The little boy is my great-nephew. He was due on Christmas, born early in the month, and born with serious problems.
You can take this story with a grain of salt, or not. All I can tell you is that it's true.
The way Concussionland goes is that you have a good day, sometimes several good days. And then you have a bad day.
I had a couple of really good days this week. Didn't need to use my cane, ran errands, pranced in and out of stores like I was a real person.
Today the Brain Injury Gods noticed.
It's not the contractor's fault. Who could expect a tropical storm in June? Or that for no particular reason a few days later we'd have five more inches of rain? He dug in preparation for concrete. He was supposed to pour it last Thursday. Instead, we had Andrea.
As many of you may know from my continuous whining, three years ago my life changed. First my eye doctor stabbed me in the eye, resulting in corneal surgery that didn't work, and left me with a painful recurrent condition.
Then I fell in a restaurant and suffered a bad concussion. Then, as I recovered from that one, I went to a drugstore (rhymes with Ballgreen's) where a tiny woman was trying to put heavy wheeled suitcase-style coolers on the top shelf by actually climbing the shelves. She couldn't see me, I didn't see her, and a suitcase fell from the sky and landed on my head.
When we last talked, I had had sinus surgery on March 21st, come home on the 22nd, and fallen flat on my face, gaining a concussion and a broken nose, on the 25th. My doctor said he thought that the nose had been swollen enough to keep things from displacing.
It's been healing fine, I thought. No blood, no pain, but also no inhaling - totally blocked. I saw him this morning. Jump the squidoodle and hear what's going on.
in which escapee learns things. SHE DIDN'T WANT LEARN ANY OF THEM, but you can skip past the orange kadoodle to learn them along with her.
As some of you may know (I've certainly whined about it enough) my husband and I caught whooping cough in November. We recovered - it really does take a hundred days - but I was left with an unpleasant problem. The only thing I can smell or taste is death and rot. It's awful.
I've had a bunch of tests, and they think there's either a) an antibiotic-resistant infection (Augmentin, Zithromax, Avalox, Doxycycline and a little prednisone for shits and giggles), b) a fungus, or c) something worse in one of the cells of my ethmoid sinus.
So tomorrow I'll be in the hospital while a good doctor explores my head with tiny sharp wicked tools. He has to fix my deviated septum so he can get to my sinuses first. I hope to be back over the weekend.
So let's all talk about things we hate about surgery. I'll start after the elegant squiggle.
It's completely personal, but even if only one person reads it, it will be one more person who sees the way it was with me, and with my family.
Whooping cough (pertussis) vaccines wear off. Especially the ones you had if you were born before the nineties. If you were born in the 50s, yours has substantially worn off. Contact your doctor and get a booster.
Pertussis is making a comeback, and we're vulnerable. You don't want to get it. I was lucky; right when I got it I was on strong antibiotics for another problem, and I am recovering. But Mr. escapee wasn't, and he's been sick since November 8th or 9th. The coughing is agonizing and takes about 20 minutes out of every hour (I timed it). Sleep? Hah. You're exhausted. You have no sense of taste, or smell, or appetite. Your face turns red and veins pop. If you're really unlucky, you get pneumonia, or break ribs coughing, or vomit, or choke. Or die. (Not so far.)
Purely personal diary. If you don't like that, move on.
How many of us have the chest-coldy virus that hangs on and on and on? The one that makes you cough until you whimper, steals your senses of taste and smell, doesn't seem to care about codeine and lasts and lasts and lasts?
When I was ten years old, my mother got married to a guy who belonged to a sect I call the Church of the Final Thunder. Very rigid, very sexist, very authoritarian. Very much of a pain in my ass.
The worst part was that they don't think humans should really live in this world. Just kind of plod along. No birthdays, no holidays, no loyalty to nations; they studied the grammar in the Bible but never seemed to actually read it.
And they didn't vote. Voting is allying yourself with the world and against God. My mother never voted after 1967. But she tried.
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