.  The pain was there, as always, but it stayed very politely in the background and let me enjoy myself for awhile.  It was down to a 7 when I went to bed.

I can't always count on an unexpected ice day.  But I'll always appreciate this one.  

2/6/14. The post where I complain about the weather.

2/6/14: I posted early yesterday, my "resting" day.  The new cold front was already coming in when I finished my post and I started trying to decide whether to go to choir practice.  It was the last rehearsal before our performance in a charity concert tonight.  I knew my patient, long-suffering husband would understand if I opted out, although his alter ego, my choir director, would be disappointed if I missed it.  I didn't want to leave the house, though.  In fact, I never wanted to leave the house again.  I wanted to stay bundled up on the couch in my sweats and blanket forever.  So I went.  

A two-hour rehearsal didn't leave me feeling any better, but at least I spent some time with a group of caring people and I was prepared for the concert tonight.  Another tough night, but work was delayed for two hours this morning due to the weather, so I had a little breathing room.  Today was even colder.  I'm really starting to hate cold weather. I had meetings all over town, and I made it through them, but every time I had to step outside and get in my freezing car, I questioned my sanity a little more.

I also made it through the concert tonight.  The choir sang beautifully and it was a nice event, but I'm thankful to be back home, bundled up on the couch in my sweats and blanket. (Sound familiar?)  I'm having a hard time finding a good balance right now.  I know I need to slow down, but I'm afraid if I slow down too much, I may come to a screeching halt.  It's way too early for that.  So for the time being, I'll keep taking things one day at a time and figuring it out as I go. So far, so good.

I think it's safe to say the first nerve block was officially a bust.  Pain's up in the 9 range, which I blame on the cold snap.  Another delayed work start in the morning because of the cold and then a PT appointment.  I won't want to go to work or to PT.  But I will.  And I'll pray for warmer weather.

2/5/14. The post where I tell you about the long night.

2/5/14: when I finished last night's post, I turned out the light and intended to go to sleep.  Instead, I was welcomed into the nausea portion of the evening.  Whether it was a result of:

- the two tacos I ate for breakfast,

- the nothing I ate for the next ten hours,

- the three hours without any water,

- the sedative they gave me before the procedure, or

- a combination of the above,

my stomach churned for several hours.  Fortunately, my dinner stayed safely in my stomach during the entire episode, but I was glad I had eaten modestly and I was also glad for my two hour nap after the procedure.  Finally, things calmed down and I slept for an hour or two.

I woke up again around 3am - perhaps that gallon of water before bed wasn't such a hot idea in retrospect.  I was pretty sure the sleeping part of my night was over, but I stubbornly got back into bed anyway.  I kept myself occupied for several hours by planning future blog posts, writing a new policy for work in my head, listening to my patient, long-suffering husband breathe to see if I could figure out which cycle of sleep he was in by what his breath sounded like. You know, the usual.  I even tried the Shavasana yoga relaxation method, where you start with your head and consciously relax each muscle all the way down your body.  Oddly enough, when I got down to my foot, it actually made the pain worse.  Or more likely, I was just more aware of it because I was concentrating on it. So much for that idea.

I fell asleep around 6am for another hour and then was up for good.  Today was supposed to be my resting day after the procedure, so I did some reading and worked on the computer.  I thought a nap would be on the agenda, but it was not in the cards.  It's probably just as well. I need a good night's sleep tonight. I have a big day planned tomorrow.  Work, non-profit board meeting, then singing with our choir in a charity concert.  Good thing I had a resting day today.

I've spent much of the day trying to discern whether I feel a difference in my foot, and so far I can't say I do.  It's still pretty colorful and the pain has hung around a 7.  At least it hasn't gotten any worse and I haven't had any of the other potential side effects.  And the nerve block could still kick in tomorrow.

I watched a movie last week called "Stand Up Guys", where Al Pacino and Christopher Walken play aging con men who get together one last time.  Their catch phrase before going out to do a job is, "It's time to kick a$$ or chew gum. And guess what? I'm all out of gum."  (It suddenly occurs to me that I refer to gum quite a bit in this blog for someone who hasn't chewed a piece of gum since I dislocated my jaw 20 years ago.)

Well, guess what, nerve block?  I'm all out of gum.  So you know what to do.

2/4/14. The post where I have my first nerve block.

2/4/14: woke up feeling pretty good. Stayed at a 6 all morning.  I appreciate the effort, nerves, but you're still getting blocked.

Since I couldn't eat after 9:30am, I picked up a couple of breakfast tacos on the way to work in lieu of my usual sensible, nutritious protein shake.  Any day that starts with breakfast tacos is a good day.  They didn't stay with me for as long as I'd hoped and by the time I left work to go to my appointment, I was pretty hungry.

Do you want to know what is a bad idea? Stopping by the local gourmet grocery store to pick up something on the way to a medical procedure for which you have been fasting six hours.  They had their free samples out in full force and everything looked delicious.  I thought back to the book I had just read about Louis Zamperini and realized that if I were on a life raft, I would be the one who went crazy in the first twelve hours and ate and drank all the supplies.  (Note to all of you reading: try never to end up on a life raft with me.)

Got to my appointment and all went smoothly.  The nurse did an expert job on my IV, which is not always easy because I have very small veins.  The procedure was fairly quick and I felt like I was at least somewhat alert for all of it.  I remember having a fairly lengthy conversation with the assisting nurses about Netflix, although I'm not sure how substantive my contribution was.  I also remember the doctor telling me several times that I was doing great.  And by "great", I presume he meant that I didn't bite him or curse (which I have a reputation within the medical community for doing).

Afterward, they took me into a recovery room in a wheelchair and let me rest for a bit before calling in my patient, long-suffering husband to take me home.  While I don't exactly recall what happened during that time, the rumor is that I made the nurse giggle by greeting my patient, long-suffering husband with a loud, "Hey! I love you!" and a big smooch on the lips.  He may wish I could be sedated more often.

He got me home and safely into bed, where I crashed for several hours.  I woke up still groggy, but feeling like the sedative was wearing off.  I also found my sunglasses on my bedside table, which I had apparently worn to bed.  I can only imagine how glamorous I must have looked.

I had a little dinner and drank about a gallon of water, then watched a movie (sort of).  Still a little groggy, but functional. At least that's what I think. I'll let you be the judge of that after reading this post.

Was the nerve block a magic bullet? No. Pain is about a 7 tonight and the bottom of my toe is black again.  My post-procedure instructions said the pain could increase for 1-2 days afterward. Great.  It will be a few days before I know if it helped.  In the meantime, I will take it easy tomorrow and hope I am back in business by Thursday, because I have a very busy day planned. (Live as normally as possible, right?) Just remembered again that I had breakfast tacos this morning.  Today was a good day.

To all of you who have sent prayers, well wishes and good vibes, I have one thing to say.  Hey! I love you! xoxo

2/3/14. The post where I talk about conundrums.

co·nun·drum

kəˈnəndrəm

noun

1. 1.

   a confusing and difficult problem or question.

2/3/14: Made it through a really fun Super Bowl party relatively unscathed, although the pain ramped up after I got into bed.  Woke up feeling pretty good this morning - 6.5, maybe even 6.  Which means it must be time for PT.

We concentrated on core strengthening again today.  The theory is that if the rest of my body is as well-aligned as possible, there is less chance of inflaming my foot, which means less chance of aggravating my RSD.  Even using the arm stationary bike (I've got to learn the real name of that thing at some point) is not without challenges, though.  After using it for ten minutes while resting my feet on the foot rests, the bottom of my toe and the ball of my foot were purple/black.  My PT was impressed.  After a few minutes on the table with a pillow under it, the color went away, but she spent the rest of the hour suspiciously eying the bottom of my foot.  

As expected, the pain is increased tonight after an hour of PT (but not as bad as last time).  So, why do it? Because mobility is a good thing, even if it doesn't feel like it right now.  Unchecked RSD can eventually cause atrophy and permanent damage in the affected area.  If that's the case, why not exercise my foot more? Because until the nerves are under control, too much stress on the foot can aggravate the RSD, potentially causing exactly the kind of permanent damage the PT is intended to avoid.  The trick is doing just enough, but not too much, I guess. 

Just one of the many conundrums associated with this disorder.  Like keeping the pain in check.  It hurts more to have anything touching my foot, so I try to sleep with my foot outside the covers and hanging off the bed. Except, guess what?  It also hurts more when my foot is cold.  So nights have become an intricate dance - foot out, foot in, covers on, covers off, right side, left side, on my back.  It also feels better if I keep my foot elevated and immobile.  Except when it doesn't.  

Even the instructions for "coping" with RSD have become a conundrum, at least for me.  Live as normally as possible.  Get plenty of rest and know your limits.  Anyone who knows me knows I can't do both.  Another difficult balancing act.

The good news (I hope) is that I have a nerve block tomorrow.  A nerve block is an injection of medication that should numb the nerves to the affected area.  The injection won't be directly into my spine, but into a group of nerves (ganglion, for those of you with medical degrees or who have had biology in the last ten years) that run beside the spine.  As usual, this is my non-medical definition based on listening to my doctor and reading online resources, so don't use my answer on a final exam.  It is being done as a "twilight" procedure, so I won't be completely out, but I shouldn't remember it.

I am not supposed to eat for six hours before the procedure.  I'm already planning a spectacular breakfast in place of my usual protein shake.  (The fact that I am concerned about going six hours without eating might explain why most of my clothes don't fit right now.)  I am supposed to rest the next day, but should be able to resume normal activities by Thursday.

I'm hoping for a big improvement, although my patient, long-suffering husband is doing his best to manage my expectations.  There is already a second nerve block scheduled two weeks after the first one, on my doctor's recommendation, so it seems doubtful that one will be enough.  I'm doing my best to be cautiously optimistic.

Think good thoughts tomorrow afternoon and I'll check in when I am coherent again.  Once this is all over, there's only one conundrum I want to consider:


 

2/2/14. The post where I talk about skinny jeans.

2/2/14:  slow improvement.  Took a long time to get to sleep last night, but slept pretty well.  Still in the 7.5 range, but manageable.  I took it easy again this morning and I hope to go to a friend's Super Bowl party this afternoon.  These are friends I've known for 20 years, the kind of friends who won't mind if I end up sprawled out on their living room floor with my foot propped up, barking out drink orders, so I feel safe making plans to go.

In other news, I've given up on the muumuu idea and have come up with a new clothing plan.  When I went back to work a few weeks ago, I celebrated by doing a little clothes shopping at lunch. Q: what do you do when you can't fit into most of your clothes because of the ever-expanding junk in your trunk?  A: you buy several pairs of the "skinny jeans" all the cool kids are wearing that fit like leggings and have bright stitching all over the back pockets.  At least, that's what you do if your judgment is impaired due to a painful nerve disorder. Or you're a Kardashian.  My money might have been better spent on a neon sign flashing, "Hey everyone, look at my rear end!"  The good news?  They are relatively stylish and because of the lycra, they are very comfortable.  And once I've got this licked and am back to my normal exercise routine, they should look much better.

I will have more to tell you tomorrow about the mechanics of RSD and my upcoming nerve block, but you've earned a break.  Enjoy the Super Bowl (at least the commercials) and I'll leave you with a video, in honor of my skinny jeans and the upcoming Olympic couples figure skating competition...

2/1/14. The very short post.

2/1/14: just a short post to let everyone know things are okay.  Other than a brief trip out for a late lunch and errands, I hung around the house and stayed off my foot.  Still at about a 7 tonight, but the swelling's down and the color is almost normal. Hoping for continued improvement tomorrow. Thanks for all the prayers and love. 

1/31/14. The post where I tell you about the perfect ten.

1/31/14: after a couple of days of respite, the pain began to ratchet up again.  Based on my reaction to the previous appointment and the fact that I was already struggling, my PT decided to back off a little bit.  (Apologies to those of you who were hoping to see a photo of me in the harness on the treadmill.  Maybe next week.)  She decided to concentrate on therapy to increase my overall blood flow without aggravating my foot.  I did some core exercises and got to use the arm stationary bike (that is my made-up name for it), a bizarre contraption where you "pedal" with your arms.  

As the afternoon wore on, the pain continued to inch up.  I started to think about skipping my book club.  I've been in a book club for ten years with some very close friends.  Each person takes a turn choosing a book and hosting dinner for the rest of the group.  I love book club and hate when I have to miss it.  I decided if I was going to hurt, I'd rather hurt while eating a delicious dinner and spending time with my friends.

It was a nice evening.  I got to catch up with some friends I hadn't seen since before Christmas.  Our host had whipped up a fantastic Mexican food feast and served some wonderful wines.  We had read the book "Unbroken" by Laura Hillenbrand and a lively discussion ensued.  It was a biography of Louis Zamperini, a former Olympic runner who survived a WWII plane crash, lived over a month on a life raft in shark-infested waters, and was a POW in Japan for two years before the war ended. (He is still alive today, aged 97.) I can't imagine surviving in the conditions he did. After reading it, I resolved to try to complain less about my situation. (Spoiler alert: I will break this resolution before the end of this post.)

Near the end of the evening, I realized the pain was rapidly spiraling out of control.  I can't really remember what happened the last thirty minutes of the event, or what book we are supposed to read next.  All my concentration was focused on not crying or rolling up into a ball on my host's living room floor.  Fortunately, I had carpooled with friends, so I did not have to drive myself home.  

I managed to get into the house without assistance and got ready for bed.  When I pulled my shoe off, my entire foot was swollen and bright red, almost as red as my toenail polish. (OPI's "Color So Hot It Berns" from the Swiss collection, in case you're wondering.)  I laid down and propped my foot up on a wedge pillow to try to get the swelling down.  My patient, long-suffering husband asked me questions to try to distract me and endured me gripping his arm hard enough that I'm sure it left marks.  I think I finally hit the perfect score.

While I tried to occupy my mind, I thought about writing a post, but I decided when I first started this blog that I should never write a post during the heat of battle.  I hope a little distance and perspective will help me keep my resolution not to complain.

Fortunately, things finally calmed down enough that I could get some sleep.  I'm probably down to an 8 right now, which is a relief in comparison to last night.  Think I'll take it easy this morning while my patient, long-suffering husband takes a long bike ride and tries to regain the feeling in his arm.  Two final thoughts on the day:

1. Should I have gone to book club? Maybe not, but I'm glad I did.

2. I would never make it as a POW.