tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204138702024-02-19T20:36:26.828-04:00Tales from the CripA randomly updated view of the world from a liberal, outspoken, middle-aged crip and retired grassroots organizer who lives in the US Virgin Islands.The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.comBlogger110125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-79570486314569412912010-06-09T17:32:00.002-04:002010-06-09T17:57:53.727-04:00Puddy Tats Turn Tail on Thai TunaA few months ago, our cats went on a pseudo-hunger strike.
After years of happily gobbling down every bite of Friskies tuna wet food that was offered, all twelve of the kitties we feed simultaneously refused to eat anything containing their formerly favorite fish. And when even feral kitties -- whose choice of entrees is usually limited to lizards and bugs -- suddenly turn their The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-88087859537361317312010-06-06T21:51:00.000-04:002010-06-06T21:51:00.152-04:00Being a Crip is a Full-Time JobI was struck today by the realization that way too much of my time every week is spent doing crip-related tasks, i.e. things I wouldn’t have to do, or could take care of a of faster, if I wasn’t disabled.
It was my meds that started this train of thought barreling down the tracks.
I take an insane amount of drugs every day -- between prescription and over-the-counter meds and supplementsThe HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-409970520365549522010-06-04T20:07:00.000-04:002010-06-04T20:07:42.010-04:00An Open Letter to Emergency Department Physicians and NursesDear Cynics,
I get it -- you’re burnt out from dealing with the seemingly endless parade of drug-seekers and addicts who march through the exam rooms in your Emergency Department. I really don’t blame you. I’m certain I’d struggle with keeping the more acerbic side of my personality in check if I was forced to listen to a relentless barrage of demands for narcotic pain medication from people The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-20545389556805195002010-05-30T23:31:00.000-04:002010-05-31T02:36:55.417-04:00Quad Hands, in HaikuLike wearing mittens
Every day, all of the time
But more frustrating.
_________________________
Trying and trying
To grasp a sheet of paper
Without crumpling it.
_________________________
With no sensation
You need to look and see if
It's still in your hand.
_________________________
“Get a grip on it”
Takes on a whole new meaning
When you have quad hands.
_________________________
I got it The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-33337796099655917642010-05-28T16:05:00.000-04:002010-05-28T16:05:03.326-04:00Traitors!I am officially charging both of my arms and my right leg with High Treason.
As sources of unrelenting pain (left arm and right leg) and agonizing bouts of spasticity (right arm), they are aiding and abetting my sworn enemy, spinal cord damage, and causing grievous harm to their Sovereign. In addition, my right arm and leg have exacerbated their traitorous behavior by refusing to obey my The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-69165917546936795912010-05-22T23:05:00.000-04:002010-05-22T23:05:49.816-04:00Let’s Talk About Pain, BabyThis post is dedicated to dejerine, who has taught me more about pain and pain management in a year than the medical profession has in 30, and whose humor and keen observations about the lack of real understanding about central pain make me think, laugh and cry, often all at the same time.
____________________________________________
There’s an old saying, “You don’t know what you don’t know.“&The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-56448267581046816142010-05-16T22:09:00.000-04:002010-05-16T22:09:08.163-04:00ED Visits Gone Wrong - Georgetown EditionI’ve mentioned before that I follow a lot of medical blogs, more than a few of which are written by folks who work in the ED (Emergency Department -- not Emergency Room, thank you very much). After reading hundreds of tales in which doctors and nurses complain about the problematic patients they’ve encountered over the years, I’ve decided that the blogosphere is long overdue for stories The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-59404234861668036132010-05-09T21:33:00.002-04:002010-05-09T21:36:46.318-04:00Gifts My Mother Gave MeHappy Mothers’ Day, Mom.
Sure wish you were here with me so I could give you a hug and tell you all this in person instead of writing it down in a letter.
I’ve been thinking of you a lot lately (Mothers’ Day does that to a person, you know), and I want to take a minute to thank you for everything you’ve given me.
Unconditional and Unending Love. I don’t remember even one second inThe HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-19004774175791179402010-05-07T22:32:00.003-04:002010-05-08T12:46:39.604-04:00Things I’ve Learned from Reading BlogsPharmacists are as just as pissed off as postal workers, but are a lot better at not acting on it.
It’s not a good idea to install an automatic shower cleaner without warning your spouse.
A lot of nurses hate National Nurses Week and being portrayed as warm, fuzzy huggers.
This woman is more clever before she has her first cup of coffee than most people are at the high point of their day.
The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-33778353317920747682010-05-06T23:05:00.000-04:002010-05-07T01:35:30.490-04:00It’s All In Your HeadIt seems that just about every one I know who has chronic pain or a condition that’s not immediately evident to a first year med student with a copy of Grey’s Anatomy has been sent off by one doctor or another to see a psychiatrist. The last words the patient hears before being handed the referral to the MD’s shrink of choice: “It’s all in your head.”
Not literally, of course. What The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-13738528644865599412010-05-02T23:10:00.000-04:002010-05-03T01:13:25.736-04:00No, I’m Not Okay!There’s nothing covering my left shoulder blade except a few paper-thin layers of skin. Twenty-some odd years ago, a plastic surgeon moved the trapezius muscle that’s supposed to be there over to the center of my neck/upper back and used it to cover an incision that wouldn’t heal. In its place is skin taken from the back of my left thigh.
With no protective padding of any kindThe HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-88056612225448170292010-04-28T23:36:00.000-04:002010-04-29T00:46:42.646-04:00My Trip to Puerto Rico, By the NumbersTransfers In and Out of My Wheelchair: 38
Hours Spent in Airports: 7
Hours Spent on Airplanes: 2
Transfers On and Off Planes in an Aisle Chair: 4
Bodily Injuries Sustained While in an Aisle Chair: 3
Gawkers Staring During Use of Aisle Chair : 37
Airline Preboards for Wheelchair Users: 1
Medical Appointments: 2
Hours Spent at Medical Appointments: 3
Hours Spent Traveling to/from Medical The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-29299177318277599152010-04-19T23:35:00.001-04:002010-04-20T00:39:25.908-04:00Top Ten Reasons Why People Seeking Treatment for Chronic Pain Just Can’t WinWhen it comes to describing chronic pain, the 1-10 pain scale is completely useless. Among myriad other problems (including the fact that it’s subjective and relative), it lacks the capacity to reflect the devastating effects of enduring unrelenting pain over long periods of time.
The 1-10 scale has become a psychological guessing game. Pick a number too low, and the doctor or nurse The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-20945550160784758902010-04-15T23:56:00.000-04:002010-04-16T01:59:12.344-04:00All I Knew Was That She Never Left My SideI started to feel like eating again about a week after the second surgery for my spinal cord tumor. I was still in the ICU, still in more pain than I’ve ever felt before (and since), and still unable to move anything below my shoulders. But I was finally feeling a little hungry and growing weary of my all liquid diet, so it was a moment of great relief when my doctors allowed me to start eatingThe HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-49822117685683983872010-04-13T22:39:00.004-04:002010-04-14T00:25:23.558-04:00Spinal Cord Injury EnvyAs awful as this may sound, every once and a while I get jealous of people who’ve become paraplegics and quadriplegics (‘plegics from here on in -- it’s less cumbersome to say and a whole lot easier to type) as the result of a spinal cord injury (SCI).
I’ll take a short pause here so those readers who feel the need to do so can express their disbelief and outrage that anyone would ever say such The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-31288245647182366122010-04-07T23:18:00.000-04:002010-04-08T01:21:33.275-04:00An Open Letter to My (Currently) Med-Free FriendsDear Med-Free Crips with Chronic Pain,
I truly appreciate your commitment to remaining med-free for as long as possible. Believe me, I completely understand why you don’t want to use pain medications unless absolutely necessary. As your friend, I hate it that you have to hurt at all, but at the same time, I’m happy that you’re able to avoid all of the negatives that go along with them. The The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-53885301551105158932010-04-02T23:38:00.000-04:002010-04-03T02:54:23.187-04:00The Aging of the PeepsFor Christians, Easter is resurrection and salvation, the holiest day of the year. For children, Easter is colored eggs, baby chicks, and a giant sugar buzz (second only to Halloween), courtesy of a giant invisible rabbit who delivers baskets of treats in the dark of night. For chocoholics, Easter is biting the ears off of a solid milk chocolate bunny. But for me, Easter -- or The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-60974846007331881682010-03-30T20:20:00.000-04:002010-03-30T20:20:00.896-04:00Oh My God, Did *We* Kill Kenny?The HipHubby and I played around with the South Park Character Creator this week. Here's our South Parkian self-portrait.
Unfortunately, the program didn't offer wheelchairs as a character accessory, so I had to settle for standing next to a Timmy doll to represent my crip-ness.
Cute couple, aren't we?
(Can you tell from the HipHubby's costuming that he's an avid MMORPG* player?
The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-88328990784839044772010-03-25T22:51:00.001-04:002010-03-25T23:16:09.696-04:00Butte Münsch, or How Dare You, Part TwoWell, my friends, it turns out that this HipCrip ain’t so hip after all.
Remember Mark, my friend with ALS for whom I made an impassioned defense after his doctor declared it would be a waste of resources to treat when he was admitted to the hospital in Butte, Montana? Well, it turns out that neither Mark nor the doctor really exist.
Thanks to some impressive sleuthing by some very savvy (andThe HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-1839825020602254532010-03-22T23:22:00.001-04:002010-03-23T02:26:54.144-04:00Pure PleasureIt was a moment of bliss -- an idyllic point in time when all was right with the universe. Past and future ceased to be as pure pleasure nourished my body, mind, and spirit.
It’s a safe bet that there aren’t many people who feel that way about laying down in a hospital bed.
There was nothing special about the bed itself. It was a typical “old school” twin bed -- replete with The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-69310328356693035512010-03-15T16:09:00.002-04:002010-03-15T16:19:13.045-04:00Nine TimesMs. Powerco: “Good Morning, WAPA Outages.” That’s short for the Water and Power Authority, the Virgin Island’s utility company.
Me: “Good morning. Our power has just gone out for the ninth time in the last 24 hours.”
Ms. Powerco: “I’m sorry, how many times did you say?”
Me: “Nine. Nine times.”
Ms. Powerco: “Nine times?”
Me: "Niyine times.” The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-27092552920740053352010-03-14T02:04:00.001-04:002010-03-26T16:53:53.481-04:00How Dare YouAddendum (March 25, 2010): Since writing this post, it was discovered that the person I knew as Mark, about whom this was written, was nothing more than a figment of the imagination of a woman who feigned having ALS for the purpose of getting attention and sympathy. "Mark" is apparently not her first fictional identity, nor do I believe he will be her last.
Despite the discovery thatThe HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-84154498179227952082010-03-08T11:37:00.000-04:002010-03-09T11:39:44.933-04:00How Do They Do It?I’ve been reading a lot of new blogs lately. For reasons it doesn’t take Freud to figure out, I’ve long been obsessed with all things medical, and lately I’ve been getting my fix through the blogs of ER doctors and nurses. Besides the similarity in subject matter, I’ve noticed another trend among these bloggers: more than half of them are posting more than 400 entries a year.
How do The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-4314938504474780852010-03-05T01:16:00.000-04:002010-03-05T01:16:47.712-04:00I’ve Had it With…(A Collection of Mini-Rants)…my bowels. (Nothing like starting with way too much information.) People with spinal cord damage have to devote way too much time to making sure their bowels behave. After a long period of trial and error, I’d finally found a perfect formula for pooing -- a delicate balance of fiber and water, probiotics, stool softeners and prunes was working brilliantly for me. And then I The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-16365691027591479802010-02-24T23:23:00.000-04:002010-02-25T01:26:20.081-04:00Please Release Me, Let Me GoNo, this isn’t a tribute to the old Eddy Arnold/Jim Reeves song that I can still sing by heart after hearing my Mom play it over and over when I was growing up. This is a plea to the invisible python that’s coiled itself around my midsection and is slowly, but persistently, crushing my organs and making my already difficult struggle to breathe all but impossible.The name of the reptilian The HipCriphttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03604405307881247797noreply@blogger.com0