Smoke and Mirrors

Ow, damn it.

No, my back is not better, in spite of different drugs and a week's vacation. (A week that flew right by, incidentally. I need another week off, I think.) I see the doctor Tuesday, and I intend to pitch a fit and demand something other than anti-inflammatories, because they just plain aren't working. I was awake (and crying) at 6 o'clock this morning because it hurt too much to lie down, and I have not yet worked out how to sleep standing up.

So. Vacation was good. Jeff came to my place last Saturday night, cooked me meatless soft tacos (yum!) and we watched Metropolis. Sunday morning, we dragged ourselves out of bed at 8 a.m. or thereabouts, and headed off to Vermont. It's supposed to be a very easy, three-hour drive. Heh. It took us just over six hours. We got lost a lot. We ended up in Glouchester, MA, first, which was not right. We turned around, found familiar ground, and kept going... until we ended up in Maine. Yeah, nowhere near Vermont. The nice people at the rest area gave us directions to Concord, where we could pick up the road we wanted, and we were off again. It was a gorgeous day, and the drive would have been great had I not been in pain. I needed to stop and stand up every hour or so -- the stretch where we drove for two hours was very, very bad. When we did stop, I couldn't stand up without help, and even then I nearly threw up, it hurt so much. Poor Jeff. He was very sweet about it, though. I was wishing I'd brought my camera for the weird signs we saw -- the graffiti in New Hampshire that said "Chicken Farmer, I Still Love You!" and the sign for the mattress shop that read "Private Sign. Do Not Read." It was funny.

So. Six hours later, we got to Mom's house, and I happily exited the car. We sat arund and talked, and ate, and talked, and ate some more (grilled veggies, yum) and then drank wine and played Uno and Trivial Pursuit. I won at Uno, Jeff kicked our asses at Trivial Pursuit. There was much laughing (at one point, we were laughing so hard none of us could breathe, because of the following comment from my mom, regarding a question about the movie Boys Don't Cry: "I love that movie! I never saw that movie! Wait, what is that movie?" You probably had to be there. Comedy gold, I'm telling you.

Monday, we went to Burlington to visit Jeff's sister and her boyfriend. I tried riding in the back, thinking it would help. It didn't. Ow. But the visit was great. Jeff's sister is really nice, and a lot of fun, and her boyfriend is a riot. They were a little late meeting us, so we shopped for books (a great vegetarian cookbook for me, and two CDs for my mom) and people-watched. Once they arrived, we got lunch, and ate in the park on a bench, and then went to a newish aquarium/science museum, all about Lake Champlain. It was geared for kids, but we didn't care. We had fun anyway. After that, we shopped a little -- I needed shorts, so we dragged the boys to the mall, which I'm sure they loved. Poor boys. Then, we headed for home, where we ate more, and played still more games. Yes, with wine. That's what makes it fun!

Tuesday was low-key -- we loafed around the house until 4 or so, and then Jeff headed for home. Mom and I went... wait for it... shopping, and then settled in to play still more games. The rest of the week passed quickly -- I helped her out at the church office Wednesday morning, and then we shopped more... we visited a friend of hers Thursday night, and Friday we came back to Boston (yet another 6 hour drive, because I needed to stop to stretch so often. And yes, we shopped. I now own new shorts, new jeans, new pajamas, and a whole load of new underwear.) We have spent the weekend shopping (sense a theme here?) and eating, and watching movies. It's been good. Mom and Jeff got along well, and I really like his family, so that's all good. And now, I ought to go rest my aching ass.

Well, shit.

Things that suck:

Jeff's current employers (soon to be former employers. Asshats.)

The herniated disc in my back -- the one that's been causing me no end of pain lately.

My cousin just found out that the baby girl she's adopting from Nepal, the one she's been waiting for for more than a year, is officially hers. BUT, for some reason, she can't go and get her until September. She was expecting a 4 month old, and is getting a toddler, which is all well and good except it'll be that much harder for the baby to adjust to her new life here. Plus, the waiting is driving my poor cousin mad. It's hard for the whole family; I can't imagine how she's feeling right now.

Lee's father is in the hospital, recovering from cancer surgery. She talks tough, but she's worried. I hope he recovers quickly, and can go home soon.

I owe Lee a huge thank-you, because she went with me to my MRI exam on Monday. I thought it would be no big deal -- I had told the doctor about my massive claustrophobic freakout when I had the last one done (October 2001, I think) and asked him if I should take the sedative this time. He assured me that, since this scan was of my lower back, there would be no need for me to have my head in the machine (which was what freaked me out last time) so I should be okay. Ha. Ha ha. We got there, I changed into obscenely tight scrub pants, removed all metal from my person (including, alas, my shoes -- I forgot and wore my toxic sandals of doom that day. They're Danskos, and comfy as hell, but mother of God, do they stink. They're sandals, for crying out loud, how does this happen?) and went off to be scanned. There were two technitions -- a young woman who was maybe a student, and a somewhat older woman. The younger one started explaining what they were going to do, and the first thing out of her mouth was "We'll put you in head-first..." Um. No. Don't want to do that. I explained that I'd been told differently, and she said the machine wouldn't work any other way. Lee tried to figure out another way, but there was none, so, okay, I'd just have to deal with it. I was okay until we got into the room with the machine, and then I wigged out a little -- the younger tech had a really bad bedside manner, and snapped at me that I was just getting myself all worked up by crying -- yeah, thanks, hon, that helps. I couldn't help the crying. That machine scares the hell out of me. The older tech was much better -- she grabbed a handful of tissues and instructed me to blow my nose "or else all the snot's going to run down your throat and that feels nasty, so blow!" It was funny at the time, and cracked me up, which helped a lot. She also put me into the machine very slowly, patting my leg the whole time, and generally fussing over me like a mother hen. The scan was fine -- when I started freaking out, I reminded myself that my best friend was right nearby, and that she would surely pull me out if the machine tried to eat my head. It was actually over very quickly, and we were out the door before my appointment was even scheduled to begin. (They were really ahead of schedule that day, I guess.) So, that's done, Lee got to witness me freaking out, and I just got a call from the doctor telling me I have a "small extrusion" on my spine. (It actually wasn'y my doctor who called, but someone from Urgent Care answering a phone message I'd left.) She said it's nothing serious, it just looks like the disc is off-center, maybe bulging a little, but that I should follow up with my own doctor. I'll be doing that as soon as I can because this sciatica shit can stop any time. So, it sounds like my fears of needing surgery or something are not coming to pass, and that's good. (An aside: I actually gave myself a fit of the giggles during the MRI, because I realized Lee was probably standing near my feet, and they really, really smelled, and it struck me funny. Because I have the maturity of a ten-year-old boy.)

Sunday, Jeff and I will be road-tripping to Vermont, to visit my mom. He's staying for a couple of days, and I'll be stayting there the rest of the week, which should be fun. Mom's already got plans for feeding and entertaining us. Whee!

Boom!

That is the noise on my street tonight. Lots of people setting off firecrackers. The cat is hiding in the closet.

I had a good day -- went to Patrick's mom's house for the usual cookout and swimming. I threw my vegetarian diet out the window and ate cheeseburgers. In fact, I threw away the whole diet and ate like mad. It was all so good! And eating on holidays doesn't count, right? We swam for ages, and I avoided sunburn, though my hair did get a little sun-bleached. (I had sprayed some Sun-In in it before I left, and it looks nice. I may do more tomorrow.) Lee and I left when the mosquitoes started feasting on us -- I have four bites on my right foot, and a few more on my legs. I am itchy. We went to Lee's apartment and watched Boston's fireworks on TV, in air-conditioned comfort. It was a very good day. And now, it is too hot and muggy to sleep.

So, a Friday Five:

1. What were your favorite childhood stories?

Oh, there are so many. The Ramona books. All the Judy Blume books. I was especially enamored of the Trixie Belden books. I used to read those, then re-enact the stories with my Barbies. I wanted to be Trixie. I used to get into trouble because I'd snoop around hoping to uncover a mystery to solve. I started trying to collect them all, but I ran out of disposable cash, and had to stop after finding nine of the books on eBay. I loved those books.

2. What books from your childhood would you like to share with [your] children?

The Trixie Belden books. All of the Ramona The Pest ones. The Secret Garden, definitely. My mom read that one aloud to me, and I loved it. The Little House on the Prairie books. Anne of Green Gables. The Hobbit. Books were a big deal when I was a kid. I read the whole young adult section in my library when I was little. I was sick a lot, I had a heart problem, and so all I could do was read. And I did so, voraciously.

3. Have you re-read any of those childhood stories and been surprised by anything?

Hmmm. No. Maybe I was surprised by how much I still liked them. I do like to go back and re-read my childhood favorites.

4. How old were you when you first learned to read?

About 3 or so. My mom used to read to me, and I remember the reading lessons on Sesame Street. I remember pulling my mom's cookbooks off the shelves -- they were the only ones I could reach -- and reading them aloud to my mom. I remember the house we lived in then, so I know I was around 3 years old.

5. Do you remember the first 'grown-up' book you read? How old were you?

Lord of the Rings, and I think I was 11 or 12. I had tried to read it earlier, even though my parents warned me it was too old for me, and I couldn't do it. It went right over my head. I remember reading it in elementary school, and falling in live with it. They are still my favorite books, and I re-read them once a year or so.

Ow.

My ass hurts. The left side, specifically. See, I have sciatica. It's been lingering for... oh, three weeks now? And it fucking hurts. I've been trying to be ladylike, and telling people that my back is bothering me (I have had back problems for years) and then people try to be helpful and give me advice on stretching and whatnot, which is nice, but the stretches make it worse, so I either have to lie and say I'll try them, or stop being ladylike. I think you know which route I'll take. So, yeah, my ass hurts. How are you?

I've been spending a lot of time lying on the couch, because the sitting up is painful. I've read a lot -- loved the new Harry Potter, adored Pamie's book, and am now browsing around for something new to read. As a result, I am brain dead. I haven't been to the gym in ages -- I don't know what's causing the back problem yet, and even walking on the treadmill made it worse. The numbers on the scale have stopped going down, and it pisses me off to no end. I have an MRI scheduled for next Monday. Send good vibes that I don't have a ruptured disc, please? My doctor said my reflexes in my foot weren't behaving, so he thinks it's possible that's the cause. I do not want a ruptured disc.

Let's see... some good stuff happened in there somewhere... I met Jeff's parents a couple of weeks ago. They're really nice. His dad told many corny, yet funny jokes. His mom hugged me! It rained a lot, but we still went out for Thai food, and then to the Museum of Fine Arts. Jeff and I went out for dinner with Patrick and Lee, which was also much fun.

I'm trying to be in a good mood here, but it's hard. My mom's dog, her sweet, shy, goofy Queenie, who gives hugs and grins on command, and goes with my mom everywhere, is really sick. She has Cushing's disease, and since she is old for her breed, the treatment would be far too hard on her. I think Mom and I just decided it would be best to spoil her rotten for as long as we can, and keep her comfortable, and then let her go. So, I'm typing while crying, because we love that dog. She's like family. If you have a pet, you understand. If not, well, she's not just a dog, she's the best dog ever, and this fucking sucks.