little_tristan: (Riptide Murray Too Early)
Everything falls apart when I go to the bathroom in the morning. Today when I came back, not only had Willow chewed up the trash, my master monitor had died. I was going to steal the arch-nemesis' monitor long enough to switch control over to the slave, but luck smiled on me. When I unhooked the master, control switched over automatically to the slave. I didn't know that would happen.

The slave monitor sucks a little bit, but it's better than being offline. Or trying to explain to the a-n why I need his monitor, but only for a minute.

Sister and I have been trying to figure out how to get together tomorrow, with her confined to her house and my boys working. She said she'd been told they weren't having dinner because they can't afford the food. Her husband's out of work again and his mother's being a non-contributing leech for the fifth straight year. (At least my soul sucking dickhead nemesis in-law pays rent.)

We don't have time to cook the meal, but I said we could bring pizza and hang out. That's the point of Thanksgiving, right? Hanging out with your family and being thankful for what you have, even if it's Figaro's instead of Butterball? She was good with that. MiL the Hutt was not.

Ensuing conversations in Yahoo chat have escalated the crazy. Now that we're coming over for an hour in the late afternoon, MiL has to climb up on the cross and produce a full Thanksgiving dinner with all the trimmings. This is not a generous act on her part. This is her slaving over a hot stove all day for people she hates so she'll have something to punish my sister with until Christmas. Which is a whole other, but cruelly similar, drama.

The timing will fail, of course, because that's what she does. Always. We'll get there at five, after Russell's worked eight hours, spent an hour getting home, and driven another hour to Sister's, and the food won't be ready. She'll say it'll be another hour or two, and we'll end up leaving before dinner so Russ can get home and go to bed because he has to work on Friday, too. Hopefully McDonald's will be open.

But whether we get to eat at all is irrelevant compared to what she'll do to Sister if we leave before dinner, since she went to all that trouble for us in the first place. I wish I'd never brought it up at all, but Sister gets so unhappy when we miss holidays. There's just no way to save her.

Everyone blames the boys for working but that can't be helped either. They have to finish welding parts for the machine or the orders won't go out and the deal will fail, just like it did before. And our shop lease expressly forbids welding so it can't be done here. The machine has to be on the production line in two weeks and it's not going to be good for much without all these fiddly bits welded together in straight lines. Who knew the electronic designing and software writing were going to be the easy parts? Okay, that's not true. There were no easy parts.

I wish we could stay home and not bother the MiL from hell at all, but I haven't seen my sister since July. I don't want to wait another month.

At least my dentist appointment got canceled so I don't have to go outside. Their portable front door ramps got stolen. I actually have to find a new dentist now. One with a building I can get into. I love these people. They have an all female staff and the receptionist always remembers me. Now I get to go to whatever schmuck happens to not have stairs.

Everyone downtown has stairs. Even the physical therapists and chiropractors. All the good buildings are Historic and immune from current ADA standards. Historically, cripples stayed home. Some traditions just never die.

Oh good. The sky has gone completely black. I need a better look at that.
little_tristan: (Otters Significant Otters)
Yesterday was water therapy day! I was too tired to write about it last night, but that's a good thing. First, Heather's lovely husband, whose life I make at least twice as hard as it should be, but who can be bought off with a half-rack of Keystone Light, stayed home from work to hang out with their two year old so she didn't have to bring him. No baby, no babysitter, no worries. And Mark had dressed me in my last-minute, bought online, holy heck it sucked but I had to wear it anyway tankini deal before he left for work, so I was all ready to go.
This is what happened... )
little_tristan: (Otters Significant Otters)
I had my first meeting with my new physical therapist, Davita. She did an evaluation of my strength and range of motion (for 12 years in a wheelchair, I rocked it, thank you very much), and next Wednesday I get to get in the pool! Yes! I will be free! Or as free as I can be in 5 feet of water with two people who probably won't let me get my head wet. But there will be standing and moving! And Mark in swim trunks! (Poor Mark.) And me in a bathing suit for the first time in 16 years. (Poor Mark.) I ordered a tankini online and said I couldn't start til Wednesday, even with rush shipping. Still have to find something for Mark.

He doesn't get to go Wednesday, though. It's in the morning, so Heather's coming down to take me. Water therapy with Mark will be a fun new bonding experience, but playing in a pool with Heather will be a rerun of the summer of 1987. I'm kind of excited about that, too.

We decided to pursue this because it doesn't feel good emotionally to have no physical outlets for my chronic nervousness. It makes me sad and self-destructive, which my doctor is working really hard to turn around. Also, my body is starting to take on the shape of a chair, with tendon contractures and stiff joints and shortened muscles and all that fail. Since I can't go into space, water seemed like the next best thing. But just now I realized that exercise burns calories, which I can then replace by eating MORE FOOD, or not replace and lose weight faster. How cool is that? I know I used to know this--I just totally forgot that it could apply to me after it, you know, stopped applying to me. But exercise! I can haz it!
little_tristan: (Puppy Upside Down Willow)
But it could have been worse. Long version of the story: The other day I was out on the front porch smoking (because I don't allow it in the house, except in Mark's man-cave office). I was gone 5-10 minutes, and when I came back in, the arch-nemesis was in the kitchen/dining room doorway beating Willow with his cane. I started screaming at him, telling him for the millionth time that that kind of behavior is just making things worse (he tries to close the half door by waving his cane around in the dining room (her territory) and hooking the door to pull it shut, which she also hates) and he went off me. There was a lot of shrieking about how I'M the one making it worse (now?) by not having trained her better from the beginning, and it's all my fault that she's a vicious bitch who deserves to die.

Sadly, Steve was out on the side steps having his own cigarette and telephone break (he likes privacy when he talks to his friends, which is totally his right) so he missed the whole thing. I took Will into my room and put up the baby gate, which she's terrified of because she hates inanimate objects that move when she touches them, and stayed in there crying like a fool until Steve came and found us. I told him what happened and explained that it's so awful because "Willow is our puppy of life and hope. Everyone died last year and Willow is the only good thing that came out of that whole God-awful mess (well, and you, of course)." Which made him go all shy and adorable, and eventually got me a hug. He said he couldn't talk to the a-n about it because it's not his place, but he would be willing to talk to the boys about the effect it's having on me (near hysteria), because that's unacceptable. I asked him not to because they know what the problem is and told me to handle it. And venting to Steve did make me feel better.

The next day, I found Doc's old Gentle Leader out in the shop and put it on Willow. She now wears in all day, until the boys come home at least, so I can keep her on a leash and not keep wrecking my arm like I was doing with the collar leash. She does pretty well with it and is with either me or Steve at all times, so she's safe. I also wrote the a-n a lengthy and rather hostile letter telling him she won't be running loose so he can just back the fuck off and leave her the fuck alone.
You can read it here if you want. )

Which brings me to my elbow. This morning when the boys left, I decided to play with Will for a while before putting the halter on. I was throwing her rubber bone and she was bringing it back, having a really great time. Right up until the fourth throw, when she brought it to me and then started playing keep away. I'd reach for it and she'd lower her head or drop it altogether, then hold it up and lower it when I reached again. It was on the third reach that I suddenly lost my balance and remembered as I fell that I hadn't put my seatbelt on. It's such an automatic action, the minute I'm dressed and sitting down I buckle up, but I totally forgot today.

Luckily Willow didn't know what was happening (is she coming down here to play with me?!?), so I landed pretty squarely on her with the right side of my body. This is good because my right shoulder is already nine kinds of fucked, so I rolled off her and landed on my left side. It was loud and scary and I hit my head. I also left my phone in its pocket on my chair, and since I can't sit up at all, it may as well have been on the roof with a dead battery. This being ten (TEN!) minutes after the boys left, and Steve being in the habit of sleeping til seven or eight, I had to make a LOT of noise to wake him up. It took about half an hour of shouting and other things (the third thing he said, after "What happened?" and "Are you okay?" was "Where did the video tapes come from?" My answer? "It was all I could reach and I was pounding them on the floor.") but he very promptly rescued me. He's a small man, maybe 5'6" and definitely weighs less than me, and has a sore back, but he refused to call the fire department for help and did an astounding job of picking up my enormous ass and getting it back into my chair. I gave him a Vicodin after and he said it helped.

So it was kind of my lucky day, even though my left elbow and knee are beautifully bruised. But don't worry, Willow is fine.
little_tristan: (Bloom County cutter john)
The new chair is here! It's exciting, but tempered with my usual hatred of change. In many ways, it's exactly the same as my old one. The body styling and color and all. But the seat was made by someone else so I could have the tilt and recline, and the electronics are totally different. The toggle switch is gone, so no more quick flips up and down to change modes, but also no more hitting the switch with the side of my hand and turning it off by accident when I hit a bump in the road. And no more speed knob. It's all push button now, and there's a separate box mounted on a long arm in front to tell me what mode it's in. I anticipate dozens of nosy, ignorant people asking me what it is, and I fully intend to tell them it's a micro-computer that allows me to update my FaceBook from the main control box. I'd bet any money that the majority of them will believe me.

The recline is really cool, but it has a decided drawback in that when I ask it to tilt or recline, it seems to have to go a certain distance before stopping. I can't give it a flick and move half an inch. Even the slightest touch makes it go two or three inches, and then I can't double back and undo it because it will go just as far in reverse. And worse than that, it will tilt back, and then it will only tilt forward again. I can't tilt partway back and then decide to go farther without going forward first. That just seems like a crap design to me. I'm also wondering why it reduces speed at random moments. It has five lights to tell me how fast it's set to go, and of course I want all five lit. But after I turn it off and back on, or just sit for a while, when I look it's on three or four. I suspect it doesn't trust me.

It also doesn't have push handles, which will make it hard to push should it be necessary, and worse, there's no place to hang anything! I swear, it's like they're not thinking at all. But at least my Kindle bag fits on the armrest. That's a break. And the headrest is a different design, so it doesn't have that pokey bar sticking out that, on my other chair, reduced the windowsill in my bathroom to splinters. (Seriously. Powered wheelchairs: Devaluing your home a little more each day!)

Anyway, there's always a breaking in period where the chair and I get used to each other. You can't really tell anything the first day. Except that it's easier to transfer in and out of, harder to wash my hands at the bathroom sink, and I still think that for 30K, it should be able to carry a shopping bag.
little_tristan: (Bloom County cutter john)
I just got the call that my new chair is in! Willsonville! That's nowhere near here, but they're going to deliver it next Tuesday, only 2 short months after telling me it would be a week to ten days! Now I can't decide if I'm glad I kept track or not...
little_tristan: (Christina's World)
This will be Jerry Lewis's last year hosting the MDA telethon. Which, for some reason, will be only six hours long this year. Because they figure they can make the same money in a quarter of the time? Well, whatever. It's the end of an era and I don't exactly have high hopes for the new one.
little_tristan: (Emergency! Johnny facepalm)
I'm not qualified to say for sure, but if the answer is really "yank a crippled lesbian out of her wheelchair and drag her around on the ground", then that's it. I'm getting a new god.
little_tristan: (Bloom County cutter john)
It's finally really coming! In seven to ten days! I just got the call confirming that I'll be able to cover the co-pay before they actually have it shipped. So all this waiting has just been them getting insurance approval. Wankers. What's really sad is that the co-pay is pretty high (the chair is about $20K; Medicare will pay 80% and Herr's work insurance will pick up the rest, but it's so early in the year that we've hardly paid anything toward our deductible with them yet) and I'm guessing a lot of people are having to turn down their equipment lately. But I can pay, so I'm going to be happy about that. Yay tilting and reclining seat! Yay solid tires that won't go flat! Yay replaceable parts! And a BIG yay for getting the current chair fixed well enough to use it when the new one is in the shop next year!!

And, really, just yay for a little good news before I officially enter into estate probate hell this afternoon.
little_tristan: (Denis Leary)
Actually, I've been awake for a long time. I've officially run out of positions to sleep in that don't inspire unbearable pain, so I read in bed for a while and then got up at one. It's brutally unfair. The Thing That Hurts isn't supposed to hurt when I'm already lying on it, so when it does, there's nowhere left to go. Sitting up doesn't really help, I just feel more in control and better able to cope when I'm wearing my exoskeleton.

Of course I expect to be ridiculously tired in twelve hours, but for now at least I'm getting some writing done. It might even help me finish Les Miserables on time. (No, the irony is not lost on me. It never is.) And later today, I'm calling about the new improved exoskeleton. March is almost half over and I haven't heard from them since December. But I think I might be able to sleep in that chair.
little_tristan: (Losers Cougar Silent Tears)
Probably everyone who's interested knows that the lovely and talented Anne Francis passed away last night. Until I read the news reports today, I hadn't put her name together with so many of her fine performances. For instance, I had no idea she was the confused mannequin in one of my all time favorite Twilight Zone episodes. She was a pin-up quality beauty in her youth, and a wonderful actress throughout her career. Eighty years is a good, long life, but that doesn't make it right.

Then I turned to my morning comic strips for cheering up and guess what I found? The Widow Doonesbury in a casket. No illness, no foreshadowing, no warnings of any kind. In the 20 years I've been reading Doonesbury, I've seen Andy die of AIDS, Lacey succumb to Alzheimer's, and BD lose a leg, but at least he padded the blows on all of them. Still, I guess there's never a good way to lose a grandmother. (Favorite exchange ever--Alex: "Is it okay if I call you Notorious Grammy D?" Daisy Doonesbury: "Heavens, dear, I wouldn't know. Is it disrespectful?"")

It was shortly after that that I realized I was out of Irish cream, which is basically what I use for food these days. It was 25 degrees out when I made my first trip to the liquor store at 9:30, just to find out that it was closed. (Oregon has state-run liquor stores with mandated hours, not to mention the whole population limit thing. Our town only gets one because we're small, but at least it's 5 blocks from my house.) I went back at 11 when it opened (30 degrees), and am pretty well buzzed now. That's good. Still a little cold, though. I can't put on sweaters or coats on my own, and since the arch-nemesis demands the heat be cranked up past all toleration, I can't have Herr put one on me before he leaves in the morning. So dickhead's hanging around the house in his underwear, and I'm either sweating to death inside or freezing outside. Did I say my house before? Yeah, that doesn't sound right.

Small bright point? Les Miserables is really engrossing. Can't imagine why I didn't finish it before.
little_tristan: (Murray in Shock)
Remember this entry? It's sure coming in handy now. Yesterday I got a bill from CARE Med, the people I've been lamenting not being able to patronize since we switched insurers because they always got the work done so quickly and efficiently, and now I have to admit there's no winning. Yes, they do a good job. Yes, they're fast and wonderful. In the shop, at least. But the insurance fraud and robbery just isn't worth it. Why, you ask? What was that bill? It was for a wheelchair rental. They're claiming that on that date, the 19th of June, 2009, the date I went in and got my chair fixed in three hours while reading Small Miracles of the Holocaust, I actually rented a wheelchair and kept it for several months, which they now expect me to pay for. Seriously. I've read it 12 twelve times and that's what it says.

And before you guess that they got their years mixed up or something, no. For one thing, this was a year and a half ago and this is the very first bill I've gotten. Normally they sent statements to me before the insurance is done paying, just in case I can be fooled into ponying up and they can get paid twice. And for another thing, I've never "rented" a wheelchair from anyone, ever! The ones I get while mine is in the shop are loaners and I'm not charged for them. I also have never had a loaner from CARE for longer than a week or two, and I certainly didn't get one in June. Providence HMS stuck me with that awful loaner for three months this summer, but again, I don't pay for those. And, again, it didn't come from CARE. So this whole thing is bullshit, plain and simple. They figure I won't remember what I was doing a year and a half ago, or what chair I was doing it in, so they sent a bill just to see what would happen.

A doctor my dad had never seen tried the same thing on him not long before he died. Billed him several hundred dollars for all sorts of in-office cardiac stress tests. We have no idea how he even got Dad's name, but when Mom pushed him in there in his wheelchair and asked how long their records showed he'd lasted on the treadmill, they muttered something about a clerical error and tore up the bill.

Me? I'm going with email.
little_tristan: (Catloaf Cloud)
Sparky's new switch came yesterday, a day ahead of schedule, so Herr put it in last night. Making me wonder anew why they replace the whole control box when he was able to open it up, cut out the old switch, solder in a new one, and put the whole thing back together in under twenty minutes. In the living room, while watching Dharma and Greg. You'd think a guy with a shop and some practice could do it even faster (especially if he's not watching tv), and save everyone involved a lot of money. But the repair men aren't electricians or solderers or anything, they're people who know how to change parts on a wheelchair. They never fix anything, they only replace it. Unless something obvious happens, like a broken wire sticking out somewhere, they never even know what's wrong. There may come a day where we do all our repairs at home. Because seriously? It's as good as new, and it cost way less than the deductible on a new box would have been. Even with the three day shipping.

My terrible book is back on track, and picking up a little now that I'm getting to the sexy-fun part. After that is the major h/c part, and then the climactic surprise ending and I'm out. I'm pretty sure that I had an idea last night for some kind of police work, a homicide of some sort, but it's escaped me now. Probably when I re-read whatever I was writing when I thought of it, it'll come back to me. Or I'll think of something else. My whole writing philosophy is based on the sage advice of the immortal Steve Dallas: Just wing that mother. So far so good.

Sometime this year, I will finish reading Vanity Fair. Probably not anything else, because of the book, and The Losers fandom, and the fact that I get to see The Losers tomorrow(!), but I will finish Vanity Fair. Maybe right now. Unless I start writing as soon as I post this, which could very well happen.

Also, I miss my Riptide header, but I love my new layout, too. Every time I see it, I feel renewed in my dedication to bore the crap out of people. And really, that's what writing is about 90% of the time. If I'm boring you, at least you're reading. And that other 10% can be a lot of fun.
little_tristan: (cutter john)
Herr wasn't able to get a switch at Fry's because when he got there, he just didn't know exactly what kind Sparky needed. So he came home and opened up the control box, which was all kinds of scary for me. There's nothing quite like sitting in a power chair without a joystick. On tv they make it look like you can just start pushing when the power's off, but it's not that simple. Not only does Sparky weigh 200 pounds (not counting me), we were never even taught how to put his gearboxes in neutral. So the wheels wouldn't turn and I'd need a mule team just to get to the bathroom.

Anyway, after he unplugged it and got it off the arm mount, it was just a matter of taking out 4 screws and the thing came open like a plastic egg. That was way scarier. All those wires, and what had to be the tiniest circuit board that I've ever staked my life on. Then he pushed the switch through so we could see it and held the whole thing up to the light until I figured out what all the letters and numbers on it were. (Being the youngest member of the household, and the only one who doesn't need glasses, I'm the official tiny-things-reader.) Unfortunately, he doesn't have the tools to take apart the switch itself, but we were able to find one online. Express shipping is fearfully priced, so we're shooting for Tuesday. And then it's just a matter of him taking it apart again and soldering the tiny wires to the tiny connectors.

I know he can do it. He's smart and he's very good with these things. Keen eye, steady hands, all that lovely stuff. But I still don't want to watch. It's fun when he's working on other things, but this is different. Like whatever spot he chooses to work in, might end up being the spot where I spend the rest of my life. Or at least the next few hours. However long it takes him to find the release levers on the gearboxes.
little_tristan: (Sheldon WTF)
Okay, so wheelchairs are like cars and houses. They know when they're going to be sold/traded/replaced. Unfortunately, they lack the complex reasoning skills that would allow them to handle this in a mature, responsible way. Take my current chair. We'll call it Sparky, because it's purple and sparkly and has electrical issues. These issues are new. They started last week. )
little_tristan: (cutter john)
Yesterday we met with the sales guy, Rob, and a physical therapist, Justin, to talk about what I want in a new chair. That was different. The first one I got, a salesman showed up, showed me a chair and said he thought it was the best choice for me. Based on not knowing anything about me or my condition. And I, not knowing anything about my rights and options, said okay. A year later it needed a major overhaul to become comfortable and useful, but I always kind of hated it. The powerbase had a plastic cowling that was supposed to make it blend with your furniture (because everyone's furniture is bright red plastic, right? It didn't even come in black), but in reality it just got hung up on everything and over the next five years became a fractured, jagged, filthy mess, largely held together with duct tape. My next chair, the current one, was an old demo that the supplier had on hand and needed to unload because the model was discontinued, so the saleswoman told me it was all my insurance would pay for. Luckily it had some of the features I needed, but again, I didn't know what I was allowed to demand. Or even that my insurance would have paid for a new one, which they, in fact, thought they were doing.

So this is my first experience doing it right, and it's kind of fun. We discussed all kinds of things--what I have to have, what I'd like to have, what the trade-offs are for getting, say, a reclining back versus the armrests that I prefer (I can have both, but I have to sign a waiver stating that I'm aware that I could hurt myself), and where on the proposed model I can leash a 70 pound German shepherd. There are even a wide variety of color options, although I of course asked for the dark purple. Unless it's not dark enough. Then I want black. (Darkity darkity dark.)

There's still a lot of paperwork to get through, and when it's all approved, the chair still has to be built (every prescribed wheelchair, power and manual, is custom built because every single person needs something slightly different), so we're looking at mid-February at the earliest. Possibly early March. But there's a loophole in the insurance regs that may allow them to give me a substitute of equal cost soon (which I wouldn't use--call it a placeholder) so it can be billed this month and take advantage of the fact that we've already met our insurance deductibles for the year. If it doesn't bill until I actually get the real one, we might have to pay some up front. But I'm less worried about that than I am grateful to be dealing with people who know what they're doing and are on my side. (Also, Justin? Very cute.:)
little_tristan: (cutter john)
My voice recognition software arrived today! It doesn't come with instructions so I'm kind of winging it based on what I remember from previous editions. Of course Internet Explorer has changed a lot in the last five years, tabs and all, but I'm figuring it out. The LiveJournal/fanfic world has given me a lot of new words to teach it, some of which it should have gotten by reading all of my sent e-mails, and yet didn't, so this will be a rather long process. Right now it's getting a pretty thorough test because the arch nemesis is making a lot of noise, and I think it's doing all right. In the future I'll be doing most of my writing really early in the morning before he wakes up, partly because I write a lot of porn, and partly because I feel like a complete moron sitting here talking to myself.

So for now I'm mostly testing applications (Semagic sort of works!) and catching up on fics. Then there's the long holiday weekend when the boys will be home and the TV will be on. But next Monday it will be on to bigger and better things. Book reviews and fics and other such stuff.

More thanks and love and hugs to all my friends, the very best on the entire interweb!
little_tristan: (cutter john)
Quick update: We scheduled the evaluation with the Providence power chair people today. It's not until the 30th, meaning this process will take even longer than I predicted, but this is typical. Apparently there have to be a lot of people from different organizations there and it's hard to work with everyone's schedules. Herr, in a totally unprecedented move, authorized me to make it for two in the afternoon. He'll have to leave work at noon, but since he'll be skipping lunch, that's still a six hour day. (I tried to make it later but the woman said, "We don't do that." I guess they all need to be home by five.)

I hope we do the test drives before then. That's the fun part. :D
little_tristan: (cutter john)
I'm counting from today, because it's the day I officially met the salesman/caseworker, Rob. So we'll see how long it takes from this point to actually get it here. Some highlights of the visit:

Rob was stunned that someone actually sold me a discontinued chair. (His assistant was not, because he used to work for the company that did it.) Apparently, while I got it 5 years ago, it was actually discontinued 7 years ago. And the reason the parts are suddenly so hard to get is the law allows the manufacturers to stop making parts--you guessed it--seven years after the model is discontinued. It all fits together.

They're talking Permobil this time instead of Quickie, which is interesting. I actually remember when Permobils first came out. They were problematic in the beginning, but still top of the line. I never thought I'd have one, but it seems like a real possibility. They just have awesome features, like seat tilt and recline, electronic footrests, seat lift that just raises you up for seeing/reaching things, and front wheel drive for better cornering.

At the same time, Quickie has just brought out a new model that's basically what I have, so I might stick with that. What's great is instead of just picking something and selling it to me, they're going to bring over two or three chairs and let me test them out so I can actually choose what I want. Then they go back and order the exact right one, with my measurements and color choice and everything. I never got this level of service before, which now seems strange, considering these things cost tens of thousands of dollars (Permobils can run 100K) and I basically have to live in it a minimum of 15 hours a day for five years. Seems like I should have some say.

On an unrelated note, I got a new pair of shoes today. Mono black high top Chuck Taylors. Why does this matter? It doesn't really, except that this is the first time in 5 or 6 years that I've been able to buy a standard sized pair of shoes off the shelf. The new diet hasn't really lost me any weight, but my feet aren't swollen anymore. I can wear any shoes I want! I don't have to wear slippers all the time! So the Chucks are sort of a normal-foot celebration.

My life is extremely ironic.


little_tristan: (Default)

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