9/28/15. The post where my stimulator gets a nickname.

9/28/15: last week was a blur.  I had two out-of-town work obligations, approximately 400 miles apart from each other and from home, which meant I logged more than 800 miles in the driver's seat in a week. Why didn't I fly, you ask?  There was not a flight schedule that could accommodate the timing of the two events. And as you know, flying (not to mention getting through security to get on a flight) poses its own set of pain issues for me, so driving wasn't so bad.  I also logged more than 10,000 steps nearly every day, according to my trusty health monitor watch.  Not too bad for a girl who was still recovering from stimulator implant surgery this time last year.

Friday signaled the end of the work week, but not the end of the work.  The first concert of the music series season was Friday night, and I made it home just in time to make the last frenzied preparations.  My patient, long-suffering husband was playing in the concert, as well as housing, chauffeuring, and feeding one of the musicians, which meant that his week was a blur, too.  With the help of friends and family, everything went off without a hitch.  The concert was beautiful and we hosted a reception afterward.  Then we collapsed into bed, relieved at the thought of a relaxing weekend.

Saturday did not disappoint.  I never left the house, nor did I put on a pair of shoes.  We spent the morning visiting with my parents, who had come into town for the concert. For the rest of the day, we cheered on our favorite baseball and college football teams.  We were too tired to leave the house for dinner, or even to order out, so we decided to scrounge up something to eat from the meager supplies in our pantry and fridge.  Of course, the word "scrounge" takes on a different meaning when you are married to a retired chef.  Saturday night, it meant homemade pizza.  I love nights when we scrounge up dinner.

While I expected to feel the effects of the week on Saturday, I was surprised by how bad my foot felt.  As the day progressed, it was obvious that something wasn't right, but it took awhile to figure it out.  Finally, it hit me that I couldn't feel the stimulator. I know, that sounds ridiculous.  But as you know, the vibration is positional, which means the intensity changes (sometimes drastically) as I move and shift.  In addition, sometimes I still have "phantom" vibrations for quite awhile after I turn off the stimulator.  But here's the weird thing...I never turned off the stimulator.  As you know, there have been times I've turned it off and forgotten to turn it back on.  But not this time.  I am 100% certain I did not turn it off.  And I know I could feel it Friday night.  But I got out the remote control to check it, and it was definitely off.  I turned it back on and started feeling better within minutes.  

I have no idea what happened.  It has worked as expected since then.  All I know is that my stimulator finally has a name...HAL.  http://youtu.be/7qnd-hdmgfk