Steven Harper's Blog, page 27
March 30, 2022
Shoulder Surgery 19 (The Brisk Doctor)
A while ago, I had another follow-up visit with the surgeon about my shoulder. These visits are always highly-charged for me. My emotions run all over the place, and I cope by shutting down. Unfortunately, this makes it difficult to respond to what's going on in the appointment.
The doctor breezed in and asked brisk questions. He ran some brisk strength tests ("Push my arm this way." "Don't let me move your arm that way") and briskly pronounced my tendons were healed enough that I didn't need physical therapy any more. It barely took two minutes of examination for him to come to this conclusion.
I was confused. "But I'm not anywhere near at normal strength, and I don't have full range of motion. Not even half."
"Then you can continue," he said with a brisk nod.
This seemed like a strange choice to have to make. I should have asked follow-up questions: Will I get full strength and range of motion back without physical therapy? If so, will it just take longer? Should I keep up the exercises at home? But I wasn't in an emotional place to think of these things.
Instead, I told him my arm still hurts regularly. I get between half and hour and 45 minutes of no pain, and then it comes back. And it always, always hurts by the end of the day and it hurts in the morning when I wake up. In fact, the pain is bad enough that it forces me out of bed. I can't sleep in much.
I also asked why, thirteen weeks post-surgery, I was still having pain when I was told that the pain would stop at eight to ten weeks.
Here, he gave a shrug. A brisk one. "The tendon is still inflamed. Over the next weeks or months, the pain will fade away."
I was shocked again. I still have to take opiate pain meds on a regular basis, and at that time I was 13 weeks post-surgery. (For the record, I still have to, and I'm in week 14.) "Months?" I repeated stupidly.
"It can happen," he said briskly. "I'll tell the PT clinic you want to keep going, if you want. See you again in six weeks." And he left.
The pain revelation was a gut punch. First it was the pain would be gone in a couple weeks. After a couple weeks, I learned that, no, it would be at least a couple months. Now it's more and more months.
I try to tell myself that the pain is less. It's less than it was in January. It's less than it was before the operation. I had to have the operation to repair existing damage and to stop it from getting worse. But the pain is still there, gnawing at me and draining me. I feel like I was tricked into having the surgery. And the doctor couldn't get out of there fast enough. It's like he was dodging questions because he knew he had no answers--or he was afraid of my reaction to them. Why wasn't I told at the beginning that this was how it would be? Where are the strategies for dealing with the pain? The scrips I have don't work very well--they just fuzz me out so I don't mind being in pain. The pain itself remains.
I got out to the car and I cried again and banged my fists on the steering wheel before I could drive home.
Yesterday, I decided to see if I could find a pain specialist. But the one I called put me on hold for twenty minutes while a recorded voice told me they were experiencing a high call volume. I finally hung up. I guess I'll try again elsewhere.
And my arm hurts while I type this.
comments
The doctor breezed in and asked brisk questions. He ran some brisk strength tests ("Push my arm this way." "Don't let me move your arm that way") and briskly pronounced my tendons were healed enough that I didn't need physical therapy any more. It barely took two minutes of examination for him to come to this conclusion.
I was confused. "But I'm not anywhere near at normal strength, and I don't have full range of motion. Not even half."
"Then you can continue," he said with a brisk nod.
This seemed like a strange choice to have to make. I should have asked follow-up questions: Will I get full strength and range of motion back without physical therapy? If so, will it just take longer? Should I keep up the exercises at home? But I wasn't in an emotional place to think of these things.
Instead, I told him my arm still hurts regularly. I get between half and hour and 45 minutes of no pain, and then it comes back. And it always, always hurts by the end of the day and it hurts in the morning when I wake up. In fact, the pain is bad enough that it forces me out of bed. I can't sleep in much.
I also asked why, thirteen weeks post-surgery, I was still having pain when I was told that the pain would stop at eight to ten weeks.
Here, he gave a shrug. A brisk one. "The tendon is still inflamed. Over the next weeks or months, the pain will fade away."
I was shocked again. I still have to take opiate pain meds on a regular basis, and at that time I was 13 weeks post-surgery. (For the record, I still have to, and I'm in week 14.) "Months?" I repeated stupidly.
"It can happen," he said briskly. "I'll tell the PT clinic you want to keep going, if you want. See you again in six weeks." And he left.
The pain revelation was a gut punch. First it was the pain would be gone in a couple weeks. After a couple weeks, I learned that, no, it would be at least a couple months. Now it's more and more months.
I try to tell myself that the pain is less. It's less than it was in January. It's less than it was before the operation. I had to have the operation to repair existing damage and to stop it from getting worse. But the pain is still there, gnawing at me and draining me. I feel like I was tricked into having the surgery. And the doctor couldn't get out of there fast enough. It's like he was dodging questions because he knew he had no answers--or he was afraid of my reaction to them. Why wasn't I told at the beginning that this was how it would be? Where are the strategies for dealing with the pain? The scrips I have don't work very well--they just fuzz me out so I don't mind being in pain. The pain itself remains.
I got out to the car and I cried again and banged my fists on the steering wheel before I could drive home.
Yesterday, I decided to see if I could find a pain specialist. But the one I called put me on hold for twenty minutes while a recorded voice told me they were experiencing a high call volume. I finally hung up. I guess I'll try again elsewhere.
And my arm hurts while I type this.
comments
March 28, 2022
Lawrence, For Better or For Worse
Lynn Johnston is re-running on her FOR BETTER OR FOR WORSE website the story of Lawrence coming out. It first ran in 1993, creating a lot of controversy ("You can't put that in a family newspaper comic strip!") and ultimately winning Johnston a Pulitzer.
I was in college for the second time when that came out. I was a member of Central Michigan University's LGTB organization, and the strips were posted all over the group's cubicle space in the student organization center. The strip was an incredible thing to see. I finally called THE MIDLAND DAILY NEWS, which was running the strip, and got hold of the editor to tell him how wonderful it was, and how happy we all were to see it.
"Oh!" the editor said. "I was afraid you another person calling to complain about the strip. We've gotten a lot of those."
"No, we think it's fantastic," I said. "Don't listen to the complainers. The people who love the strip just aren't calling you. It's the way people think."
He laughed and agreed.
You can read it daily below:
https://fborfw.com/strip_fix/saturday-march-26-2022/
And here's a link to the story of the story:
https://www.fborfw.com/news/lawrence-coming-out/
comments
I was in college for the second time when that came out. I was a member of Central Michigan University's LGTB organization, and the strips were posted all over the group's cubicle space in the student organization center. The strip was an incredible thing to see. I finally called THE MIDLAND DAILY NEWS, which was running the strip, and got hold of the editor to tell him how wonderful it was, and how happy we all were to see it.
"Oh!" the editor said. "I was afraid you another person calling to complain about the strip. We've gotten a lot of those."
"No, we think it's fantastic," I said. "Don't listen to the complainers. The people who love the strip just aren't calling you. It's the way people think."
He laughed and agreed.
You can read it daily below:
https://fborfw.com/strip_fix/saturday-march-26-2022/
And here's a link to the story of the story:
https://www.fborfw.com/news/lawrence-coming-out/
comments
March 25, 2022
How Not To Address the Teacher Shortage
The writing in this article is extraordinarily awful, but it brings to light an equally awful situation.
Short version: In order to punish teachers who quit during the school year, Texas voids their teacher certification, meaning they can't teach =anywhere=. Not only does this highlight the continuing war against teachers by the GOP, it is also beyond foolish. In the middle of the biggest teacher shortage in American history, Texas is kicking teachers out of the profession AND discouraging existing teachers from coming to Texas AND discouraging young people from becoming teachers.
https://www.kxan.com/investigations/more-texas-schools-threaten-teacher-certificates-for-those-who-quit/
comments
Short version: In order to punish teachers who quit during the school year, Texas voids their teacher certification, meaning they can't teach =anywhere=. Not only does this highlight the continuing war against teachers by the GOP, it is also beyond foolish. In the middle of the biggest teacher shortage in American history, Texas is kicking teachers out of the profession AND discouraging existing teachers from coming to Texas AND discouraging young people from becoming teachers.
https://www.kxan.com/investigations/more-texas-schools-threaten-teacher-certificates-for-those-who-quit/
comments
March 17, 2022
Conservative Lawsuit Idiocy
https://www.theoaklandpress.com/.../lawsuit-school.../
I have a lot to say about this lawsuit.
You'll notice that Litkouhi (who is clearly a shill for the Mackinac Center) has children in the district, but nowhere does the article say she has children in the class. Why is she demanding lesson plans for a class her children aren't involved in? (Answer: she and the Center are just trying to make it look like the district is keeping secrets about what it's teaching.)Litkouhi also claims she demanded curriculum, but didn't get lesson plans, videos, activities, or tests, so she's suing. But these materials aren't curriculum. Curriculum is the overall stuff: learning goals, benchmarks, and so on. The delivery of curriculum via daily lesson plans is up to the teacher, but those plans and materials aren't part of the curriculum. Litkouhi got what she asked for, and she's complaining about it.We have some information here that's fuzzy. Various articles note the course is brand new. This would indicate that the materials Litkouhi is demanding literally don't exist yet. Most teachers plan about a week in advance. Plan further ahead than that, and you're asking for trouble--too many circumstances will force you to change stuff (snow days, fire drills, assemblies, teacher absences, the need to re-teach, and on and on and on).
Other articles claim the course has been taught for six months, but the district claims they don't have the material in question. See? They're KEEPING SECRETS. But it's not clear that lesson plans fall under FOIA. Teachers aren't required to file them officially or anything. The district as an entity doesn't actually have any way to ensure that lesson plans exist in written form. They may exist solely in the teacher's head. I know some teachers who have been teaching for so long, they don't write lesson plans down, except perhaps as cryptic notes like "Unt. 4, x 1-20." Additionally, since school districts don't keep teacher-created lesson plans on file, the district has no real way to confirm that lesson plans actually exist. The district could order teachers to hand over copies of their notes, but if the teacher said, "I don't have any," or if the notes made no sense to an outside reader, there's nothing under FOIA to require them in written form.
Litkouhi is also demanding prompts the teacher created in Flipgrid and on Google Classroom. But those materials actually belong to Flipgrid and Google. Litkouhi wold have to file a FOIA from them. Good luck with that.
In any case, I don't understand why Litkouhi doesn't simply ask the teacher. Or the students in the class.
It's NEVER a secret what a teacher is teaching. I have over 160 students. Do you think ANYTHING I do in the classroom is a secret? That I could somehow force 160 teenagers to keep quiet about what happens in my class? Please. Litkouhi and the Center are just trying to get support for the "force schools to post all lesson plans a year in advance" movement.
comments
I have a lot to say about this lawsuit.
You'll notice that Litkouhi (who is clearly a shill for the Mackinac Center) has children in the district, but nowhere does the article say she has children in the class. Why is she demanding lesson plans for a class her children aren't involved in? (Answer: she and the Center are just trying to make it look like the district is keeping secrets about what it's teaching.)Litkouhi also claims she demanded curriculum, but didn't get lesson plans, videos, activities, or tests, so she's suing. But these materials aren't curriculum. Curriculum is the overall stuff: learning goals, benchmarks, and so on. The delivery of curriculum via daily lesson plans is up to the teacher, but those plans and materials aren't part of the curriculum. Litkouhi got what she asked for, and she's complaining about it.We have some information here that's fuzzy. Various articles note the course is brand new. This would indicate that the materials Litkouhi is demanding literally don't exist yet. Most teachers plan about a week in advance. Plan further ahead than that, and you're asking for trouble--too many circumstances will force you to change stuff (snow days, fire drills, assemblies, teacher absences, the need to re-teach, and on and on and on).
Other articles claim the course has been taught for six months, but the district claims they don't have the material in question. See? They're KEEPING SECRETS. But it's not clear that lesson plans fall under FOIA. Teachers aren't required to file them officially or anything. The district as an entity doesn't actually have any way to ensure that lesson plans exist in written form. They may exist solely in the teacher's head. I know some teachers who have been teaching for so long, they don't write lesson plans down, except perhaps as cryptic notes like "Unt. 4, x 1-20." Additionally, since school districts don't keep teacher-created lesson plans on file, the district has no real way to confirm that lesson plans actually exist. The district could order teachers to hand over copies of their notes, but if the teacher said, "I don't have any," or if the notes made no sense to an outside reader, there's nothing under FOIA to require them in written form.
Litkouhi is also demanding prompts the teacher created in Flipgrid and on Google Classroom. But those materials actually belong to Flipgrid and Google. Litkouhi wold have to file a FOIA from them. Good luck with that.
In any case, I don't understand why Litkouhi doesn't simply ask the teacher. Or the students in the class.
It's NEVER a secret what a teacher is teaching. I have over 160 students. Do you think ANYTHING I do in the classroom is a secret? That I could somehow force 160 teenagers to keep quiet about what happens in my class? Please. Litkouhi and the Center are just trying to get support for the "force schools to post all lesson plans a year in advance" movement.
comments
stevenpiziks @ 2022-03-17T19:48:00
https://www.theoaklandpress.com/.../lawsuit-school.../
I have a lot to say about this lawsuit.
You'll notice that Litkouhi (who is clearly a shill for the Mackinac Center) has children in the district, but nowhere does the article say she has children in the class. Why is she demanding lesson plans for a class her children aren't involved in? (Answer: she and the Center are just trying to make it look like the district is keeping secrets about what it's teaching.)Litkouhi also claims she demanded curriculum, but didn't get lesson plans, videos, activities, or tests, so she's suing. But these materials aren't curriculum. Curriculum is the overall stuff: learning goals, benchmarks, and so on. The delivery of curriculum via daily lesson plans is up to the teacher, but those plans and materials aren't part of the curriculum. Litkouhi got what she asked for, and she's complaining about it.We have some information here that's fuzzy. Various articles note the course is brand new. This would indicate that the materials Litkouhi is demanding literally don't exist yet. Most teachers plan about a week in advance. Plan further ahead than that, and you're asking for trouble--too many circumstances will force you to change stuff (snow days, fire drills, assemblies, teacher absences, the need to re-teach, and on and on and on).
Other articles claim the course has been taught for six months, but the district claims they don't have the material in question. See? They're KEEPING SECRETS. But it's not clear that lesson plans fall under FOIA. Teachers aren't required to file them officially or anything. The district as an entity doesn't actually have any way to ensure that lesson plans exist in written form. They may exist solely in the teacher's head. I know some teachers who have been teaching for so long, they don't write lesson plans down, except perhaps as cryptic notes like "Unt. 4, x 1-20." Additionally, since school districts don't keep teacher-created lesson plans on file, the district has no real way to confirm that lesson plans actually exist. The district could order teachers to hand over copies of their notes, but if the teacher said, "I don't have any," or if the notes made no sense to an outside reader, there's nothing under FOIA to require them in written form.
Litkouhi is also demanding prompts the teacher created in Flipgrid and on Google Classroom. But those materials actually belong to Flipgrid and Google. Litkouhi wold have to file a FOIA from them. Good luck with that.
In any case, I don't understand why Litkouhi doesn't simply ask the teacher. Or the students in the class.
It's NEVER a secret what a teacher is teaching. I have over 160 students. Do you think ANYTHING I do in the classroom is a secret? That I could somehow force 160 teenagers to keep quiet about what happens in my class? Please. Litkouhi and the Center are just trying to get support for the "force schools to post all lesson plans a year in advance" movement.
comments
I have a lot to say about this lawsuit.
You'll notice that Litkouhi (who is clearly a shill for the Mackinac Center) has children in the district, but nowhere does the article say she has children in the class. Why is she demanding lesson plans for a class her children aren't involved in? (Answer: she and the Center are just trying to make it look like the district is keeping secrets about what it's teaching.)Litkouhi also claims she demanded curriculum, but didn't get lesson plans, videos, activities, or tests, so she's suing. But these materials aren't curriculum. Curriculum is the overall stuff: learning goals, benchmarks, and so on. The delivery of curriculum via daily lesson plans is up to the teacher, but those plans and materials aren't part of the curriculum. Litkouhi got what she asked for, and she's complaining about it.We have some information here that's fuzzy. Various articles note the course is brand new. This would indicate that the materials Litkouhi is demanding literally don't exist yet. Most teachers plan about a week in advance. Plan further ahead than that, and you're asking for trouble--too many circumstances will force you to change stuff (snow days, fire drills, assemblies, teacher absences, the need to re-teach, and on and on and on).
Other articles claim the course has been taught for six months, but the district claims they don't have the material in question. See? They're KEEPING SECRETS. But it's not clear that lesson plans fall under FOIA. Teachers aren't required to file them officially or anything. The district as an entity doesn't actually have any way to ensure that lesson plans exist in written form. They may exist solely in the teacher's head. I know some teachers who have been teaching for so long, they don't write lesson plans down, except perhaps as cryptic notes like "Unt. 4, x 1-20." Additionally, since school districts don't keep teacher-created lesson plans on file, the district has no real way to confirm that lesson plans actually exist. The district could order teachers to hand over copies of their notes, but if the teacher said, "I don't have any," or if the notes made no sense to an outside reader, there's nothing under FOIA to require them in written form.
Litkouhi is also demanding prompts the teacher created in Flipgrid and on Google Classroom. But those materials actually belong to Flipgrid and Google. Litkouhi wold have to file a FOIA from them. Good luck with that.
In any case, I don't understand why Litkouhi doesn't simply ask the teacher. Or the students in the class.
It's NEVER a secret what a teacher is teaching. I have over 160 students. Do you think ANYTHING I do in the classroom is a secret? That I could somehow force 160 teenagers to keep quiet about what happens in my class? Please. Litkouhi and the Center are just trying to get support for the "force schools to post all lesson plans a year in advance" movement.
comments
Weird Sick Day
Today I was halfway to work when a wave of nausea swept over me and I realized I was sweating heavily. Seriously heavily. I wiped my face and head with a paper napkin, and it was instantly drenched. The nausea got worse, and I seriously considered pulling over to throw up.
I got to work and the feelings abated a little, though not entirely. I asked the building secretary if she had any extra subs available that day, and she said she did. I told her how I was feeling and that I wasn't sure I'd make it through the day. She nodded and told me to hit her up if I needed to go home.
I was getting a little worried. What was this? I'd recently changed around some of my medications. Was this a symptom? Was it food poisoning? I haven't had illness-related nausea in years and years.
In my classroom, the nausea returned at full force, and I felt . . . wrong. Not achy or feverish. Just wrong. I decided I'd better go home. I called the secretary, and she sent up a substitute. I threw together some lesson plans and announced to my first hour what was going on.
"Oh!" said one student. "That's the nine-hour bug."
I blinked. "I haven't heard of this one."
Another student chimed in. "Yeah, lots of people are getting sick. Nausea, sweating. But only for about nine hours."
Other students were nodding in agreement.
"I'm glad you brought this up," I replied. "I was worried something was seriously wrong!"
I went home to a startled Darwin and slept all morning, and then slept a good chunk of the afternoon. The weather had turned unseasonably warm (low seventies), and I wanted to go on a ride, the first of the season, but I didn't have the energy, so I read on the balcony.
I'm feeling rather better now. The nausea is gone, but I still feel dragged out.
It was a weird sick day.
comments
I got to work and the feelings abated a little, though not entirely. I asked the building secretary if she had any extra subs available that day, and she said she did. I told her how I was feeling and that I wasn't sure I'd make it through the day. She nodded and told me to hit her up if I needed to go home.
I was getting a little worried. What was this? I'd recently changed around some of my medications. Was this a symptom? Was it food poisoning? I haven't had illness-related nausea in years and years.
In my classroom, the nausea returned at full force, and I felt . . . wrong. Not achy or feverish. Just wrong. I decided I'd better go home. I called the secretary, and she sent up a substitute. I threw together some lesson plans and announced to my first hour what was going on.
"Oh!" said one student. "That's the nine-hour bug."
I blinked. "I haven't heard of this one."
Another student chimed in. "Yeah, lots of people are getting sick. Nausea, sweating. But only for about nine hours."
Other students were nodding in agreement.
"I'm glad you brought this up," I replied. "I was worried something was seriously wrong!"
I went home to a startled Darwin and slept all morning, and then slept a good chunk of the afternoon. The weather had turned unseasonably warm (low seventies), and I wanted to go on a ride, the first of the season, but I didn't have the energy, so I read on the balcony.
I'm feeling rather better now. The nausea is gone, but I still feel dragged out.
It was a weird sick day.
comments
March 16, 2022
Shoulder Surgery 18 (Pop!)
As I've observed before, the problem with physical therapy is that pain is the measure of everything. You do something until it hurts BAD. If it doesn't hurt, it isn't helping. If the pain stops, you push until it does. So it always ALWAYS hurts.
The worst and most painful section of shoulder surgery is regaining the ability to reach behind your back. It's the last thing to return, and the most difficult to pull off. I have to use pulleys that haul my arm up behind my back until the pain makes me sweat (hold it there for thirty seconds . . . now do it again). T--, my therapist, also does painful stretches on me. While I'm seated, he holds my arm out sideways and bent at the elbow so my hand is pointing down. Then, with my elbow held firmly in place, he bends my forearm backward and toward my back until I yell. He holds it there for an agonizingly long time while I clench my free hand into a fist that puts marks on my palm, then finally puts my arm back in my lap. I always need a few minutes to recover. Sometimes I get dizzy--the abrupt surcease of pain when he brings my arm back is literally staggering.
My hyper-flexibility is another enemy here. At the moment, I can reach the small of my back. With the pulleys, I can go about halfway up my spine. For many people, this is the farthest they can go, but in my case, I'm less than halfway there. So the stretches and pain have to continue.
Today during this particular stretch, T-- bent my arm farther than before, and I yelped at him to stop. He held my arm in position as usual, and I was channeling everything into that fist. It was awful, as usual.
Then something . . . gave. It was almost a pop. And the pain ended. I felt nothing at all.
I reported this to T--. "This doesn't even feel like I'm stretching."
In response, T-- bent my arm farther still. And farther. The back of my hand was touching the back of my chair. Still I felt nothing.
"Let's have you stand up," T-- said.
I got up. T-- stood behind me, holding my wrist and elbow in that restraining move you sometimes see cops use. He pulled up and up until the pain flashed down my arm again and I told him to stop. As usual, he held my arm in position and my fist clenched tight enough to turn coal into diamond. Then he relaxed me. The pain ended so abruptly, I had to sit down.
"That's good," T-- said, and offered me an ice pack.
Pain is progress and progress is pain.
comments
The worst and most painful section of shoulder surgery is regaining the ability to reach behind your back. It's the last thing to return, and the most difficult to pull off. I have to use pulleys that haul my arm up behind my back until the pain makes me sweat (hold it there for thirty seconds . . . now do it again). T--, my therapist, also does painful stretches on me. While I'm seated, he holds my arm out sideways and bent at the elbow so my hand is pointing down. Then, with my elbow held firmly in place, he bends my forearm backward and toward my back until I yell. He holds it there for an agonizingly long time while I clench my free hand into a fist that puts marks on my palm, then finally puts my arm back in my lap. I always need a few minutes to recover. Sometimes I get dizzy--the abrupt surcease of pain when he brings my arm back is literally staggering.
My hyper-flexibility is another enemy here. At the moment, I can reach the small of my back. With the pulleys, I can go about halfway up my spine. For many people, this is the farthest they can go, but in my case, I'm less than halfway there. So the stretches and pain have to continue.
Today during this particular stretch, T-- bent my arm farther than before, and I yelped at him to stop. He held my arm in position as usual, and I was channeling everything into that fist. It was awful, as usual.
Then something . . . gave. It was almost a pop. And the pain ended. I felt nothing at all.
I reported this to T--. "This doesn't even feel like I'm stretching."
In response, T-- bent my arm farther still. And farther. The back of my hand was touching the back of my chair. Still I felt nothing.
"Let's have you stand up," T-- said.
I got up. T-- stood behind me, holding my wrist and elbow in that restraining move you sometimes see cops use. He pulled up and up until the pain flashed down my arm again and I told him to stop. As usual, he held my arm in position and my fist clenched tight enough to turn coal into diamond. Then he relaxed me. The pain ended so abruptly, I had to sit down.
"That's good," T-- said, and offered me an ice pack.
Pain is progress and progress is pain.
comments
Carpe Jugulum
My seniors have a heavy reading list. MAUS. THE COLOR PURPLE. HAMLET. OEDIPUS THE KING. It becomes dolorous after a while.
I considered changing it up, but wasn't sure if I'd be able to. Introducing a new book means an entirely new set of lesson plans, activities, and assessments. It also means doing a very close read of the book with an eye to the classroom, and not to personal enjoyment. In other words, a lot of work. And I'm at a point in my career where I'm not really up for giving myself a lot of work--I have plenty already!
But last week, my three sections of seniors spent several days in the computer lab working on a project, and I found myself completely caught up on lesson planning and paper grading. Bored and at loose ends, I dove into CARPE JUGULUM.
I put together an entire unit, complete with activities and discussion points, and created a daily lesson map. And it looks good. Wow!
So I'm going to teach a new unit after all!
Seize the day! By the throat.
comments
I considered changing it up, but wasn't sure if I'd be able to. Introducing a new book means an entirely new set of lesson plans, activities, and assessments. It also means doing a very close read of the book with an eye to the classroom, and not to personal enjoyment. In other words, a lot of work. And I'm at a point in my career where I'm not really up for giving myself a lot of work--I have plenty already!
But last week, my three sections of seniors spent several days in the computer lab working on a project, and I found myself completely caught up on lesson planning and paper grading. Bored and at loose ends, I dove into CARPE JUGULUM.
I put together an entire unit, complete with activities and discussion points, and created a daily lesson map. And it looks good. Wow!
So I'm going to teach a new unit after all!
Seize the day! By the throat.
comments
March 13, 2022
My Relationship With Chocolate Milk
The painkillers I still have to take for my shoulder are a bit problematic. They make me feel fuzzy around the edges and they cause a certain amount of constipation. I can't do anything about the first problem, but for the second, I have a secret weapon:
Chocolate milk.
See, I'm a little lactose intolerant. Just a little. I can handle most milk products, but for some reason, commercial chocolate milk sets it off. When I was encountering the above-mentioned digestive problems with my painkillers, it occurred to me that chocolate milk might be a decent solution. I bought half a gallon.
Commercial chocolate milk is really thick and sugary, though, and I don't like it much. So I mixed it half and half with regular milk to water it down (milk it down?). Much better! And yep--painkiller problems cleared up nicely.
So now we have chocolate milk in the fridge.
comments
Chocolate milk.
See, I'm a little lactose intolerant. Just a little. I can handle most milk products, but for some reason, commercial chocolate milk sets it off. When I was encountering the above-mentioned digestive problems with my painkillers, it occurred to me that chocolate milk might be a decent solution. I bought half a gallon.
Commercial chocolate milk is really thick and sugary, though, and I don't like it much. So I mixed it half and half with regular milk to water it down (milk it down?). Much better! And yep--painkiller problems cleared up nicely.
So now we have chocolate milk in the fridge.
comments
March 9, 2022
Kidney Update
A while ago, I had my regularly-scheduled ultrasound appointment to see what my kidneys were doing to me =this= time. This is a two-stage process: first, the appointment with a tech who performs the ultrasound, and second the appointment with the urologist a few days later to talk about them.
During the session with the technician, I could see her screen as she ran the probe and its gooey lubricant over my sides. I've become adept at reading these things by now, and I could tell she had spotted stones. Techs usually don't like to answer patient questions about their results (in case the patient takes it as an official diagnosis), but I always ask. To my surprise, this time the tech said that she had indeed seen at least two stones, though she wouldn't say how big they were.
I was uneasy. I'd been getting twinges now and then, and was wondering if yet another surgery was coming up. I wasn't up for it. Not now.
A couple days later, I got an email alert that I had test results in my patient portal. They must have been the ultrasound reports. With my jaw clenched, I checked and found I was right.
Two kidney stones, one in each side. Both in the lower poles (the bottom of the kidneys). One was 5 mm, the other 9 mm.
At 5-9 mm, I happen to know, you have a 50% chance of being able to pass the stone, and a 50% chance it'll get stuck on the way out. Also, stones in the lower poles are really difficult to clear out with lithotripsy. They often require a scope and uretal stents, both of which always cause me enormous amounts of pain. Now I was getting panicky. Darwin did his best to calm me down, but it was a losing battle.
Darwin took me to the urologist's office because I couldn't face this alone, and because I had taken enough Xanax to stun a doberman.
At the office, we waited in tense silence in the waiting room while an enormously rotund man alternated talking to the receptionist and booming into his cell phone. He had a voice like a foghorn, and he bellowed to his unseen partner several salacious details about an estate case he was involved in. ("At this point, I don't give a damn about the kids," he snapped. "They aren't mentioned in the will, so they take what they can get.") He clearly wanted everyone around him to know he was a Very Important Lawyer. We found him both annoying and foolish.
Finally I was called into an examination room, and after the usual check-in procedures, my urologist entered.
"You have a couple kidney stones," he announced.
"I saw," I said. "Five and nine."
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During the session with the technician, I could see her screen as she ran the probe and its gooey lubricant over my sides. I've become adept at reading these things by now, and I could tell she had spotted stones. Techs usually don't like to answer patient questions about their results (in case the patient takes it as an official diagnosis), but I always ask. To my surprise, this time the tech said that she had indeed seen at least two stones, though she wouldn't say how big they were.
I was uneasy. I'd been getting twinges now and then, and was wondering if yet another surgery was coming up. I wasn't up for it. Not now.
A couple days later, I got an email alert that I had test results in my patient portal. They must have been the ultrasound reports. With my jaw clenched, I checked and found I was right.
Two kidney stones, one in each side. Both in the lower poles (the bottom of the kidneys). One was 5 mm, the other 9 mm.
At 5-9 mm, I happen to know, you have a 50% chance of being able to pass the stone, and a 50% chance it'll get stuck on the way out. Also, stones in the lower poles are really difficult to clear out with lithotripsy. They often require a scope and uretal stents, both of which always cause me enormous amounts of pain. Now I was getting panicky. Darwin did his best to calm me down, but it was a losing battle.
Darwin took me to the urologist's office because I couldn't face this alone, and because I had taken enough Xanax to stun a doberman.
At the office, we waited in tense silence in the waiting room while an enormously rotund man alternated talking to the receptionist and booming into his cell phone. He had a voice like a foghorn, and he bellowed to his unseen partner several salacious details about an estate case he was involved in. ("At this point, I don't give a damn about the kids," he snapped. "They aren't mentioned in the will, so they take what they can get.") He clearly wanted everyone around him to know he was a Very Important Lawyer. We found him both annoying and foolish.
Finally I was called into an examination room, and after the usual check-in procedures, my urologist entered.
"You have a couple kidney stones," he announced.
"I saw," I said. "Five and nine."
He nodded. "But fortunately, the ultrasound often magnifies them, and makes them seem about twice as large."
Eh? I had never heard of this phenomenon, and wasn't sure what to make of it.
"We could go after them," he continued, "but they aren't causing any swelling, and they'd be hard to target with lithotripsy. We could scope them out and put in stents--"
"Nope," I said.
"--or we could just wait and see," he finished. "Stones in lower poles don't tend to move much, which is good in that they might not bother you, but bad in that they might not pass on their own."
I felt some cautious relief. I didn't need another operation just yet. Okay, then.
We'll check them again in six months.
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