Validation

Today was my follow-up appointment with my Orthopedist for my knee. Dr. Sisto and I go way back... back to when I was seen by Dr. Blazina and Dr. Sisto was a Fellow studying underneath him. Then they shared an office - They, I suppose, eventually became partners - and when Dr. Blazina passed, Dr. Sisto was the heir apparent.

Going to his office is an exercise in patience. Where most of my doctors are very prompt as a rule, I expect to wait to see Dr. Sisto for an hour or more once passing through his entry door. With my passion for crafts, though, and on disability and therefore no traditional job to be worried about, I'm perfectly capable of keeping myself entertained.

I thought about what to bring along with me today. Knitting? Beads? No. I thought of Doll and decided to bring my Mongolian Cashmere and my Greensleeves Spindle. That spindle is not only beautiful, but is spins like butter.

The pouch that I am carrying the cashmere in is handspun Wenesleydale which I then wove with a cotton warp into corduroy.

Surprisingly, I only had to wait for 20 minutes before being ushered into Exam Room 1. I haven't been #1 in a long long time and savored the view out the window. Van Nuys Blvd.

Famous as being the street on which American Graffiti was based. And in fact, in the 60s, it WAS the happening place although the police cracked down on that activity decades ago and I have no idea where the teens hang out these days.

As with the foot, if you would like a picture of the knee, just let me know independantly and I'll e-mail you a copy. But let it suffice to say that it was no where near as impressive as the foot and you'll be disappointed. Very little bruising, very little swelling. Dr. Sisto promptly took the stitches out and sent me on my way. But not before giving me a generalized talk about my overall condition.

I have to tell you that I still experience a sharp intake of breath (insecurity, not pleasure) when anyone brings the subject up, and today was no exception. Dr. Sisto, with his orientation to the skeletal system, is not really all that interested in my other disease process except as it relates to my bones. But his comments shocked me.

He told me that every time, as of late, that he comes into the exam room, he hardly believes that I am the same patient that he has known all these years. How my X-rays look so much older than my person. How I have transformed my life and my appearance.

Even now, it's hard to respond to such comments although especially Claudia but all the Fab 4 would be proud of me. I responded with a "Thank you." And instead of disqualifying him with a follow-up rebuttal, I just told him that I worked very hard every day of my life not to go back to my old persona. I can honestly say that although some aspects of my weight loss have become easier to deal with, the work involved in not regaining some or all of the weight is daunting.

But thanks to some major influences in my life - you know who you are - I continue on. To work out. To watch what I eat. To get on the scale each and every day so that I don't pretend that my clothes are shrinking rather then me gaining weight when that issue comes up.

(By the way as a sidebar, I confessed to Dr. Sisto today that I had continued to exercise after my left knee was diagnosed. And that I planned to go back to exercise class effective tomorrow. He wasn't really upset about it. Just warned me to be careful but qualified his warning with a short lecture on the importance of keeping fit.)

And as I left Dr. Sisto's office, several prescriptions in hand which I will talk about in my blog at another time, I looked at the sign in his waiting room. "Sorry. We do not validate!"

Sorry Dr. Sisto, but today's visit gave me more validation than money for the meter ever could. It reminded me that sometimes the work that I've put in and continue to do pays off.

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It's out everywhere. Easter Candy. After my doctor's appointment, I decided to stop off at Gelson's to buy some fruit. I normally would go to a lesser market for it, but still being on crutches, shopping is challenging and I didn't want to have to deal with also sorting through produce. So Gelson's it was and the candy was on display by each of the doors.
The thing is, in days past this kind of display would have bothered me. I would have ended up buying candy to "put aside for the holiday" when everyone knows that when we buy it early, it's to eat now and we'll buy more later.

Truth be told, though, I don't really crave high-sugar foods anymore. I've become sensitive enough to my body to know that they make me feel awful. And except for the monthly urge to eat chocolate (which can be satisfied by one Lindor Truffle rather than a huge bag of candy), I don't have a hard a time resisting.

Carbs, however, haunt me. Specifically bread. And rice. And to a lesser degree, Pasta. As I shopped around the market, I was tempted to buy first a loaf of Artisan Bread. And then, sushi which is made by a Sushi Chef on the premises.

I actually turned the cart to walk in that direction several times. But tried hard to think about what Lucy told us in our weight maintenance class a few weeks ago. That the real issue that she wished reasearchers would work on in relation to the obese is not as much the physical triggers to eat than impulse control.

She explained to us that we tended, as a group, to be much more impulsive than our thin counterparts. It showed in our eating habits. And to a lesser degree but common all the same, it often turned up in our monetary expenditures too. I know that used to be true for me.

Wanting that sushi was completely impulsive. I used all sorts of reasoning to justify the purchase. It was good for me, which it was. It was not fattening, which it wasn't. It was fresh and good which, from Gelsons, it is. And from the same, it is not an expensive lunch alternative.

But then I thought "Impulse Control." I need to try and curb myself. I had planned on a fruit salad for lunch with a Yogurt & Honey dressing that was already made and waiting for me. There was no real and compelling reason, other than my impulsivity, to deviate from the plan. And so in the end, I didn't.

It really bothered me - a lot - as I checked out of the market and got into my car to come home. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't consider turning around and going back for it as I pulled out of my space. But the feeling of having resisted is better than the short-term gratification that I would have received by buying it and most certainly eating it all before I even arrived home.

I feel a little bit in control of myself.

Let's Make a Deal!

Last Monday, Iris and I made a deal. She is working intense hours at her job, neglecting her health and emotional well being. I am stuck at home, four days post-surgery, and bored to tears. She has not been to Slimmons for quite a while; I am supposedly sidelined for quite a while into the future. So we decided that if I would show up to exercise class tonight, so would she.

Since we are both women of our word, we were both there. Watching exercise class from the outside is a weird experience. I had promised Richard that, if he didn't keep me from coming tonight, I would stay out of the way and be careful. Additionally, despite the fact that I am getting out and about, it's by sheer force of will. My knee and foot really do hurt. A lot.
So instead of sitting at the back of the classroom, I parked myself in a chair in the lobby and watched from afar. And admired my classmates.

The thing about Slimmons that is so magical is that it doesn't matter who you are. What you look like. What size clothing you wear. Everyone is beautiful; everyone fits in. When I see my classmates, I don't see their physical beings. I see them.

Of course I saw them leaving me in the dust tonight. It may be a while before I can join them again.
But another nice thing is that they involved me, even from my perch in the lobby. Michelle and Iris came out and made fun of me.
And I made fun of them.
Jan dancd beside and behind me.
Michelle threatened to drop a weight on my "other" foot... the one that has not been operated on.
And everyone had to suffer with push ups. Except me!

Despite my personal challenges, I am a lucky woman.

U.F.O.

One of the ironic things about my keeping this blog is the direction that it has gone in. It was originally inspired by my fiber friends, many of whom kept pictoral journals of what they were working on. I thought I was going to do the same as them, recording the spinning and knitting projects that I so enthusiastically worked on. But the nature of my writing is that I often don't know what I am going to say before I put it down and my journey has only infrequently mentioned the crafts projects that I am almost always at.

It's now the Monday after the Friday of the surgery and I am no longer working on an adreneline high. The big bandage has come off of my knee and has been replaced by band aids over the scars & stiches. My foot remains wrapped, but I took the outer layer off, revealing a green wrap and toes that are somewhat swollen but not bruised. Indeed, my knee is less swollen than I would have guessed, probably because of the Game Ready machine, but there is a looseness about my joint that is worrisome. I don't feel at all stable on the leg and proceed around the condo with caution.

I'm also really on my own now. On Friday, Eric was a wonderful help. Saturday I was by myself, but after initial expectations of being up and about, reality took over, I crashed, and spent the majority of the say sleeping. Sunday, I went down to Richard's radio broadcast to meet with his disapproval over I'm not sure exactly what. Maybe my appearance there, maybe his mistaken belief that I was not feeling ok, maybe I did something wrong. I don't know, but whatever.

After the show, I went to Target - yes on crutches - to replace my microwave which had finally bitten the dust, then came home, installed it. Sandy & Christiane came over for a brief visit, then I restlessly paced my condo.

Today, I feel deflated. Lonesome. (I really am all by myself.) And, as in times past when I need soothing, have picked up my knitting needles.

I have an old "UFO" to work on. For those not familiar with the term, UFO stands for "Un Finished Item." In this case, a sweater featured in the 2000 issue of Interweave Knits that I started last year and then, for some unknown reason, got bored with and put down.

The pattern is actually lovely and an easy job to do. It's a modified ribbing, but features a very pretty offset yoke in back and in front.
Rather than using the yarn called for in the pattern, I've pressed some old cotton that I picked up at an estate sale for almost nothing into service. It's incredibly soft, somewhat lusterous, and delightful to work with.

I'm probably about 1/2 way up the back and just about to start the armholes.
Of course, this is not how I had hoped to be spending my time, but perhaps I'll at least get something tangible out of my infirmity.

Surgery Tales

Yesterday was the big day. My meniscus was fixus. And my footus was putus into good working order too.

I was required to arrive at Starpoint Surgical Center at 6:30 in the morning. I guess that was better than the original 6am appointment they made, but the sun was not up yet. Additionally, the front doors were closed and after leaving the taxi, I had to scrounge around the building until I found the back entrance.

But finally I made it. Room 300.
There I was greeted by Michelle (I think) at the front desk. Shortly thereafter, Dr. Sisto, my Orthopedic Surgeon turned up. He is the master of my knees.
I was quickly processed and then led to the holding bay by the lovely pre-op nurse who's name I just can't remember. That will be a recurrent theme of this blog, I'm afraid, as they were giving me some drugs.
IV in place, I was left to await my turn in the operating room. Unfortunately, there was a little teeny-tiny blonde fake-looking thing that had been escorted to the bay across from me. She and her doctor were having a very animated conversation about her breast implants.

"I'm really small framed." She informed her doctor. "Be sure that you make my nipples really high." Now what one had to do with the other, I have no idea. I was ready to deck her except that this wasn't a good time to offend anyone. Then Dr. Boghossian showed up. He's my Podiatrist and was in charge of fixing my foot.
This is my anestheologist. I can't remember his name.
For the life of me, I can't remember the name of my surgical nurse either. But she was not at all surprised that I had a camera. For those of you (Claudia) who are saying right now (Claudia) that "Only You, Laura (Claudia) would bring a camera to your surgery," according to this nurse, that isn't true. A lot of people take pictures. But, she did say, Claudia, that nobody before me had ever planned to post them on a blog.
I don't even remember seeing this guy and haven't a clue who he is.
As I was being wheeled into the operating room. The anestheologist was quite surprised - as you can see from his stance - that I was still snapping pictures.
I'd like to say that this shot was the last thing I saw before I was put out, but it would't be true. The last thing was them foribly removing my camera from my person because they had some kind of schedule to adhere to and my photographic tendancies were messing with the works. And by the way, the only reason they got away with it was because they had an unfair advantage with the doctor putting knock-out drugs in my IV and all...Frozen corn on my foot. Yes, I have a corn on my foot.
This is the "Game Ready" Ice & Compression machine that I am using on my knee. Apparently, these have been used for professional athletes for quite some time, but are just now being used on us general public. It is actually quite effective. You fill the one compartment with ice & water, then it attaches via a hose to a wrap for your leg. Turn it on and it provides cold and compression

I found it very scarey to contemplate but turned out to like it quite a bit. Even though they call it "Game Ready" which I find a bit sarcastic since I am anything BUT game ready.
Eric, Cosmos, & I spent a long evening watching TV. Although Cosmos was afraid of both my crutches and compression machine and didn't think much of the corn as it would fall off of my foot either.
Sunny was just a quiet and good boy. He was very upset, though, by my state of affairs and kept coming to me for reassurance that everything was all right.
My leg in the compression chamber with corn on my foot.
Eric pretending that he is having a good time. He was wonderful - and very helpful - yesterday!
And proof that I am alive and here to tell the tale of being assulted by scalpel.

An Apple a Day...

Different people have different sensitivies, differing triggers. I can lay claim to a lot of them, from social anxiety to issues of finance, but probably my worst one is invasive medical procedures. Unfortunately, with my impending surgeries, I'm left here to cope with the stress.

Yesterday was my pre-op appointment. I'm very lucky to have been referred to a wonderful Internist who I believe understands the difference between "panic attack me" - the one who gets so crazed that I've actually ripped IVs out of my arm and bolted from medical facilities - and the "other" me. Quirky, but farily sane. Certainly he is not at least outwardly judgemental. And I appreciate that.

Dr. Rudin and I met shortly after my fathers death. Dad was a physician too, and rather than have me forced to go see an Internist along with the myriad of other doctors that I require just to stay alive, Dad was quite willing to manage my anxiety medication for me. Yes. The one I joke about although lack of access is not a joking matter at all. Xanax. So imagine me, still in the throes of shock and grief at the loss of my father, having to go into a strange doctor's office with the specific mission of asking for a substance that is well known to be abused. Uncomfortable, at best.

I remember being ushered into his office at the first meeting. Telling him about my situation. Explaining about my many sometimes life-threatening conditions. My medications, especially the prednisone which is a mind-altering substance in and of itself. My family situation. And he was very astute. Understood where I was coming from. Either knew or knew of my specialists. Seemed to know on an intuitive level - correctly I might add - that I would never abuse the privledge of being provided anxiety medication. And took care of me.

Later, I was on Remicade and suffering from what was at that time, one of the first and only cases of Remicade-induced Lupus. I didn't recognize what was happening to my body at the time, and if my specialists did, they didn't believe it because while Lupus antibodies from Remicade were farily common, full blown cases of Lupus were not heard of yet.

Anyway, I was suffering from a cornicopia of symptoms that made no sense. Dr. Rudin immediately figured it out, did a blood test, and confirmed the diagnosis. Had me see a Rheumotologist. Who, along with my GI doctor, dismissed the idea that I could actually have Lupus. It took another nine months for them to figure out what Dr. Rudin had determined the March before. And get me off of the offending drug.

I don't see Dr. Rudin that often. My specialists see me quite frequently, and Dr. R- sees me when I am in the hospital... when I need more care than can be handled on the phone... when I need a pre-operative exam. Which brings me to yesterday.

My appointment was fairly early thank goodness, as I decided to fast before the blood test to get readings for a generalized Health Inventory being done by HMR. I will post about that at another time. I was only in the waiting room for a couple of minutes before being ushered back to the exam area. And barely had time to take these shots of the view out his 16th floor Century City Office examining room before he turned up.



Century City to the left. Double click on this - or any - picture to get a better view.










That is Beverly Hills High School below us - yes, of Beverly Hills 90210 fame - and the Hollywood Hills in the background.








Dr. Rudin had already received information of my impending surgeries from the surgeons, so we were able to expedite the process by me explaining how my knee injury occored. Discussed my ongoing fainting spells for a few minutes, then got on with the exam. He humored me by allowing my blood work to be done first so I could eat the apple that I had brought along. Yes, before the exam was completed. I was starving and made no bones about it.

I was still downing the fruit when I was brought into the X-ray room. (Over age 50 requires a chest Xray before surgery. I must be getting old!) I wonder if pieces of apple show up on the film? They laughed but didn't answer me when I posed the question. They also ignored me when I suggested that "an apple a day" doesn't work.

Did the other tests and exams, and was dismissed by Dr. Rudin a little over an hour later. But before I left, I asked if I could take his picture and then blog about him. He agreed. (I don't know how many people make this request, but I suspect not that many.)

Here is Dr. Rudin. It took three shots to get this picture. Shot # 1 was dismissed because he was
not sitting up straight enough and his mother might not approve. Shot # 2 was a great picture except that I didn't hold the camera steady and it was blurred. But as usual, third time was the charm. He's not only a nice doctor, but kind of easy on the eyes too. Wouldn't you agree? Although nobody can compare to Eric...



After we were done taking his picture, I had one more request. I wanted to know if I had permission to take a picture of the sculpture that he has in his waiting room. And make fun of it. On my blog. Permission granted. So I present to you "The Geisha."

Whenever I see this statue, I always think of the "Everybody Loves Raymond" episode where Doris Roberts makes a giant sculpture of a hoo haa. She's the only one who doesn't realize it, though.

When somebody finally pointed it out to her, she exclaims "Oh my God! I'm a Lesbian!"

This sculpture is just like that except smaller. If I get at the right angle, I can sort of see a Geisha. But that is not what I see unless I am trying very hard.


So I'm home now, and 24 hours past the appointment. Pre-op stress set in yesterday afternoon and everything suddenly seems very real. I am very lucky to have a doctor who is smart enough to understand that I am never going to be a drug addit and abuse the privledge of trust that he invests in me. Yes, my trigger has been pulled and I'm starting to need help with the anxiety, but I will never let him down.