Incompetence On A New Level

 I am growing to hate being effectively one-armed. On the other hand (weirdly inappropriate expression here) I am growing to appreciate my lack of a functioning nose.

The brace my right arm is encased in, whether you call it a sling or a contraption or simply a trap, has not been removed or opened once yet. The hand works just fine. It can handle anything from the wrist out. It will notice any "heavy" weight, such as a full coffee cup, and despite the rest of the arm being supported, the shoulder will register discomfort. I won't call it pain, just a warning. It is capable, just limited. So, in the case of coffee, the mug gets set down as soon  as possible, until the left hand can take over. A second trip? No problem, the legs are fine, thanks. When the liquid level gets low, I have to negotiate with my body to rearrange me in a space where the head can tilt back far enough to drain the cup. That means repeat that contortion several times, since the must-tilt level happens way before the remaining liquid can be managed in a single swallow. I have enough irritations without adding either choking or wearing half my coffee on my clothes. If this seems extreme to you, bear in mind the left shoulder is in nearly as bad shape as the replaced one was. I just did the worst one first.

I can fix my own meals, mostly.  There are lots of frozen boxes in the house, mostly low calorie, low fat. Good for portion control. Also lots of low fat no sugar Greek yogurt. To either can be added flavorings, fruits or veggies from appropriate bags in the freezer. There are large stocks of nuts, crackers, puddings, mac-n-cheeze microwave singles, and foil bags of shelf-stable tuna, dried fruits, chunky soups in cans with pull tops. And so forth. Supper tonight is thawing, a ring of frozen shrimp around a tiny tub of cocktail sauce. Soon as it thaws it goes in the fridge. Steve can pull the tough plastic tray parts apart, or that rare stubborn pull top thst won't, but all the rest I can handle.

I'm allowed to take the brace off "for hygeine". That's their delicate way of not talking about figuring out how to use the toilet. It soon will expand to bathing/showering. Yeah, no, I haven't done that latter bit yet. The doc who discharged me said I didn't have to, just after he warned me to keep the shoulder bandage dry. No way that can happen in our shower, plus the hanger for the shower head is already way too high. I do have a supply of baby wet-wipes and never flush them despite package claims. They were cause for our first plumbing bill in this place, and we'd never even had one in the place back then.

But you just can't avoid the toilet. Oh, sure you can, but who's going to clean the house afterwards? Steve who needs a walker to get around? Who can sweep the hard kitchen floor with a long-handled dust pan but can't bend over for the crumbs in the carpet needing individual attention... well, you get the idea. Plus whatever winds up on the floor needing a good scrub I have to go after since I still have the flexibility and balance for it. Yes, I still credit belly dancing for that, all these years later.

The real issue here is getting pants down - in time, starting from that first warning of need - and on both sides of you plus low enough in back when it tends to hang up on all the bulgy parts on the way down, and then once cleaned up afterwards, meaning either without the assistance of the bidet with controls way back behind you on the trapped side, or you can have company while you expel everything you can, who can then turn the tiny knob as directed and WHEN directed so you both don't get a cold shower as well as winding up with a slippery floor. (Do I need to describe how dangerous that could be in these circumstances?)

Let's just assume for the moment that all the above has been successful and up to standards. You are ready to stand WHILE pulling pants up with one hand.  Yes, the grab bar is there but then you have to go back down again anyway for the pants.You will have already learned that getting one side of the pants up does not mean the other side is successfully up. I will not equate optimism in being able to release that hand to grab another part of the waistband and have the first part remain where you left it in defiance of gravity is to be in any way equated with intelligence. It shall forever be merely an indication of optimism!

It may also be an indication of wearing the wrong pants. (Surely you weren't trying this in a skirt, were you? WERE YOU? OMG!) I am rotating three pairs of pants through: use, launder, use. All are or were knit pants. Baggy ones.Two are shorts from before I lost a bunch of weight. The good part is they came with sturdy drawstrings, now permanently knotted so as to not pull out.The elastic is just tight enough that they don't drop. The third is a baggy pair of sweatpants. All are PJs these days, all designated 24-hour acceptable in the house.  Obviously I'm not stepping outside, due in part to sub-zero cold, ice on everything, inability to get into a coat... aka winter. Inside they are accompanied by a lovely, snuggly, double polar fleece throw/blanket. Warm socks too of course.

Back to the topic. Two of these pants when worn singly can in fact be forced both on and off by me with one hand.  It took practice. Before I worked it out, Steve was the other puller, giving us 3 hands for duty. Asleep or awake, he was called into service. We got, with help of family, some short grab sticks. They are not as helpful as we wished for clothing. (Other things, great!)  I could spend time adjusting and working to make them more useful with pants on my "wrong" side. In fact I will have to, since I'll be out of the house 3 times next week, three different doctors' visits. Because what I will have to do next week means I'm back to being dependent in the bathroom unless I learn a new trick.

It will be my need for a second layer. It might even require a third layer, combining discretion and warmth as new needs when out and about in public. It will have elastic and extra padding. I can have an accident at home and simply switch to clean pants, but even at home, inserting even regular undies means I need assistance. Especially in redressing. Everything gets hung up on a second layer of fabric, even if it didn't get stuck on a bulge, however large or small one thinks it may be these days. And yes, they are smaller, but that only means it is lower, not gone. Something getting pulled up gets stuck under the bulge, not merely at the  bulge. It's just another "perk" of losing weight in one's 70s. Skin doesn't care about shrinking any more. (Want more surgery, anybody?  A little tuck here, a nip and tuck there, here a nip, there a tuck, everywhere a nip tuck ....Wait! What am I singing for?)

So we worked out that whenever I'm wearing 2 layers of pants, I'll head to wherever Steve is, even in bed asleep, and he will do the pulling down, handing me the fistful for my good side. A whole lot of NSFW will be flashing any neighbors who are playing Peeping Tom at that moment. Since we keep the blinds angled to make that near impossible, we keep them disappointed. Something else will be devised for when we have visitors. Obviously the whole system works in reverse afterwards. The three rotating pants are at the exact size to combine with the exact twisting wiggle that persistence winds up with them all sitting in place over my hip bones. Steve can keep sleeping. Add one... .HELP!!!

It works for the two of us and our privacy needs - or happy lack thereof. I suppose if we graduate to a lengthy family/company visit, I'll just have him head into the bathroom with me. But out in public? Or when Paul is driving?

As The Nerve Block Passes

Last post I'd noted gradual return of sensation , motion, and identification  of my right arm, slowly starting from fingers ascending to the shoulder, with little to no pain.  As advised I did take a precautionary Oxy tablet. They do not want us to experience a huge cascade of pain.  They say it tends to hit in the middle of the night.

I appreciate that.

I went to bed, aka my recliner to keep me from rolling around, to settle in for the night. Or so I thought. 

A while later I felt a thin line of pain along the outside edge of my hand. Then up the outside of the forearm, then climb the upper arm to the shoulder.  The process took about two minutes. It almost felt like the blocking medication were draining out against gravity, flowing up hill, with pain filling in from behind, also upwards. 

It wasn't severe, though sharp, enough for me to get back up and go take another Oxy pill, as allowed, just a few hours past the earlier one. It actually killed the fine line of pain quickly enough for me to wonder if I hadn't over reacted. Would that last pain have gone away on it's own?

At any rate, I slept well enough, and have gone easy on the Oxy since, sticking to the tylenol 500s until something stronger says it's needed. So far, so good. Some pain, yes. Not a big challenge... yet.

A New Painkiller With Brain Boggling Side Effects

I’ve been out of touch for shoulder replacement surgery - and some weird side effects. At this point, 3rd day, there has been no pain, despite the somewhat fearsome reputation of the surgery. None whatsoever  beyond a needle prick that immediately was followed by numbness, unless you count setting up the IV which preceded it, but that was just normal, as far as my many experiences go.…

There was a lot of paperwork to sign, the usual permissions required for many procedures in a non-emergency basis. I got another one to sign, preceded by a fairly detailed explanation. This goes down through the top of the shoulder to be replaced by metal and plastic. It is a nerve block, or rather a 3-nerve block. So far that is fairly standard, though in no way replacing deep anesthesia requiring lots of monitoring including ventilation. They warn you there might be a sore throat after that. I had none, though I do have a memory of first awareness of waking, being moved by four people all telling me I needed to breathe and pronouncing it good when I apparently resumed on my own, but that was several hours later.

The IV port supplied fentanyl before the block started, not that I could tell it even went in. I was distracted by the rest of it. A large screen - to me anyway - ultrasound was on one side of my bed with one nurse managing controls to give the field covered the right depth. It was adjusted 3 times until the doctor anesthesiologist pronounced it perfect. My view was lots of slightly wiggly white lines going across the screen. These were in part my nerves. I felt a pin prick - actually a long needle  - and saw it as a brighter white line sliding down the middle of one of them, which was when I decided a different view was in order. I figured I’d seen enough to satisfy curiosity.There were to be three of those (brachial?) nerves to be treated, but since I wasn’t feeling a thing, I had enough of that experience. If I kept watching I might feel it happening? Imagine it, perhaps. Not necessary.

We discussed ahead of time what was being used, and I got the actual name later: liposomal bupivacaine. Think novocaine that works immediately and lasts 4 days, ideally, as a complete nerve block. It’s fairly new, and I had to sign my permission for them to use it.  The alternative standard only lasts a bit after the surgery does. No question there for me. The worst of the procedure pain should be over before the block ends. A worst case is the block lasts a lot longer.

The side effect started a few minutes later. I believe asomatognosia about covers it. I tried describing it to my medical team, not having the jargon, and came up with body dysphoria, to mixed reviews.

I had been covered over by one of those delightful Bair Huggers which kept me cozily warm, giving me no view of my body nor need of one. I quickly lost movement in my fingers on that side, totally expected, aside from being able to curl them, no lifting any finger. The rest of my arm had no movement, no lifting the hand. I tried. The thing was, as it slowly dawned on me, that I couldn’t see the movement  I actually could make under my covering. The arm was bent at the elbow and had been draped across my chest. I looked for it, feeling with the other hand, and it simply wasn’t there where I knew it was. My chest hadn’t been numbed and it knew exactly where my arm rested, except….

Somebody came into test for how the block was working, and lifted my arm into view… straight out down along my side and just between the mattress and the bed rails, safely tucked where moving my bed down the hall wouldn’t snag it. When they put it back down, my fingers now identified what they had been feeling as the binding on the mattress, while my chest and brain insisted it was “again” draped across my chest!

Every conscious awareness for the rest of that day and into the next insisted that was my arm’s location! It never was. Post surgery, with my bed now raised at the head, I could see it wasn’t there but body and brain continued to disagree. I kept trying to put things into that hand… that wasn’t there! Once I did have a chance to touch the numbed hand with the normal one, it was a useless series of misses and failures to register by the numbed one, none of which dissuaded my brain from trying.

Before I even woke up the entire arm was encased firmly in what the staff referred to as a sling. I call it a contraption, composed of rigid padding, belts and buckles, not allowing any movement whatever.

The fingers stayed curlable. Next day I started being able to uncurl them on  purpose, later move my wrist. Third day my hand was back, all the way past the elbow with feeling of itself and motion to the limits of the contraption, still with no pain whatsoever.

I got sent home with a selection of good pain meds and others for when I need them. Maybe tomorrow. No point wasting any.

It’s good to know where my arm is again.  For a while it was puzzling, frustrating, annoying, and ultimately hilarious!  I’ll trade all of it again for avoiding the notorious pain, at least for a few days. The slow progress back to feeling and motion is encouraging.

 Now I get to spend the next six weeks learning how to live with effectively one hand. Putting food from a box into the microwave isn’t hard, but for some reason I need Steve to push the numbers.  I must have used the other hand for that, though I’m puzzled why I can’t switch. The wrong arm has to reach for the phone now, from the shoulder that isn’t fixed. It’s an uncomfortable stretch.  My laptop won’t sit on my lap these days so it’s over on a table and the chair height is weird. Can you pull your pants on/off without using both hands? In time? This first draft had a typo about every third letter because my fingers operate the keyboard from muscle memory, but now it’s hunt and peck, wincingly wondering what on earth I was trying to say in that spot and why this line got inserted way over there in the middle of that word?

I have lots of help at home when I need it. Some skills are improving - I did think out lots of potential issues ahead of time  and work on solutions… with both hands of course. I had no idea of a not-hand, just an immobilized one.

Odd things are happening, no direct relation to the surgery, exactly. My pacemaker clinic called. They can’t prove my battery still has a charge, though it might be a false result. It was a known possibility going in. So I have an appointment to go in for a check, though no opening for two weeks. But if I feel faint meanwhile, call 911 for an ambo to the local hospital with a call out to Boston Scientific for a technician to race me there, relevant phone numbers on the calendar.

I feel fine, all things considering.

The second weird event I think was a scam. “Sara” called, informing me I was behind in keeping up with my medical testing, and it could make a difference in what my insurance would cover.

Are you shitting me? All the medical stuffI’ve been through the last  5 months, everything one needs before this surgery? I tried to interrupt “Sara” to ask this impossibly cheerful voice just exactly what tests “she” thought I needed but the voice wouldn’t slow to answer a question.  I got a bit rude, loudly repeating “Whoa!” about a dozen times without a breath, which changed her schpeil long enough to get her to change tack. The voice, which I now decided was likely AI, came back with “I see you have a lot on your plate, would you like me to call back later ?”
How irrelevant can you get? just answer a simple question! Obviously a badly programmed AI. I returned with, “No, I’m all caught up on my medical stuff, GOOD BYE!!!”
 

Surprise Charge On My Bill

I like to shop online. I started back years ago when my knees got so bad I hated walking enough to buy groceries or go to yard sales or whatever. I used to judge shopping locations by their battery shopping scooter carts as first priority. The knees are fine now but the online habit stayed. I'm considering changing it.

 The online grocery ordering started for us in Arizona with a grocery store that was an early one to offer it for seniors (then others) to avoid the risks of catching / sharing covid. They had first opened at 6:00 AM for seniors only, 7 for anybody, but later switched back to normal hours, letting everybody who wished order online and drive to reserved parking spaces to have our order brought out. And yes, of course, the ice cream was kept in a freezer until we got there! Even in what they call winter when we were only a mile away. It worked well, until they adopted QR codes and we seniors didn't. They quickly decided to accommodate us and put their phone number back on the delivery parking spaces' signs so we could claim our food!

Once we came back north, we checked with Walmart. They had a pretty good system and we've been using it for nearly all our shopping. Lots of items weren't food, since we didn't move everything we owned/needed/wanted to keep moving costs down, and we quickly learned to take note of what we could pick up along with our groceries, and what had to be delivered, free with a certain level of purchase, usually in 2 days. Or at least for a while. Then Trump started threatening tariffs, something different with every utterance, and the system got a bit gummed up. Walmart never noted on their order sites whether a company they contracted with was domestic or local. Two days often stretched to 6, or simply an email notice that it would take longer.

It seemed fairly innocuous. At first, anyway. Then things stopped showing up completely. I tried patience. It didn't work, unless their plan was to hope we might forgot we ordered something weeks ago and forgot about it. I learned long ago to keep those emails saying what I ordered, when, and its supposed arrival date. Many even had tracking numbers. Eventually I called Walmart's customer support and was rewarded with a snippy retort that Walmart had nothing to do with those orders and were offering no refunds (despite having them on their website... still!) Somebody still owes me a battery clock, an indoor wall thermometer, and a pair of small rugs shaped to fit in front of the toilet.) I needed the rugs and  clock, and since have walked into a store and purchased something similar in person. I decided I didn't really absolutely have to know how cold a room in the house was, I'd just keep a throw blanket in it, as does Steve, so no indoor thermometer was bought. I just needed to get over it... except my resentment at being cheated. I did look at one of those emails about a month ago, checked the tracking number, and found a "failure to deliver" note ... from California! Good thing I like the replacement battery clock better than what I ordered. But still....

None of what was "late" ever did show up. I've made a note to check the Walmart site EVERY TIME for whether what I wanted was in the store at the moment and able to be picked up, or not. In the latter case I ordered something else instead, or nothing. I have Steve doing the same thing, and he hasn't actually lost any money... that way. He recently had to replace a mouse pad, and ordered the only one of the several listed online that was actually in the store. It's solid black, not cutely decorated, but we got it with the groceries even though the young man wheeling out our order looked puzzled at why this foreign thing was in with food and was ready to throw it aside as trash. Good thing I was standing back behind the car with him when he did that! Sometimes we have to train them, you know, like keeping eggs or bread separate from anything heavy instead of under it, or frozen things together but away from just refrigerated, especially when something frozen has to travel half an hour home on a warm day and just happens to be ice cream . For us particularly we also teach not putting multiple gallons of milk in a single bag.  We don't even get paid for our training services!

After the year of our being trained to buy what's currently domestic, I've come to depend on the hints that some things might not come... ever. I just discovered other sites from other companies don't do us the favor of dropping hints. That just became relevant.

Part of my prep for upcoming surgery is locating the rare piece of clothing in my wardrobe which has sleeves in it, but doesn't have to be pulled over head and raised arms together. In other words, it should have front buttons or a zipper or something similar. I have not bought anything like that for well over a decade, unless it was considered outerwear like my winter coats. Every top is stretchy in various degrees and pulls over my head. It's the reason Steve has to help me dress in the mornings with my bad shoulders. Some things are old and loose - especially the second day of wear - enough for me to fight with by myself, or at least on my better days. But two days from now I'm under orders to pretty much keep my one arm just hanging straight down for a few weeks or more, and to be held there in a sling which is only to be removed for hygienic purposes. (I guess they want me to use my antiperspirant every day, eh? And take the occasional shower at least so I can check for bleeding and/or infection. Steve's going to love assisting me with shower duty! )

I finally found something to wear during that time... sort of. I do have a couple old zipper-front hoodie sweatshirts. It kind of defeats the purpose knowing I'm going to have to wear something sleeveless under that or have zipper scratches down my middle for weeks, but there we have it. Steve dug out one of his button front long sleeve "flannel" shirts, but even my hand finds that fabric sratchy. Do they make wool flannel? I've wandered through a couple clothing departments but pull-over everything seems to be the mandate of the year. Lucky my summer wardrobe does have a few unscratchy items in it, which I know from actually wearing them, and old ratty but soft cotton tee-shirts do graduate around here into the pajama-top drawer. 

 However, I'm still thinking about not raising my arm for some time. I was the perfect target for a shirt ad online. They were men's shirts, but soft and button front. Unlike most men's shirts they came in colors I like, like teal or purple.  A little pricey, but worth one try. I ordered one. It won't be in time for checking out of the hospital, but should be delivered soon after. Prompt delivery adds a few bucks but OK just this once.

I got confirmation via email, and all the details fit what I ordered. I got several more emails suggesting I could order more right now and each additional would be cheaper because of quantity. Delete. Delete. Delete. The original order confirmation email I'm keeping, even having taken a photo of it in case.

This morning I checked into my bank account, a frequent habit to be sure the card is not being misused, or my math isn't off and there's an upcoming minus balance or something. This is one of those months where social security arrives later than usual, and certain bills have to be held extra days, not a problem since I plan for it. 

The balance was lower than expected!

I went through the details and the shirt order had an extra charge on it. It was also the first indication anywhere that it was arriving from Hong Kong! Their business name was not the single word from their ad online, but now had added "Hong Kong"into their business name. The fee was labeled "International Fee US Funds".  Not tariff or anything resembling that word. The order was all in English, sizes not claimed to have some nationality attached to them like some places who give, say, US and UK sizes in different columns. That's information good to know before one picks their size, of course. But it's also a tip off that the garment is sold and/or made internationally. Just like a three week out arrival date is a hint, either of that or overburdened shipping staff. Or in another case years ago I could pay in either American currency at price "X" or Australian at price "Y". That was an interesting way of comparing how currency exchange values varied over time, or differed from Canadian ones, since I bought from them for months. I paid in US currency of course.

All that aside, this was a deliberate withholding of final price at the time of sale, or of even the possibility of a change. Everything else had been listed in the ad, including options for shipping. So far, since the charge is less than a dollar, I'm merely annoyed. I'll be waiting to see what else may not be as stated. Size? Color? Softness? Will it have been manufactured, like another clothing company recently lost my business after switching, on machines that leaves tails of thread to unravel instead of ending in a lock stitch? 

That other company, incidentally,  keeps sending me catalogues on a frequent basis. At least their paper is reyclable, as that's where those go now. Our postal center has a recycle bin before you head out the door to drop crap in without reading. It fills regularly. I help.

Minneapolis Rage!

 OK, first, I do not live in Minneapolis. I did for a few months when I was five, while Mom was sick and a much beloved aunt took care of me. My parents were born there, grew up there, met and married there, before moving to a variety of other locations during their long lives. I have a daughter and son-in-law who live there. While I was working, I spent a lot of time within its boundaries, learning to navigate in and out of downtown where every street entered and exited in a different area than the next, and you suddenly could find yourself on a freeway instead of across to the other side if you picked the wrong street. (I almost lost my courier job the first day  for that!) But I learned, so of course much has changed since I retired, new buildings I don't recognize, costing me my landmarks. I do manage anyway. Just much slower.

We had friends who lived there, eventually marrying each other, moving to Arizona some years before we did, then welcoming us down there and resuming the friendships once we also moved south. One was a formal witness to our official wedding.

In short, over the decades, it has held a lot of meaning for me, even while becoming unfamiliar.

I witnessed the influx of Somalis back when, met and conversed with several during waiting periods at work and got to know a lot about their customs. I watched the men pray on their rugs over in a corner of the larger area we all waited in for work to come our way. I'd enjoy seeing the wide variety of beautiful fabrics Somali women draped around themselves as they walked through downtown in obedience to their religion. I even chatted with some about it. We respected each other.

Returning to Minnesota after a decade, things have changed.  Covid happened. Major fraud happened, taking advantage of covid restrictions while purporting to fill in service gaps. The leaders were Caucasians, their followers mainly Somali immigrants. The white folks got the stiffest sentences, the Somalis at fault are still getting processed legally, while their community bore the publicity and blame, becoming as a community convenient scapegoats for anything identified as crimes to lazy minds.  When Trump came to power a second time, promoting a political agenda denigrating anybody not white as part of Project 2025, using race as an excuse to scoop up and deport whoever they found undesirable for whatever alleged "reasons", things worsened even more. 

Having a Democratic Governor who entered a national campaign against Trump, sometimes poking fun where it was earned by the "weird", though ultimately losing the election, made a powerful enemy for the state, with Somalis (now mostly American citizens) still being convenient targets and scapegoats. Once fraud, easy to decide it's always fraud by all of them. I'll repeat: lazy minds, adding they fit a dark agenda of the new federal powers.

I won't bother to list all the lies, corruption, unconstitutional actions etc., from the last year from the federal administration. Those could fill an encyclopedia. I'm known for long posts here, but not that long. Skip forward to recent weeks, when the idea of fraud was again convenient as a weapon to denigrate a community of non-white new Americans. This time it was an "influencer" named Nick Shirley who went through the area, himself perpetrating fraud, claiming another scandal, this time supposedly showing that a whole bunch of daycare centers were receiving federal funds to take care of young children who didn't exist. Never mind that the centers had been recently inspected by the state, and aside from a very few which had been closed for safety infractions, were open at their stated hours, and did have children on the premises. One of Shirley's lies concerned filming in the early morning hours a daycare which operates starting at 2PM for parents who have to work a second shift and choose daycare over raising "latchkey kids", home taking care of themselves. Another was not only open but remained so 7 days a week for parents who worked weekends.  

But it was just too easy to believe the video "evidence", especially if the lies fit your agenda of punishing a community and a state. Federal dollars were stopped, despite need, claims of fraud were made without evidence, and even spread out into other areas, to withdraw assistance from people needing help for basic things like getting dressed, or toileting, getting groceries or meds, or visits to and from their doctors. These are things a PCA does, which I expect to return to working as once my new shoulder (coming next week) heals sufficiently that I can give help rather than requiring my own help. (At least I don't have to pay Steve... or vice versa, unless you do as we do and count kisses. We'll get through it. I do worry about my client. )

On top of all that, add sending ICE into Minneapolis, in the guise of removing criminal immigrants. Note that despite many judicial cases this administration has lost, people's rights are still being violated. People are being picked up who carry proof of their citizenship on them, but ICE refuses to bother to look. I guess that's what happens when they pick people up on a bounty system. Bring in the bodies and let somebody else sort it out later... if the person is still findable, healthy, or even alive. Protesting is not allowed, even considered treasonous, according to our Idiot In Chief, or Puppy-Killer Noem. Lies are invented on the spot even  before facts are available, suggesting prepared scripts before any encounter. Protesters are abused, forcefully, chemically, and at the barrel of a gun. 

ICE murdered a woman this week in Minneapolis. Puppy-Killer Noem tells us not to believe what we saw broadcast far and wide from a variety of angles from videos taken at the time. The murder victim  was a "terrorist" according to Noem. What she really was is a Mom who just dropped her kid off, got tangled up in traffic trying to go home, got blocked in, pulled out when it became possible after being told to move, and in trying to avoid the ICE mess, and ICE personnel, moved her car a bit at a time in the safest way she could find. In exchange for her trying to leave per their original directions, they suddenly tried to pull her from her car when she had to get closer to them in order to leave the area.  She wasn't speeding, she wasn't attacking, she did her best to steer clear of ICE who for whatever reason started to swarm her, and when she refused to let them open her car door, one who had in no way from any of the many video angles been more than possibly lightly touched at crawling speed, shot her once through the windshield with his gun already drawn, then moved to shoot her twice through the open window. The car left without her having any control over it, quite likely already dead with her foot still on the gas, or at least already dying. The car crashed into two others parked down the street. 

None of the videos shows anything different! Claims that the shooter was sent to the hospital after being "run over by the car" are not borne out in any of the footage.

A doctor who was on the scene ran to the crashed car to try to help, but ICE would not let him near even after he identified himself.  A few minutes later an ambulance pulled up and they were also denied access to check her out and see if they could help. If she wasn't already dead, ICE guaranteed she would be.

Federal response is wildly different from what the videos show. We're told not to believe it, to listen to their lies instead.  Minneapolis police tell us they are trained to let a car leave rather than shooting after it, particularly if it's just a traffic infringement. After all, they have your license plate info, and can find you later. Plus too much chance of the wrong people being shot just for being close to the vehicle leaving. When I took the class for my CCP  (Concealed Carry Permit), the first thing, very well stressed, that we were taught, was to always know your background before pulling the trigger. If you didn't know what was behind the wall you can't shoot the crook in front of it. So who's on the other side of a fleeing car should your bullet exit the opposite window? Is there a kid in the back seat? 

Minnesota BCA has a great reputation for examining the evidence and pulling truth out of it for what happened and who did which. The FBI, which in the last year has shown more allegiance to Trump than to truth by the top powers that be, has taken over the case and kicked the BCA off of it. Who is going to unreservedly believe their findings in this case are truth, and not serving an agenda?

Anybody else feeling some MINNEAPOLIS RAGE here?

 

Before Surgery... Right Questions, But Wrong Answers

We're counting down now, just over a week to go.  All kinds of details to get right and at the right time.

For example, I have a huge set of appointments ahead, from surgery to post doc visits to PT to an allowed dentist visit (wait 6 months or more!) I finished making the last of those new appointments this morning.  Now all are written down on the new calendar, and it is finally hanging back on the hook where it belongs. This is our very special calendar, with large squares for every day with room to write on, and each month has a series of photos on it, family photos, taken by one family member who is always getting photos of the people whenever several or more collect. Need I say they are treasurers saved every year? We can look back and ask when did this person grow up or that one get so old, or did we not notice somebody becoming so tall or short? Occasionally we have to ask each other just who that person is, since we haven't seen them for a few years, or in one case, not since our commitment ceremony over a decade ago.

At any rate, I/we have no excuse for missing an appointment or double-booking something. Plus recycle weeks are marked, because it means hauling two huge bins curbside those weeks. My job of course.

All the doctors and dentist have been seen for the pre-surgery checks, the special soap before surgery is in the shower, foods that can be eaten with only one limb being needed are collected, a driver picked out for when I can't shop for more myself. I have an important question about that, however. It's winter. This one is a snowy/icy one. We both now have slip-over crampons for our shoes/boots to prevent slipping on ice. So far, so good.  I have a well-practiced assistant for helping with dressing in things with sleeves. HOWEVER... once I'm in that sling for a month or more, just how the hell do I get in/out of my winter coat? And get it fastened around me so I can stay warm? I'll have to be out and about at least once a week, between docs and PT. Sure, we can have stuff delivered, or picked up for us in the case of grocery orders, but when I'm the "package" I plan on being warm!  Waiting for the seasons to change is not one of my options.

But how, exactly?

I've solved the "how-do-I sleep?" problem. I haven't been able to lie flat in my bed for months, being a side sleeper who rolls from side (ouch) to side (ouch, prepare to ache awake) in my sleep. The solution has been my recliner, but that happens to have a lever to raise and drop both the foot rest and back, so it's in the needed positions without allowing pressure on the shoulders. A sling won't allow me to use that since it's on my "bad" side. However, the first piece of furniture in this house when we moved in was a red print recliner in the living room (not the family room with the TV). It has no lever. One can sit, and with a single hand on the chair arm, put the seat back with the feet up in a comfy position. My legs alone can put it in a position to stand up from. I just tried it to be sure. That room is cooler than where I sleep, but then again it's closer to the bathroom. Lose a little, gain a little. The polar fleece throw I sleep under is as portable as I am, and sweats plus heavy socks can make good winter PJs.

I was given a fat folder of paperwork when I visited my surgeon. I worked through the check-off to-do lists for well ahead of the procedure. I decided it was time to actually read the even fatter booklet on how to both prepare for and work with your newly replaced joint. Unfortunately, while a few very general statements are the kind that work for all,  like getting an assist to the bathroom while you're still groggy after surgery, or discussing pain meds, everything else is for patients getting hips and knees replaced. 

Uhhh, guys, how about shoulders? Eh? Eh? Anybody there? Are those chopped liver? My hips are fine, and both knees were replaced years ago. I graduated  straight from a couple weeks on a walker to unassisted walking, no canes at all since I find them to be tripping hazards. Getting on/off the toilet, in/out of the tub we never use dos and don'ts, all are pretty pointless. Legs work, let me repeat, and grab bars are all over the place, just now for only one hand for a bit. My issues will still be range of motion, which I've done the "before" PT for, and strengthening arm muscles for after. So far I can be somewhat independent.

There are things I'll need Steve for however, like some of the hygiene and dressing ones, or learning how to work into hopefully full independence. Right now I can... with great reluctance ... reach the bad arm across to apply deodorant. Fresh after surgery? One hand can reach all my head for shampooing and brushing my short hair. After a shower a second good arm is needed to towel my back dry, and only on the best of good days does that work. The bidet is wonderful but not 100% of the job, and pulling up sweatpants in back with a snug elastic waistband can often require an extra tug.  He can help where needed, and as a bonus knows exactly where my back itches and how hard to scratch... over the clothes to save the skin of course. 

We have most of that figured out between us so far, in these months where my shoulder is only mostly out of commission, especially those without effective pain management, since I'm off NSAIDS and saving the heavy duty stuff for post-surgery. You can bet I'll ask for the best! I know how to wean myself off, have done it before several times, and have sturdy sharp knives for pill cutting to order - halves, thirds, quarters. 

But all my remaining questions are completely unaddressed by the handouts. How often can I remove the sling - and "never" is not the right answer. Is it  just a triangle or does it have special straps or stuff to keep it precisely in place? If so, how do I get it back on, and can I do it alone or will I need help? I've even figured out how I can drive one-handed, provided Steve is in the passenger seat. It'll be my right arm in the sling, and that hand will be able to hold the wheel still enough for a few seconds while the left hits the turn signal, for example. My passenger will need to work the center console controls, shift gears, buckle my seat belt and unbuckle it, pull the parking brake and release it, as well as work the wiper blades,  or the temperature controls which he does now already so I can keep my eyes on the road. I'd just turn the car over to him, but it's been so long since he drove on snow/ice that he really doesn't want to, and my medical appointments won't take that into consideration. On dry pavement days, should we finally get any between surgery and March, he can have at it.

But hey, guys, doesn't anybody have a manual yet just for new shoulders?

Do I need to write it?