random thoughts – Day 1,795 – (Friday) – x-ray vision

Thursday night was surprisingly restful with the injured arm wrapped in an Ace bandage and resting on a bed pillow. There was minimal OTC pain relief because all the bottles at The BungaLowell require nineteen hands and Popeye strength to open. The only flip top bottle had only one capsule in it.

Friday morning began with unwrapping the Ace bandage (compression!) from the wrist in preparation for entering the shower for a one-handed adventure. Bruises had appeared since Thursday night. the wrist was at an odd angle.

Untamed sea witch hair.

The showering and shampooing was tricky, but not impossible. What was impossible was styling wet hair with one hand. Instead, it was combed and left to air dry, which resulted in a beachy wave effect, but not in the lovely and trendy mermaid look that has been popular, but more that of a shipwrecked sea witch. Other lessons learned are that it is difficult, but not impossible to apply roll on deodorant to the right underarm with the right hand. Dressing is tricky, and button front shirts with button cuffs help a lot. 

The doctor’s office wasn’t open yet when I called, so time was spent on the patient portal on the “book an appointment” module (a wonderful convenience). A response came with news of the only opening for the day at 10:00. Sold!

I could tell when the PA looked at my unwrapped wrist and poked around that things were, indeed, wonky. Maybe it was the odd angle of my wrist. Or the swelling. She was great, and did not cause alarm, but she also didn't say “oh, it's just bruised,” and instead said I needed x-rays of hand and wrist. Two nearby facilities were options.

The x-ray tech was great. It felt like another clue to the situation when he said, “Let’s just get one more.” He said my doctor’s office would be in touch with next steps. And it certainly seemed there would be some “next steps.”

The x-ray results landed in the portal during lunch. The word that caught my attention was  fracture – twice – in the wrist, but the hand seems okay-ish. A trip to CVS got ibuprofen in a bottle with a screw top that can be opened with one hand. Score!

It was a couple hours before I heard from the primary care office, and it was to tell me they had been trying to get me an appointment with an ortho. There were none available today, but I have an appointment on Monday, so there is that to look forward to (holiday hijinks!). And I have questions – like how soon will my wrist work again because the dance group choreographies for upcoming shows have lots of beautiful hand gestures.

Leading up to the ortho visit, it’s icing, wrapping, elevating, and surviving Saturday’s snow and ice storm without additional injuries. Hooray for adventures!

random thoughts – Day 1,794 – (Thursday) – ice lessons

The snow then rain of the overnight and morning hours reminded me of an event from high school. Mom and I were out shopping at Marshall’s one night with a plan to go to Friendly’s afterward. As we exited the store, cold rain fell atop ice on the ground. Mom said, “Be careful, it’s going to be slippery.” And I, with my infinite teenage wisdom rolled my eyes and said, “yeah, yeah, I know.”

Clad in my white painter’s pants (it was the late 70s, everyone was wearing them) with my purse and a bag of new purchases from Marshalls, I stepped onto the parking lot as if it were a dry, spring day. My feet flew out from under me, I went airborne, and I landed on my arse with a thud in a cold puddle on top of some ice.

The whole thing happened in a nanosecond. I picked myself up from the ice and admitted to Mom that she was correct. I was more mad that my pants were soaked and we would no longer be going to Friendly’s. We had a great laugh over that event for many years. I still laugh about the memory of it now.

This afternoon, I took a break from being a desk jockey and ventured out to check on the front steps and walk. It had been raining all day. Water was puddled about an inch deep at the foot of the stairs. Generally, when that happens, I relocate it with a shovel, so I grabbed one to get busy. It was too hard to execute while standing on the stairs, so I stepped into the puddle with my Hush Puppies rain boots. One snow shovel full of water was flung onto the snow on the lawn.

I backed up a step for a second shovel full. My feet flew out from under me and I went airborne, just like that night in high school. My arse landed in a puddle atop ice (just another little bit of history repeating). Unlike that slick puddle night of long ago, the heel of my hand slammed onto the ground and pain roared through my left wrist. I got up from the puddle quickly lest the neighbors see my sitting in a puddle. The shovel was abandoned at the scene of the incident. All the while, my mouth uttered “oh f*ck, oh f*ck, oh f*ck” all the way into the house.

A few things happened after that. I got very dizzy and lightheaded and laid down on the dining room floor in case I fainted. I felt like my lunch would be expelled onto the rug. My wrist throbbed and began to swell.

My lovely Kiki, who awoke from her nap on the chair, looked at me. I closed my eyes for a second and when I opened them, Kiki was gone. Note: This is the opposite of what the dogs would have done. They would have surrounded and protected and licked away the hurt.

It was not lost on me that I had remembered the more comical ice fall of years ago hours earlier. I slithered out of my coat.

With one hand, I typed a Teams message to work that I had felled myself on the ice, felt awful, and was going to lie down for a few minutes. I ended up being offline the rest of the afternoon. The dizziness and nausea eventually subsided.

The next couple hours involved laying on the couch with chilled gel packs on my throbbing, swollen wrist. It’s amusing (to me anyway) that an injury caused by ice is being treated with ice.

With one hand, I called my doctor’s office and learned it was closed. With one hand, an Internet search was done for urgent care centers near me for their hours and if they have x-ray services. 

Indoor ice.

Unfortunately, I was feeling like crap and it seemed I wouldn’t be able to drive with one hand or even get my coat back on. It also didn’t quite feel like an ambulance situation. This was one of those moments when living alone really stinks. 

Internet searches were done about “signs of a sprained wrist.” I'm pretty sure it's not broken and I think it's sprained. The suggested rest-ice-compression-elevation protocol was enacted.

Compression-elevation.

Later, with one hand, I wrapped the wrist in an Ace bandage. Dinner was made, (burger on bread), cut into quarters with one hand, and eaten with one hand. With one hand I typed the daily blog, while the other one was elevated. I still need to locate the anti-inflammatory meds and figure out how to open childproof bottle with one hand and or a hammer. The impact point of my derriere is now sore. It could be an interesting night.

random thoughts – Day 1,793 – (Wednesday) – temporary art

Broken downspout
 ice art.

The gutter icicles on the shady side of the house when viewed by evening light are kind of pretty. As I stood outside trying to get pictures, a man walked with his leashed dog to the end of the street. They climbed the snow-covered path to the top of the Beaver Brook embankment and then I heard some mild cussing and saw that the guy had landed on his butt on the hill. Oops. 

I hope he didn’t see me and think I was taking his picture as I stood there with my cell phone. I was trying to get an interesting angle of the side of the icicles closest to the house. Plus, I knew it was a smidge too dark and I wouldn’t get a good image of him sliding on his butt down the hill from where I stood anyway. But he probably wouldn't know that. 

My icicles and the block of ice at the end of one of my downspouts are mildly interesting as temporary art installations, but they are nothing compared to some of the ice and snow frosted creations spotted downtown today. The benches on Merrimack Street near the bank have uneven coatings of snow that look like my tween- and teenage amateur attempts at frosting cakes.

There is a crosswalk near the snow-covered benches and there was no traffic in either direction, so I made a break for it and crossed the street several blocks earlier than usual. That decision led to the decision to walk up Kirk Street instead of walking on Merrimack to John Street. It was a good decision. 

Iron stairs ice art.

On the corner of Merrimack and Kirk Streets is a tall brick building. There is a drainpipe on the Kirk Street side of the building that is missing a couple sections and the result is clumps of ice at the disconnected pipe ends. They look like floating crystal sculptures hung on the building.

A few feet away from the busted drainpipe is an iron fire escape. The black iron was adorned with ice globs on the top surface of the step and icicle like chandelier drops suspended below the underside of the step. I would say it stopped me in my tracks, but I had only just turned from the drainpipe discovery and immediately spotted the stairs, so I wasn’t even in motion yet. But if I had been moving, I would definitely have stopped.

random thoughts – Day 1,792 – (Tuesday) – bread and kitty

Rainin Grain Bread.

It was a day mostly like the other recent days. Coffee, work, rage chop some ice, ration the dwindling supply of ice melt pellets, and the outlook is for as many as two more snow events in the forecast. The basement was checked for water and thanked profusely when none was found. There was some organizing of work projects and chasing of statuses for items with other departments. Blahbity blah blah.

After work the Tuesday evening dash to dance took place. It was the usual traffic, traffic, arrival. The dancing was fun. We worked some more on a tango number and started a mambo number and then a piece we’ve been working on to a Bollywood movie song. The ride home from dance is always much nicer than the ride in, with lighter traffic volume on 495, The Connector, and in Lowell.

Back in Lowell, there was time to visit Market Basket before the 9:00 closing time with the hope of procuring more ice melt stuff. The trip was victorious. They had the needed item, which shows on the sales receipt as “Green Monstah Bag.” I’m not making this up. The were also my most beloved cheese ends, a pack of suddenly desirable salami ends even though it’s not something usually on my radar, and a loaf of day-old discount “Purest of Ingredients Rainin Grain Bread” (its true bakery name) because lately I am deep in a romance with bread, and if it’s grainy and on sale I love it even more. 

With a new bag of pellets acquired, the driveway and back door area were given a generous sprinkling of the old pellets. I also bravely trudged through a snowbank to access the contemporary ice sculpture that has formed at the end of the downspout off the back steps.

Kiki!

Kiki provided some big highlights today. She is no longer afraid of the gravity water dispenser which I had set up again a couple weeks ago and I saw her drinking from it this morning. Tonight, she played with a ball, where I could see her. Normally, the ball just appeared in different places and I could only assume she played with it. 

She has been busy entertaining herself with leaping from the dining room rug over the wood floor and onto the carpeted stairs, then meowing loudly from the stairs and I can't tell if she is hurt, wants me to check on her, or it's a victory cry. She rose up on her hind legs to sniff the shelf on a living room table. It seems like all of a sudden she is coming out of her shell. If only she would let me pick her up. We'll get there, Baby kitty steps.

random thoughts – Day 1,791 – (Monday) – ice dance

Icicle drippage and driveway/back step danger have led to a new phase of the winter beach body home workout. The driveway and back steps were slick with ice last night when I got home and there were no overnight miracles to change that status this morning. The conditions required more ice melt scatter and focused attack with the shovel. The differences today compared to previous days were frequency and intensity.

Every couple hours there was a five to ten minute trip outside for a high energy assault on the ice. In the afternoon, the snow banks had softened just enough to chip away at them to load the shovel, walk to the end of the street, and toss chunks of snow onto the big snowbank created by the plows. The storm drain at the end of the street is full of snow. The assertive attacks to crack, loosen, and relocate the ice are being assigned names in my head.

There is the "controlled overhead swing" maneuver, where the shovel is carefully waved in the air in an attempt to knock down icicles from the gutter. The "downward chop chop" is a strike straight down onto the ice with the edge of the shovel. The "jabby spatula" involves short, quick pushes to get the shovel under the sheets of ice, and is usually followed by the "broom push" to shove the broken ice out of the path to the stairs. 

Glossy with ice.

The choreography involves variations of overhead swing, downward chop chop, jabby spatula, and broom push. The routine is mixed up a bit with chop chop into a snow bank, load the shovel, and walk to the snow pile with a chunk of snow. This might be my best choreography yet. Despite my best efforts, the whole thing is covered in shiny ice again tonight. 

To the casual observer, it might have looked less like a dance and more like a rage room event. There were definitely some flashes of umm, intensity. Every time the gutters dripped onto my head, each time I slipped on the glossy ice underfoot, every time I remembered the gutter screen salesman’s spiel about the how the screens should help prevent the gutters from filling and icicles from forming, a tiny spark of white hot rage glowed inside, because the gutter work seems to have intensified the problem. But the rage sparks helped keep me warm and the fresh air is invigorating, so there is that.

After a few minutes, the shovel with the increasingly raggedy edge worn from the abuse, would be set to rest in the corner of the landing. I would calmly return inside to the desk and resume the normal, non-facilities-maintenance work tasks that are heavy on keyboard tappity tap.

random thoughts – Day 1,790 – (Sunday) – snow and dancing

It snowed. Dance class was cancelled due to the snow and reports of ragged road conditions. In lieu of dance, I spent an hour pushing and tossing many inches of snow. How many inches? I dunno. A lot.

After the hour of pushing snow around on the ground, tossing snow over the fence, and dragging it from the hood and roof of the Jeep, there was some overhead waving of the shovel to try and knock down the plentiful icicles forming on the gutters and dripping onto the driveway. A couple icicle chunks landed on my head. By the time I got back inside I was sweaty and thirsty.

The snow may have cancelled dance class, but the roads were cleared and I was able to get to Natick for the Belly Dance Showcase. According to the navigation systems and routing, Natick and Lowell are 30 to 35 miles apart, but it feels like a lot further when I’m driving it.

Double veils in action.

The drive was definitely worth it. To set the mood, the Drum Nomads were playing before the show. Fourteen dancers presented a variety of belly dance styles and an array of props. There were veils and double veils. There were swords. There was a sword with a veil. There was a sparkly cane. There was a glowing orb. 

The dancing was beautiful and so were the costumes. I whispered a whole lot of “I like that costume” to my friend. Maybe I need to open a belly dance costume shop so I can be surrounded by pretty sparkly things all day every work day.

random thoughts – Day 1,789 – (Saturday) – predestiny and distractions

It seems like food and weather are the life elements dominating my cranial capacity lately. It’s a lot easier to avoid facing major life issues like job uncertainty and the dread of a job search when dwelling on basic life needs like food, cooking, and eating, and survival tasks like clearing snow and ice to be able to get to the job I currently have while I still have it.

Hazards on the shady
side of the house.

Scattering ice melt pellets and chopping ice have been necessary to help facilitate safe entrances and exits from The BungaLowell. The gutter repairs that were made a few months ago have turned out to be a disappointment. 

Since being repaired, the frozen gutters with massive icicles of previous winters are now just constantly dripping gutters. The landing outside the back door and the length of the paved driveway on the shady side of the house look like an ice skating rink thanks to an ongoing melt freeze cycle that refreshes each night. Winter hazards abound.

Hitting ice with the edge of a plastic shovel is a decent arm workout, and shoveling the chipped ice is a good way to engage the core. It's more convenient and less expensive than going to a gym, and would need to be done in order to leave the driveway to get to the gym, so points for efficiency and potential effectiveness of the ice shoveling workouts.

Today, a neighbor came out while I was toiling on the ice. A couple days ago we chatted and I told her about the recent furnace replacement. Today, as I chipped away at the ice, she commented that I seem to have terrible luck. This provided an immediate flashback to when the head of my department often said that I have the worst luck of anyone he knows. He stopped after I said I don’t think about it as luck, it’s just my life. It's also possibly my birthright.

According to a book I used to have called The Secret Language of Birthdays, I was born on “the day of the long odds” which is said to mean that people with my date of birth (August 13) will generally come out okay, but it will always be an ordeal. Once I read that, it was a relief and I accepted that stupid things will probably always find me, the way will rarely be easy, but it won’t necessarily kill me. At least not immediately. Call it crappy luck if you want, or the predestination that was preached in the Calvinistic Protestant church I was raised in. I just try to not let it drag me down for too long and keep basic survival tools handy, which currently include ice melt pellets, shovels, and an appreciation for free workouts.

New distractions.

Speaking of ice melt pellets, I tried to buy more today, but Family Dollar was out. It wasn’t confirmed they were out until I already had orange acrylic craft paint, a flowerpot, and a bag of chips in hand, hoping to find some pellets in some random aisle in the most disorganized store I've ever shopped. There is currently no plant to go into the flower pot, but there is sort of an idea for the paint. The chips are predestined to disappear soon. 

None of the items bought will help with ice removal, but they have the potential to serve as a distraction for a short time. This will buy me time to continue avoiding dealing with other life issues and fretting about my own predestiny.