tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-204138702011-10-15T21:44:46.242-04:00A 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 HipCripnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1101100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-79570486314569412912010-06-09T17:32:00.002-04:002010-06-09T17:57:53.727-04:00

A 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 noses up at

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-88087859537361317312010-06-06T21:51:00.000-04:002010-06-06T21:51:00.152-04:00

I 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 supplements, it’

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-409970520365549522010-06-04T20:07:00.000-04:002010-06-04T20:07:42.010-04:00

Dear 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 HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-20545389556805195002010-05-30T23:31:00.000-04:002010-05-31T02:36:55.417-04:00

Like 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 HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-33337796099655917642010-05-28T16:05:00.000-04:002010-05-28T16:05:03.326-04:00

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 HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-69165917546936795912010-05-22T23:05:00.000-04:002010-05-22T23:05:49.816-04:00

This 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 HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-56448267581046816142010-05-16T22:09:00.000-04:002010-05-16T22:09:08.163-04:00

I’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 about ED

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-59404234861668036132010-05-09T21:33:00.002-04:002010-05-09T21:36:46.318-04:00

Happy 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 in which I

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-19004774175791179402010-05-07T22:32:00.003-04:002010-05-08T12:46:39.604-04:00

Pharmacists 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 HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-33778353317920747682010-05-06T23:05:00.000-04:002010-05-07T01:35:30.490-04:00

It 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 doctors

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-13738528644865599412010-05-02T23:10:00.000-04:002010-05-03T01:13:25.736-04:00

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 kind, that area is,

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-88056612225448170292010-04-28T23:36:00.000-04:002010-04-29T00:46:42.646-04:00

Transfers 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 HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-29299177318277599152010-04-19T23:35:00.001-04:002010-04-20T00:39:25.908-04:00

When 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 treating

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-20945550160784758902010-04-15T23:56:00.000-04:002010-04-16T01:59:12.344-04:00

I 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 eating

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-49822117685683983872010-04-13T22:39:00.004-04:002010-04-14T00:25:23.558-04:00

As 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 HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-31288245647182366122010-04-07T23:18:00.000-04:002010-04-08T01:21:33.275-04:00

Dear 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 HipCripnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-53885301551105158932010-04-02T23:38:00.000-04:002010-04-03T02:54:23.187-04:00

For 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 rather the day

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-60974846007331881682010-03-30T20:20:00.000-04:002010-03-30T20:20:00.896-04:00

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 HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-88328990784839044772010-03-25T22:51:00.001-04:002010-03-25T23:16:09.696-04:00

Well, 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 (and

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-1839825020602254532010-03-22T23:22:00.001-04:002010-03-23T02:26:54.144-04:00

It 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 a

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-69310328356693035512010-03-15T16:09:00.002-04:002010-03-15T16:19:13.045-04:00

Ms. 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.”   Despite my best Ed Rooney imitation, the

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-27092552920740053352010-03-14T02:04:00.001-04:002010-03-26T16:53:53.481-04:00

Addendum (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 that the

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-84154498179227952082010-03-08T11:37:00.000-04:002010-03-09T11:39:44.933-04:00

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 they do it

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-4314938504474780852010-03-05T01:16:00.000-04:002010-03-05T01:16:47.712-04:00

…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 started taking a

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-16365691027591479802010-02-24T23:23:00.000-04:002010-02-25T01:26:20.081-04:00

No, 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 HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-30882216862592195552010-02-21T20:44:00.001-04:002010-02-21T20:48:26.397-04:00

I just saw yet another rant against Seth McFarland and his show Family Guy.  Parents of so-called “special needs kids” (more on why I hate that term later), including ex-Governor of Alaska and expert hand-writer Sarah Palin, are up in arms about McFarland’s portrayal of a teenage girl with Down Syndrome, calling him a “hater” for “picking on people who can’t defend themselves.” I just don‘t get

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-71769975157828582922010-02-16T18:02:00.000-04:002010-02-16T18:02:35.033-04:00

*Fucked Up February. It's been a pretty shitty month so far.  My body is not cooperating at all with the many, many plans my brain has made (like finishing the many blog entries I've started and answering my email backlog), and I'm pretty discouraged by the whole bloody affair. At the core of it all is exhaustion.  My prescription insurance plan made my never-ending battle to get adequate rest

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-33895017584758592992010-02-03T22:23:00.000-04:002010-02-05T01:46:18.955-04:00

It was bright and sunny in Puerto Rico on Saturday.  In fact, the only dark clouds that crossed my path during my visit to my physiatrist wore American Airlines flight attendant uniforms. This trip made up for all of the problems we had during my last two visits to my physiatrist, and then some.  Great weather, no long waits anywhere, and we were in and out of the doctor’s office so fast (I was

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-38724593084230466592010-01-29T23:25:00.000-04:002010-01-29T23:25:53.287-04:00

While I never really look forward to going to get my Baclofen pump refilled, I’m absolutely dreading tomorrow’s trip to Puerto Rico to see my physiatrist. It’s not because I’m worried that the airline will cancel our flight again, or because it’s an incredibly long day with a lot of exhausting transfers to and from my chair (which it is -- I average 26 transfers during every trip).  It’s because

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-90841486254046253362010-01-27T16:45:00.000-04:002010-01-28T01:39:27.320-04:00

I was supposed to go to Puerto Rico today to see my physiatrist and have my Baclofen pump refilled.  The key words in that sentence, of course, are "supposed to". Our flight from St. Croix was scheduled to leave at 11 am.  Even though our local airport is so tiny that we can park the car, get me in my chair, check-in at the ticket counter, go through customs and security, and sit down at our

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-22859468650781467262010-01-23T07:01:00.000-04:002010-01-23T14:26:07.269-04:00

I am exhausted. This is the second night in a row that I haven't been able to sleep because multiple sources of pain are raging out of control, each aggravating and amplifying the others so badly that they've now formed a chorus that's drowned out 80mg of Oxycontin, 30mg of oxycodone, 12.5 mg of Ambien CR, and a Vicodin ES. I want nothing more than to close my burning eyes and escape to the

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-19628587934406824812010-01-14T23:25:00.000-04:002010-01-15T01:46:16.760-04:00

The five years I spent helping to launch this new cross-disability advocacy organization were amazing and intense -- I learned so much (sometimes as the result of serious mistakes I made); met incredible people who continue to inspire and humble me; benefited from the guidance of several very wise, accomplished women; and truly contributed to improving the quality of life for people with all

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-12277951103761429602010-01-09T22:42:00.000-04:002010-01-09T22:42:54.835-04:00

One of my mentors at DMB and my roommate were both involved with an organization call The Michigan Citizen’s Lobby, which was an affiliate of Citizen Action. My work with the state student association got me involved with the national student association, which used a grassroots organizing strategy tool developed by -- you guessed it -- Citizen Action. The state student association gave me real

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-14882661667674150312010-01-08T23:48:00.002-04:002010-01-09T22:43:28.138-04:00

I am a true believer in the old adage that every black cloud has a silver lining.  The bigger the cloud, the bigger the lining.  I made a resolution this year to never lose sight of that.  This is the (somewhat long) story of how the tumor that was supposed to kill me instead led me live a most extraordinary and wonderful life.In order to get at the spinal cord and remove the tumor, my surgeons

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-20536748556527719052010-01-06T01:06:00.001-04:002010-01-06T11:24:33.365-04:00

Depending on the pain scale you reference, level 10 pain is defined as either “the worst pain you’ve ever felt” or “the worst pain you can imagine.” I think the latter definition is the more valid of the two. After all, if the only pain someone has ever experienced is from a paper cut, then that’s the worst pain they’ve ever felt. When you hang out on message boards for nurses, people with

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-44853644431804902010-01-04T00:55:00.001-04:002010-01-04T00:58:02.548-04:00

Those of you who’ve followed this blog know that I live with chronic pain. Lucky soul that I am, I’ve got both types of pain: neuropathic (or central), from the damage to my spinal cord by the tumor and surgeries to treat it; and nociceptive, caused primarily by the stress a ten-level spinal fusion puts on the vertebrae immediately below, a severe contracture in my right hip, muscle spasms and

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-36161467059292526082010-01-02T21:53:00.001-04:002010-01-03T09:53:43.377-04:00

As some who needs help with some of life’s most basic, and personal, tasks -- like bathing and getting dressed -- I want to thank you for providing me with the assistance I need to get these things done. For most able-bodied people, those are mundane activities, but to me, they would be impossible to accomplish without your help. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you are here to help me

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-1400019558131938392008-07-06T23:08:00.001-04:002010-01-02T21:53:02.300-04:00

It’s happened again -- I have an infection and I can’t get treatment!The lab culture results came back positive on June 11 -- as in almost a month ago. And these results show that I don’t have just any old everyday infection -- this one is only susceptible to IV or injected antibiotics. Great.The results were faxed by the lap to my doctor. When I didn’t hear from him 10 days later, I

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-14271972968061832692008-06-24T21:23:00.002-04:002008-06-24T21:48:06.286-04:00

My Mom died three years ago tonight. I miss her so much. On the one hand, it seems like forever since she's been gone. It's getting harder and harder to remember just how good it felt to hug her, or how lovely she smelled when she was getting ready to go out. I can still see her smile, but I'm losing the feeling of joy that I used to get when I saw her flash it. Don't get me wrong -- the

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-58187537364371016622008-06-20T08:17:00.000-04:002008-06-20T08:20:41.673-04:00

One of the many details related to moving that is weighing heavily on my mind is how in the heck we’re to be able to transport it from the island back to the states since our auto insurance coverage is valid in the USVI only. Most policies down here are like that -- at least for people who are relatively new to the islands -- insurance companies will only extend coverage for you within the

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-32249526237168319352008-06-09T23:47:00.000-04:002008-06-09T23:49:48.439-04:00

Today was my last appointment -- and best -- appointment to check on how well broken leg has healed. And it was nothing but good news -- a wonderful, and often rare, occurrence for someone who lives in this unreliable body!The whole experience started out better than ever before -- we actually got called into the exam room only 30 minutes after my scheduled appointment time. For this doctor,

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-81895352110559231602008-06-08T22:59:00.000-04:002008-06-08T23:01:40.253-04:00

One of the aspects of having multiple medical issues that I just can’t seem to come to terms with is that I now have to pay a price for doing normal everyday activities.After being cooped up for the last two weeks battling an infection, I’d reached my tolerance of staring at the same walls all the time and needed to get out and see something -- anything -- different. The HipHubby and I had been

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-63359270966795154232008-06-05T22:36:00.000-04:002008-06-05T22:38:36.266-04:00

It’s one thing to make the decision to move, but it’s a whole new thing once a Realtor gets involved. Today our move from Paradise became a whole new thing.I started the search for a Realtor earlier this week by sending out a few emails to various firms across the island. This was part one of the test because, if you can believe it, email hasn’t really caught on down here yet. We found that

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-72669446673882440192008-06-03T22:17:00.000-04:002008-06-03T22:19:18.810-04:00

My motivation has been lost and I am desperate to get it back. After all, there couldn’t be a worse time to have it bail on me than at the beginning of a 2500 mile move from St. Croix to Michigan.My motivation was last sighted about a month ago, just prior to my most recent battle with a raging infection and a fever that just won’t let go. It appeared happy and healthy at that time -- at least

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-14710674274013636532008-06-01T10:54:00.000-04:002008-06-01T10:57:59.815-04:00

The HipHubby and I reached a painful decision -- it’s time to leave Paradise.The tension between the life I want to have here and the one I can have on an island of this size had been building for a while. Recently, however, that tension became one, giant, never ending battle to acquire the resources I need to lead a quality life in the face of ignorance, prejudice and outright stupidity. And I

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-86415666820886982802008-05-13T00:43:00.009-04:002008-05-13T13:31:59.679-04:00

A truly amazing woman who is both a friend and an inspiration to me needs help. Keesha T., who is a fellow moderator (and one heck of an advocate) on the www.asap.org web site is in the hospital AGAIN and struggling to pay the bills. As some of you may know, Keesha and her family are already drowning under medical debt because she's undergone 14 major operations, many of them invasive brain

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-87712939065792407622008-05-11T21:03:00.002-04:002008-05-11T21:18:09.059-04:00

I miss you.

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-53963485506966440542008-05-04T19:58:00.000-04:002008-05-04T20:07:05.267-04:00

I’m afraid my body is going through another period of decline. There’s been too many of these coming too fast over the last few years, and it scares me -- a lot. Most I have been able to handle or compensate for, but this most recent one -- if it really is a permanent decline -- won’t be so easy to work around.Over the past few months, my arms have gotten weaker. I am no longer able to press

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-79210331544815256482008-05-02T05:17:00.000-04:002008-05-02T05:20:00.806-04:00

I can’t believe another birthday snuck up on me. Okay, snuck up is totally the wrong term -- leapt out from hiding and pounced on me is a more accurate description! What happened to shift the passage of time that now makes birthdays and new years come at you at lightening speed, when it used to be that, as a kid, time absolutely stood still when you were expecting a special day like a birthday?

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-13312107456130739072008-04-24T19:41:00.001-04:002008-04-24T19:46:50.845-04:00

I had a wonderful day yesterday, a day of exploration, fun and firsts.It was date day, also known as the "Get the HipCrip the Heck Out of the House Day," and so the HipHubby and I piled into the care, rolled the windows down, turned up the radio, and headed off to explore.Our destination for the day was Frederiksted, the smaller of the two towns on island. Frederiksted is located on the west end

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-56137633621927732212008-04-22T17:42:00.001-04:002008-04-22T17:45:46.699-04:00

For the first time in my life, I find myself with nothing to talk about. No rants that need to spew forth. No musings about the nature of life, the universe and everything. No questions to be answered, no answers to be questioned. I got nothing.For someone as verbose as I typically am, this is a very uncomfortable state in which to find myself. Words have never failed me before. Okay, that’s

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-20672896838102941672008-04-18T06:42:00.001-04:002008-04-18T06:49:18.806-04:00

For those who have never been to tropical climates like Florida or the Caribbean Islands, there are little gecko-like ground lizards EVERYWHERE. They provide a great service for us people by eating mosquitoes and other small bugs, and by keeping our cats endlessly entertained as they crawl up the screen, perch on the window louvers, and skitter from place to place. They rapidly become a pretty

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-43872819524262557952008-04-16T00:38:00.002-04:002008-04-16T00:44:34.647-04:00

In no particular order:Being closer to my family and friends.Home mail pick up and delivery.Stores and pharmacies that are open 24/7.Arbys. The HipHubby misses Burger King.Having a choice of doctors, especially specialists. Or having access to even one specialist that I need.Cottage cheese that costs under $5 for a large carton.Being certain that the stuff you want to buy over the Internet can

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-48760368194501054242008-04-13T01:34:00.000-04:002008-04-13T01:37:46.779-04:00

When it comes to sleep, I don’t seem to have a middle ground -- it’s either I get almost none and exist as a zombie, or I sleep so much that I feel like someone slipped me a poison apple.The tides turned for me this week. For the last month, maybe more, I had a bear of a time getting any sleep at all. I just couldn’t seem to drop off for any reasonable length of time. When I finally did manage

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-48701101911756234772008-04-11T00:28:00.002-04:002008-04-11T00:54:47.667-04:00

I have been cooped up in my house for way, way too long. It’s not for lack of desire to get or, or for trying. It’s just one of those things that you have to adapt to when your body becomes as unpredictably uncooperative as mine (and occasionally, the HipHubby’s).Having the cast on hasn’t exactly made getting out of the house any easier. With the cast in place, I can no longer sit in my

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-3844198510734481842008-04-07T23:28:00.004-04:002008-04-08T00:44:34.690-04:00

...sitting in a wheelchair is not the end of the world.It’s different, for sure, and it’s BADLY misunderstood, but it doesn’t mean that your life is at an end.Yes, my life was different when I could walk well. But those walking well days came to an end, and it reached a point when every step was a struggle. I was a prisoner of what my legs were able to do, and that sucked.Then I got my first

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-38186064961314583872008-04-06T19:48:00.000-04:002008-04-06T19:52:51.824-04:00

Being saddled with chronic medical conditions -- not just the disabilities, but the seemingly never-ending stream of infections, skin damage, and intestinal problems that go with them -- has deeply affected my ability to show compassion for others.On the one hand, I have developed an ability to show deep compassion for people that wasn’t there earlier in my life. I understand now what it means

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-39784572748096146162008-04-05T06:53:00.001-04:002008-04-05T07:03:12.071-04:00

Some days, it’s hard for me to hang out at the ASAP.org forums because there are so many posts from people who grieving over what they cannot do, what they’ve lost. Most of these folks are relatively new to the worlds if illness and disability, so their need to mourn their old lives is a natural part of the process. In my head, I get al this. But in my heart, I sometimes have trouble being

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-77616438132809822682008-04-02T22:07:00.000-04:002008-04-03T22:19:53.560-04:00

This morning I went for what was supposed to be my first MRI in four years. Key words in the sentence: supposed to be.I should have known from the get go that this wasn’t going to be the best day to get this done. There were plenty of warning signs, every single one of them ignored by me.One big clue was that I had not slept at all the night before. For some odd reason, my sleep schedule has

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-22980529931159650882008-03-28T23:34:00.000-04:002008-03-28T23:37:39.841-04:00

Five weeks ago, I broke my right leg, just above the ankle, while attempting to reposition myself in bed. My legs, which are usually crossed right over left -- Indian style -- when I do this. While up on my knees in that position, my right shoulder gave out and I collapsed, face down, on the bed. (Apparently I seriously injured some muscles in my right shoulder late the night before, but because

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-86316782255070508692008-03-27T04:28:00.000-04:002008-03-27T04:31:53.793-04:00

This week, we made another of our quarterly journeys to Puerto Rico so I could get my intrathecal pump refilled with baclofen, have the dosage adjusted to try to offset some leg spasms and the new “MS Hug” problems I’ve been having, and pick up my next round of prescriptions for the pain medications that keep me functioning.As I believe I’ve mentioned previously, air travel wipes me out. It is

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-82470889126508486242008-03-15T05:20:00.003-04:002008-03-15T05:30:32.518-04:00

A profound thing has happened -- I met another astrocytoma survivor. We seem to have a lot in dommon, so she has requested that I create a summary of what's made me me. It's something I've been meaning to do for a long time now anyway. So WhiteAngel, this is for you. Thanks for being my motivator. Additional parts will be posted as I complete them.April 1975 -- Developed a stiff neck.

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-66770962146617240462008-02-12T19:38:00.000-04:002008-02-12T19:46:04.705-04:00

I didn’t know, when I rolled into the neurosurgeon’s office four years ago, that I would be faced with such a hard decision: have a dangerous surgery that was almost guaranteed to go wrong or face a slow decline into quadriplegia.I didn’t know how good it would feel to tell the surgeon “No.” No laser knife, no bovine heart membrane or titanium plates and screws. No more fear of spinal fluid

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-66937597360095370512008-02-02T10:20:00.000-04:002008-02-02T10:22:15.246-04:00

One of the skills at which I’ve learned to excel is justifying why I don’t need to deal with certain health needs I have. Actually, skill makes it sound so cut and dry -- if I may be immodest for a moment, I’ve elevated this type of avoidance to a highly refined art form. It took years of practice, but I’m now able to come up with a pretty decent list of reasons as to why I don’t need to do

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-7030650023191461362008-01-31T23:56:00.000-04:002008-01-31T23:58:14.928-04:00

With as many medical problems as I have, drama is never in short supply. I get so much of it, in fact, that I no longer watch movies that are dramas -- entertainment is supposed to be escapism, and the last thing I find entertaining is dedicating two hours of my life to watching fictional problems.If only ridding myself of exposure to excess -- and even unnecessary -- drama in real life were as

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-73795491911832068452008-01-24T00:54:00.000-04:002008-01-24T00:58:29.854-04:00

I’m slipping into one of those periods when I have absolutely no tolerance for people who, from where I sit, are pretty darn well off yet seem obsessed with focusing on their “burdens.” The need to take medications on a schedule is a good example. There’s a TV commercial for an osteoporosis medication that only needs to be taken once a month that portrays the alternative treatment -- having to

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-45506072402516864122008-01-20T16:13:00.000-04:002008-01-20T16:21:22.145-04:00

A while back, I wrote an entry about finding a message board that I hoped would connect me with other people who have the same neurological problems I have, and how disappointed I was when I discovered that type of tethering covered addressed there is very different than the type that affects me. At that point in time, this disappointment about not finding my peer group (even if it is just one

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-45221909127992472062008-01-04T23:24:00.000-04:002008-01-04T23:27:17.502-04:00

Everyone has at least one moment in their life that they will remember with absolute clarity -- that point in which time stands still, and when the rest of the world seems to disappear, leaving only you. The most prominent of mine are the moments in which I was told that the doctors had finally found out what was causing all of my health problems, and what needed to be done about it.The first

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-90347497864731642042008-01-02T01:06:00.000-04:002008-01-02T01:08:33.533-04:00

Happy new year, gentle readers! We celebrated it as we celebrate all holidays -- namely, we don’t. I actually slept most of the day and evening away, my body and brain’s attempt to make up for another bout of insomnia that kept me awake and on edge for the better part of the previous two days. The only traditional new year’s activity in which we took part was the midnight kiss -- the Hip Hubby

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-15621078594233199512007-12-28T00:59:00.000-04:002008-01-02T00:20:10.374-04:00

In the two weeks since I last saw Dr. G, I’ve come to a frightening conclusion: his determination to treat me as though I’m one of his normal patients is going to be the death of me.Since my first visit with Dr. G, it’s become increasingly clear that he’s a pretty conservative practitioner who believes that the less we mess with the body, the better. He’s given me reason to believe that he

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-30166748291271147042007-12-17T00:44:00.000-04:002007-12-17T01:08:35.356-04:00

We saved a life on Friday.The day started like any other. I was awake, sitting up in bed and watching our cats watch the world while I waited for the Hip Hubby’s alarm clock to go off. We’ve thoughtfully provided numerous vantage points from which our cats can enjoy “kitty home theater” (more commonly known as the critters that pass through our yard) through large windows that are only closed

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-89007490589284440922007-12-14T14:35:00.000-04:002007-12-14T14:47:23.782-04:00

The HipCrip Home Pharmacy has been busy these last few days.Despite a five hour island-wide power failure, I was able to make my follow-up appointment with Dr. G on Wednesday afternoon. There was lots of good news: my post-Cipro culture showed that my UTI had totally cleared up, Dr. G didn’t lecture me about defying his orders by using the acetic acid solution to clear up the cellulitis on my

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-74939466716305311462007-12-11T23:51:00.000-04:002007-12-12T01:44:26.002-04:00

Tomorrow is my follow-up appointment with Dr. G to check on how well my various injuries and maladies are doing. On the plus side, the cellulitis on my thumb and my latest urinary tract infection seem to be completely healed. But despite taking my 10 day course of Cipro, I’m not breathing any better than I was weeks ago. Normally, that wouldn’t concern me -- since developing bronchiectasis, I

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-80100978412157219152007-12-10T23:02:00.000-04:002007-12-11T02:05:28.586-04:00

(My thanks to a new online friend, razzle51, for poking me about getting this updated.)After reaching the end of my rope with being unable to breathe or sleep, I did go see the doctor. Technically, I saw two doctors. The first was a doctor recommended by my former primary care doctor, who retired in September. This appointment was short and sweet, as it turns out that my former doctor never

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-82039245015535331722007-11-26T01:06:00.000-04:002007-11-26T01:13:16.863-04:00

Forgive my bluntness, but I feel like crap right now. I’m going through yet another period in which various bodily functions are going haywire, and my attempts to correct its bad behaviors have been almost entirely unsuccessful. And it’s getting old.Most frustrating, and the malfunction that’s causing the most hardship, are the problems I’m having getting any restful sleep. Just about the time

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-79113076053375791422007-11-23T23:08:00.000-04:002007-11-23T23:11:31.995-04:00

Well, here we go. It’s the official kickoff of the “holiday” season (even though our local Kmart has had their Christmas stuff out since mid-October). And I want no part of it.I detest the holidays, and do not celebrate Christmas at all. I don’t decorate, don’t buy gifts for friends or family, don’t send cards, don’t partake of a big meal. Christmas day is, in our house, absolutely

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-85437547132342862502007-11-22T00:58:00.000-04:002007-11-22T01:04:50.999-04:00

From all outward appearances, this blog ought to be jam packed with entries -- at least one a day, if not more. After all, I like to write, have never been lacking for something to say, seem smart enough to put thoughts together, and don’t have one of those pesky job thingies that tends to eat up so much of most people’s time.And yet, only 30-some entries in six months. Just. Plain. Sad.The

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-17721210421075377142007-11-19T00:36:00.000-04:002007-11-19T00:47:16.920-04:00

An ex of mine had a philosophy on life that seemed rather morbid when he first put it forward, but as I’ve grown older, it’s made a lot more sense: “No expectations, no disappointments.” Given the events of the last few weeks and the spectrum of emotions they‘ve elicited (particularly where I‘ve ended up), I’m wishing that I’d done a bit more to embrace that perspective.It started with a

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-67724871416099954202007-10-25T23:43:00.000-04:002007-10-25T23:54:19.884-04:00

This post was inspired by a storyline on the last episode of the show House, which seems to be a muse for my blog entries. In the episode, titled "97 Seconds", one of House's patients is a man with a degenerative disease that has already made him reliant on a power wheelchair, a service dog, and aides to assist him with his personal hygiene and the other necessities of everyday life. The

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-31152263606510737702007-10-19T22:44:00.000-04:002007-10-20T11:01:56.658-04:00

Thirty years ago today doctors finally figured out what had been making me sick for the previous two and a half years: I had cancer of the spinal cord. Two days before, my doctors performed a myelogram that revealed there was something amiss in my cervical spinal cord. At the time, they thought it was just a cyst. Turns out they were half right -- there were two blood filled cysts, one at

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-22780569457904211802007-10-18T23:24:00.000-04:002007-10-18T23:27:43.300-04:00

After months away, I’m finally back! Although there aren’t more than a handful of people plus my best friend Jonderson who even realized I’ve been out of touch, I will offer both a brief explanation about my absence from the blogoshpere and a quick summary of life during that time to whet the appetite of the few folks who may have developed a taste for such things.The why part of being away is

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-33263107231608408062007-07-10T15:52:00.000-04:002007-07-10T16:00:21.501-04:00

What a week.A week's worth suffering from nausea and general abdominal discomfort came to a climax Saturday night when the pain decided to centralize its location down near my right hip. Right over my appendix. Where it proceeded to get worse.By 8 am, the constant, searing pain was doing a Rich Little worthy imitation of having a heated steel tipped spear protruding from my gut, and had become

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-82301111806774348852007-06-30T11:57:00.000-04:002007-06-30T12:03:04.600-04:00

At the time I was hospitalized to explore why I was deteriorating so rapidly, I was already a myelogram veteran having had one the year before. I was scared to the point of shaking at the thought of having to repeat something all but guaranteed to cause as much pain as I had after the tumor removal surgery that followed the original scan. I reluctantly agreed to go through the sticks, swivels,

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-65690622009115309552007-06-29T12:57:00.000-04:002007-06-29T14:23:47.051-04:00

I have a deep distrust of doctors, but not for the same reasons that most other people do. Years of experience have taught me that there are some total incompetents out there, for sure -- but I've also worked with some truly wonderful physicians possessing both skill and personality. But almost all of them, from the nice and competent to the nasty and dangerous, are guilty at one time or

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-40200705512199038292007-06-28T09:39:00.000-04:002007-06-28T10:22:35.804-04:00

Every homeowner knows that no matter how much research you do, or how thorough your owner interviews or home inspections are before you buy, you're always going to have a few surprises that will make their presence known after you've moved in. This month marks our three year anniversary in our tropical home, and we have both fingers and toes crossed that the surprises have all popped out of

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-30463185614753297432007-06-26T20:09:00.000-04:002007-06-26T20:24:55.198-04:00

As my husband and family will tell you, my memory -- although fading now from (gulp) getting older and from taking pounds of medication every day -- is pretty darn good. I've been very fortunate that I've been able to use my knack for remembering numbers into something employers have found to be particularly attractive -- being the only person in a non-profit with any semblance of budgeting

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-57799955110502433022007-06-24T23:57:00.000-04:002010-05-08T22:53:58.428-04:00

My Mom died two years ago tonight. She was a big believer in angels, and when she sensed she was going to die from her amyloidosis, she arranged or me to receive a small crystal angel. In the box with this little angel was a poem: In my eyes and heart, my Mom couldn't have done anything better to try to remind me that just as she did all of those things for me here on earth, she would

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-19896599639095630202007-06-24T20:33:00.000-04:002007-06-24T20:39:30.759-04:00

At lunchtime yesterday, my wonderful hip hubby brought a rare treat: a banana in perfection condition, at the perfect moment of ripeness when it's yellow without a single brown spot, and without a single bruise or other imperfection. As so many things have this month (and do all the time), the banana brought up memories of my mom. When I was growing up, I couldn't even touch a banana once that

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-82300122489061273312007-06-20T22:22:00.000-04:002007-06-20T22:30:06.316-04:00

You might think that having gone through so many surgeries and medical experiences -- good and bad -- that I'd run screaming from the room when a medical reality shows came on the TV. But strangely enough, it's just the opposite. I can't get enough, from pregnancy and birth shows to ER traumas to plastic surgery -- I'll watch them all.The shows that fascinate me the most are those dealing with

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-55474313758097967622007-06-13T20:32:00.000-04:002007-06-14T08:34:46.573-04:00

Tomorrow is the two year anniversary of my mom's death, but my horrible grief set in today...not in anticipation of this anniversary, but because of what occurred the day before she died. Mom had been battling a rare blood disorder called amyloidosis, and had been in an out of the hospital several times in the previous months. She hated being there, and (like me) would have to be desperate to

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-44074071819638337432007-06-09T23:54:00.001-04:002007-06-10T00:04:21.935-04:00

Well, my Dad went back to Michigan on Thursday after spending a little over a week down here with us. Having my Dad here this time was such a good thing for both of us, for quite a few reasons. Not that it isn't always a terrific thing to spend some time with him, but circumstances made this visit important on top of being special.I was more than a little nervous about the Dad I might see this

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-46237996893830648052007-06-01T10:56:00.000-04:002007-06-01T11:02:21.657-04:00

Wednesday was reunion day for two families, and it just couldn't have been a better day or brought me bigger smiles than the ones that keep sneaking onto my face.Reunion number one: my Dad came to visit. My Dad, who is 82, wasn't really my tightest parental connection for the longest time -- that bond formed a long, long time ago with my Mom. Dad and I loved each other dearly, but we never

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-61684407395418575692007-05-28T23:51:00.000-04:002007-05-29T01:29:38.082-04:00

Not much time to write today so I thought I'd just pull together a brief update on the Herd.We're making great advances in socializing our new 10 week old ferals. It's only been a week since they had their first contact with a human, and they're both light years ahead of where Clove and Pepper were at this same point of their transition from bush cats to house cats. I managed to stroke Ono's

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-45856808556530055182007-05-27T12:02:00.000-04:002007-05-27T13:00:27.359-04:00

As one of the US territories, mail in the Virgin Islands is handled by the US Postal Service. But like everything else here, getting your mail on island is a very different experience than it is for most Americans who live on the mainland.The major difference for us was not having a mailbox at home for the first time ever. A hard as it might be to imagine, the majority of roads in the Virgin

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-33598185948263844642007-05-24T23:05:00.000-04:002007-05-24T23:58:21.975-04:00

Luck, the fates, god...whatever your beliefs call it, has always been with me. Even though bad things have happened, I've always come out of them better than anyone ever anticipated, and these bad things have brought some pretty darn good things in along with them, including getting the greatest jobs in the world, opportunities I never would have had if my life had progressed without illness or

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-46735322201530535362007-05-21T18:50:00.000-04:002007-05-21T18:58:46.313-04:00

No, I'm not having a particularly bad day, or week. That's what the hubby and I collectively uttered when we discovered that our outdoor kitties Mama and Comet were the proud parents of three new kittens. Interestingly enough, that's also what we've dubbed them: ono, omai, and ohel.Ono is a spitting image of his daddy, Comet. He's another dirty little snowball -- mostly off-white, with a gray

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-26583029133523515592007-05-20T18:06:00.000-04:002007-05-20T18:13:12.200-04:00

Tomorrow, my hubby and I will hop a 90 mile flight for a one day trip over to Puerto Rico so I can pay a visit to Dr. Edwardo Ramos Cortes, who is the director and owner) of the Institut de Rehabilitacion in Santurce (part of the San Juan sprawl). We make this trip once every five or six months so that Dr. Ramos can write refill prescriptions for my pain medications and refill my pump.The pump

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-1253407211458781852007-05-19T08:53:00.000-04:002007-05-19T10:00:23.192-04:00

Three years ago this month, my hubby and I, along with three cats, packed up our lives and made a big move that so many people only fantasize about: we abandoned the ultra-urban Washington DC suburbs and headed south to live on a tropical island. We landed on St. Croix (aka STX), the largest of the US Virgin Islands, bought a house mid-island, and prepared to settle into our new lives. For

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-33806165180660981202007-05-17T17:44:00.000-04:002007-05-17T08:32:21.900-04:00

It turns out that I didn't have to worry about whether or not that doctor would perform the abortion or not. Because of our dispute over the date at which this pregnancy occurred, he sent me to get an ultrasound. This test, as well as others conducted over the next two days, landed me in the emergency room of the University of Michigan Hospital after it was determined that the pregnancy was

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20413870.post-36825663846518236372007-05-16T08:55:00.000-04:002007-05-16T08:59:02.136-04:00

While waiting to start the pill again, I got pregnant.Even being pro-choice and medically complicated, the decision to seek an abortion was deeply painful. I thought that being in Ann Arbor would offer me choices about who would do the procedure. (Ann Arbor had already passed a law stating that should the courts overturn Roe v. Wade, the city's only penalties for doctors still performing

The HipCripnoreply@blogger.com0