I actually finished it several months ago, but there's something about wearing my own knits that freaks me out. On the one hand, everyone notices and says nice things and on the other hand everyone notices and says nice things. It makes me uncomfortable, I guess. But, the sweater is warm and comfortable and I'll be wearing it again.
I'm getting my blood checked every 3 months because of the big D. The first 3 months after my diagnosis, I was very strict about what I put in my mouth. It was a huge struggle, but my motivation was high - so I succeeded.
These last 3 months, not so much. Oh, I still watch what I eat, but I'm quite a bit more lax about it. For example, I have ice cream every now and again. I even eat a cookie once in a while (though not often because they make my stomach hurt now).
So I was a little apprehensive about my blood test this morning. I knew it wasn't going to be terrible, but I didn't expect this:
Let me just remind you that my A1C was 8.9 in September and 6.3 in November. Am I rocking this thing or what?!!?
I've said it before and I'll say it again - Love is Love is Love. I don't care who you sleep with. It doesn't threaten me. It doesn't affect the "sanctity" of my marriage. Please go watch this video and then sign the petition if you're so inclined.
Let me remind you that 2 Februaries ago, I fell on some ice and broke my right ankle. Specifically, I broke my distal fibula, dislocated my ankle, and tore a ligament into pieces. What followed was several months of convalescence, a plaster cast, a walking cast, a go-cart, and crutches. It was grueling and I've been very careful about where I put my feet since then.
On Tuesday last week, I was leaving the parking lot to catch a commuter bus to work. When I stepped on the sidewalk my right foot was on a patch of black ice. I was on my hands and knees in an instant. I got up, walked over to the bus shelter and sat down before the fat, salty tears could flow. I honestly don't know how I made it because my knees were wobbling terribly.
Of course, I had to let Employee Services know because it happened on University property and they told me to go to Employee Health right away. I figured that I was banged up pretty good, but nothing was broken, but they insisted on Xrays. I didn't fight it - I wanted to make sure too. Let me present to you my right ankle.
So, to orient you, you're looking at my leg as if we're standing face to face. The big thick bone on the right is the tibia (the weight bearing bone) and the thinner bone on the left is the fibula. If you look closely at the fibula, you can see the screw holes where they removed my hardware in December.
The tiny bright spot to the right of the tibia is a metal button that holds the Kevlar band in place. The band was there to stabilize the dislocation until everything could heal. My Orthopod decided to leave the band as he didn't want to muck around in my ankle trying to remove it. The holes will eventually fill in, but it will take some time. I'm happy to say the quality of my bones looks good (according to the Orthopod) and the fracture has healed very well.
Employee health also took Xrays of my knee and my foot. They were really making sure everything was okay. Because I work here, I could pull up the radiology reports and read them. I was intrigued by this: "Prominent plantar surface calcaneal spur." Hmmm, 'prominent'? The calcaneus is your heel bone. It's what takes most of the force when you're walking/running/standing. It should be a smooth, squarish bone.
I started to wonder if the spur had anything to do with my plantar fasciitis that I've had off and on for a couple of years. Of course I had to go look at the Xrays.
Prominent, my ass, that thing's HUGE! I've seen lots of foot Xrays in my time here - I've never seen anything that big. I could be a Nazgul and never have to strap anything on to make my horse do what I want it to do!
Just for comparison, this is a left calcaneus (not mine). This is the whole foot, but see how smooth the calcaneus looks there on the left of the picture? No spurs on this person!
I know that getting older is better than the alternative, but geez, could I catch a break anytime soon?
In fall 2007 I announced to my co-workers that I was going to SOAR and that I would be away for a week. The nurses I work with thought it was a great idea. They also thought it was a great idea to leave tracings of their feet on my desk with color suggestions for socks. I made them wait a very long time.
These are Terri's feet. She got Mountain Colors Bearfoot. Let me tell you, while I was knitting these, all I could think was, "I need some more of this yarn!"
I used my own 'vanilla sock pattern' and whipped these babies up in no time. She loves them. She said, "They feel cushy on the bottoms of my feet and they're warm."
She also is learning to knit her own socks. They're moving forward slowly, but they are lovely and I can't wait for her to be able to wear her very own, handknit socks.
This is Pam. When I asked for a picture of her socks, in situ, she sat down on the floor of my office and posed.
I left her socks on her desk and paged her, saying "What's on your desk? Someone must really love you." She came back immediately and put them on. I don't remember her yarn, but the colorway was called "Party". Perfect for Pam!
She wears them frequently and makes sure I know when she has them on.
Both of these women were so appreciative that it will be easy to knit more socks for them in the future. Let's hope it won't take me 2 years to get to it, but don't hold your breath ladies.
It's the anniversary of Roe v. Wade. I don't remember not having a choice, but I do have a story. I am the middle of three children. When my mother was pregnant with my sister, she had some serious problems. There was spotting and bleeding throughout the pregnancy, but it was 1967 - there wasn't much they could do for her. About 2 weeks before her due date, she woke up in the middle of the night and the mattress was soaked. She was so embarrassed that she had wet the bed without waking up. Then she turned on the light. The entire mattress was covered in blood. How long had she laid there, quietly bleeding out?
My dad was a long-haul trucker in those days, so he wasn't there or even within calling distance. She called her sister who rushed her to the hospital. She says she remembers white lights and a lot of doctors and that one of the nurses said, "Is she going to make it? At some point, she saw herself lying on the table and hearing a baby cry. She says she thought to herself, "Oh, I guess Doug will have to take care of them now." As quick as that, she was back in her body and opening her eyes.
About 6 months later - she thought she was pregnant again. Then she was afraid. She talked to her doctor about a tubal ligation. Not only was there a points process that she had to go through (how old was she, how many children did she already have), but she had to have my dad's permission to have the operation. Seriously, he had to go to the doctor's office and listen to what would happen during the procedure and HE had to sign a paper giving his permission for her to control her own fertility. An adult woman in the early 1970s.
People, we cannot go back to those days. I control what goes on in my uterus. I am the one who is responsible for its products and I am the one who ultimately pays for any choice I make. Our daughters deserve to make their own informed choices - we owe it to them to make sure they can.
My sister called me last night. After chatting with Sassy for a few minutes she asked for me and Sassy handed me the phone. "I need a moment of silence, please."
I said, "What ..."
"Mr. Rourke is dead."
Whereupon we launched into discussion about our love for Fantasy Island. We never missed that show. Saturday nights where when our parents went out and we settled in for Love Boat and then Tattoo and Mr. Rourke. We even had a Fantasy Island game that we never tired of playing. It involved picking out who you wanted to be (model, sports star, actor) and then completing a series of tasks to get tokens that represented money, fame, and love. I absolutely loved that game.
Then I said, wait a minute ... "Kaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahn"
You know you're old when the stars of your youth start dying. Wherever he goes, I hope someone's waiting there with an umbrella in a fruity drink and welcoming him. Thanks Ricardo, for everything.