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Same Subject, Different Day
Jan. 16th, 2006 10:12 pmWhy is it that a man using a cane can look distinguished and sophisticated, while a woman using a cane just looks old?
I know, it's high time that I wrote about something other than my poor, abused knee in here. Unfortunately, I am rapidly learning that chronic discomfort, however mild, does an amazing job of keeping one from focusing on anything else for any significant length of time. This went a long way, for example, to making Arisia incredibly less pleasant than it would have been otherwise. I still managed to enjoy a few of the panels I was on, and I even sang in the filk room, all on my own (well, at the request of a good friend) - in that case, the discomfort actually helped distract me to keep the panic to a minimum - and got some decent social time with friends I don't see often enough, once the pain meds kicked in. Without the health problems, it would have been a spectacular con. As it was, though, I spent way too much effort trying to keep my crankiness and discomfort to a minimum.
According to the ER doctor I saw today after an icy driveway sent me slip-sliding from 'my knee is unhappy' to 'my knee hates me, the world, and any angle past ten degrees,' I have patellar tendonitis. This apparently has no cause, no signs beyond stern ouchiness, and no treatment but rest and horse-choking doses of pain meds. And since the first isn't an option, I am now hobbling around with a cane and with strict orders that, if I'm going to be obstinate enough to 1) continue to work and 2) live in a house with stairs, I can darn well spend every waking hour that's not at work on my butt with a heating pad wrapped around my leg. For the next week, at least.
This is not my idea of fun. In general, sitting still is not my idea of fun. Bopping around the kitchen and walking to the library and running up and down the stairs to get the seventeen random items I've forgotten at any point in time and playing DDR are much closer to fun than being sedentary could ever be. But since the next option, if rest and advil don't help, is crutches, prescription drugs, and an MRI, I'm doing my best to oblige.
I've been still for two and a half hours now, unless you count coming upstairs to use my computer. And wandering back and forth across the living room to double-check my schedule for tomorrow.
It's going to be a long week...
I know, it's high time that I wrote about something other than my poor, abused knee in here. Unfortunately, I am rapidly learning that chronic discomfort, however mild, does an amazing job of keeping one from focusing on anything else for any significant length of time. This went a long way, for example, to making Arisia incredibly less pleasant than it would have been otherwise. I still managed to enjoy a few of the panels I was on, and I even sang in the filk room, all on my own (well, at the request of a good friend) - in that case, the discomfort actually helped distract me to keep the panic to a minimum - and got some decent social time with friends I don't see often enough, once the pain meds kicked in. Without the health problems, it would have been a spectacular con. As it was, though, I spent way too much effort trying to keep my crankiness and discomfort to a minimum.
According to the ER doctor I saw today after an icy driveway sent me slip-sliding from 'my knee is unhappy' to 'my knee hates me, the world, and any angle past ten degrees,' I have patellar tendonitis. This apparently has no cause, no signs beyond stern ouchiness, and no treatment but rest and horse-choking doses of pain meds. And since the first isn't an option, I am now hobbling around with a cane and with strict orders that, if I'm going to be obstinate enough to 1) continue to work and 2) live in a house with stairs, I can darn well spend every waking hour that's not at work on my butt with a heating pad wrapped around my leg. For the next week, at least.
This is not my idea of fun. In general, sitting still is not my idea of fun. Bopping around the kitchen and walking to the library and running up and down the stairs to get the seventeen random items I've forgotten at any point in time and playing DDR are much closer to fun than being sedentary could ever be. But since the next option, if rest and advil don't help, is crutches, prescription drugs, and an MRI, I'm doing my best to oblige.
I've been still for two and a half hours now, unless you count coming upstairs to use my computer. And wandering back and forth across the living room to double-check my schedule for tomorrow.
It's going to be a long week...
