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This isn't one of those gross 'What Did We Get Stuck In Our Body' images but it is what is stuck inside of me.

My follow-up appointment with Dr. Sean Astin-look-alike was today and what I learned was interesting and a little shocking.

First, I met with a new resident doctor. I told him about the effectiveness of the last sacroiliac joint injection and how I still had minor discomfort in my lower back. I shared that I’ve really been going all-out and that we recently went rafting. He appeared jazzed about that, but did warn me that the leads in my back could’ve moved due to the rowing motion and that I had to be careful, but he also understood YOLO! He took notes and asked if I wanted a visit from the on-site Abbott representative, which I happily agreed to because it had been a couple years since I had my stimulator adjusted and a firmware update. 

Enter Dawson, the Abbott Representative 🎶I don’t want to wait for our lives to be over🎶

Dawson reconfigured the DRG stimulator and added a new third software program. I asked Dawson how much my device was turned up compared to the average patient and he said that it was relatively high. This was the justification I needed. I started shaking my head up and down thinking ‘see, I told you, my shit’s all fucked-up real bad like!’ I asked if having the stimulator turned up like that would reduce the battery-life and he confirmed that it would, but that it still should last another 2-3 years. 

Exit Dawson

My wife and I sat quietly waiting for my doctor. As we waited we overheard a man in the adjacent room say his pain level in his knee was a 9 out of 10 and his back was at an 8. That’s really bad. Like, moaning that you want to die bad. I know, I’ve been there. There’s worse things than dying. Then before entering my room I overheard the resident tell Dr. Landphair Astin my issues and concerns before entering and disclosing I went whitewater rafting and we heard them laugh.

Enter Dr. Samwise Gamgee (aka Sean Astin, Mikey Walsh, Rudy, Bob Newby, etc.)

Doc asked how I felt and I shared what he already knew. He was pleased that the second injection had extended my pain relief and suggested that I try taking 600-800mg of Motrin three times a day for a month and to schedule another follow-up appointment a month out. According to him the Motrin should reduce the lingering inflammation. If it did I could cancel the appointment, if not then I need to keep the appointment and we could try something else. I asked if taking that much medication was safe. That’s when my wife spoke up and said I don’t like taking drugs. Then I interrupted her to say unless, of course, it’s the magic ganja and added that I don’t want to rely on any kind of drug because people like Pharma Bro are just waiting for me to get addicted so they can jack-up the price. For real. My doctor rolled his eyes and told me I’d be fine.

Next, he pulled up my x-rays he ordered back in April and saw that one of my two leads had migrated, meaning it had moved and wasn’t providing any relief. This also means my stimulator is operating at 50%. However, since I’m still getting some noticeable relief my doctor said not to worry about it for now and called Dawson to shut down the disconnected lead remotely, saving more battery-life. There’s no telling when it became compromised, just sometime before the x-ray in April. My wife suspects it probably happened when I complained after doing some sit-ups a while back when I was trying to get back my pre-accident Brad Pitt of Fight Club washboard abs. Or when I fell on that icy hill in January. But, who knows when it happened? Nor does it matter. At least the other didn’t come loose when we were rafting. 

As we left the office I reached for my wife’s hand and sparks flew...err, a spark. We went a few more steps and I did it again. It seems the adjustment of my stimulator has given me Raiden-like static electric powers! I kept shocking her until she gave an audible yelp and I finally stopped. I’m looking forward to learning how to harness this new found superpower. Until then I will have to distance myself from highly flammable materials. No more pumping gas for me. Time to go electric. I mean, have you seen those prices at the pump?

End

Holiday Road

🎶Rocky Mountain High (Colorado)🎶

  It’s been three weeks since my second sacroiliac injection. After the first procedure my non-CRPS pain was relieved for approximately 10 days. Not long, but I knew that it may not last going into it and yet it was worth it. Living with chronic pain is the pits and even if temporary, any relief feels like a miracle. Also, I admit that I haven’t taken it easy after either injection, much like when I test drive a potential new car. Let’s see what this puppy can do, so I red-line it and go off-road…figuratively and literally. You see, we took a road trip to Colorado and I went HARD.

We packed up the station wagon and left on Thursday, July 7. We spent that night in Lincoln, Nebraska. On Friday we continued our journey and that afternoon we made it to Colorado and were greeted by a “Resist Fascism!” billboard which energized me. I struggled most nights to get much sleep because of my slipped disc and leg cramps from being cooped up for so long during the drive, but a family member we stayed with used homeopathic light therapy on my leg that helped bring some relief which, like I said before, is a small miracle. 

Humans observe fossilized dinosaur footprints at Dinosaur Ridge on a very hot day.

The next day we hit up the Denver Museum of Nature and Science and stayed cool in the AC since it was 99 degrees outside. Afterward, my insatiable prehistoric bird hunger needed more nourishment so we headed to Dinosaur Ridge to view some ancient footprints left behind by the behemoths. The ridge is closed to traffic so we had to hoof it about a mile uphill. That sucked, especially for the 12-year-old and my wife who had to hear her complaining since I left them in my dust as I burned up that 8% grade slope with child-like enthusiasm as my fuel. The kid minimized the fussing when we promised her ice cream upon our return to the visitor center and fortunately we made it back before the shop closed. Quickly we used the restroom and wouldn’t you know it, by the time we finished the ice cream man closed up shop at 4:47 pm. I asked if he could help, but he flatly said “No, we closed at 5.” Dumbfounded and exhausted, I looked at my watch as if it were broken, put my ear to it, scratched my chin with my right middle digit, then walked away and promised the kid ice cream back at our base in Fort Collins where we eventually delivered, +3 more future visits. I’ve been told that you gotta splurge on vacation. 

We didn’t plan on it, but during this trip we did something taxing one day and then low-key the next. It just happened that way which was great, because with chronic pain you never know how much is left in the tank. I’ve been pushing myself hard for the past year because I want to live and experience before I no longer can. I know it’s coming, so YOLO! It really is a fine line of pushing it and finding the right amount of time to rest or you are in a world of hurt and then you contemplate calling your doctors to have them fill a script for opioids and it is a slippery slope from there.

Check out the sweet drug rug on that kid.

On Monday we took a ride through Rocky Mountain National Park where we saw some awesome scenery and badass nature. Atop Trail Ridge Road we parked our vehicle near the Alpine Visitor Center and we began our ascent of 230 stairs to the peak at 12,005 feet. Going up those steps was hell. I was out of breath in no time. Even the kid was having trouble and she’s three decades younger. I saw some folks bail halfway up, but we I was goddamned determined. Our reward for making it to the top was a breathtaking view of the top of the world and a pack of nine elk. Worth it. On the way down I observed the faces of people we passed heading in the opposite direction and I began to feel better about myself. There was an elderly man heading up with his family that looked fatigued. Out of nowhere and surprising myself, I blurted out “You got this! They don’t call it Huffers Hill for nothing, amirite? There’s even elk up there.” I swear I saw a spark in his eye that ignited a fire in his soul and even his party lit up by those words of encouragement. “Oh, the elk are there!?!” I heard one of them say and they began to pick up the pace. I was feeling good about myself and my body was holding together and it needed to because things were about to get real in a couple more days.

The apocalyptic aftermath looks promising.

The next day we took it easy by visiting some old mining ghost towns. Correction, it should’ve been easy, but I, as the navigator, told our pilot the wrong directions when we were leaving the second town and our descent down the side of a mountain was terri-FUCKING-fying. Please understand that I can no longer drive safely in even moderate traffic due to foot-drop and dead nerves in my right foot so I’ve relinquished all driving duties to my wife. She could pull off the Kessel Run in 12 seconds if you rounded up, that is with me as the copilot. As second in command I have taken it upon myself to offer unsolicited advice on how to drive properly as well as the best way to get to our destinations because my sense of direction is paramount, yet somehow I led us down a path less traveled that I figured was a shortcut. This path had no rails and was unpaved. You couldn’t see over the edge of the roadway because it just dropped into oblivion much like Rainbow Road without Lakitu there to rescue you. I began to wonder how many people fell to their deaths tumbling down rag doll-style. How long would it take to die? God, I’d want to die. Skip surviving that. That’d be like being thrown into a dryer…which actually happened to a family member’s cat during our visit. Fig the feline survived three minutes in a running dryer. Jesus. I need to get an update on the cat when I’m done here, but it did survive and so did we.

The day had come. Wednesday. It was time for our whitewater rafting adventure. BIG TIME STUFF.  I feared this day. My anxiety was piquing. I worst-case scenario everything and I imagined getting bucked from the raft and landing square on my back on top of a boulder without anyone noticing I’m gone. Unable to move in the blistering heat of the sun, a vulture lands on my chest and begins eating my eyeballs and nose. I survive, but now I’m unable to walk, unable to taste, can’t see, sunburned lobster red and I still have all the pain I started with and then-some. Just kidding, I honestly only feared my injection of steroids would wear-off and my inflammation that causes my pain in my sacroiliac joint would return due to the jostling of my body as we went down Class IV rapids. Or perhaps all the paddling would tear away the leads of my DRG stimulator from my spine and my CRPS pain would max out and I’d have to schedule more surgery. You know, real-life fear, but again, YOLO!

After being briefed for half an hour that had our kid’s head spinning, we boarded a bus with five rafts in tow. We departed into the mountains along the Poudre River at breakneck speeds with death-defying hairpin turns and yet I was unfazed. Cheating death is my morning commute. I no longer fear death, I fear more pain.

We arrived at the boat launch and exited the bus and were assigned a guide and boat. I informed the guide that I’m disabled and he said “like fibromyalgia or something?” And I said “yes, something like that.” He told the kid and I to grab the oars as my wife, two other women and our guide lugged the raft down to the water. As we grabbed the oars I noticed our kid looked very concerned. Once we boarded and departed from the shore my wife looked at the kid and said, “isn’t this exciting?” And she replied tersely “leave me alone. You’re embarrassing me.” This was it, the distraction I needed to calm down. I gave her the ‘it’s gonna be ok nod’ and I think I even said it aloud, but she just looked away.

The adventure got real, real fast. We began with some lower class rapids and after we made it to calmer waters I looked back and saw a grin creeping on the kid’s face. More rapids, more happiness (I think?) on her face. Then we hit some Class IV rapids and witnessed a boat carrying only three employees hit a rock, flip upside down and they lost all of their paddles. Good GAWD. They’re the experts. That’s not supposed to happen. Our boat helped gather their paddles and eventually returned them. I could feel my anxiety returning and see it in my kid. We needed a new distraction and then one of our boat companions spotted a bighorn sheep. Whew. A little later we arrived at a swimming hole and the kid was one of the first to jump into the river. She was so pumped that she nearly jumped onto a kayaker. She was having real fun…with her parents. I decided to try jumping in and, holy fuck, the water was like ice and I started drifting downriver and no one really noticed that I was struggling to make it back. Panic almost set in, but I found some strength and made it back safely. I had my fill at the hole, but the kid jumped in two more times.

OMG! Do you see that?!? No, not the showboating tour guide, but my Child is actually smiling! I'd even guess that she is enjoying spending time with her lame parents.

After four hours riding the rapids our trip ended without any issues including pain-related. We returned to the bus and were taxied back to the shop where we viewed pictures of our day and, wouldn’t you know it, there was an image of our child with a genuine smile that wasn’t coaxed so we bought it. The day was done. Originally I had hoped we could see The Black Keys at Red Rocks that night, but we were all way too exhausted.

Inside the Great Stupa of Dharmakaya

The next day we rested and visited the Great Stupa of Dharmakaya. My head was pounding all morning on the way to our destination. Ever since my accident I get brain-splitting headaches. I can’t predict when they’ll begin or when they’ll end. It just happens. I’m sure all the energy I exerted the day before added to my state of being. I really wanted to enjoy the Buddhist temple, but my brain was broken. I felt better after lunch and a couple of fountain Coca-Cola Classics. Later, after returning to base, the kid and I rented electric scooters. I downloaded the app, located two scooters about a mile from us, so we walked to retrieve them, unlocked one and then struggled to get the other one up and running. I had to keep my cool. I was getting somewhere with the kid and I didn’t want to lose it. I even kept the cursing quiet and to a minimum. Eventually all systems were go and the two of us cruised down a main drive in Fort Collins and through a traffic circle with zero difficulty or collisions with any other moving vehicles. That evening I almost messed it all up by crushing her at miniature golf, but redeemed myself by losing to her while go-karting which was really hard for me to just let happen, but I did, even though I could’ve blown her shit up with a blue shell I sat on. 

Friday was our last full day in Colorado and we planned to take it easy, but my wife’s aunt offered to watch the kid so we could tour the New Belgium brewery. I couldn’t believe it…a date without the kid? We haven’t had a date since a Halloween party at the local VFW in 2017 when my wife went as the The Dude and I as Walter Sobchak. We gladly took her up on the offer.

The tour pays for itself in drinks. I was worried when the tour began if I’d be able to complete it because there is a lot of standing around which my back cannot tolerate. However, after my third sample I said to my wife “I gotta tell you, I don’t hurt so much because I’m kinda drunk.” She replied, “I keep telling you that you just need to be high all the time. I don’t know what your problem is.” 

As the tour was wrapping up we watched the bottling process and my wife said it reminded her of Laverne & Shirley. I told her that her references are so obscure and old, unlike mine that are contemporary and hip which induced an eye-roll. At the end of the tour we went down a spiral slide that my wife was sure, psychologically, supposed to give you that boost and confidence that you fine to drive home and it worked on us, but first we had to purchase drinks exclusive to the brewery and other souvenirs we didn’t need, but since we exited through the gift shop we needed them.

The next morning we set course for home. We spent the night in Council Bluffs, Iowa and, I gotta say, it makes Ottawa look like Beverly Hills. Everyone smokes cigars and is required to have a Harley Davidson motorcycle or very loud gas-guzzling vehicle that makes your ears bleed. Also, wearing only a bikini and flip-flops when you may or may not be pregnant into the Walmart is completely appropriate (we needed dog food, because that’s right, our dog travels with us on vacation). I even witnessed a car being repossessed at that Walmart. What an adrenaline rush that was to watch.

Coolhound is getting too old for this shit.

We arrived home on Sunday very, very tired. We celebrated our safe travels with a Lou Malnati’s buttercrust pizza and watched Bill Burr’s special at Red Rocks as consolation for missing The Black Keys. Oh, and the injection is still holding up. I have a follow-up appointment later this week where I will discuss with my doctor if a third injection is needed. Until some other thing relating to pain happens to me, farewell.

Inject It Directly Into My Joint

This is a prescription drug drop receptacle at Rush University Medical Center. Marijuana is a Schedule I substance and, to my dismay, I have learned that it won’t be accepted here. Please contact me if you can help me dispose a few ounces of expired weed.

Yesterday we headed back downtown to Rush for my sacroiliac joint injection to help alleviate my lower back pain. (This is another pain issue that resulted from the accident I was in, but is not quite associated with my CRPS.) Traffic was not too bad this time, only an hour and forty minutes. WINNING. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to be funny, this was an improvement.

Upon arrival, I checked in and waited with my wife. The waiting room was empty so instead of people watching, I pulled up Wordle. I hate admitting I play Wordle, for the simple fact that I very much dislike when people share their Wordle results on social media. However, this is what I did to pass the time and to calm my nerves. Yes, I’ve had many blood draws, injections, and surgeries, but I still get anxious. I tried to focus on my task, but simply couldn’t. And after 47 successful Wordle solutions in-a-row, I failed for the first time ever. Sorry, I just felt that needed to be shared and now you know. Before I could let that sink-in and have a sky-is-falling moment, I was called back, said goodbye to my wife and was put behind a fabric curtain where I was ordered to strip down naked, put a gown on and a free pair of non-slip socks.

Now, I was in the pre-op room waiting on my very own hospital bed. I quickly grew tired of my roommate’s disturbing bodily noises, so I got my phone out to distract me. There are signs everywhere prohibiting cellular phone usage, but I’d done this before and I began to stare at my phone screen like a Project X monkey. After a while, a nurse asked me if I had anything to eat after midnight. I think this stems from an irrational fear that you’re going to transform into a gremlin. I hadn’t, so she continued her questioning. Next, she asked if I have ever had surgery and quickly she gathered that this wasn’t my first rodeo and she dispensed with the pleasantries. Soon she aggressively tied a stretchy band around my arm like a heroin addict and put a needle in the back of my hand. I asked her if I was going to be put under for the injection. She told me I’d be put into a twilight state. Yes! Challenge accepted. I always try to remember as much as I can when they begin the anesthesia. I love it. As I was administered my cocktail, which the anesthesiologist called “the good stuff,” I began paying attention to everything around me. I watched a very white doctor tell two of his colleagues that he was here today to observe in the OR and then proceeded to give the lamest handshake that included a fist bump and ended with a snap of the fingers. This got me thinking about Avengers: Endgame and how I could probably handle the infinity gauntlet because I’ve been bombarded by so much radiation from all my x-rays and was about to get some more in just a few minutes…

🎶 Fur, I am covered with fur
From my snoot to my spur
I'm a furry fella 🎶

“Welcome back,” greeted my nurse and just like that I had returned. I was given a bottle of apple juice and a bag of graham crackers and was told that if I felt fine I could go, so I did. I wasn’t fine. Far from it. I was stumbling around like I had just shut down the bar and someone told me that I didn’t have to go home but I couldn’t stay here. I even stopped to weigh myself on a scale while I made my way out. I entered the empty waiting room and wondered how I got there. Then I remembered they sent my wife away to wait in the cafeteria so I texted her I was done. I looked down at my hands and saw I was clutching paperwork and recalled I was told to make another appointment a month from now for a second injection, so I moseyed on over to another window and scheduled it all by myself like a big boy. As I was finishing, my wife arrived and escorted me to our car. On the way home we stopped for burritos and I was happy. 

Later that evening my pain medication began to wear off and it started to hurt where they injected the anti-inflammatory concoction. I took it easy on the sofa and fell asleep early. In the morning I awoke and very gingerly got out of bed. I noticed my lower back pain had lessened, which was the goal but I am still being very cautious. Hopefully this pain has been remedied, but if not, round two is coming soon. Until next time, I bid you adieu. 

Overdone

ATTENTION! ATTENTION! It is finally nice outside (for only a day, though).

It was finally nice outside yesterday. My wife decreed that everyone had to be outside for a majority of the day except for bathroom breaks. We’d been cooped up inside for far too long.  Everyone fell in line, even the dog. After a short walk up to the post office and some sailing (garage sale weekend in town) we returned home, unleashed our dog and he got the zoomies, like a mug. The weather had pumped him up. He began running around the backyard kicking up mud and grass like a thoroughbred racehorse. His Devin Hester-like cuts aren’t as sharp as they used to be, but merely calling him spry is an insult. He’s still a badass at 14-years-old. However, he is unable to recover like he used to and we tried to corral him to save himself from injury. The old hound’s endurance isn’t what it used to be so it didn’t take long to wrangle him and he eventually calmed down. Unfortunately for him, he was toast the rest of the day. By six o’clock while we were enjoying our first meal of the year outside on the patio, he was barking at us, not for scraps, but to go inside and lay down on a sofa. He’s still feeling it today. 

You’d think since I know the limitations of my dog I’d have a pretty good handle of my own, but I don’t. I still think I’m invincible. I know I’m not, but even as I write this I know I’d still be of some use in fist fight. I’m confident that I could land a few good blows before being destroyed. I used to annihilate my body when I was younger back in my skateboarding days. I don’t know if it was an addiction to adrenaline, but I loved going all-out knowing I’d heal. I once threw myself down a handrail over 80 times like a rag doll just to get that fix and I left bruised, bloodied, and unsuccessful, but determined to return when my body had healed. Hell, it took me 36 years until I broke my first bone, pelvis, and I didn’t even do it to myself. I was awesome. 

Then that accident happened and I learned my body is vulnerable.

After dinner the dog went inside to retire to the basement while the kid, wife and I played some kickball, pitcher’s hand rule, of course. During my first at-bat I crushed that rubber playground ball so hard that not only did I lose my slip-on shoe in the blast created by my leg’s tremendous display of force, but I cleared the bases so fast that I decided to clear them again for a second run, still with only one shoe on. It didn’t stop there. I kept going at Mach 6.72. I told my wife that my heart was pounding so hard that if I collapse, please make sure to add that I died doing what I loved in my obituary, WINNING!

I woke up to a dreary Sunday morning. It’s raining, much cooler than yesterday and I’m currently listening to Terri Hemmert’s Breakfast with the Beatles show on the radio like a retiree. My body is sore. Like the dog, I’m toast. My CRPS is flaring. I over did it. Soon I’ll retire to the basement sofa to join the dog and probably watch the Bulls get their asses handed to them again. Sucks that I’m not invincible. I’ve accepted that, but I’m still a badass. 

Block and/or Charge?

It is Good Friday, from Chinatown!

Today we headed down to the city to visit my pain doctor at Rush because I’ve been experiencing pain in my lower back for a few months. We gave ourselves an hour and forty-five minutes to get there and we were five minutes late due to an emergency potty-break and an accident on the Eisenhower near Harlem. At the peak of my gridlock stress as we inched forward I think I uttered, “JUST FUCKING GO ALREADY! I can’t stand this shit. Goddamnit!” Suffice to say, I don’t care much for traffic. 

Anyway, we made it and when I finally answered to the receptionist, nurse, and resident doctor, I was finally reunited with my doctor. Our masked faces met and our eyes locked. I heard a piano, Hello by Adele began to play inside my head. Being the professional my doctor is and the fact that we weren’t alone in my room — my wife, kid, Abbott representative, doctor-in-training, and some other guy asking for my doc’s signature during my appointment (how rude) — we got down to business. 

Yes doctor, I fell [for you]. Oh, lay down on the gurney? Here? You really do like my shoes? Relax my knee? For you, anything. Does that hurt, you ask? Yes, but no worries, I feel safe. Oh, I need a sacroiliac joint injection? Tell me more!..and then I saw the ring on his left hand. 💔! Like the abrupt zipper-like sound of a needle being forcibly removed from the Adele record I had turning in my head, my fantasy was dead.

Trying to hide my disappointment, I changed the subject by asking about my possible two-fer deal of a nerve block and battery charge all packaged into a single surgical procedure. Dr. Taken told me insurance wouldn’t allow that and said I probably had at least two more years of battery-life left in my stimulator. I scheduled my injection for next month and was given a script for an x-ray to rule out a fracture in my pelvis. We fist bumped and that’s when I realized that I’d have to settle for only a bromance going forward. 

To avoid another unnecessary trip downtown, we decided to get the x-ray of my pelvis done before heading to Chinatown for lunch. The radiologist had an opening and saw me within the hour. While that worked out for the best, my mood quickly soured because I didn’t find any suitable throwing stars to purchase during our visit to Chinatown. Nor mogwai. Not even a Jack Burton sighting. However, I did keep a watchful eye out for David Lo-Pan since my wife has green eyes.

X-cited that I got some new shorts for my x-ray!

Here We Go Again

Remember Domino Rally? I never had a set but I wanted the deluxe set featuring the rocket launcher.

Well, I didn’t want to, but I began the process of visiting with my pain doctor after a three year hiatus. 

Since January, after a slip and fall down an icy hill (see previous post) my piriformis muscle, or butt muscle, has been giving me trouble. It feels like Ben Affleck beat me down with his “FAH Q” paddle as seen in Dazed and Confused. Not like a single hazing, but every single day. I thought it’d go away by now, but it hasn’t. It hurts every time I bend my waist. I fear sneezing. Also, sitting on hard surfaces is awful. I would benefit from one of those inflatable donuts used for a broken tailbone or hemorrhoids that could double as a pool floaty, preferably in pink.

My DRG stimulator doesn’t help with my piriformis in any way. However, before I was considered a candidate for the stimulator, I received five nerve blocks in my lower back that unsuccessfully gave me any relief, except for this very same pain-in-the-ass that I’m experiencing right now. Knowing this pain can be resolved, I decided to call my doctor and make an appointment to discuss another potential nerve block.

Sounds like no big deal, but it’s a HUGE deal for me, because I’m anxious AF. First of all, my doctor is all the way downtown at Rush. This means I have to be chauffeured by my wife because I can’t physically drive in stop-and-go traffic. (I probably shouldn’t be driving at all due to my foot drop and half my foot is numb. I can’t feel the pedals very well. Once, one of my doctors asked me who cleared me to drive and I told her she signed off on it and I instantly saw guilt on her face. That’s right, YOU DID THIS! Shame on you!) Second, I’ll be around people at the hospital. Like, a lot of people and they’ll probably be breathing. GROSS. At least masks are still required at medical facilities. Third, this is the initial visit, which means at least one more trip back. And finally, what is this going to cost? Can you believe some countries have free healthcare? Absolute madness!

While I’m worried, I am looking forward to seeing my doctor because he’s good at his job and, as I’ve mentioned before, he looks like Sean Astin, which makes me think about The Goonies, the LotR trilogy, and Stranger Things. When is that coming back? See what I mean!?! My doctor is the best. I also plan to discuss the battery life left in my stimulator because if I can get a two-fer deal in one shot, let’s do it. BOGO! Doc, while you’re injecting me with anesthetic just grab a scalpel, cut me open and replace my batteries with those new fancy rechargeable ones all in one shot. Perhaps I can save some time, money and stress. What do you say?

So, I scheduled my appointment and now I wait for two more weeks to pass. Anxiously. Please stay tuned and in the meantime, send me your thoughts and prayers because they really do make all the difference, but not really at all.

ICE!!!

I insist that you read the headline in Tom Thibodeau voice. I fell on that ice-covered hill in the background so that's why I gave it my middle digit. And while it doesn't look like much of a hill, I assure you that there's at least 5 degrees of slope happening there...at least.

It's winter and in northern Illinois and that means ice and the hazard of potential falls that come with it. This is a PSA for the elderly and disabled: Be careful on ice.

Our senior dog turned 14 on Sunday. According to this Pedigree calculator, our Treeing Walker Coonhound is 103 in human years! We've been good friends for a third of my life and he's been around for my daughter's entire life. Since about the age of 10, every single day we have with him feels like we've unlocked a bonus level. To celebrate his birthday we did an early morning walk in the woods. Then we enjoyed an afternoon nap while the Bears sucked some more for the last time this season. At dinner, he enjoyed some very rare filet mignon and for dessert we baked him a dog-approved cupcake with a candle, that amazingly, he blew out right on cue with a sneeze the very moment we finished singing Happy Birthday. Baller. Everything was just dandy.

On Monday, we attempted a short neighborhood walk during the kid's P.E. time slot because once again we are remote learning after NINE STAFF MEMBERS tested positive for covid last week, but this isn’t the time or place for my opinions on that. Unfortunately, the sidewalk outside was icy and the hound slipped. Soon after, we noticed blood dripping from a mangled-looking dewclaw and he was limping. We quickly returned home and called the veterinarian and he was seen within the hour. After an exam and X-ray we learned our dog broke his dewclaw and needed surgery to remove the entire broken digit. And for icing on the cake, they recommended a tooth cleaning. The total estimate was near $2K. Goddamn. First thing that needed to be done was bloodwork to make sure he could handle the anesthesia for the surgery. Like a jerk, my initial reaction was "2,000 FUCKING DOLLARS!?! Are you kidding me? Dude, he's 14. How much longer does he have? And for fuck's sake, another tooth cleaning? Can't we teach him how to use a straw or just buy wet food?" I eventually stopped sounding like my old man and agreed with my wife and kid that we'd do whatever it takes to help the dog. Like I said, (through gritted teeth) everyday is a bonus. They wrapped up his wounded leg and sent him home with us. Now we just had to wait for a return call from the vet with bloodwork results to make sure he has a good shot at surviving surgery at his age.

Pathetic-looking old AF dog.

The next day while still waiting for the return call from the vet, I went for my daily walk at the nearby state park. I try to go to the park five days a week and hike for at least three miles every visit. The dog used to come with, but he's just too old now and is unable to do it. Yes, I am disabled and that sounds like a lot of walking, but it's the only exercise I can do now and it's cheap because you can just go outside and do it. I suppose I could get a Pelotone bike or a MIRROR, but I like being outside and I already do enough self-loathing that I don't need another asshole yelling at me to push myself harder while exercising. Anyhow, the paths at the park were icy and halfway through I slipped on an incline and fell on my side. At first I panicked trying to grab onto anything to halt my descent and I stopped for just a moment, like Ralphie from A Christmas Story at the top of the mall slide, I had a temporary moment of clarity where I finally remembered what to ask Santa Claus for Christmas, "I want an official Red Ryder carbine action 200-shot range model air rifle!" And like Santa Claus who responded with, "you'll shoot your eye out, kid" and a kick to the face, I could no longer hold on and gravity took over. At first I managed a "NOOOOOOOO!" but then I accepted my fate and relaxed. I slid about 25 feet and finally stopped and I just laid there for a minute. I was muddy, my back hurt but I could still walk. Unlike the dog, all my digits were fine. Except for my ego and some general soreness, there was nothing wrong with me. So I got up, finished the walk and returned home. 

When I returned I found my DRG iPod controller and made sure my stimulator was still functioning properly and then decided to take it easy. As I recuperated in bed that afternoon my wife informed me that the dog's bloodwork was complete. He is as healthy as a puppy so we scheduled the surgery for next week. I swear to Christ if we don't get another six months out of this dog...just kidding, he's the greatest dog ever, even if he listens for shit.

Fast-forward to Wednesday and I decided to take some precautions before my hike. A couple years ago my sister had bought me a pair of crampons for stability on the ice and my wife dug them out of the closet for me to use. I never used them because I feared how it'd feel under my CRPS foot and I worried about my foot drop, but I had to try them. I arrived at the park and opened the box containing the brand-new traction devices. I quickly read the instructions and found an "L" on the first cleat so I securely attached it to my left foot. Then I grabbed the other one, which was also an "L" and put it on my CRPS-affected right foot. It felt funny because it was on the wrong foot, but it is not like I could exchange them now and, honestly, everything I feel with my right foot feels odd, so I went with it. It was like night and day. I was booking it. That hill I fell on the day before, I no longer had to sidestep down it like a mountain goat. I went full-speed ahead like a boss. At one point I caught up with one of the park’s regulars that I saw earlier and he couldn't believe I had covered so much ground in such a short time. He said "when you get to be my age, you take it slow because it's hard to move." I still haven't shared with him that I'm disabled. I have learned by watching Cobra Kai that you shouldn't show weakness because it will be exploited by your opponent. That’s right, I said opponent because he parks in my spot sometimes. In the end, I made great time and didn't have any falls.

I can't dance because I only have two left feet crampons.

I've now been home for about four hours since my hike and I haven't had any residual effects from wearing the crampons on my CRPS foot. As long as the trails are icy, I think that I'll continue to wear them. Also, I noticed they make a metal-like jingle sound as if I was wearing cowboy spurs so now I can either imagine that I'm Clint Eastwood or a Mandalorian. I mean they're basically the same thing, right? I highly recommend crampons even if you have CRPS. I think I should design some for the dog so we don't have to fear the ice any longer. Perhaps my invention will rival Charlie Rutherford Kelly's Kitten Mittens and I'll finally be able to make it rain.