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Still just a bundle of complaint
Surgery went well, thank goodness.
The surgeon did mention that he "was more aggressive in removing tissue this time," and, damn, but I can tell that this is accurate. Also, whatever the anesthesiologist did left visible bruising on my mouth, jaw, and neck, which is a bit unusual. I kinda wonder whether there was a ... difficulty ... in keeping me alive. But, well, whatever caused it, at least I did not wake up in the ICU with a surprise!tracheostomy, which has happened twice before. So I'm going to say it's a win?
With acetaminophin every six hours, oxycodone every four hours, and a lidocaine gargle every three hours, plus cepacol lozenges as needed, the pain is ignorable. (If I fall behind on any of these, it takes a hot minute to catch up again. Like when I am asleep.)
I have spent today in fraught discussions with my son about summer employment, and less fraught but equally difficult conversation with my spouse about the ADU construction. Plus occasional bursting into tears over things like how cute the dogs are and how many flower buds are coming in on the tree, so I think I can conclude that I am not operating and full capacity right now.
Oh, and I told the Wiscon planning people that I am bowing out of my volunteer responsibilities for the moment, as I just do not have the spoons for them right now. I wish I did. I wish I felt competent and capable of anything these days. But the brain fog is very, very real. So is the pain, the stress, the insomnia, and did I mention the pain?
I am scheduled for my foot steroid shots next week. Every time I see the podiatrist, she reminds me that at some point, without warning, the steroid shot will stop being effective for pain management. When that happens my only option for pain management will be a very complicated foot reconstruction surgery. Said surgery will require six weeks of NO weight WHATSOEVER on that foot, then three months of a knee scooter, as well as six months of PT. After all of that, the surgery has about a 60% rate of success.
And I can't have it at all unless my BMI is 40 or lower.
So that's something to look forward to.
In the meantime, on the bad foot-pain-days, the amount of THC it takes to manage my pain is higher than the amount that leaves me coherent, competent, and awake. So the worse the foot pain gets, the less I am able to think and the clumsier I am physically. So that's fun. I've been stoned off my ass for three weeks while I wait for the steroid shots. I really hope they still work. The podiatrist mentioned that I am the patient who has been getting steroid shots longer than anyone else under her care, ever. Which probably explains why she mentions the incipient failure every. single. time. I see her.
At least the tobramyacin seem to be helping my throat pain? I resent the nebulizer because it reminds me of being on my tracheostomy humidifer, and I very much resented that. But my actual problem with the tobramyacin is that after insurance it cost my $400 out of pocket. So that's a thing. But at least the throat pain (prior to surgery) had improved.
Chronic pain is a miserable fucking bear to live with. The pain reduces my functionality and increases brain fog, and the meds I take for the pain decrease functionality and increase brain fog.
I remember a time when I was smart, quick-witted, and capable. I remember being good at my job, good at parenting my kids, and good at writing and editing. I remember being good at things. I remember being a good friend and partner.
I miss being competent.
I miss being good at things.
The surgeon did mention that he "was more aggressive in removing tissue this time," and, damn, but I can tell that this is accurate. Also, whatever the anesthesiologist did left visible bruising on my mouth, jaw, and neck, which is a bit unusual. I kinda wonder whether there was a ... difficulty ... in keeping me alive. But, well, whatever caused it, at least I did not wake up in the ICU with a surprise!tracheostomy, which has happened twice before. So I'm going to say it's a win?
With acetaminophin every six hours, oxycodone every four hours, and a lidocaine gargle every three hours, plus cepacol lozenges as needed, the pain is ignorable. (If I fall behind on any of these, it takes a hot minute to catch up again. Like when I am asleep.)
I have spent today in fraught discussions with my son about summer employment, and less fraught but equally difficult conversation with my spouse about the ADU construction. Plus occasional bursting into tears over things like how cute the dogs are and how many flower buds are coming in on the tree, so I think I can conclude that I am not operating and full capacity right now.
Oh, and I told the Wiscon planning people that I am bowing out of my volunteer responsibilities for the moment, as I just do not have the spoons for them right now. I wish I did. I wish I felt competent and capable of anything these days. But the brain fog is very, very real. So is the pain, the stress, the insomnia, and did I mention the pain?
I am scheduled for my foot steroid shots next week. Every time I see the podiatrist, she reminds me that at some point, without warning, the steroid shot will stop being effective for pain management. When that happens my only option for pain management will be a very complicated foot reconstruction surgery. Said surgery will require six weeks of NO weight WHATSOEVER on that foot, then three months of a knee scooter, as well as six months of PT. After all of that, the surgery has about a 60% rate of success.
And I can't have it at all unless my BMI is 40 or lower.
So that's something to look forward to.
In the meantime, on the bad foot-pain-days, the amount of THC it takes to manage my pain is higher than the amount that leaves me coherent, competent, and awake. So the worse the foot pain gets, the less I am able to think and the clumsier I am physically. So that's fun. I've been stoned off my ass for three weeks while I wait for the steroid shots. I really hope they still work. The podiatrist mentioned that I am the patient who has been getting steroid shots longer than anyone else under her care, ever. Which probably explains why she mentions the incipient failure every. single. time. I see her.
At least the tobramyacin seem to be helping my throat pain? I resent the nebulizer because it reminds me of being on my tracheostomy humidifer, and I very much resented that. But my actual problem with the tobramyacin is that after insurance it cost my $400 out of pocket. So that's a thing. But at least the throat pain (prior to surgery) had improved.
Chronic pain is a miserable fucking bear to live with. The pain reduces my functionality and increases brain fog, and the meds I take for the pain decrease functionality and increase brain fog.
I remember a time when I was smart, quick-witted, and capable. I remember being good at my job, good at parenting my kids, and good at writing and editing. I remember being good at things. I remember being a good friend and partner.
I miss being competent.
I miss being good at things.
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Oh dear … I share your nostalgia for competency.
(I try to frame it as “I can remember previous incarnations. In one of my past lives, I could do x, y, z.” This at least lets me wholeheartedly recall the joys without measuring against my current capacities.)
May your steroid shots continue to help! May the BMI gatekeepers suddenly understand the pointlessness of their ideology!
Congrats on stepping back from WisCon. It’s hard to let go of something with happy memories and possibilities.
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