End of the Line... sorry, Year

Since there is a war on Christmas, we played it safe and went with 'Happy Howlidays!' on our card this year. Actually, not really, it was my kid's idea and she's at an age where puns are the funniest shit.

It's the end of the year and it's warm outside. FIST PUMP, bitches. As I've said before, temperatures above freezing make CRPS manageable. The warmer the temperature the more I can move and the less cramping I have. In fact, on Friday I visited with an Abbott representative for a DRG stimulator adjustment. My pain had been on the increase and I wanted an adjustment before winter really sets in. So I drove myself to the clinic (74 miles one way) and afterward I even went to the grocery store on the way home. That's something I simply couldn't do a year ago alone. I still am not sure how much of an impact the adjustment has made or will make since it's been unusually warm lately, but I'll find out soon enough.

I've noticed many positives since getting my stimulator in February. To reiterate, the stimulator hasn't eliminated the pain, tightness, hair loss or the change in temperature in my leg/foot. However, the overall incessant debilitating pain has decreased by about half and more importantly to me, I can tolerate walking and exercising way better than pre-cyborg me. To date my daily average walking distance is 2.2 miles, according to my phone. That's an increase of .9 miles/day over last year. My phone has also indicated to me that I don't walk when it's cold, so come on already global warming!

As for everything else... don't wake up to a bat in your home. That shit has cost us over $7k between vaccines and sealing up our home. I created a new Twitter account because for some goddamn reason our Chicago Tribune delivery person couldn't decipher our address from the neighbor's. When calling to complain every week failed me for the last time I went to the social media app for help. I don't know if it did anything, but the paper has made it to our home for two weeks in a row now. As for Twitter, I don't know what the hell I'm doing. I also thought I could use the app to learn more about how others deal with CRPS, but most posts I've come across are negative and I've found, for me at least, positivity is the key to dealing with the disease. That and humor. We went to a new church for Advent since our kid has shown interest in religion. I'm not sure if we will continue into the new year, but we've made an attempt. My insomnia has improved with the help of edibles and for some reason the dispensary has been running low on all items for over a month now. I speculate they have been holding product back and that will change on January 1st when the public can buy legally. So much for medical patients being a priority. Finally, I saw Star Wars TROS and I enjoyed it.

Well it's time to watch the end of Die Hard and Seinfeld's The Strike episode which includes the celebration of Festivus. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, whatever is important to you and Happy New Year.

Slide

Enjoy a mixed drink. Only $40!

This weekend our family traveled to Wisconsin Dells to spend a day at an indoor water park/hotel to celebrate a friend's 40th birthday.

When this trip was being planned I had no interest in participating in waterslides, but once I saw what we were paying for a room at the resort, I was determined to get my money's worth. It is very difficult for me to walk barefoot, but I walked everywhere and I did every waterslide I could find. I wasn't going to sit on the pool deck like in the movie Wall-E where humans are evolving into blobs without bones that are unable to stand up on their own (I saw evidence of this happening). Nope, I walked from one end of the resort to the other in only my official Star Wars swim trunks.

My biggest concern walking barefoot wasn't so much the pain, but worrying about contracting ringworm and/or athlete's foot. In fact, I brought along a tube of Lotrimin AF. At the end of the day I covered my feet in the paste hoping to stave off any fungus I may have come in contact with. Fingers crossed. 

After six waterslides, four miles of walking and about 25 floors climbed, I couldn't go any longer. The DRG stimulator works, but it doesn't make me super human. To relax, I bought an aluminum pint of Miller Lite at the bar. It was $8, so once I finished it I left the resort and bought six more next door at the gas station for $11 total. Capitalism means I get to decide where to spend my money. This is goddamn 'Merica, right? However, one didn't have to leave the compound and mixed drinks like the one pictured above was only $40.

Even though we were celebrating my wife's best friend's birthday, she got us both a gift:

It has been nearly eight months since I had the surgery to have the DRG stimulator implanted into my back. It works pretty well for me and has improved my overall quality of life. I'd say before my surgery, I was at a constant pain level of 4.5 out of 10. Now, I'm about an average of a constant 2.5. I think weather is the biggest factor to affect my pain, but the stimulator does help some with that. Many doctors have told me to move south to a warmer climate, but with global warming, I can probably stay right were I'm at. Also, the tightness that gives me discomfort, feels like a high ankle sprain, seems like it is here for good. The dry needling helped, but was temporary. One major plus is that I rarely have the burning foot feeling anymore, so there's that. I'm still unable to stand upright in one spot for long. I've learned that I need to keep moving or I need to just take a seat. 

So, unless anything of note comes up I'm going to step back from posting updates as much as I have. Now, of course if the stimulator breaks and I need surgery, I'll be sure to post. There's just no need to post anything if nothing is happening. If you do come across this blog and have any questions about the DRG stimulator, please feel free to email me, because I'd be happy to help anyone with questions about the therapy.

To the Stars

Matinee for $4.50 with free popcorn!

I did something today that I’ve never done, because I needed to do something different. I went and saw a movie by myself at the local theatre in downtown. The theatre is a little over a mile away so I walked there because the weather was picture-perfect and walking is an exercise I can still do which I enjoy. The experience was great, except for the man who I believed to be suffering from COPD sitting across the aisle that was breathing like how I imagine Mr. Snuffleupagus breaths. I saw Ad Astra and there are numerous moments of silence when Brad Pitt is all alone in the vastness of space and all I could hear was this guy gasping for air which kind of ruined the feel. His wife even put an empty seat between them. I’m guessing his breathing annoys her as well, or she's used to it and they just don’t like each other.

The past two weeks have been calm which has been a welcoming change of pace. The bats we had tested didn’t have rabies. Our rabies vaccine injections are done and there hasn’t been any signs of bats in our home since. Whew.

Since things seem to be returning to normal, I started exploring the nearby state parks again. I understand Starved Rock is a well-known Illinois destination with canyons and waterfalls but, man, every time I go I’m disappointed. It’s like the beautiful forested moon of Endor, only covered in boardwalk and you can’t leave the path. How am I ever going to find an Ewok?

I’ve stopped the dry needling therapy. It definitely does help, but the relief is short-lived and Medicare isn't going to continue to pay for the treatment. My therapist did say I could return and she could bill it around $30 out-of-pocket each session if the tightness worsens, so I can always return if it gets too uncomfortable. With the changing seasons I’ve noticed more discomfort in the leg and foot, but so far it’s not as bad as the days before the DRG stimulator. That is all for now. Here’s to hoping for more boring. 

Peace of Mind [Lost]

This post is mainly about bats, rabies and humanity. It's a long post, but what do you got going on?

Where to start? We’ve been under a kind of stress like you wouldn’t believe. Honest to God. It goes back to the bats. Last Tuesday night, the/a bat was flying through our house, again. I woke up at about 4 a.m. to the noise of it hitting the walls. When my eyes adjusted, I could see it flying around the ceiling above our bed. I watched it until it left the room. It went downstairs and I followed. I grabbed the broom, opened the back door and then it was gone. Whew...

The following night it returned at the same bat time, same bat channel. It wasn’t leaving our room this time, so I ordered my wife to stay put, then I army crawled out of bed and fetched my trusted butterfly net. While I left the room the bat grazed my wife’s head. EEK! I returned, caught the bat and released it outside in under five minutes. I’ve become quite the Turtleman. GIT YA SOME! (I read that Turtleman died recently which saddens me. He was a character.)

The next morning I called up animal control. FYI, if you tell anyone you are dealing with something such as bats the go-to advice is nearly almost always, ‘I’d call animal control and have them deal with it.’ What I’ve learned through this ordeal is that they don’t want to deal with it, if you sound capable. They’re busy helping incapables. The animal control guy asked me if the bat was flying normal so I shared my observations and he suggested it was healthy, not rabid. He figured it was a pup and that it was just confused and that is why it kept getting inside. Instead of leaving it at that, I went to the Internet, because it’s 2019 and I’m an incapable idiot.

I began searching how to deal with bats and I began calling experts and this is where my fear of rabies went off the rails. The only experience I have ever had with rabies is television, movies (I remember, for some reason, we watched Old Yeller in second grade, that was really fucked up) and Chuck Palahniuk’s novel, Rant. I think the character in that book seeks out rabid animals to bite him. MAXIMUM EXTREME! Anyway, some experts told me to ‘stay calm, everything is cool, man’ vs. other experts who told me, ‘you better get the vaccine now or you are going to fucking die, man.’ Also, I learned nobody wants to work in Ottawa, IL because I’m still waiting for help with our bat eviction. 

I visited the Center for Disease Control website and they advise that if you’ve woken up to a bat in your bedroom, then you should assume you’ve been bitten and it’s imperative that you get the vaccine. In fact, small brown bats, the kind in our home, don’t leave bite marks. Seriously? Do I really need to get the vaccine? I let it go another day, did some more Google searches and then on Friday the fear grew so much that I called the animal control guy again and he tried to talk me off the ledge. This time he told me if the bat is in the house again that I should capture it and bring it in to have it tested. “The way I see it is that it’s open season once it is in your living space,” he said. I thought about getting badminton rackets for every room in the house for protection. He also gave me the number to the county health department. I called and left a message at the health department that was never returned that afternoon. Good thing I wasn’t freaking the F.., wait, I was. That night my wife and I were so worried that we constructed our camping tent in the living room. 

Skip the backyard camping and camp in the living room. All the millennials are doing it!

Saturday morning my wife said she thought she heard the bat(s) in the wall while we were indoor camping. GODDAMN. This was a nightmare. Should we just go to the emergency room or what? We called multiple doctors asking for their advice as well as trying to find out what our out-of-pocket expenses would be. I figure a business knows what the cost of their services are but our healthcare system is so convoluted and the nurses answering the phone think you are insane if you are price shopping a life-saving rabies vaccine. Or, on the opposite end of the spectrum, you’re insane if you don’t have a visible bite, but still want a rabies vaccine. The fear was consuming me. I started believing that I NEEDED the vaccine and while we are at it, I probably need an assault rifle... why stop there? Will I really be put on a government list if I check out The Anarchist Cookbook from the library?

That night I went down to the basement at about 6 p.m. and I saw a shadow. It was another bat. For Chrissakes! This can’t be happening! I captured the bat and put it into a container to have tested on Monday. 

I sweat easily and when I'm bat catching I put on layers like there's a polar vortex for protection from the beasts.

It was now Sunday. Should we get the vaccine? If you've been bit by a dog thought to possibly have rabies, the dog will be quarantined for ten days. If the dog doesn’t show any symptoms, you are safe. Symptoms from bat rabies exposure include bite marks, numbness, tingling and neck pain, none of which any of us had, except me who has the CRPS leg with the constant pain, numbness, tingling and that neck pain that I can’t shake completely, but I had no visible bite marks. We had waited five days so far. It felt like waves of fear hitting us. Just when I felt better a sense of dread would overwhelm me. I even broke down a few times, because I could never live with myself if anything happened to our kid. I felt like I was failing. Every time I thought to myself, ‘there’s no way that thing bit any of us. I’d have known. The reason why I awoke to the bat in the room was because of my insomnia. I am sure I could hear a pin drop after a couple hours of sleep.’ But I got to a point where I didn’t want anything terrible to happen, so we decided to get the vaccine Monday. 

Just so you know, if you think you have been exposed to rabies, just go to the ER. The ER costs our family $1k per person each visit compared to an office visit, which is about $40. However, for some fucked up reason, doctors won’t prescribe you the vaccine. Need opioids? NO PROBLEM! FORM A CUP WITH YOUR HANDS TO CATCH THEM! Life-saving vaccine? NOT ON MY WATCH, FOOL! Five ounces of marijuana a month? COME ON DOWN AND LET'S GET HIGH! I called three of my doctors and none of them helped me. One gave me a bullshit reason, “you need blood testing in order to-.” I cut the nurse off and said, “FALSE! I’m sure I know more about rabies now than probably 95% of the population. All I need is to be weighed and I need the correct dosage for my weight.” It didn’t help. I tried to tell her that I don’t want to pay $960 more for no good reason. It didn’t matter. Go healthcare! USA! USA! So, we just got into the car and headed to the ER.

Just in the nick of time our kid received her rabies vaccine injection. I could see the foam forming in the corners of her mouth and she was about to bite the nurses.

At the ER we were put into a room together to have our insurance and medical history taken. Next, our vitals were recorded and we were weighed so we would receive the correct dosage. Surprise, surprise, surprise. Our daughter volunteered to get the injections first and she took it like a champ. One in the arm and one in the leg. She said the leg felt weird. The nurses told my wife and I that we were getting three shots. One in the arm and one in each leg. Gulp, not the bad leg. My wife and I received the shots simultaneously. The arm was fine. My wife howled after the first injection in her leg. It was definitely uncomfortable and that was my good leg. My second leg injection was going into CRPS leg and I was really nervous. I explained my whole damaged sciatic nerve issue and the nurse looked confused, so I just said go for it, wherever you need to do it, do it. Apparently the DRG stimulator is doing a great job because I didn’t feel nearly as much discomfort as I did in my good leg. Also, I'd like to add that the rabies vaccine is nowhere near as painful as needling, so don't worry if you ever need to get the vaccine.

It's now been a day later and it feels like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders. I dropped off the bat yesterday morning, as well as a second that I caught later that afternoon. We will receive the results in about a week. I really don’t think there are any more bats in our attic or anywhere in our home. I also don’t think they were rabid, but I didn’t want to risk anything happening to any of us, especially our kid. After my wife talked to another expert, I’m confident that those were the only two bats because the females raise their pups until mid-August and then the pups begin to learn how to fly and hunt on their own. Also, I never saw more than two roosting in the attic at one time. There wasn’t much guano at all. If I didn't know it was bats I would've guessed it was mice. However, some of the other experts have told me there’s a goddamn colony and I probably need to burn down the house if I want to survive and save humanity. All that’s left now is three more injections for each of us. I still need to find an expert that’ll help seal up the cracks near the roofline and not try to make me believe that our home will be ground zero for the real 28 Days rage virus. 

Now, it’s time to pick some fights with rabid wildlife since I’m vaccinated. LIVE ACTION!

Dog Belly Flop

A cock rooster as seen at the Sandwich Fair.

I took the dog for an afternoon walk for some exercise since I'll be at the Sandwich Fair for the rest of the day. We walked around the cemetery near our home where the founder of the Boy Scouts of America, William Dickson Boyce, is buried. It was a nice relaxing walk, but then a passing SUV doing at least 30 MPH with two pit bulls starting barking at my dog and me. One of the two dogs jumped out of the window from the back seat, which was about a four foot drop, and landed hard on the road. Whoa.

“FUCK! What the fuck are you doing, you fuck!?! God fucking damnit!” is what the older female driver of the vehicle exclaimed. Holy shit. I thought the dog was dead. It skidded about 10 feet. Then a kid jumped out of the passenger to scoop up the dog who was stunned, but I think okay for the most part. 

After listening to the driver of the SUV and having just finished watching Jon Gruden curse so terribly bad on Hard Knocks, I’m going to try and cut back on the bad language or at least pretend my kid is always nearby.

Fair Tyme

Years ago my wife came up with fair bingo and it has sort of evolved to a very odd place. This morning we had the draft where we selected this year's squares and then we each made our own cards.

This is my favorite time of year. My wife and I celebrated our 12th anniversary over the weekend, football returns Thursday and the Sandwich Fair begins on Wednesday.

The fair has become a tradition for our family, which is funny because we used to knock it. Last year, I lost our kid at the fair. We both had to go to the bathroom and she didn't realize that the restroom had more than one exit. Of course she exited on the side she didn't enter. That was scary. A Good Samaritan came to her aid and took her to the DeKalb police and we eventually heard our names called over the loud speaker. Talk about feeling like a failure.

It's been three days since my dispensary purchase. I'm still not sure about using marijuana for chronic pain. I don't have an issue with the electronic stimulator or dry needling because those treatments doesn't mess with my body's chemistry. In fact, when I was in the hospital a nurse and my wife had to talk me into taking hydrocodone. I even quit a 3,200 mg daily dose of Gabapentin over a year ago because I didn't want to rely on a drug for the rest of my life. I think the reason I'm hesitant is because yeah, it distracts from the pain, but I also no longer feel in control once I'm stoned. Before our daughter existed, partying was O.K., but now the responsibility of being in charge of her life gives me anxiety. Also, I have an irrational fear the world is on the verge of war at all times. I just checked the Doomsday Clock and it's 11:58. MAGA!

I know as soon as I'm done lighting up that the nuclear warheads are going to start falling from the sky. Instead of going outside to die in the initial blast and quickly being obliterated, I won't be thinking straight. I'll be so confused that I'll probably find a fallout shelter, survive the blast and die alone miserably and slowly in the wastelands at the hands of some raider or Deathclaw. Tragic. I'm that paranoid and that's why I should stick with the indica and not the sativa. See, I've learned something. For real though, I want to go out like Sarah Connor in Terminator 2: Judgement Day holding onto that fence outside the playground during her vision of the end of man and the rise of my kind, the robots.

'cause it's Friday; you ain't got no job... and you ain't got shit to do.

I purchased 1/7 of what I'm allotted for two weeks. This will last me a month or two, easy.

I started my morning by removing bucketloads of landscape river rock from the front of our home so we can plant milkweed and native plants before winter arrives, because we are all about pollinators here. It's backbreaking work and there is no good way to do it. Also, I can't effectively use a shovel nor carry much weight so everything takes forever. My phone rang at about noon and it was the dispensary. SWEET. I was informed that I could make my first purchase. SWEETER. I quit what I was doing, cleaned up and headed over.

When I arrived, my paperwork was lost and I thought I was going to be asked to leave, because they finally realized that I shouldn't be buying medicinal marijuana. Alarms were going to sound, bars would lower from the ceiling to cover the exits and a red light would start flashing, but then they found the paperwork. I sat down in the lobby with two other consumers, a young woman and an older man. It was the woman's first time purchasing, like me, and of course the man had to share everything he knew about cannabis and, well, how he felt about the world.

Some of Chong's quotes:

"There's a sign on the dark side of the moon that says, Don't go down there. They're crazy."

"I've been taking hydrocodone for seven years. My doctor says I'm addicted to feeling good."

"I can smoke an ounce a day, easy, and I'm talking the dank shit."

"It smells good in here. I used to think it was just my natural odor. Like, sorry officer, that's just how I smell."

At one point the older man asked the receptionist if the dispensary was going to sell to the public at the beginning of the year or if they were only going to continue selling only to us. I wanted to let him know that I wasn't like him in any way, but I was so close to making a purchase that I kept silent. Younger me would've told him to shut up and informed him that he was acting like a stereotypical pothead, but I'm nearly 40 and I really just don't care anymore.

My name was finally called and I went to the backroom where the sales take place. Inside was a large window counter and three desks for three separate sales transactions. I was told all the legal mumbo jumbo and then I was presented with a menu that consisted of a binder that was filled with pages of items available. It was overwhelming. The sales representative went slow, because I really don't know anything about marijuana.

Richard, the sales representative, did a fine job explaining what was what and how it may affect me. I settled on Green Crack (because of the name, duh) a sativa, then a hybrid named Orange Herijuana, and indica joints, Mag Landrace. I also went with a pain cream. Richard told me to experiment, take notes and to go "slow and low." I replied, "that is the tempo." It went over his head or he isn't a Beastie Boys fan and then I remembered to cool it, because I was about to acquire drugs legally, so I better not mess this up. My script was taken to the counter and after a few moments another worker brought up my items up in a little basket. So fancy. Excellent choices, sir. Truly, you have great taste. 

I finished my purchase and returned to my car, smiling the whole time. The smell from my bag of goodies filled the car before I even left the parking lot. My God. When I got home I had to put the product into another jar because the smell was so strong. Have a happy holiday weekend everybody!.. on weed.

UPDATE: While visiting a local business, I saw the young woman who was also at the dispensary for the first time like me. She saw me and before I could say hello she said, “lookey here. Hey, it’s you from earlier.”

"Yup, I thought that was you. So, did you try it yet?" I asked.

"Oh, fuck yeah! I’m high as shit right now," she said giggling.
Awesome.

The Dispensary

I took this photo as undercover as I possibly could.

Yesterday, I gathered enough cash money to get the necessary paperwork required to apply for my medical card. This morning I filled out my paperwork, acquired a passport-sized photo at the drugstore and went to the dispensary, but it was closed and so I had to come back after another session of dry needling.

I've come to find that dry needling is great for about two days and then the tightness in my lower leg and ankle returns. My therapist said we'd try a couple more times before throwing in the towel. I think the therapy is beneficial, but unfortunately my CRPS is ruthless and the sprained, wrapped too tight in ACE bandage ankle pain returns after a few days. I'm happy it hasn't spread elsewhere like some people I've read about. The leg is bad enough.

After my needling session I headed back to the dispensary. The business is located just off an interstate in a rundown looking strip mall where everything is covered in blacktop and concrete. The business is flanked by a fitness gym and, of all things, another nail salon. I'm certain the lot is used by junkies that exit I-80 to purchase heroin. The storefront is covered in vinyl wrap so you can't see inside. I tried opening the door and it was locked, so I pressed a doorbell and waited. Eventually a woman opened the door and brought me into a waiting area just outside the lobby. A wall of marijuana smell hit me. I almost giggled. Tee-hee. I quickly looked into the lobby beyond my temporary glass enclosure and saw about a dozen people sitting in comfortable chairs in a mod-decorated room with a flat screen television on the wall. Not what I imagined from what I saw on the outside. The woman who let me in asked what I wanted, but it felt like she was demanding to know why I had rang the bell. I started feeling like I didn't belong. I said that I was here to get my card, so she asked for my driver's license and then allowed me entry. I felt way out of place, but my wife and I always tell our kid that nobody is ever born knowing how to do everything, so I told myself that and I felt better. Fake it till you make it.

Once inside I was then taken to another room just outside the lobby where all the people were waiting on the cushy IKEA furniture. Inside there was a person sorting school supplies and she told me to pay no attention to her, so I did, because I was nervous and I wanted everything to go smooth and without a hitch...but what was she doing with those supplies? God, it was killing me not knowing. I sat down and another woman, Krystal, entered the room and began typing away at a computer and soon she started asking me questions. At one point she left and I began looking over the area. I noticed surveillance cameras in the rooms. I was being watched and recorded. "Be cool," I told myself. So I started looking over the printed materials on the table in front of where I sat and I found 'Bubba Fett' and I nearly busted out laughing. OMG. I feel as mature as a middle schooler. That's so fucking punny! Bhahahaha! Get it? Instead of Boba, it's Bubba. Ha! Krystal was still gone and I wanted to get a photo to send to my wife, but I kept thinking about Big Brother and HIPPA laws. Should I or shouldn't I? Then I heard one of the patients in the waiting room talking on their smartphone so I covertly snapped a quick photo and put my phone back into my pocket before Krystal returned. I've observed Philip and Elizabeth Jennings spy techniques while watching The Americans. The Jennings may have been great undercover agents, but they have to be the worst television parents of all time. Goddamn KGB.

Krystal returned and took some more information and, of course, more money and then told me that she'd call me tomorrow and then I can come back to purchase. What? That's it? Holy shit balls! I can come back tomorrow and purchase? Answer: YUP. Keep cool, Rob. Breath. She said to allow myself at least an hour so I could get a crash course in selecting cannabis. Looks like we are definitely in business. I'll probably update again soon. Stay tuned.

Dr. Love, Smoking

Nobility (left) and Quail hang on a wall of a room within Dr. Love's office.

I went to a new doctor today near my home. It's so close that my wife dropped me off on her way to work and I walked home. As she drove off I took a deep breath of fresh air before opening the door to the office because I half expected there to be patients smoking in the waiting room, because that's what people do in Ottawa. It's nothing new to me. I was smoking and drinking wine in the womb before my birth, that is according to my mother. She even shared that my brother ate cigarette butts from an ashtray once as a baby. Delicious. It's always been around me and eventually I became a smoker. However, I'm a recovering smoker now and it makes it hard seeing it and smelling it everywhere. Heck, if the habit was benign to my health, odorless and cost nothing, I'd be sucking them down, too. You'd think in 2019 there'd be less smoking, but it's thriving here. It's a Phillip Morris dream. Fuck vaping. That's some weak millennial shit. It's all about burning tobacco and kicking it old school. Mmmm...Turkish domestic blend. I think the town is just behind on the times like the South and I expect to turn down a new alley one day and I'll run into a group of Insane Clown Posse juggalos drinking Faygo, wearing JNCO jeans while covered in face paint. YIKES.

There was a news story I saw last night that informed me that the new Illinois governor is making it illegal to smoke in a car while a child is inside. That'll be a challenge for the citizens in our town, because it smells like an early 2000s bar when within a block radius of the elementary school because moms and dads must hotbox a cigarette on the way to school. Driving or walking. It doesn't matter. I wonder if the teachers still smoke in their break room at the school like they did when I was young?

When I entered the doctor's office I found no one else inside, but a receptionist. She took my I.D. and insurance. I then followed her to a room with the beautiful art (above). Once inside the receptionist asked me if I was here for primary care, medical marijuana or both. I answered C. Then she tore off a sheet of paper towel from the wall (the kind that you can only use a half sheet if needed to reduce waste) and asked for my date of birth and name again which she wrote on the towel. Then, almost empathetically, she tells me I'll need to fill out some paperwork and I'll have to come up with $250 cash. I assure her that I can get the money. Then as if a large amount of endorphins were released by her brain she began grinning from ear to ear.

The receptionist leaves me and I was alone for quite some time. I heard a chronic hack, like a smoker's cough coming from a woman a few rooms away as I waited for Dr. Love. That's right, Dr. Love. Cue the Marvin Gaye music. Let's Get it On. The coughing subsided and a little more time passed and then I swear I heard Lucille Ball in the waiting room. It must've been that lady hacking her brains out. Jesus. Stop smoking, lady.

Suddenly Dr. Love enters. He asks me about my ailments. I tell him about my chronic pain and how it came about. He asks me about my hobbies, which I share. Then he tells me to keep doing them because they are great distractions from the pain. He actually listens and tells me that I'm a candidate for the medical card. He goes in depth at explaining everything. It's refreshing. He tells me that I will probably try a variety of methods when using the drug and it'll take some time to figure out what works best for me. From edibles to drops under my tongue, smoking isn't the only way to take it he tells me, but I imagine that's how the residents of Ottawa consume it.

Before finishing with me I tell him about my neck pain. He says it is stress and he makes me lie down. Easy, Dr. Love. Then he grabs onto my head and starts yanking my head back and forth and then cracks it to the right, then attempts to crack it to the left, but it doesn't give and I'm in agony. He tells me I'm fine, it's fine and that I'll feel better in an hour. I then go to the lobby for my paperwork. 

Apparently, I needed that $250 cash at that moment. So now I'm in the process of completing that. It's like The Legend of Zelda, everyday. Once I collect enough rupees it's off to a new unexplored area on the map for another task to complete so I can hopefully obtain the magical elixir.

Dry Needling

I went with an illustration this time, because the real thing looks boring.

I had my fourth session of dry needling today. Dry needling is supposed to help loosen up my muscles that are constantly tight in my leg and ankle area as well as help with the chronic pain.

While waiting for my therapist I listened in on more old people conversations, because that's really the main clientele at these rehabilitation clinics. One man told the young female receptionist that there's a new nail salon down a couple doors, as if she's unaware of her surroundings, and now she could get a pedicure after work. She said she didn't like having her nails done. He didn't like that answer. Then he asked if the women in her family enjoyed having their nails done. She said yes, but it wasn't her thing. He then proceeded to tell her that when the women in his family start talking about manicures and pedicures he leaves the room. So then, why are you so hung up on nails you creepy old bastard?

Another woman was doing the exercise bike and was asked by her therapist what her pain level was at and she answered a 7. Good grief that's high, I thought. When asked how bad it gets she then answered a 10 out of 10. The therapist, flabbergasted too, asked her to confirm it's the worst pain ever, because that's like GET ME TO THE HOSPITAL OR I'M GOING TO FUCKING DIE pain and the patient said yes, indeed. One time I asked a doctor about having my leg amputated when I was actually in the hospital and I was at a pain level of 7, maybe 8 tops. I was advised that I'd probably suffer from phantom leg syndrome and then all I could think about was Venture Brothers.

Finally, my therapist was free and I began another session of dry needling. The needle looks like an acupuncture needle, which is very thin and a few inches long. The therapist takes the needle and pokes the trigger points over and over instead of leaving it in one place as if my calf is being tenderized and made into Soylent Green. IT'S PEOPLE!!! It feels like electricity that shoots down to the bottom of my foot, even though I'm being needled in the calf. My therapist told me the first day that my trigger points are like spongy phenolic foam used for floral arrangements. She said it was difficult to needle me. I even dulled the needles quickly. I'm so proud.

My therapist tried a new area where she had felt tightness, but I don't feel pain. Afterward, my ankle and the bottom of my foot felt much looser, which is what I've been searching for. I don't want to get too excited, but I'm hoping this was the breakthrough and it will last. At the moment it feels like a Charley horse where the injections, or needling, occurred in my calf. That pain improves after about a day. I'm optimistic because six hours later my foot and ankle are still loose. I have two more planned sessions and if I continue to improve there will be more.

I'm Batman VIDEO

This post has nothing to do with CRPS or the DRG, but it's entertaining.

I had no idea what time it was because we still don’t have a clock in our bedroom. I knew it was early because it was still dark outside. I first heard what sounded like a balloon bouncing off the walls and my brain went straight to a ghost, since our home is haunted. After a few minutes I no longer heard the ghost so I dismissed that theory, kind of, and then I heard our dog walking around which my brain focused on. I forgot all about the balloon sound. Maybe it’s thunder keeping him up? Then I heard our kid telling the dog to go to bed. Soon he meandered into our room and I got up to escort him downstairs so he wouldn’t keep the house up.

I made it downstairs with a little bit of trouble because of a dry needling session I had the day before which left my leg feeling like a noodle (more on that in a later post, hopefully). My best friend and I got to the kitchen and I checked the clock. It was just before 4 a.m. Ugh. I let him outside and he took a piss on the gravel driveway instead of in the yard as usual, which is so weird to me. Then he came back toward the house walking all wonky like a seizure was coming on and I started feeling emotional. Poor guy.

We got back inside and he started looking at me like he needed water in his bowl. As I began filling up his bowl I saw what looked like an apparition floating through the room and I freaked out. I dropped to the floor in an instant. Holy shit! That’s no ghost I thought to myself, IT’S A GODDAMN BAT! OH MY GOD! On the ground I went full on G.I. Joe army crawl as if there was gunfire above, while my dog just stood there watching me, anxiously swallowing as loudly as he possibly could. He was never going to have a seizure. He was trying to tell me about the bat. He’s Lassie.

I found my phone and I typed “bat in house.” First thing I came across said to open a door. Duh. So I did. I also learned to stay close to the walls. I watched the bat as it flew ever so close to the open door over and over only to turn back the way it came. Idiot. I started thinking about The Great Outdoors. John Candy and Dan Aykroyd got geared up for battle while holding weapons consisting of tennis rackets, a broom and a net. Shit, I didn’t even know where a hooded sweatshirt was at that moment and we don’t have any tennis rackets. I remembered the Wiffle Ball bat being packed up for the move with the birthday and Christmas wrapping paper...wait we have a broom! As I got the broom from the closet I heard footsteps coming from upstairs and knowing it was my wife I yelled out, “Don’t come down here! Go back upstairs!” She then entered the room. FOOL! “There’s a mother fuckin’ bat!” I exclaimed. She just stood there just like the dog looking at me. Yeah, right, I’m the crazy one. I wasn't in the mood to assess the situation and question my behavior because the vermin continued it’s air raid from above. (Later, she told me that she thought our dog was dead because of the way I was reacting. Why would your brain even go there? That’s nuts.)

My wife reminded me that our kid has a butterfly net which she then retrieved from the garage. I don’t think we’ve ever caught an actual butterfly with it. Moths yes, but I don’t think the net has ever captured its intended target, let alone a flying mouse that probably has rabies. I didn’t want to get rabies shots like Meredith on The Office. Wait, like me she had her pelvis fractured in that episode...sorry, I got sidetracked. 

After a futile attempt by my wife to catch the bat, I finally put on my big boy pants and entered the Thunderdome, AKA the living room. Besides, I thought to myself, my wife still has a future and I’m already past expiration. I watched, no, I studied the Red Baron’s path. Made notes in my head. It was time to strike back. Now or never. And I took that net and reached for the bogy knowing I had this one shot...and I missed and then missed about five more times, but then on try seventh attempt I netted that fucker. FIST (FUCKING) PUMP! I’m Steve Irwin, bitches! I gleefully yelled out that I caught the beast and that I needed a glove to protect me from its frothing rabies infested mouth, ASAP. I swear I could hear the little bastard trying to chew through the net. Revenge was on its mind. Quickly, I got the bat outside and released it safely and I believe unharmed into the night. It was time to go back to bed. I can’t wait for my next adventure. 

And just as I was finishing up this post my dog was going bananas because someone was at the front door. I called down our nine-year-old to help with the dog, so I could open the door to two Jehovah's Witnesses that asked me if I felt God was responsible for the recent mass shootings. For Chrissakes, really? My dog is going bonkers and my kid is right here. It felt quite inappropriate and I declined to comment, because I'm looking forward to a better adventure. I don't think I'm going to be bored living here, though.

A Brave New World

I really thought Zagnut candy bars were fake. I had only ever saw one in Beetlejuice and I thought it was just a trick by Tim Burton, but I was wrong. Yesterday we purchased one at our new local hardware store. Mind blown. It tastes like a Butterfinger without the chocolate.

UPDATE: During my last post I mentioned that I had turned off the DRG stimulator. I lasted three days and my neck pain didn't improve, but my leg/foot pain kept increasing so I turned it back on. My neck still hurts slightly, but I did use my Magic Wand on it and it helped alleviate much of that pain. (Yes, really, that Magic Wand. During a month-long pain management clinic in 2016, a therapist had me use one on my damaged sciatic nerve. It helped, so I have my own, and it is still pure and untainted.)

"Shouldn't have bought it...IT'S HAUNTED!" yelled a passing motorcyclist at my friends as they were unloading our belongings from a moving truck in front of our new home in the new city. We've been here for a week and there's yet to be a dull moment.

Last week I was able to walk over 25 miles total. I have become obsessed with checking my health statistics on my mobile computer trying to break my records. I'm jazzed, but I think that'll be my pinnacle and it's all downhill from here. Warmer weather, especially hot, humid summer temperatures, make it much easier for me to move compared to the cold which adversely affects my pain tolerance. Another reason I've been able to walk so much is because everything is new and exciting. I don't have any clue what is around the corner until I actually go around the corner. Exploring our new area has provided a great distraction from the pain. 

We are pretty sure that we live in the gayborhood...not that there's anything wrong with that. I've noticed that three of the homes on our block are flying the pride flag. Also, according to one of our two next door single male neighbors, we won't find many kids on this block for our daughter to play with. 

One challenge that we have been forced to confront head-on since the move is technology. Our home has a garbage disposal, dishwasher and the refrigerator even dispenses ice, cubed and crushed, and water. Wow. The three of us gathered near each piece of technology, puzzled, but willing to learn together. Imagine the beginning of 2001: A Space Odyssey during the dawn of man when the hominids find the monolith that appears out of nowhere. I believe there was a lot of screaming and jumping at first, but it's brought us closer together. Hopefully, we will continue to evolve and not be left behind.

I almost forgot to mention we have a DVR again. It's been 11 years since our last and I don't know how we survived. Even though it's probably on 50% of the week already on MTV, I will surely never be without an episode of Ridiculousness ever again. We also receive channels that my daughter never knew existed. Turns out she has an appetite for violence as she seems to really enjoy Looney Tunes and Tom and Jerry. I swear I didn't influence her at all. Her brain is going to melt and I didn't do it this time.

Later today I'll have my initial visit at a new physical therapy location where I'll discuss a new treatment for my pain called dry injections or needling, which sounds like what our fixed dog does to the pillows on our bed. The treatment is similar to acupuncture. From what I understand, I'll have needles inserted into the trigger points located all along my leg. Sounds pleasant for someone who suffers from chronic pain that includes acute pain to the touch. Cheers!

Pain in the Neck

I've had this neck pain that has lasted for nearly seven weeks. I briefly mentioned it in a previous post and I thought it'd get better by now, but it has yet to improve and it's driving me nuts. So much so that I turned off the DRG stimulator yesterday to see if that was somehow affecting my neck. I swear it feels a little better, probably just psychosomatic, but my foot pain has once again increased. However, I think I slept better last night. I'm a teeter-tottering mess. I'll keep the stimulator off a little longer to see what happens.

I've really noticed the neck pain while trying to back out of the driveway at our new homestead. According to the plat map that we received during closing earlier this week, the driveway is 9.8 feet wide with brick on one side and an iron fence on the other. It's damn near impossible for me to get down the drive without destroying my neck as I try not to clip the side mirrors off of the car.

We are fully moving into the new home this weekend. Even though I will probably move boxes over my prescribed weight limit, I do plan to take breaks to bitch and moan about friends/family carrying my stuff like Danny Murphy's character calling Ben Stiller a dipshit in There's Something About Mary. "You already put a fucking nick in my piano!" "Heavy!?! What I wouldn't give to know what heavy feels like, you insensitive prick!"

Speaking of pianos, my wife was looking for a piano recently to fill some space in the house and for our daughter to learn how to play. My wife found online listings for cheap and free pianos. Lots of them, in fact. Turns out it's difficult to give them away. A day later I came across a story in the Washington Post about how nobody wants a piano because it's impossible to get rid of them. I clicked on the story using up one of my free stories you're allotted monthly as a non-subscriber that I've been saving for the impending impeachment stories that, at this point, seem like they are never going to happen. I do have a sneaking suspicion, though, that we are actually living in the Twilight Zone, or at least I am, and in reality I'm probably dead or in a vegetative state where the Cubs never won the World Series and Donald Trump is actually in prison for tax evasion and sexual misconduct, not the Leader of the Free World. 2016 was something, right?

For the past few days since our closing we've been dropping off fragile and oddly shaped items at the house and familiarizing ourselves with the area. To date, we've visited our kid's new school as well as the DMV for updated drivers' licenses. Wednesday night we even brought our dog to check out the house and his new stomping ground, something our daughter felt was necessary for him to get acclimated to his new surroundings. That night we found a bar that allows dogs on their outdoor patio and had some cheap chicken. On the patio we met our first local who was  the proud owner of a young poodle that wouldn't stop trying to hump our elderly dog's face. The owner of Facehump, Matthew, informed us that as a child he grew up in Ottawa and moved away to Chicago when he was older for theater. (Or is it theatre?) In the city he lived in the same building as John Cusack. I guess that is a big deal? Coincidentally, my sister-in-law lived there, too. Matthew asked where we lived and according to him, he's spent plenty of time in our home as a neighborhood kid and divulged that there used to be a dumbwaiter inside. Damn! I wish the dumbwaiter was still there and I could be like Webster going between floors without using the stairs. You know, I think I may look into getting that re-installed and we can nix that Gremlins chairlift idea because I don't want to go crashing out a window. We also learned Matthew enjoys drinking to excess and I'm hoping he forgot about meeting us already. Matthew said his mother lives near our home and we may see her walking Facehump on our block because she takes care of the dog during his benders...I think we may need one of those Ring video doorbells or at least I have to find which box we packed up the bear spray in. ASAP.

Also, outside the bar on the patio, my wife and I listened in on a group of 20-something males who were taking a cigarette/vape break next to our table while they discussed their Pop Warner football draft. In regard to seven and eight-year-old children, here's a little of what we overheard: "We gotta find a way to get him the ball in space." "There's no way he's 98-pounds. He's at least fucking 120, dude." "Here's the thing, it's a draft and you're going to end up with some pussies on the team." These men, I'm guessing, fantasize that they are Jerry Jones, the Crypt Keeper-looking billionaire owner of the Dallas Cowboys. Now, I almost spoke up, not only since it was going too far, but I was tiring of inhaling vaporized caramel pear e-juice and because my kid wanted to collect the $33 dollars for the swear fund (three of which I owed), but Matthew couldn't stop distracting us while he talked to us about dogs and dog etiquette. Meanwhile, his dog CONTINUED TO MOUNT OUR DOG'S FACE!

I'm still anxious and nervous about moving, but this will be a good, no, a great experience when we look back on this move down the road.

What's High in the Middle and Round on Both Ends?

Waterfall by Old Man's Cave at Hocking Hills in Ohio

We just got back from a visit to Ohio. Why Ohio? It's lame, right? It sure is, but my wife and I were looking up bad ass waterfalls and came across Hocking Hills State Park on Google and decided to go. It was worth it.

On Sunday we began our 450-mile trek on Godforsaken Interstate 80. As it was Sunday there wasn't the bottleneck of stopped traffic near the Illinois/Indiana border that makes me want to murder every driver in sight. We made it to Interstate 65 rather quickly, but even though we were making good time my wife had to stop for a restroom break because drinking two liters of water every morning no matter what is required. However, the stop paid off and my wife found $180 cash near a dumpster at the rest area. I imagine the money was going to be used to buy some crystal methamphetamine and shit went south. Someone was probably stabbed. We later used that cash for pizza, ice cream and souvenirs, so it all worked out.

When we arrived at the campsite to meet our friend, it had just rained so everything was wet yuck, but our spirits were high because the rest of the week was going to be dry...

And then it rained all day Monday. Bright side was that the waterfalls were flowing and the number of visitors to the park was down.

Whispering Cave

After hiking into the early afternoon, we retired back to our campsite and tried for hours to get a fire started during a downpour, while our dog was doing his best ASPCA performance because his sofa was at home.

Can you hear Sarah McLachlan singing In the Arms of an Angel?

I'm still struggling with sleep. Because of the hard ground and small tent quarters, my leg cramped up frequently which made sleeping even more difficult. When my leg/foot gets all scorpioned up, I've found the quickest way to relax the muscles is to stand up and press down on my knee. Standing upright in our tiny tent sucks. Also, the pitter-patter of rain on the outside of the tent kept me awake. Oh, and more marauding raccoons visited our camp that night. I flashed my headlamp at a group of four of them only 15 feet from the tent door to the cooler they were robbing and they didn't flinch. But when I hissed they scattered for a moment which allowed my wife to move the cooler under the picnic table.

We woke to sunny skies and went for another hike early to Rock House. Rock House is the only true cave at the park and there is graffiti from the 1800s on the sandstone walls. I didn't believe it could be that old at first, but there are actual serifs on the letters of the vandals' names that are carved into the walls of the cave. Who would actually use serifs nowadays?

[O']Doyle. Ruling since at least the 1800s.

Cliff near Rock House

After Rock House we went back to camp to break it down because for the remainder of our stay we had a cabin. To fill that time between checking out and in, we went to Lake Logan. I decided to swim with my kid. I still had a lot of difficulty walking barefoot in the parking lot and through the sand on the beach while trying to avoid goose shit with every step.

While swimming, I heard a nearby group of tweeners discuss the possibility of a shark in the lake and I dismissed that... but then I thought about the infamous Chance the Snapper that was caught in a lagoon in Humboldt Park in Chicago a little over a week ago and I decided to get out of the water. With my luck, I felt that was a wise decision.

Camping in a tent vs. a cabin is like comparing hell to heaven. I think my days of tent camping are numbered. I mean, air conditioning, furniture, appliances, satellite television, running water (even though it was well water that had that pungent sulfur smell, it was light years better than the human zoo smell of the vault toilets at the campsite), and it even had a goddamn hot tub. Shitfire!

The next day we crammed in every last point of interest before heading home the following day. At Ash Cave I met a fellow LEGO geek enthusiast as she was photographing minifigs in the sand next to a creek. Then we saw a group of people gawking over two snapping turtles at Cedar Falls. I was hoping that someone would fall into the water trying to get a selfie with the turtles in the background, so I stood there focused on the spectacle for a little bit. I was going to photograph the unlucky soul being devoured by the turtles. One man in the group took to me because I mumbled something incoherent, even to myself, in my reddest-sounding voice and he started spouting off about cracking them there turtles and putting them right into a skillet. Mmmmmm. He sounded like Leatherhead from TMNT, a humanoid mutant alligator with a cajun accent, of course. I guarantee it.

For lunch we stopped at Grandma Faye's Grocery. During the visit my dog saw the UPS man and in the process of going berserk, flipped my wife out of her chair and onto the ground. How does that guy keep finding my dog on vacation?

Hiking down into the gorge at Cantwell Cliffs

Our last stop on Wednesday was Cantwell Cliffs and it's there that I realized I had been pushing myself probably a little too hard. I tripped on my foot drop foot four times and went down once, but it was still worth it to do that last hike. Hocking Hills really is a gorge-ous park. Wink, wink.

And it rained on the drive back to the cabin, even though it wasn't forecasted, again.

All together, according to my all-knowing personal computing device, we hiked 10.5 miles and climbed 84 flights of stairs.

The next morning before rolling out for home, I took our dog on a walk around the property outside the cabin. By that time our dog was worn out. He rarely eats or drinks water while on vacation. In fact, he contracted giardia during our last camping trip. That was fun. Anyhow, while walking I thought my dog was caught up in his harness because he started stumbling, but he was actually having a seizure. I remember holding him and being scared he was going to die right there in my arms. I started tearing up, worrying, but grateful that I was there with him, and then after a few moments he was back. Fist pump! Fuck you again, Death! After that we drove home safely avoiding Death once again by an hour, but that's a whole other story and I'd have to explain another amazing set of coincidences and I've already been telling this story for far too long.