Truth or Die

I saw my Ombudsman again today. Same one. This time she told me I'm not eligible for physical therapy beause there is a law on both the state and federal level that only people who will be able to walk again can qualify for PT. That sounded goofy to me, so I called Medicare and asked about that. The person I talked to took awhile looking, but she said she couldn't find anything like that and that I should qualify, once I've jumped through all the hoops they present.

So I called the state office and told them I couldn't get anyone here to work with my legs, and that my doctor is completely nonresponsive when I ask to talk to him.

The Ombudman also told me that Medicaid pays for my costs and Medicare picks up the rest, which is completely backwards. I have absolutely no confidece in this woman. I think she's giving me misinformation, but I don't think it's intentional. She just doesn't seem to know what she's talking about. So far she's done me more harm than good, because I'm always upset and discouraged after she leaves.

Plus, she spent more time prosylitizing her Christan viewpoint than she did helping. I listened for awhile, then told her I appreciated her advice, but praying wasn't going to resolve my current situation. It needs action, not hoping for the best. So she gave me some phone numbers to call and I did.

Meanwhile, I'm still at the novel writing. Here are my stats so far (I don't know what the wedgy thing at the bottom is for. I just could't make it go away):

Your Average Per Day

1,903 

Words Written Today

2,070 

Target Word Count

50,000

Target Average Words Per Day

1,667

Total Words Written

15,230 

Words Remaining

34,770

Current Day

8 

Days Remaining

23

At This Rate You Will Finish On

November 27, 2013

Words Per Day To Finish On Time

1,512

Oh, joy, oh frabjous day!

Nothing to report on the getting up in my new chair saga. Pffft.

My NaNoWriMo story is up to 7,407 words, as I recall, though my memory for numbers stinks out loud. On a daily average, I'm still ahead a little tiny bit on the daily average I need.

Anyway, I'm having fun.

Wait a minute I'll go to their website and check out what the real number is.

7,843. I underestimated. I've spent 3 hours a night writing. Not bad for a person who has to poke at a keyboard with a stick. Of course, I do have the time whereas most people have to fit writing in between doing other things, like having a life.

But, as I 've said, writing makes me happier than just about anything in life, with the exception of my children and grandchildren. So I'm in a great mood.

I hope you all had frabjous days, too. Maybe tomorrow I'll get up in my chair and I can shout Callooh, Callay!

Happy days and dream filled nights of joy, my wonderful peeps.

OMG!

I had no idea how much time it would take to keep up with my NaNoWriMo novel. I started late. Then my app proved to be a piece of crap, so I got another app. That worked fine, but once it was closed it didn't want to open again. So I got another app. Then, after more than 10 tries, the second app finally opened so I could copy my text and paste it into the third app. So far, so good. I have caught up now. I'm supposed to write 1667 words per day to reach my goal of 50,000 at the end and I have averaged a bit over 1700 per day. You know, even with having to tap an online keyboard one letter at a time, I might just complete this task. And it might even be semi-coherent. We'll see about that, though. I'm writing in first person narrative, in the voice of an old woman reminiscing about her life and what she's learned from it. It's really my life, but since I am writing as a fictional character, I can make things up, too! Ha ha!

No news on the chair front. Haven't been in it since last Thursday. As for the mystery infection on my back, a "knot" has formed that wasn't there last week. My wound care doctor actually made an appearance, felt the knot and decided to extend my round of antibiotics.

Did I tell you my wound care doctor has grown a full beard? He doesn't look 12 anymore. He looks more like he'll be eligible to vote next year. I'm sorry. I know I'm being snarky, but give me a break. I'm old! Anybody without grey hair looks like a teenager to me.

Anyway, Dr. Cooper, his actual name, wants to talk to the neurosugeon who did the original surgery on my spine in 2010 and see the files from then. I don't know what this means, except that one of the wound care nurses mentioned that he wants to know if the knot is a natural growth and is an actual part of my body. Let's see. Hmmm. It wasn't there last week or ever until this week. What are we to think? Hey, maybe it's part of my backbone which has suddenly become larger in that spot! Maybe not.

Worrisome stuff. I don't want more surgery. I don't want to go to the hospital. I want to stay right here, in my home away from the home I don't have anymore. I have a minifridge here. They pop me popcorn  when I ask them to. This is my nest.

The saga continues. Meh.

Here is a random photo which has absolutely no relevance to this blog entry. Hope you like it, whatever it turns out to be. Peace.

Mental Diarrhea

My eyes are squinted in disappointment because I didn't get up today. I told everyone I wanted to get up in time for my session with Therapist Mike and was paid absolutely NO attention. In fact, no one got me up at all. I are not happy.

I am inevitably reminded of how helpless and ineffective I am. This is one of those times when I hate my life. I am constantly at other people's mercy and whim. I have no control over my life; not even a smidgen of independence. 

I have to wonder if my life will be like this until I die. What a horrible thought. If I can't make progress toward at least a modicum of independence, then what's the point?

I've decided to give NaNoWriMo a shot. It's an exercise done every year where the goal is to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. It started today and ends November 30.

I got a really late start. I just decided to join today and didn't have a good word processing app, so I bought one. What a piece of crap! My text, once it got long enough, disappeared behind the onscreen keyboard. So I scrolled the text up so I could see what I had written. Except that the text wouldn't scroll. I spent at least an hour trying to make it work, all for nothing.

So I sent them a review titled "I want my money back!" And downloaded a free app that works just fine. But I didn't get started until late evening. Since I use an iPad on-screen keyboard, and have to tap each letter one at a time, I didn't hold out much hope.

But I started typing the novel. Two or so hours later, I stopped so I could write this entry, but first I checked how many words I'd written. I was surprised! I had written 1,120 words. Yeah, that's a lot less than the 1,667 words I need to type every day to keep up, but I spend most of my time alone so I doubtless have more time than most. Besides, once I get my mind rolling, it doesn't want to stop. I tend to be very wordy when I write, as you may have noticed.

The working title, so far, is Forevermore. It's the thoughts of a self-educated old woman who now lives, bedbound, in a nursing home. Write what you know, right? I don't know if I'll ever finish it, but it's fun to try, and it gives me something to look forward to. I like writing just about more than anything. It makes me happy.

It's not too late to get in on this exercise, peeps. There's no prize, but if it catches someone's eye, you might get approached by a (legitimate --watch out for the ones who want money from you up front) agent or publisher. Who knows? To do this you have to be a dreamer, so why not dream big? Just go to NaNoWriMo.org and sign up.

Sweet dreams to all of you. May your good dreams come true.

Like a Pterodactyl

OK, so I'm not up-to-date on my dinosaur names and maybe it isn't called a Pterodactyl anymore and I'm probably even misspelling it. I don't care. It's the dinosaur I'd most like to be. There's a song by Led Zeppelin called "The Battle of Evermore." Whenever I listen to it, I close my eyes and I become that flying dinosaur, gliding through the night, far above the shadowed treetops of a forest. I can feel my wing muscles tense, then relax, when I need to move my wings to maintain altitude. The air is warm and humid. I'm not hunting. I'm heading for the crags of a nearby mountain, to rest. Here's a link to the song, in case you're curious to know how it transports me so thoroughly into another being. And, no, I wasn't on hallucinogens, legal or otherwise.

http://youtu.be/WGAKeHQUx-U

I didn't get quite the same rush when I got up in my new wheelchair today, but it was a heady feeling, getting dressed, sitting up, and seeing something other than my room. I landed in the midst of a Halloween party, which was fun. But, as I had predicted, I was parked in one spot and left there, unable to move myself the smallest distance.

My lower back, which is not used to holding up my weight, began to get painful after an hour or so. I toughed it out for awhile, but finally asked to go back to bed. I want to get up tomorrow for my session with Therapist Mike, though. He's never seen me anywhere but in a bed, and wearing nothing other than a hospital gown. It would be nice if I appeared to be a normal human being for a change.

I feel like I should be elated and don't understand why I'm not. I'm happy about getting up in my chair, of course. Maybe I'm just worn out. It's amazing how tiring that was.

Also, my good friend, Jeff, will be out of town for a few days. Since he's my only visitor, other than my therapist, I miss him when he's gone. Life's a little extra lonely while he's away. But, this is the way my life tends to be, with a lot of alone time, and I've pretty much adapted to it. And now that I can get up, I can make some new friends. I had a lovely conversation with a lady named Mrs. Williams while we both waited in the hall, waiting to be taken to our respective rooms. That was extremely enjoyable. I look forward to more.

So I guess I can only be a free-flying dinosaur with a brain the size of a peanut in my daydreams. Daydreams are good, but making progress in reality is good, too. I can't choose between them, so I'll just find time for both.

Let yourselves fly free, dear friends and family. Life can change completely in an instant. Give into your daydreams sometimes. Total practicality isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Looking Backwards

Today has been a day of remembrance. Why, I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with the upcoming holidays. They've lost their charm for me since Lyra died. She was an enthusiastic ghost on Halloween, doing her best scary stuff. Thanksgiving was, for her, a chance to visit and give love to her family. But Christmas -- now THERE was something she looked forward to. Now, for me, it's just another day.

I watched the video of her Celebration of Life, but this time I didn't get sad. I felt as though Lyra was with me, watching it too. There was a feeling of extra warmth in my heart. Maybe that was just my imagination, but I prefer to believe it was real. And who's to say it wasn't? Whatever the case, I have a sense of comfort that I wasn't feeling before.

I'm convinced that we are eternal spirits with no beginning or end. Open one door, live your life, learn as much about love as you can, then go to spirit and open another door.

I'm not nearly experienced or knowledgeable enough to really explain how I feel. Sometimes it's like floating, letting my intuition guide me. Sometimes I get caught up in my intellect and find bits and pieces of the answers I seek, even though I have no idea what the question is.

But I do know this is a necessary process for me to go through.

Thinking of Lyra makes me happy. Remembering how she demonstrated unconditional love and found so much joy in difficult circumstances inspires me. I was privilged to have her in my life, even for so short a time. And I'm lucky now, to sometimes feel that love and joy surround me.

I am also lucky to have many caring friends and family. I once felt that I was unworthy of their kindness. I'm still amazed by it, but am getting to a point where I can accept the goodness inside me and believe I might have something worthwhile to give back. Don't worry. It isn't in me to become a raving, egocentric maniac.

I wish you all happy memories full of love and feelings of warmth in your hearts.

Here are some pictures of Lyra, being a fearsome ghost.

The Millifiori Blues

Some of my friends may have been spammed by a company named Nomorerack, with the e-mail saying it was from me. I didn't send them, I promise. What I must have done is log onto their site and said OK to logging on with my Facebook account. I never do that, because it allows them access to my Facebook friends. Many apologies for slipping up. I will do my best at never making that mistake again.

My quarry on their site was a bracelet that had millefiori glass beads with blue and pink flowers inside them. It didn't cost much and I was in love with it. Which, of course, doesn't excuse my faux pas.

In other news, I have not been out of bed yet. Maybe tomorrow. I hope.

The rest of my days and nights have been taken up with coughing up the phlegm-fest in my throat. It gets a little less disgusting every day. I'm down to ”old-man-in-trenchcoat-flashing-people-in-a-park” disgusting, but I have hope that, by tomorrow, I will be fit for polite society again.

As for spiritual growth, I've begun to understand what, exactly, I'm up against. There is a river of cynicism running through my personality that is much too deep to forge. I've gone about 25 steps back now, mostly taken in retreat from being sick. That always sets me back. And this "thing" on my back, which hurts almost constantly, isn't helping me get back on track, either.

Whine, whine, whine. Yeah, I know. Would you like some cheese with that? Yes, I would. A nice smoked Gouda would do nicely. Another bad thing about nursing homes. There's no Happy Hour.  They don't even serve wine here. 

I just made myself hungry. And, what I would give for a glass or two of sweet wine. I'd even take Boone's Farm Strawberry, my wine of choice when I went to University of Texas at Austin a long, long time ago. (I was quite the connosseur back then. In a pinch, I would gladly take a bottle of Sangria instead. Or, even better, both.)

Ah, my glory days, when I cleaned apartments as partial payment for my rent. I will never forget the bathroom of an apartment where two guys had lived for several years. I won't go into gritty details, but steel wool, as a tile-cleaning tool, was used. I probably should have used pure hydrochloric acid, instead. I would have had to wear a Hazmat suit, or a suit of armor with a gas mask, but I actually should have already been wearing one. it was that bad.

I also worked in a self-serve gas station, which had so little business I had plenty of time to study. That was cool. I got paid to study.

What does this have to do with my struggle? Practically nothing. But it does show that I'm still working on both fronts -- physical and spiritual. And it shows that, when I really want something, I'm willing to do almost anything, including scrubbing nasty bathrooms, to get it. And I want as much independence as I can get, so bring on the physical therapy. If I get a chance, I'll work my tail off. Just try me. You'll see.

Hang tough my loved ones. Keep well and always look for good things to be around the next bend in the road you're on. ❤