Steven Harper's Blog, page 70
January 14, 2018
Pre-Exam Week
This previous week was the last week before final exams. Monday there's no school, Tuesday is a regular day (and it'll be review all day), and exams run Wednesday through Friday.
I'm getting my usual Hail, Mary begging. "What can I do to bring my grade up?" (Study hard for the final and get an A.) "Can I turn in these missing assignments from October?" (No.) "Can I turn in extra credit?" (No.) "I'm going to fail English 12 unless my grade comes up!" (Yes. A pity you weren't this worried a month ago, when you could have done something about it.)
Unfortunately, I have a number of seniors this year who won't pass the first semester of English 12, which means they won't graduate. (Michigan law states you have to pass eight semesters of English. Miss even one, and you don't graduate, no exceptions, no excuses.) It means a flurry of emails, phone calls, begging, and me repeating, "Sorry. I've been warning you and your parents for months this could happen, and it's too late now." It's sad, and I wish it could be otherwise.
And now we charge into final exams!
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I'm getting my usual Hail, Mary begging. "What can I do to bring my grade up?" (Study hard for the final and get an A.) "Can I turn in these missing assignments from October?" (No.) "Can I turn in extra credit?" (No.) "I'm going to fail English 12 unless my grade comes up!" (Yes. A pity you weren't this worried a month ago, when you could have done something about it.)
Unfortunately, I have a number of seniors this year who won't pass the first semester of English 12, which means they won't graduate. (Michigan law states you have to pass eight semesters of English. Miss even one, and you don't graduate, no exceptions, no excuses.) It means a flurry of emails, phone calls, begging, and me repeating, "Sorry. I've been warning you and your parents for months this could happen, and it's too late now." It's sad, and I wish it could be otherwise.
And now we charge into final exams!
comments
The Rowing Machine
All my exercise (biking, running) involve my legs and nothing else. This isn't good for me, in the grand scheme. I need to work my upper half. Darwin has an elliptical, but I hate using it. It makes my joints feel weird. I finally settled wanting on a rowing machine, which works a lot of different muscles all at once.
I hinted to Darwin that I wanted one for my birthday, then remembered that subtlety is often lost on him and instead pointed at a web site on my computer. "This is what I want for my birthday," I said.
And lo, a few days before my birthday, a giant package landed on our front porch. Darwin had told me not to open any packages that came because it would be a birthday spoiler, but this one said ROWING MACHINE on three sides, so it was kind of hard to miss. :)
Thoughtful Darwin had also arranged for a guy to come to our house to assemble thing thing. Also yay! Both Darwin and I are bad at this kind of thing, and I really, really hate doing it, to boot.
Friday (just before Assembly Day), Darwin got an email that gave him the assembler's name and photograph along with the estimated time of arrival. Saturday morning, he arrived and I shooed him into the basement exercise room. It only took him about half an hour to assemble the whole machine. Judging from the number of parts, it would have taken me a couple frustrating hours, so I was only too glad to have him.
Later that afternoon, I looked up a number of videos that explained how to use a rowing machine properly. It's been years--decades--since I used one, and that was in the days before the Internet, so I never really learned it. I set my phone where I could see it and followed the videos until I had the hang of it, and went to work.
It was more interesting than running, that's for sure. The 20-minute workout went quickly, and I could feel it across my body. We'll keep going!
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I hinted to Darwin that I wanted one for my birthday, then remembered that subtlety is often lost on him and instead pointed at a web site on my computer. "This is what I want for my birthday," I said.
And lo, a few days before my birthday, a giant package landed on our front porch. Darwin had told me not to open any packages that came because it would be a birthday spoiler, but this one said ROWING MACHINE on three sides, so it was kind of hard to miss. :)
Thoughtful Darwin had also arranged for a guy to come to our house to assemble thing thing. Also yay! Both Darwin and I are bad at this kind of thing, and I really, really hate doing it, to boot.
Friday (just before Assembly Day), Darwin got an email that gave him the assembler's name and photograph along with the estimated time of arrival. Saturday morning, he arrived and I shooed him into the basement exercise room. It only took him about half an hour to assemble the whole machine. Judging from the number of parts, it would have taken me a couple frustrating hours, so I was only too glad to have him.
Later that afternoon, I looked up a number of videos that explained how to use a rowing machine properly. It's been years--decades--since I used one, and that was in the days before the Internet, so I never really learned it. I set my phone where I could see it and followed the videos until I had the hang of it, and went to work.
It was more interesting than running, that's for sure. The 20-minute workout went quickly, and I could feel it across my body. We'll keep going!
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Birthday, 2018
For my birthday this week, we had a very nice family celebration. I got cards from several members of my family, and my mother enclosed a postcard with an Apache blessing on it that was supposed to go with the dual-necked vase she got us for our wedding ceremony.
I joked with Darwin that since I was household cook, no one got me a cake, but since we've changed our eating habits, that was probably for the better. Besides, my friend Michelle got me a little tray of birthday brownies at work. Yay!
At supper, Darwin, Max, and I went to Casey's in downtown Wherever. This is the place I call the Irish Sushi Pub, since they have upscale pub food and a sushi bar both, meaning Darwin can have American food and Max and I can get sushi.
When we got home, Darwin unveiled with some fanfare a chocolate cake! Ta da! We laughed over that. It turns out when he went to the store to get it, the cashier looked at the inscription ("Happy Birthday Steven") and said, "That's so nice! Is this for your son?"
"No," Darwin said. "It's for my husband."
"Oh!" was all the cashier could manage. We have a ways to go yet . . .
And I also got a rowing machine. Keep reading.
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I joked with Darwin that since I was household cook, no one got me a cake, but since we've changed our eating habits, that was probably for the better. Besides, my friend Michelle got me a little tray of birthday brownies at work. Yay!
At supper, Darwin, Max, and I went to Casey's in downtown Wherever. This is the place I call the Irish Sushi Pub, since they have upscale pub food and a sushi bar both, meaning Darwin can have American food and Max and I can get sushi.
When we got home, Darwin unveiled with some fanfare a chocolate cake! Ta da! We laughed over that. It turns out when he went to the store to get it, the cashier looked at the inscription ("Happy Birthday Steven") and said, "That's so nice! Is this for your son?"
"No," Darwin said. "It's for my husband."
"Oh!" was all the cashier could manage. We have a ways to go yet . . .
And I also got a rowing machine. Keep reading.
comments
January 7, 2018
Heat and Pain
When I went to Dr. L-- about the kidney pain I was having, he said he wasn't sure why I was having it. I shouldn't be having it at all--the stone embedded in my kidney wasn't blocking anything. I said I don't want to swallow daily doses of Norco. Was there anything to do?
"Try heat," he said.
Then the pain went away for a week. So I dropped the matter.
Now the pain is back and won't go away. It's been over a week and I'm still in low-level pain.
Today I braved the cold to make a trip to the store. I bought a small heating pad and put it in my office. I've been sitting with it pressed gently to my side for a couple hours now. I'm noticing any change in the pain, though the heat feels nice in the sub-zero weather.
I'll keep trying and see what happens. Meanwhile, I've had a kidney ultrasound and I sent the 24-hour urine thing to the lab. I'm seeing Dr. H-- on Wednesday. Hopefully he'll have some insight.
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"Try heat," he said.
Then the pain went away for a week. So I dropped the matter.
Now the pain is back and won't go away. It's been over a week and I'm still in low-level pain.
Today I braved the cold to make a trip to the store. I bought a small heating pad and put it in my office. I've been sitting with it pressed gently to my side for a couple hours now. I'm noticing any change in the pain, though the heat feels nice in the sub-zero weather.
I'll keep trying and see what happens. Meanwhile, I've had a kidney ultrasound and I sent the 24-hour urine thing to the lab. I'm seeing Dr. H-- on Wednesday. Hopefully he'll have some insight.
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The Handyman Cometh
Darwin and I aren't very good at handyman stuff. I do a number of small things, but larger jobs? Nope. Even some smaller jobs (like installing a towel rack) I'm not good at. I can teach a kid who can barely write a sentence to write an entire essay, and I can write a novel that will make you laugh and cry on alternate pages, but the tool stuff is beyond me. Darwin is the same.
We have two major projects--a sink pump in the basement, and installing a new shower curtain rod that hangs from the ceiling. The sink pump involves both water and electricity, and the shower curtain rod involves drilling into tile. Nope nope nope! So we called a handyman. His name is Kevin.
Kevin showed up today with a big toolbox, and I was only too happy to point him toward the basement. I teach the kids, Darwin handles the city, and Kevin handles the building repairs. It's how our society gets along!
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We have two major projects--a sink pump in the basement, and installing a new shower curtain rod that hangs from the ceiling. The sink pump involves both water and electricity, and the shower curtain rod involves drilling into tile. Nope nope nope! So we called a handyman. His name is Kevin.
Kevin showed up today with a big toolbox, and I was only too happy to point him toward the basement. I teach the kids, Darwin handles the city, and Kevin handles the building repairs. It's how our society gets along!
comments
January 5, 2018
The Unsubscribe Button of Doom
You know how it goes--you sign up for some service or other, and suddenly you're getting three and four and five emails a week that "showcase" more services. At the bottom of the email is the legally-required "unsubscribe" link that's supposed to get you off the list, but it's in three-point font and almost impossible to see, and if you're reading email on a phone, it's too small to click on with a finger. This is on purpose--if it's difficult or impossible to find the unsubscribe link, you won't go through the process.
And then, when you finally manage to click on said teeny-tiny link, you're directed to a page that says, "Update Your Information," and there are a whole series of ticky boxes: newsletters, offers, coupons, product updates, and more, more, more. If you want to get rid of the emails, you have to untick each box. This is also on purpose. They pretend to give you lots of choices and control, but what they're really doing is making it hard for you to get off the list.
And once you've done that, you're redirected to a survey page: "We're sorry to see you go. Please let us know why," followed by a series of reasons. Hidden in weensy type elsewhere on the page is the message, "You've been unsubscribed." Their concern is nothing of the kind. They're gathering information about you. (Close the window down. You don't need to answer.)
Once you leave this page, you're told, "Your new settings will take 10-14 days to take effect," meaning for the next two weeks, you'll still get inundated with emails. Of course, the 10-14 days is a lie. The computer can unsubscribe you instantly. But the company wants to keep you on the list for a couple more weeks in the hope you'll either resubscribe or, even better, buy something.
And then marketers complain that people use ad-blocking software on web sites and email filters to kill their emails and that it's hard to reach consumers.
Yeah? Be nicer, be polite, be tasteful, and most of all, DON'T BE A JERK. Then we consumers might listen to you.
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And then, when you finally manage to click on said teeny-tiny link, you're directed to a page that says, "Update Your Information," and there are a whole series of ticky boxes: newsletters, offers, coupons, product updates, and more, more, more. If you want to get rid of the emails, you have to untick each box. This is also on purpose. They pretend to give you lots of choices and control, but what they're really doing is making it hard for you to get off the list.
And once you've done that, you're redirected to a survey page: "We're sorry to see you go. Please let us know why," followed by a series of reasons. Hidden in weensy type elsewhere on the page is the message, "You've been unsubscribed." Their concern is nothing of the kind. They're gathering information about you. (Close the window down. You don't need to answer.)
Once you leave this page, you're told, "Your new settings will take 10-14 days to take effect," meaning for the next two weeks, you'll still get inundated with emails. Of course, the 10-14 days is a lie. The computer can unsubscribe you instantly. But the company wants to keep you on the list for a couple more weeks in the hope you'll either resubscribe or, even better, buy something.
And then marketers complain that people use ad-blocking software on web sites and email filters to kill their emails and that it's hard to reach consumers.
Yeah? Be nicer, be polite, be tasteful, and most of all, DON'T BE A JERK. Then we consumers might listen to you.
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January 4, 2018
The Continuing Kidney Chronicle
It ain't over until the kidney stone sings.
A while ago, I went in to see yet another urologist, Dr. H---. There's nothing wrong with Dr. L--, who I like quite a lot, but Dr. L-- is an hour away and Dr. H-- is much, much closer. I made the appointment solely to establish myself as a patient with Dr. H--. I know that eventually I'm going to have to see someone about the continuing kidney stone crap, and it's a lot easier to see someone you're established with than it is to get in when you're new. In point of fact, it had taken more than a month to get a new patient appointment with Dr. H--.
And then the pain started up.
To recap: after having four painful operations in the space of two months, Dr. L-- declared me =almost= stone free. I still have one stone in each kidney, but both are lodged in the tissue and Dr. L-- said he can't remove them without damaging my kidneys. However, they aren't blocking anything, so they're just something we have to keep an eye on. I was having twinge-y pain in my left kidney, and Dr. L-- said he had no idea why this was. The x-rays and scans showed no blockage. Perhaps it was just an after-effect of all the operations. The pain wasn't debilitating, and it always died away, so it didn't seem any big deal. Okay. I made a new patient appointment with Dr. H-- in order to get started with him.
About three days before this appointment, the pain came back and settled in. Rather than twinge at me and go away, the pain dug in and stayed. And stayed. And stayed. It was (is) like a nagging, nasty itch that never recedes. On a scale of 1-10, the pain never went higher than 3 or 4, but it also never went lower than 1. Ibuprofen didn't dent it. Norco helped, but I don't like taking that steadily. I keep hoping it would go away, but it never quite does. Additionally, when I go to the bathroom I can feel in it my left side, as if the ghost of a stent were in there.
With this in mind, I went in to see Dr. H--. He looked over my records and my charts and agreed that the stones shouldn't be causing a problem but they bore watching. I told him about the pain, and he said we should investigate further. He ordered a new x-ray and an ultra-sound for me, along with a 24-hour urine collection for testing. And we made a follow-up appointment for late January.
A 24-hour urine collection kit has to be ordered from a lab, which sends it in the mail. When I got home, I called them. The next day, I went over to the hospital with the x-ray and ultra-sound orders. The x-ray was in-and-out quick, but it turns out you have to call a special number to make an ultra-sound appointment. I did this, and fortunately got an appointment for Friday (tomorrow) after work. I have to drink 24 ounces of water an hour beforehand.
Meanwhile, though, the pain continues. It's always ALWAYS there. This makes my life difficult in a number of ways. I mean, it's PAIN, and it never ever lets up. As I've observed before in this blog, constant pain is tiring. And Norco, for all that it's an opiate, keeps me awake for some reason, so when I give in and take it, I can't actually sleep. So it's either pain and fitful sleep or no pain without any sleep. (Seriously--I can't even doze on the stuff, so if I take it before bed, I'm awake until it wears off.)
Today I couldn't stand it any longer. I called Dr. H--'s office and asked if they had any openings for earlier. They did, and set me up for one this coming Wednesday.
Tomorrow I'll do the urine collection and the ultra-sound. I hope they can figure this out.
comments
A while ago, I went in to see yet another urologist, Dr. H---. There's nothing wrong with Dr. L--, who I like quite a lot, but Dr. L-- is an hour away and Dr. H-- is much, much closer. I made the appointment solely to establish myself as a patient with Dr. H--. I know that eventually I'm going to have to see someone about the continuing kidney stone crap, and it's a lot easier to see someone you're established with than it is to get in when you're new. In point of fact, it had taken more than a month to get a new patient appointment with Dr. H--.
And then the pain started up.
To recap: after having four painful operations in the space of two months, Dr. L-- declared me =almost= stone free. I still have one stone in each kidney, but both are lodged in the tissue and Dr. L-- said he can't remove them without damaging my kidneys. However, they aren't blocking anything, so they're just something we have to keep an eye on. I was having twinge-y pain in my left kidney, and Dr. L-- said he had no idea why this was. The x-rays and scans showed no blockage. Perhaps it was just an after-effect of all the operations. The pain wasn't debilitating, and it always died away, so it didn't seem any big deal. Okay. I made a new patient appointment with Dr. H-- in order to get started with him.
About three days before this appointment, the pain came back and settled in. Rather than twinge at me and go away, the pain dug in and stayed. And stayed. And stayed. It was (is) like a nagging, nasty itch that never recedes. On a scale of 1-10, the pain never went higher than 3 or 4, but it also never went lower than 1. Ibuprofen didn't dent it. Norco helped, but I don't like taking that steadily. I keep hoping it would go away, but it never quite does. Additionally, when I go to the bathroom I can feel in it my left side, as if the ghost of a stent were in there.
With this in mind, I went in to see Dr. H--. He looked over my records and my charts and agreed that the stones shouldn't be causing a problem but they bore watching. I told him about the pain, and he said we should investigate further. He ordered a new x-ray and an ultra-sound for me, along with a 24-hour urine collection for testing. And we made a follow-up appointment for late January.
A 24-hour urine collection kit has to be ordered from a lab, which sends it in the mail. When I got home, I called them. The next day, I went over to the hospital with the x-ray and ultra-sound orders. The x-ray was in-and-out quick, but it turns out you have to call a special number to make an ultra-sound appointment. I did this, and fortunately got an appointment for Friday (tomorrow) after work. I have to drink 24 ounces of water an hour beforehand.
Meanwhile, though, the pain continues. It's always ALWAYS there. This makes my life difficult in a number of ways. I mean, it's PAIN, and it never ever lets up. As I've observed before in this blog, constant pain is tiring. And Norco, for all that it's an opiate, keeps me awake for some reason, so when I give in and take it, I can't actually sleep. So it's either pain and fitful sleep or no pain without any sleep. (Seriously--I can't even doze on the stuff, so if I take it before bed, I'm awake until it wears off.)
Today I couldn't stand it any longer. I called Dr. H--'s office and asked if they had any openings for earlier. They did, and set me up for one this coming Wednesday.
Tomorrow I'll do the urine collection and the ultra-sound. I hope they can figure this out.
comments
January 1, 2018
Da Food: Ratatouille
Today to start up our new vegetarian diet I put ratatouille (French vegetable stew) into the Crock pot. I gave away the last remaining pieces of meat in the freezer.
We'll see how this goes...
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We'll see how this goes...
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Ending the Meds
The psychiatrist I'm seeing put me on Zoloft and Buspirone to ease the depression and anxiety, respectively. He also wrote me an as-needed scrip for Xanax.
I was wary of the Zoloft. Its biggest side-effect is sexual dysfunction. The psychiatrist reassured me. "Less than a quarter of people have that problem," he said, "and among those who do, most of them get function back in a couple-three weeks, after their body chemistry adjusts."
I dutifully took the Zoloft. About three weeks in, I hit a nasty, fast-and-furious die off in both my sex drive and ability to function. Oh, I was upset. And angry. These operations had stolen away nearly everything good and pleasant in my life, and now I was losing this? No. Fuck no.
I did more reading about the drug. As the psychiatrist had said, sexual function often returned, but it would take up to a month--and that was =if= it was going to return. It might not. The only way to find out would be to stay on the drug and wait.
No. Fuck no.
Was the depression better? A little. Was it because the Zoloft was working, or because I was working hard with a therapist and getting more distance from the gut-wrenching trauma? There was no way to know. It definitely didn't justify sexual dysfunction. The dysfunction made more upset than I'd been originally. I'd rather deal with anxiety and depression.
I tossed the Zoloft, and a couple days later, function returned, albeit partially. A couple days after that, full function returned.
Meanwhile, I was still taking to Buspirone for anxiety. I was fine on it, and the anxiety wasn't as bad. (Was this because of the meds, because of me, or both? No way to know.) Then one day I got a really bad dizzy spell. "Really bad" as in "couldn't stand upright." The spell faded, and I wrote it off. Later that evening, I got another equally bad spell. Now I connected it with taking my meds. I did some checking and discovered a major side-effect of Buspirone is dizziness. The dizziness was so debilitating that I wouldn't be able to drive or work. It lasted well over an hour, which meant while I was on Buspirone, I wouldn't be able to work. But why was it making me dizzy NOW? I'd been on it for a few weeks. No way to know.
I discontinued the Buspirone, relying now solely on Xanax.
I reported all this to the psychiatrist at my next follow-up visit. He agreed that I shouldn't take either med and offered to put me on a different anti-depressive, one that absolutely doesn't cause sexual dysfunction. (Why, I wondered, didn't he just start with that one?) Unfortunately, it would take three or four weeks to start working, and it wouldn't pick up where the Zoloft had left off. I ultimately turned this down. How would I know if I was getting better? If the depression faded or ended, I wouldn't know if it was time and therapy or drugs. If I went off the drugs and the depression came back, I'd have to live with the depression until the drugs started working again.
So I said no. If things get really bad, I'll think about the other anti-depressant.
I still need the Xanax, about every other day or so.
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I was wary of the Zoloft. Its biggest side-effect is sexual dysfunction. The psychiatrist reassured me. "Less than a quarter of people have that problem," he said, "and among those who do, most of them get function back in a couple-three weeks, after their body chemistry adjusts."
I dutifully took the Zoloft. About three weeks in, I hit a nasty, fast-and-furious die off in both my sex drive and ability to function. Oh, I was upset. And angry. These operations had stolen away nearly everything good and pleasant in my life, and now I was losing this? No. Fuck no.
I did more reading about the drug. As the psychiatrist had said, sexual function often returned, but it would take up to a month--and that was =if= it was going to return. It might not. The only way to find out would be to stay on the drug and wait.
No. Fuck no.
Was the depression better? A little. Was it because the Zoloft was working, or because I was working hard with a therapist and getting more distance from the gut-wrenching trauma? There was no way to know. It definitely didn't justify sexual dysfunction. The dysfunction made more upset than I'd been originally. I'd rather deal with anxiety and depression.
I tossed the Zoloft, and a couple days later, function returned, albeit partially. A couple days after that, full function returned.
Meanwhile, I was still taking to Buspirone for anxiety. I was fine on it, and the anxiety wasn't as bad. (Was this because of the meds, because of me, or both? No way to know.) Then one day I got a really bad dizzy spell. "Really bad" as in "couldn't stand upright." The spell faded, and I wrote it off. Later that evening, I got another equally bad spell. Now I connected it with taking my meds. I did some checking and discovered a major side-effect of Buspirone is dizziness. The dizziness was so debilitating that I wouldn't be able to drive or work. It lasted well over an hour, which meant while I was on Buspirone, I wouldn't be able to work. But why was it making me dizzy NOW? I'd been on it for a few weeks. No way to know.
I discontinued the Buspirone, relying now solely on Xanax.
I reported all this to the psychiatrist at my next follow-up visit. He agreed that I shouldn't take either med and offered to put me on a different anti-depressive, one that absolutely doesn't cause sexual dysfunction. (Why, I wondered, didn't he just start with that one?) Unfortunately, it would take three or four weeks to start working, and it wouldn't pick up where the Zoloft had left off. I ultimately turned this down. How would I know if I was getting better? If the depression faded or ended, I wouldn't know if it was time and therapy or drugs. If I went off the drugs and the depression came back, I'd have to live with the depression until the drugs started working again.
So I said no. If things get really bad, I'll think about the other anti-depressant.
I still need the Xanax, about every other day or so.
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Corey's Spot
Yesterday I moved Corey upstairs to a corner of the dining room, near the window. This is a major improvement. Before this, he was downstairs in the exercise room, and if I wanted to play, I had to wind my way through the entire house--down the hall, through the kitchen, down the basement stairs, through the basement great room (turning on lights as I went) and into the exercise room. It wasn't easy to sit down and play a song or two for fun, so my playing slacked off. Then I went into the hospital, and the entire kidney stone wiped out my life. I stopped playing entirely.
Moving Corey was an attempt to get my life back. With him upstairs within easy reach, I can play a little bit or do serious practicing any time I want, and it's harder to put it off.
But Corey was dusty and even had a fleck of what looked like mold on him. I made up some soapy water and cleaned him until he shined, then checked the tuning. I also put stick-on pads under the feet of my music stand and my harp stool so they wouldn't scratch the floor. I played for quite a while, and it was a nice thing.
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Moving Corey was an attempt to get my life back. With him upstairs within easy reach, I can play a little bit or do serious practicing any time I want, and it's harder to put it off.
But Corey was dusty and even had a fleck of what looked like mold on him. I made up some soapy water and cleaned him until he shined, then checked the tuning. I also put stick-on pads under the feet of my music stand and my harp stool so they wouldn't scratch the floor. I played for quite a while, and it was a nice thing.
comments
