Appointment in the City

The squiggly lines in the above x-ray of my spine (center, top) and pelvis (middle) are the leads that wrap around my dorsal root ganglion (the nerve roots that exit my spine). The screws on the right side are only a small portion of what's in my pelvis.

I did stuff, today. Big time. Since my wife didn't work pretty much all of last week, I told her that I was going to go to see my doctor by myself in the city this morning so she could attempt to get caught up... and I did it. Progress!

I hit the road early. I had a positive affirmation discussion with myself before I started, too, so I was ready when I was being tailgated within three miles of home. Our cars nearly traded paint while we were doing 70 in a 55. The driver didn't notice my car because her eyes were glued to her phone she was holding at eye level. For the love of God, get the fuck off your goddamn phone when you drive, assholes! The whole reason I'm going through this mess is because of a distracted driver. I tapped the brakes and she eventually backed off. Yosemite Sam knows. When I had my pep talk earlier I told myself, 'no middle fingers today, Rob. Swear to it!' I stayed true to myself. I also made that promise because people get shot on expressways in the city now and I flip the bird like it's an involuntary action, such as breathing. I've gotten better about it when our kid is in the car and I hold it just low enough that she can't see it from the backseat. Back in my hospital days my wife knew I was still me when I wouldn't stop flipping off the nurses. I had a one of those tubes jammed down my esophagus so using my hands was my only clear form of communication and I was damn clear about how I felt, often.

Stop-and-go traffic wasn't all that bad for after a holiday weekend and I made it to the city in a little over an hour. I even found parking without having to use my Bear spray on any other driver. I'm going to use that spray one day. As Bart Scott would say, "Can't wait!"

The waiting room at the doctors' office could be the setting of a Kurt Vonnegut novel. I saw the best rat tail you've seen since 1991. Cellular phones weren't muted and I kept hearing Candy Crush sound effects. Juicy. Every patient that entered the room was out of breath, groaning, like they just finished a 5K. That gets rough, especially when someone has tonsilloliths. There were four patients waiting to see the doctor, including me. Two had walkers and one a cane. I have nothing to assist me anymore, but I did use both of those and a wheelchair to learn how to walk again. The next patient to arrive was actually wheeled in on a stretcher. Now you see, this is an office in a medical building, not the hospital. Cane Woman to my right and I both said at the same time, "you see something new everyday." I called "jinx," and she owes me a Coke, now.

When my name was called, Cane Woman commented that I sprang up fast and appeared much too eager to leave the waiting room. Indeed, she was correct. I had my blood pressure checked first as usual. I still don't know what those figures mean, so I texted my wife to understand my results. She told me that I had elevated blood pressure. I blamed the waiting room. Then my doctor arrived. My doctor is a bro and he looks like Sean Astin. I've grown up watching Astin on the screen. From Goonies to Stranger Things. To me, he's the hero of The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Frodo couldn't have destroyed the ring without Sam carrying his weak ass to Mordor (similar to R2-D2's relationship with Luke). I trust this doctor even more than most of my other doctors only because he looks like Astin. 

First thing my doctor asks is how is the pain? I tell him I'm doing fine and he tells me, sarcastically, that I need to work on containing my emotions. I tell him that this is me excited and he just rolls his eyes and asks what I've been up to which leads me to my questions that I actually wrote down on my iPhone this time instead of forgetting them. I forget my questions because I'm starstruck every time I see him, because HE LOOKS JUST LIKE SEAN ASTIN! OMG! IT'S YOU!

1. I'm moving soon. Can I lift boxes/furniture? 

- That's great news. 20 lbs. should be your maximum. No more than 35 lbs. It's the repetition that may disrupt the placement of the leads.

2. But wait, I remember when you removed my temporary leads and I gasped because I couldn't believe how long they were. Why are the leads so long then?  

- They're long so they can move a little if they need to, but you don't want to bend or twist too much because they can become undone and may even break.

3. Can I see a chiropractor? My neck is jacked.

- No, let me see. I'm trained to do that, not chiropractors. Here do this.

OUCH.

4. Should I continue with my physical therapy?

- Let's see the range in your ankle. Your flexion looks to be about zero. Keep on doing therapy if you feel it's helping.

5. How much is replacing the batteries in my stimulator going to cost in the future?

- You won't need that for say five years and the technology will change so much that it's hard to say what they'll come up with next and the cost will fluctuate. Why?

Well, I feel like a drain on the system. I don't want to be that guy. I want to work. I want to contribute to my family and society and, right now, I feel like I'm doing nothing. I hate it, in fact.

- (Another eye roll) Without Medicare it will easily be at over 10k out-of-pocket, but probably much more. You have a severe chronic medical condition that's not going away, hence chronic. This is why we have Medicare. You'd still be in constant pain without the stimulator, right? Do you want the stimulator to fail or not? Do you want to go back to how it was before the stimulator?

No, yeah, what?..

- Stop. You are allowed this. This is why the system was created.

Fine [jerk].

6. How do I go about getting a medical card? With the change in Illinois law beginning January 1st and card holders can grow up to five plants...

- I can't get that for you, but you said you're moving. I suggest finding a new primary doctor out there that's not in our network. It'll take about three months to get the card approved, so I'd start looking now.

7. When do I see you again?

- Only when you need to. No follow-ups are needed.

FIST PUMP!

I'm home now. I made the trip by myself and nothing worst-case scenario happened, which is what I expect. I need some new literature on how to get started with this next hobby. I already grow tomatoes from seed so it can't be too difficult, right? Maybe I'll see if High Times is still a thing. I know Mad magazine just folded so I'm concerned that High Times may have as well. Is there a seed company like Burpee Seeds for marijuana? I need a catalog.

Here's another look at my hardware from my right side. Gnarly, right? Magnets stick to my hip where the screw heads are located. It's a fun parlor trick.

Happy Birthday to you, USA!

Currently, we live in a small rural town in Illinois and today is a big deal for the residents and my family. It also marks the first Fourth of July that my wife was a part of the parade as a small business owner. She has been part of the parade in the past as a Girl Scout leader, but this was new territory and she needed help. Unfortunately for her, I was that help.

Hoping to drum up some new business, my wife made fans using paper, staples and popsicle sticks with some clever puns to hand out to the crowd. Perfect for a hot day. Now, I've been a watcher and a photographer of parades, but never an integral part of the parade and I had to step up, literally. I was going to pull the decorated wagon holding her fans while she scrambled through the crowd handing them out.

Before we hit the streets my wife left early with the wagon for roll call while I tried my best to keep our nine-year-old on target and out the door to view the parade with her friends. In the process of finding our kid a bucket to collect that oh so sweet candy, I dropped a cooler on my bad foot. With only moments until parade kick-off, I sucked it up, covered my kid in sunscreen and got her out the door, and I walked over to the high school.

When I arrived at the school I learned my wife was awarded first place for best business float and that the man holding a Betsy Ross flag would be following the wagon that I was pulling. I didn't think much about it, really, until someone yelled, "now that's a flag I can get behind. Goddamn right!" All of my focus on the task at hand and my foot pain, including some self induced pain from a late night spent with friends, was gone and now I was listening to the crowd react to the flag and trying to get a shot of said flag while I dragged the wagon just feet ahead of it. I suspect that there weren't many fans of Colin Kaepernick in the crowd. Why does everything have to keep getting weirder and more uncomfortable lately? 

I'm all about distractions from the pain and I started looking for more examples of Independence Day going off the rails and I began feeling sick to my stomach... I've since moved onto pondering if I should stay home with our elderly dog who is seconds away from stroking out due to the neighbors' fireworks or leave him alone in the basement with our daughter's white noise machine while wearing his ThunderShirt as we go watch the local firework show. America, fuck yeah!

What is a FIB?

A FIB is a term of endearment that Wisconsinites call their neighbors to the south. Dis-Abled Guy is a fucking Illinois bastard. Michiganders call us FIPs, or fucking Illinois people. I think they are just jealous that we understand that the left lane is for passing.

We just got back from camping at one of our favorite parks in Wisconsin, Devil's Lake. During the last ice age, glaciers helped carve out the terrain and left behind a 360-acre lake surrounded by 500' tall bluffs. It's a great place for hiking that we discovered about five years ago and have visited nearly every year since. 

Tarp City was erected upon arrival on Sunday and it helped provide cover from the storms that poured rain down on us during our short 3-day excursion. After our campsite was complete and dinner concluded that first night, our car decided to lock its doors with the keys still inside. Instead of having a meltdown and using a rock to get inside, I decided to drink ice-cold beverages and stay cool. That night, marauding raccoons in search of anything edible woke one of the dogs of our party and sleep was cut short for the rest of the night. This is nothing new for me since I suffer from insomnia. With nothing better to do, I called a locksmith at 6:30 a.m. and we had the car opened up by 7:40, just mere moments before my kid gnawed off her own hand for sustenance because she was so hungry and her cereal was locked inside the car.

Next, we hiked two miles up the East Bluff to the Devil's Doorway under threatening skies. Our kid then raced back down the bluff in record time to get to the beach (I've never ever seen her so determined doing anything, except when playing video games). By noon the sun burned off the clouds and it turned into a picture-perfect afternoon. We spent about five hours on the beach. My wife even rented a paddle board. I found that I couldn't keep my balance on the paddle board due to the nerve damage in my right foot which makes me feel like I'm always standing on a pillow. I had to sit down while I paddled about the lake which helped me keep a low profile. I covertly paddled out to a makeshift inflatable Waterworld shanty town in the middle of the lake to investigate. I didn't see anything out of the ordinary as I circled the rafts and floating crocodile that were tied together with clothesline, other than large clouds of smoke that filled the air every few minutes which reminded me of Steamboat Willie, as well as lots of giggling coming from the occupants.

Not only did I not use my AFO (ankle-foot orthosis), which I haven't used in over a year, but this trip marked the first time that I didn't bring my cane or use a stick to keep my footing while hiking rough terrain since my accident. That's a big plus. Nor did I bring my iPod remote control for the DRG stimulator to increase or decrease the electricity flowing through me. I also didn't take any of the hydrocodone that I brought, although I should've used them to pay the locksmith. One problem I had was at the beach trying to walk barefoot, which is still painful, but that's O.K. because I was able to wear my aqua socks. They go great with all my tourist-looking U.S.A. gear I like to wear when we leave home. I bet I get confused as a MAGA doofus. I may be a bastard, but I'm not that guy. I have quite a bit of tightness in my calf and ankle now, but it was all worth it for another successful adventure for this FIB.

You Gotta Pay the Troll Toll

Today’s forecast called for potentially dangerous storms, but my family and I still went for our planned visit to the Morton Arboretum anyway. For over a year we’ve passed by the arboretum along Route 88 and that troll (above), that reminds me of Danny DeVito, has been calling to me like a siren. If I wasn’t in my current state I would’ve climbed atop the troll’s shoulder and I’d be his Hogarth and he my Iron Giant... a short Danny DeVito giant troll that is. I imagined Danny would come to life and awkward laughs would follow.

Unfortunately, my imagination is only just that and I had to walk my sorry ass on uneven ground across open fields and through forests on a sultry Sunday afternoon. We hiked over five miles and I'm feeling it now, but I must say that it was all worth it. You see, I could just sit at home and be pissed off and angry at the world about what I can't do anymore, but life's too short and it never rained either.

It's a Brick House

Knock on wood. I'm probably jinxing this, but whatever. My wife and I are nearing age 40 and by God, we are actually going to buy a home... that is as long as the sellers don't do something ridiculous. Why do I say that? It's happened two times already in the past three months.

One of those two homes was listed as having all-new electrical that still had knob and tube wiring which was last installed in homes during the 1940s. We called in an electrician that estimated updating the home would cost $25-35k. That family is moving to D.C. because the husband will be working for Beto's campaign doing illustrations or some visual arts work. Four years ago he worked on Bernie's campaign, which surprises me because of that whole socialism thing and yet they tried to slip one by us. I guess we aren't in this together.

Anyhow, this potential first home of ours in the city of Ottawa is 20 miles from the town where we reside now. The population there is over 18,000 which is 18 times the size of our current town's population. No big deal for my wife and me since we grew up in a city of over 100k, but we are concerned about how our kid will react even though she's been gung-ho about moving to this new area.

I'm sharing this because we will actually be in an area where there are more opportunities for our family to experience life outside of rural 'Merica and for me to walk/hike/bike more, which, after everything that has happened, is very important to me and this is my journal. Even though I go out for walks constantly, you can only walk down to the stop sign at the far end of town so many times without wanting more.

The Illinois & Michigan Canal which once connected the Great Lakes to the Mississippi River travels through Ottawa. The canal has been converted into a bicycle/walking path that is 96-miles long. An actual bike path! Five years ago I think I caught two people having sex wrestling in the backseat of a car parked next to that very path in Joliet during the dead of winter when I worked for the newspaper. I was there trying to photograph snowmobilers using the path for a surefire riveting February story.

There are two great parks near the home, Matthiessen and Starved Rock State Parks. And did I mention we will be living in an actual city? I am looking forward to walking my dog and finding the shady part of town where the addicts with the sunken eyes roam the streets like zombies. I can play the guessing game of 'Drunk, Stoned or High on Crack?' Maybe we will get that second dog, an Irish Wolfhound, after all. There is a cemetery near the home and I wonder if I can walk the dog there or if society frowns upon that? Like if he marks a gravestone, is that bad karma? What if he defecates on a grave? I do clean up after him, but should I just avoid the graveyard? I can't wait for this new adventure to begin. This better happen this time.

Stairs and Ageism

Today at therapy I listened in on a lively conversation about the "Bachelorette" between two patients, who I'll call Mike and Carol, and a couple of the therapists. There were some strong opinions. I didn't partake because the only reality shows I watch are Jeremy Wade's "Dark Waters" and "American Ninja Warrior." In fact, back when I was recovering in 2016 I had visions of trying out for the show, not because I thought I could actually compete, but my hashtag was my hook: #HitInTheFaceByTruckNinja. Bad ass if you ask me.

Anyhow, Mike, who I'd guess is about 65-70, was on the table to my left, recently had knee surgery and he couldn't stop groaning in agony and cursing. He also couldn't stop talking about this 'broad' on the "Bachelorette" and how it didn't matter how intelligent she was because when you're 'hot' like that it doesn't matter. During one of the awkward silences induced by Mike's thoughts, I asked my therapist if he lived in a multi-level home. (I asked because he also suffers from issues related to a similar type of accident that I was in.) My therapist said that he indeed did. I asked if that concerns him as he gets older. As he started to explain, Carol, who is about the same age as Mike, who was on the table to my right, interjected herself into our conversation to tell me that I don't need to worry about stairs at my age. I tried to explain why I was concerned, but she didn't have time to listen and just said move into a ranch house if it's such an issue. WTF?

I was starting to realize these two fellow rehabilitation clients had no patience for me. The one time I was spoken to I was basically told to be quiet. Mike never even acknowledged my presence... but he has pain that you or I could just never understand. Goddamn old people. You'll never know what it's like to be them because they have lived longer..?

Left Foot, Left Foot, Right Foot, Right

You may wonder why I posted this and I question it, too. But, I wanted to show a symptom of CRPS, or complex regional pain syndrome. Symptoms include the obvious pain, but also temperature change, swelling and hair loss. I have too much hair (thank you genetics), so if it's falling out it can't be missed.

During a recent therapy session, my therapist was mesmerized by my twitching nerves in my calf. I haven't given much attention to the back of my leg lately because the stimulator has dulled that pain. I began to watch and couldn't believe all the constant spasms that are always happening. Then I noticed the hair loss on my leg. I went over to a mirror to get a better look and I got weirded out. My right leg is going bald and it's smaller than the left, since I favor the other due to pain. I was happy being blissfully unaware of my grotesque right leg. I think I hate that leg more, now. YOU HIDEOUS MUTANT-LIKE DEFORMED LIMB! YOU'RE PATHETIC! LOOK AT YOU! I HATE YOU AND YOU ARE STUPID!.. but, please, get better.

For CRPS sufferers: I have had all of the symptoms of CRPS and it still took over two years to actually be diagnosed with the disease. In fact, last June a doctor told me that there hasn't been any swelling in my leg so he still didn't want to diagnose me with having the disease. I shared with him that my former physical therapist and a colleague doctor of his (who thought I had CRPS within a week of seeing me for the first time just after the accident) prescribed me a steroid which actually reduced the swelling over a month-long period in April of 2016. My ankle was swollen to about softball size. He didn't care, because all of the symptoms weren't present. Another doctor figured I just had a slipped disc, since I favored the left leg over the right. I had to get two more MRIs to show that I didn't have a slipped disc. Since CRPS is a clinical diagnosis of exclusion it can be frustrating for someone who has it, because your relief is put on hold until there is certainty by the medical community. They'd rather prescribe you opioids and leave you in a stoned haze, rather than get to the bottom of your issues. I can attest, though, that it is worth it to jump through hoops for the help that the DRG stimulator has provided for my pain relief. It's still not perfect, but it's much better than the first three years of living with the disease.

Four More Weeks

Our kid finished her school year today and I was supposed to finish my physical therapy today as well, but my therapist believes that my mobility and strength have increased and there is still room for more improvement. So now I have four more weeks of therapy, but instead of three days a week I only need to go two times which is a relief.

I'm still not certain that it is the therapy that I'm benefiting from and not just the weather. I wish I could have my limits tested in a temperature controlled vacuum, but that's just not possible. I have increased my monthly walking average, too, which is now 2.4 miles for the month of May compared to my abysmal 1.5 miles average for the previous four months.

One thing I did mention to my therapist is that the tightness in my muscles seemed to have dissipated in my calf and I didn't notice that until recently. Instead of the feeling of a high-ankle sprain, most of the tightness was focused at my foot and ankle. It does seem to fluctuate with the weather, but I do think the stretches have helped.

I plan to shut down the stimulator one of these days and see how long I can tolerate the pain. It's been since February 15 that I had the surgery and the stimulator has been activated the entire duration. I hypothesize that my pain will remain rather low, due to the warmer seasonal temperatures. We'll see.

Letting the Days Go By (Same as it Ever Was)

That's no moon... it's a spiky ball used for desensitization of the nerves located on the bottom of my right foot.

I haven't updated lately because I've been focused on my physical well-being and I've neglected this exercise of writing which has been good for my brain in the past and I need to get back to it. I'm nearing completion of my prescribed physical therapy. I enjoy completion and find a sense of peace when a task has reached its end. However, every time I arrive at therapy and I'm asked how I am doing, I feel I'm letting down the therapists and myself because I always answer, "the same." I almost want to lie and say I'm doing better than ever and everything is great just so I could bring happiness to the faces of the therapists that I work with instead of that, 'I'm not mad at you, I'm just disappointed in you' look that I'm greeted with when I'm being honest.

I have been subjected to a barrage of new exercises/stretches with the goal of improved mobility. I asked my therapists to do whatever it takes and that I'm willing to beat the hell out of myself for this want need of mine. I've begun BioStim and Astym, or A-Stim, therapy. XXX INSERT UNCOMFORTABLE BAD JOKE HERE XXX. One improvement I've noticed is the sensitivity in the nerves located in the bottom of my foot, which is a big deal because the less you can make it feel like you are walking barefoot on glass, the better. I have been given a home exercise program, too. One of the exercises is called "Toe Yoga." I was thinking about using a Sharpie to draw a smiley face on my big toe with a laurel wreath on top and then take a Kleenex to wrap around said toe and call the post 'ToeYoga, ToeYoga, ToeYoga!' but that would be too Rex Ryan foot-fetish weird.

Another improvement I can quantify using my phone as an indicator, is my tolerance for walking. While I still walk impeded, I can go much further for longer now. This week my phone says I'm averaging 3.5 miles/day which is great considering I trimmed my big toe's nail way too short that'd it hurt on a normal foot, let alone on my jacked foot. So I suppose there has been improvement. I guess I don't want to continue taking baby steps and after three years I was hoping to reach the moon by now.

Counterpoint, sleeping is not improving. Another benefit of walking more that I was looking forward to was sleeping more. It's not happening. I no longer take any medications at all. Not even melatonin. I have no trouble falling asleep, but come 4 A.M. I'm on like someone flipped a switch. Most days I'm in a daze and no matter how much energy I exert I'm not worn out. Maybe it's the battery pack powering me like the Energizer Bunny? Kidding aside, I'm worried this has to do with that traumatic brain injury and that really scares me.

Never Tell Me the Odds

When I began my new physical therapy treatment on April 17, I was interviewed by my therapist, Alex. I shared with him my ailments and how my doctor thinks that with my stimulator, perhaps my mobility can be improved. I also shared how this all started, you know the part where I was hit head-on by a semi-truck.

Anyway, I know Alex is a Blackhawks and Cubs fan. He currently lives in Oswego, grew up in Joliet and even was in school at NIU in DeKalb during the same time I worked for the newspaper there. He's married with at least one child and they have two dogs. His brother is getting married soon in Arizona. Last weekend, Alex went to Kenosha for fertilizer because he likes a green lawn, and even secretly competes with his neighbor for 'best lawn' on the block. He watches reality television and loves Game of Thrones. I know way more about Alex than I should.

During therapy today, I was watching another individual working on occupational therapy. I mentioned to Alex that I had to go through that after I awoke from my accident and two of my fingers were numb and didn't work right. My wife thinks that a nurse who inserted one of my PICC lines into me failed miserably and that's why I lost feeling in those fingers, as well as a blood clot that needed to be addressed for about six months afterward. Alex said he had a PICC line in him one time, too. This piqued my interest, so I asked what happened to him. Casually, Alex answered that he was in a vehicle accident.

"They are the worst, right?" I said. "What happened?"
"I was hit head-on by a semi-truck. I passed out from the heat and then it happened," he answered.
Wait. WHAT!?! Are you fucking with me? "You were hit by a semi, head-on?"
"Yes," Alex answered, again.

Now, my brain doesn't work as well as it used to and I was having difficulty processing this information. I'm ready to ask if he wants to go get a drink and to commiserate at this point.

"Where did it happen?" I asked.
"Near Route 52 and 47," he replied.

I couldn't believe it. My accident occurred just two (yes, exactly 2.0) miles north of his (I used Google Maps to be precise).

I told Alex that was incredible. I asked if he could appreciate the odds of us both surviving a head-on collision with a semi-truck only a couple miles from each other and we have been both brought together at this moment because of that? He agreed that it was a coincidence and then he went back to massaging my bad leg/foot. No big deal, I guess... wasn't that battle way too dark to see anything during Sunday night's Game of Thrones* episode? Hell yeah it was! That show is the best, amirite!?!

* I've never seen an episode of Game of Thrones. In fact, every time I'm flipping through the channels on Sunday night and it's on, it's either a sex scene or a fire-breathing dragon flying in an EPIC-looking sky. I don't get it. I only heard the episode was too dark while watching the news the next morning.

Smashed VIDEO

Don't feel too bad for her, she connected with my face after chucking a cascarón at me from less than five feet away moments earlier.

A week ago it snowed four inches and today it was 80 degrees which made for a great Easter to get outside and enjoy the weather. Traditionally we purchase cascarones, which are hollowed-out chicken eggs filled with confetti. We hide them in the yard, have an egg hunt and then smash them on each other. We have a lot of traditions and this one is the most violent, yet gets the most laughs. I learned today while trying to escape the wrath of my nine-year-old that I can still run, kinda, but it looks more like an accelerated limp and feels like I’m in a three-legged race tied to an invisible partner. I also had to come to terms with the fact that I can’t outrun my daughter anymore. She still can’t reach my head, so it isn’t so bad.

More Physical Therapy

Notes from my old physical therapy routine.

I saw my pain doctor on Monday and he wrote me a script for physical therapy. Three times a week for six weeks. I haven't seen a physical therapist for over two years, because I was told that I had plateaued and it wouldn't really do any good. My doctor thinks that with my stimulator I may be able to regain some more mobility. I had my first appointment earlier today and I already have a new routine that is tailored to my specific needs. Bending at the waist should be avoided at all costs, because it could cause the leads to shift in my back, so unlike my pre-cyborg days, sit-ups are not allowed. My goal is to have the tightness relieved and to have some improvement in my foot drop. We will see.

I Bent My Wookiee

A day ago in a city 58 miles away...

STAR WARS CELEBRATION CHICAGO

Last June I learned that Star Wars Celebration was heading to Chicago and I figured YOLO, so I bought tickets and we went yesterday. I'm not going to lie, I wanted to back out. I'm not one of those people. I have standards, but again, YOLO. I'm glad I went, because it was quite an experience. 

Instead of only one big thing for the day, we also had to have Breakfast with the Bunny at the local library. It's a tradition that my 9-year-old wasn't going to have interrupted by some Star Wars thing, so she listened to a story, ate doughnut holes in the presence of the Easter Bunny and collected six candy filled eggs and by 11 a.m. we hit the road.

The traffic was fine and I felt good, but once we arrived at McCormick Place my anxiety fired up, because I had to face my new fear of metal detectors. We parked the car and entered the building so I turned off my stimulator. (Apparently, metal detectors can have an adverse effect on the stimulator and it needs to be powered off before passing through one.) Earlier in the week I had contacted fan services to see if I could arrange a frisking instead of risking an electronic malfunction of the DRG stimulator device. I was told to let security know that I wanted to "opt out." After about a mile walk from the parking garage to the exhibit hall we neared the security checkpoint. I shouldn't have turned the stimulator off until I saw the detectors because my foot/leg was already aching after the long walk. As I approached The Gate I looked right into the security guard's eyes and assertively told him, "I have an electronic device in my back and I want to opt out of going through the metal detector." He took me out of the line, lifted a rope and let me in. I wasn't checked at all. I imagined they'd lift my shirt and see the bulge of the stimulator in my back and think that the Joker had implanted a mobile phone that was wired to explosives inside my body. I'd be tackled by FBI agents in those wind breaker jackets with the yellow "FBI" letters on the back. There'd be a lot of frantic yelling into walkie talkies while they attempted to clear and secure the area in a moment of pure chaos. However, nothing happened. All that worry for naught.

Da Mandalorians

Once inside the convention center, WOW. This post is picture heavy, because it was a spectacle. Need a tattoo of the Rebel Alliance symbol? Head over to the Tattoo Pavilion like Princes Leia (below).

Are you proud and want to let it show? Then get your pink Darth Vader armor polished up (below).

By 2 p.m. our kid needed food. She was STARVING! I was hoping all that Easter candy would've held off the hunger, but it was time to spend $35 on a hamburger, fries, fruit and nachos. After we collected our food we searched for a table. Surprisingly, we found three empty chairs next to a woman, who we had seen earlier upon our arrival. She was dressed as Princess Leia and holding a small dog. As we ate our food, I decided to engage in conversation and learned all about Julie and her emotional support animal, Toto.

Julie and Toto had made their pilgrimage from Los Angeles to Chicago to exclusively attend SWCC. Apparently, Toto wanted to attend the convention and Julie does what Toto wants. Son of Sam, anyone? According to Julie, George Lucas and Disney both really think she does a fantastic job looking like Princess Leia.

After lunch, my wife and daughter found a craft project that involved building a small section of a large modular diorama. While they painted and glued shrubs and stormtroopers to their square foot of Scarif beach, I explored the show on my own. I studied the new LEGO Star Wars sets up close as well as the new action figures revealed by Hasbro. I'm a sucker for Boba Fett figures. I located the official SWCC store with the mashup merchandise of Chicago stereotypes and Star Wars characters to purchase on our way out. I was hunting for photographs to make, too. It was like I was working for the paper again and it felt fun again... and eventually I saw this (below) and I knew I had gotten what I needed for the day. I was only recently introduced to the world of Deadpool and I must say, if you haven't exposed yourself to it, then I recommend you should.

I hit the wall by 5:30 and my foot/leg were toast. I checked the "Health" application on my phone and I had walked over four miles for the day. When I look back on how much I've struggled since my accident, it's pretty incredible to go that long and that far now. I really don't believe I would've been able to enjoy yesterday nearly as much if I didn't have the DRG stimulator. It has been eight weeks since the surgery and I must say that I'm satisfied with the pain relief that I've experienced so far.

Excitebike Ride

An illustration for my and your entertainment

Today was the day. I was determined. I retrieved my bicycle from the basement, got geared up and set out for my first five mile bike ride through our small town in rural Illinois of this year.

I wasn't sure if I had it in me. My dog was unhappy, because he knew what I was doing as soon as he saw the bike come up the stairs. He gets jealous, but at the same time he is 11 and he walks to and from school daily which all combined is two miles.

Once outside I zipped up my hooded sweatshirt, rolled up my jeans on my right side, not for style, but so they don't get caught in the chain. Jeans, you ask? Yeah, I don't gear up like most. My kid's softball coach would be disappointed if he saw me since he likes to remind the parents not to allow their children to wear jeans to practice.

Before I hit the road, I turned on my personal computer and opened an application to track my mileage and time as a baseline for the new year. It was now time to roll.

The ride began fine, but dang, I'm just not in shape. Three years after the accident and I still struggle.  I started huffing and puffing and I could taste the bile in my mouth after a mile. I have a lot of nerve damage so my expectations should be tempered, but Steven Seagal in "Hard to Kill" was in a coma for like seven years and when he came to he was rolling around on a gurney with a mop to push him around like he was kayaking in a raging river. Eventually, Seagal's character regains his strength and fulfills his revenge against those that murdered his family. I still get winded looking for the tv remote.

My left eye collided with two insects and I had to take evasive action to avoid another collision when a motorist backed down their driveway and into the street without noticing me. That happens way too often to believe.

When I made it back home and stepped off the bike, the discomfort was still there as it has been for the past few years. My entire foot goes numb and I can't feel the ground. It's as if I had placed my foot in a bucket of ice water for an hour. Now, nearly two hours later the temperature is beginning to rise to a normal level. It seems as if the DRG stimulator hasn't helped with everything, but it still has definitely helped with the pain.

I was able to complete my 5+ mile route that runs through neighborhoods, a brief off-road stretch, and dodging motorists in 28 minutes, which I think is about as well as I was doing at my peak last year so there's that, but I could use a nap now, for sure.

Hope, Spring, Eternal God

Spring break 2019 is over after nine days. It started with the purchase of a new bicycle for our kid. We went to a bicycle store and my daughter got to choose. I wanted her to pick the Redline BMX, but wisely she went with a seven-speed with handbrakes. Now, she can go on bike rides with me, which I enjoy much more than walking, because it feels like I'm actually exercising since I can feel an increase in my heart rate. Graduating from the coaster brakes to handbrakes was a bigger deal in her head then in reality. She made the transition in about two minutes without issue.

After that we went bowling to celebrate a 40th birthday. Unfortunately, I couldn't bowl because I'm still healing. I was offered help lifting my ball onto the assist ramp provided by the bowling alley, but I just couldn't bring myself to it. I probably could do Wii Bowling. Have you ever been to assisted living facility? I think physical therapists now have to be certified to teach Wii Bowling to seniors or one of those online schools should at least offer that certification to make more money.

On Monday, my daughter and I went to the car dealer for a recall to replace the front passenger airbag. Normally I dismiss recalls, but knowing firsthand what an airbag can do, I decided not to risk the possibility of shrapnel exploding into my face. Also, I'm the one usually sitting in the passenger seat and whenever I think something is going to happen it usually does. Instead of waiting at the dealer for the airbag to be replaced we took one of the dealer's cars and visited the LEGO store. (I kind of wanted to stay at the dealer because the last time I stayed I was subjected to the preaching of another customer waiting for their car, the Pin Hat Daredevil God (he was wearing a Daredevil shirt, the comic book hero, and his hat was covered in enamel pins. I'd post a picture, but I don't think it's necessary). It was last October and I couldn't go anywhere so I listened to his sermon. He spoke of time traveling and other dimensions and eventually he shared that he was the Eternal Lord. After ten minutes he made eye contact with me and started talking about chickens and how they are just way too big nowadays. "I went to Popeyes yesterday, bro, and I asked for a breast and a thigh and I swear it came from an ostrich. Be careful, bro," he told me... but instead of waiting at the dealer we went to the LEGO store to purchase one of our five sets that we completed over spring break. I mean, what were the chances Pin Hat would've been there again? Actually, I think the odds may have been good, because at one point he said he was the color ultra violet and that nobody was able to see him, but I could.)

During spring break the weather was warmer for a majority of the week and I averaged 2.7 miles/day of walking. I fell again at the state park, though. I knew it was coming because as soon as I had the thought, I went down, because when I think it, it happens. My piriformis started aching, but that pain has since ceased. I noticed yesterday that I was getting the nervy pain in my foot so I increased my electric stimulation and didn't feel relief so I turned off my stimulator all together to see if it was still activated and/or helping. Minutes into my test my foot temperature dropped and the throbbing nerve pain began returning like waves rolling in on a beach. I turned the stimulator back on and felt relief instantly. Colder temperatures really have a big impact on CRPS, or chronic regional pain syndrome. Bigger than I want to accept.

I got the finger yesterday! We went to Naperville for pizza and I drove. I felt confident driving since it was Sunday and there is generally less traffic on the roads. On our return home, a vehicle next to ours attempted to occupy our space while illegally trying to change lanes in the middle of an intersection so I honked and I had to brake hard to avoid the collision. I didn't get the courtesy wave or anything. Down the road we stopped next to the same vehicle. As I gave the old Stink Eye, the other driver was busy looking at her phone and when she noticed me, she set the phone down so she could raise her middle finger. Since I'm disabled due to a distracted driver I have real issues with drivers using their phones. Is it really that necessary? I know, you're an expert driver and I have no clue. All I can do is hope that other drivers aren't looking at their phones.

I have two more weeks until my next doctor's appointment. I picked off the scab on my back and you can't see my battery pack, but my wife did trick me that it was exposed and my anxiety went from 0-60 instantly. It is April 1st, so whatever.