pegkerr | Entries tagged with medical

I have been reluctant to talk about it, but the arthritis in my left wrist has worsened to such a degree that I broke down and did something I was reluctant to do. I got a cortisone shot in the bones of my wrist. Getting the shot was as unpleasant as you might imagine. The doctor used an ultrasound machine to guide the needle, but there was a bony ridge between my wrist bones (due to the arthritis) that made it difficult to direct the cortisone into the right place. So that was about four or five very painful minutes of mucking around. I held the aide's hand really, really hard and made a number of pained squeaks.

But the relief has been profound, and I'm grateful I did it. Now the only question is how long the relief will last. I have talked to others who have had this done, and for some, the relief has lasted six months. For others, it is much less.

Background, semi-transparent: ultrasound machine overlaid with a fluffy feather. Over the feather is an outstretched woman's hand. A syringe in the lower left corner is pointed at the woman's wrist.

Relief

50 Relief

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Current Mood: relieved

I had my yearly physical with my doctor last week. We went over the annoyance of my asthma and discussed changes to my medication. (More money. Groan). We discussed lipid levels, vaccinations, exercise and mental health. And she remarked, "Oh, I wasn't going to do a Pap smear, because technically you're not due for one. But the guidelines don't recommend the test for women after sixty-five--nor will insurers pay for it--and considering your upcoming birthday next spring, we probably need to do one after all."

It took a moment for the significance to sink in. "You mean...this is my last Pap smear?"

She smiled. "Yes. This is your last Pap smear."

"My goodness. We should have confetti. Or balloons."

This time she laughed. "Yes, we should!"

So I got up on the table, and she did the exam in her usual courteous and comforting way. I gave her a high five when we were done.

Wow. My last Pap smear.

It does seem like such a milestone. Our culture talks about menarche, and new motherhood, and menopause. But it hadn't occurred to me that there would be one more significant marker to signal that, well, my reproductive life is effectively over.

I have really entered the crone years.

I thought about that this week. In general, I don't believe that I am afraid of aging. It helps that my mother has aged so gracefully and so well. I'm not bothered by wrinkles or gray hair (an easy thing to say because I seem to be graying later than many of my peers). Well, okay, I'm less blasé about the extra moles I seem to be accumulating as I get older, but that's a minor detail.

I talked today with a friend (in her eighties) about the gifts that aging brings. You can be calmer, and more self-confident. Things don't seem to be so do-or-die dramatic. You can roll more easily with the punches. Your time is more your own.

Hopefully, this stage will bring wisdom.

I took a picture of myself and prematurely aged it to make this collage.

Image description: lower left corner: a doctor's examination table with the stirrups extended for a Pap smear. A raven perches on the head of the table. Lower right corner: a bunch of brightly covered balloons. Upper right corner: an old woman with her head propped on her head smiles (Peg, aged a couple of decades in advance). Upper left corner: a pair of aged, cupped hands hold a piece of paper with the word 'Wisdom." Just below the cupped hands, set at an angle, are the Maiden/Mother/Crone symbols (waxing moon, full moon, waning moon).

Crone

36 Crone

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Current Mood: calm

By all rights, I should be doing this collage about attending Mythcon. But another matter rather preoccupied my mind this past week.

Specifically, my health had deteriorated to such a point that my coworkers kept ordering me to go home because of my out-of-control coughing. As I mentioned, I contracted some type of viral infection at the beginning of of July, and last week, my asthma really spiraled out of control. It destroyed my sleep, and exasperated my patience and--gah. Finally, I went back to the doctor. My chest x-ray was clear, thank goodness, but the doctor ordered all the big guns. I went to Mythcon, as I said, wearing a mask (both because of the local Covid surge and because the meds lower my immunity), and enjoyed the con as best I could despite all the side effects.

I am finally starting to feel a bit better.

The sword in the card is one of a pair of hair sticks I wore to the con. I lost one of them during the course of weekend but fortunately found it again. But as I was looking for the hair stick, I started thinking about swords, about defense, and that prompted the concept behind the collage.

Image description: Center: chest x-ray. Foreground: an N95 mask, overlaid with a sword. Lower left and lower right corners: prescription bottles. Pills stream out of the bottles toward the lungs.

Defense

31 Defense

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Unlike the rest of the country, which has been roasting under a heat wave, we here in Minneapolis have been experiencing an unusual amount of rain. The result for the vegetable garden has been mixed: the kale and Swiss chard are happy, the basil is miserable, and the tomatoes are sulking. The news is filled with stories of farmers struggling with floods in the fields and rivers overflowing their banks.

On the other hand, my lawn has never looked better. And I haven't had to water it once.

Oddly enough, despite the rain, and despite the fact that I live about as far from the oceans as one can in all directions, I have been thinking about low tides.

As I mentioned in my previous entry, I fell ill last week. Not Covid, fortunately, but this cold was a doozy, and it pulled me down terribly. I cancelled every single plan I had last weekend. I had hoped to get out of the house on my wedding anniversary on Friday the 5th, just to do something fun to distract my thoughts. Instead, I lay in bed, coughing and miserable. The dishes piled up and used Kleenexes were scattered everywhere. I cancelled my usual walk with friends, and when I tried to go out on my own, I only managed to get around one block. My lung capacity suffered when I had Covid last December, and the asthma season this spring has been worse than usual. I have been trying to build my lung capacity back up again, and now I feel as though I am back at my lowest point.

I made a collage about the cold, but I was entirely dissatisfied with it. It seemed so obvious: a blanket scattered with Kleenexes, a thermometer, a bottle of Dayquil. This is my second attempt, and is more about the concept of lowness that has followed the cold.

I find it objectionable and boring to hear people whinge about their health. Sorry. It really has been what has been preoccupying me for at least a week.

A boat sits on sand, beached at low tide. Foreground: dirty pots and pans. Used Kleenexes lie scattered on the sand around the boat.

Low

27 Low

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Several weeks ago, I suddenly had pain blossom at the base of my left thumb. A visit to the doctor and an x-ray diagnosed arthritis. Ugh.

I have been wearing a brace and doing physical therapy. If the physical therapy doesn't work in about four weeks, I will be trying a cortisone shot. Which will suck, but will be preferable to dealing with this pain with all my daily activities: chopping vegetables, buttoning my clothes, pulling on socks, opening bottles--it all hurts.

Growing old isn't for the faint of heart.

Image description: Background: a tracery of bare, gnarled branches against a gray sky. Over this are several shots of a left hand. One wears a rigid brace. One rolls a ball against a pad. One has a clip clamped on the web between the thumb and forefinger. One holds rubber bands between the thumb and forefinger. Bottom center: a bottle of Ibuprofen.

Arthritis

22 Arthritis

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I may have mentioned that getting Covid in December led to a strong deterioration in my pulmonary health. I could not kick the cough until I got a prescription for an asthma inhaler. I used the inhaler for a month, and it did seem to clear things up. I didn't renew the prescription because yikes, it's $200 a month.

I don't always get asthma in the spring. But I'm starting to think that I'm just going to have to bite the bullet and pony up for the inhaler again. I'm glad that I have a solution available, even if it is expensive. Because having difficulty breathing and coughing all the time just sucks.

In a blue-tinged landscape, a woman kneels on sandy ground, arching backward. Black-tinged smoke drifts upward from her mouth. Lower right corner: three Halls lemon-honey cough drops (two wrapped and one unwrapped). Left: a silver dandelion with several seeds blown away. Above the dandelion: an Advair inhaler diskus.

Asthma

10 Asthma

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Current Mood: asthmatic

This card pinpoints a moment when I noticed that I was experiencing what almost seemed to be something like flashes of lightning in my peripheral vision on one side. What's more, I realized, there were suddenly a bunch of floaters in that eye, too. I remembered a warning an eye doctor had given me many years ago: 'If you suddenly see a lot of floaters, and especially if you're seeing a lot of flashing lights, get into an eye doctor right away. You may be experiencing a retinal tear.'

Somewhat alarmed, I called the night line for my ophthalmologist and fortunately, they were able to schedule me for the following morning. I went in, and the news was reassuring. This was something, the doctor explained, that happens to everyone as they age. The viscous goo inside the eye pulls away from the retina, causing floaters to appear. The examination was interesting: he put drops in my eye and then carefully applied pressure along my eye socket...and suddenly I could see a ghostly image of my own retina.

To my great relief, I didn't have any retinal tears. He wants me to come in for a re-check in another four weeks. The floaters, he told me, would be visible for a while, but eventually (if I'm fortunate) the brain will learn to simply ignore them and they won't be as noticeable.

Just another consequence of aging.

(I created the 'floaters' in the picture by reversing the images of snowflakes in a snowstorm to a negative image).

Image description: Two views of the head of a woman (Peg), looking in two different directions, looking puzzled in one and squinting in the other. Background: the retina of a human eye, overlaid with flashes of lightning. Overlaid over everything are floating black specks.

Flashes and Floaters

1 Flashes and Floaters

The winter solstice, which took place this week on Thursday, December 21, is known as the 'hibernal solstice.'

That is also what I did this week because, as I noted in last week's entry, I caught Covid for the first time.

I've dreaded getting infected for the past three years, not just because, you know, it's a disease that has killed millions of people in a worldwide pandemic, but because I fretted how I would handle it, living alone. There was a worrisome event when I fainted in the middle of the night, and my home monitoring suggested my oxygen levels might be dropping too low. I reluctantly ended up going to the ER the next day (many thanks to

naomikritzer who drove me), but everything checked out fine and I was sent home again.

So I hibernated this week. I took my Paxlovid and tolerated it relatively well. I was quiet and lay in bed and concentrated on healing.

I thought about that juxtaposition, between the winter solstice, and getting Covid.

Throughout a not insignificant part of human history, this time of year was a time of fear. People lit fires and beat drums because they honestly feared that the sun might not come back. Later, perhaps, when there was knowledge that the sun would return, they might fear that food stores might not last enough to get them through the winter.

And when this epidemic first emerged, that was a time of fear, too. We were facing this strange mystery, this time of darkness, and who knew if we would safely emerge out the other side? When a person saw that positive test result, they knew they were in for it. How bad would it get? How sick would they get? Would they have to be hospitalized? Would they have to be intubated? Could they possibly emerge safely out the other side of that descent into uncertainty and danger and darkness, that brush with death?

I remember that I cried out of sheer joy and relief, the day I was vaccinated. I felt then that getting Covid now would not necessarily mean the end of everything.

The shortest day of the year is over, and we've lived through the longest night. I've lived through Covid and I’m going to be okay. Thank you to the people who dropped off care packages and checked up on me. Thank you to the people who invented and distributed the vaccine and the boosters that kept me safe.

I'm grateful to you all.

Image description: An image of a stone circle (Stone Henge) with the sun showing between two rocks, low in the sky. Overlaid over the sun: a plastic Covid test with a positive reading. Above the sun, arranged in a semi-circle: five Paxlovid packs. Lower left: a woman's face, masked (Peg). Lower right: several fingers of a woman's hand, the middle one with an oximeter affixed. The reading on the oximeter reads '90.'

Hibernal

51 Hibernal

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This is late.

I have Covid. Peg, why couldn't you skip doing a collage this week?

Because I can't, that's why.

Nevertheless, explanations will be abbreviated.

This is a card about the pleasures of baking yummy things. Our family annual cookie bake often coincides with St. Lucia's Day. Longtime readers of this journal know I've celebrated this holiday for years.

Compare this previous collage, for the same week, also titled "Baking." Sorry that I couldn't come up with another subject, but I have no brain.

Baking helps keep the darkness away.

Unfortunately, not Covid.

But that's next week's card.

Image description: Background: christmas cookies spread in rows on a long table. Overlaid over that: coffee and lussekatter (saffron buns for St. Lucia Day celebrations). Overlaid over that lower right: a woman dressed as St. Lucia: white dress, red sash, crown of candles. She holds her hands in a position of prayer.

Baking

50 Baking

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Current Mood: sick

My sleep has been deteriorating again. I had a short night's sleep on Sunday, which triggered a headache bad enough to force me to go home from work and rest all day in a darkened room, unable to read. The inability to read is torture for me, and I resorted to turning on the accessibility features of my phone to make it read aloud to me. (It's not as good as an audiobook. I picked a British male voice ["Jamie"] but it sounds rather robotic. But it did the job at least.)

I can't say that what I experienced was a migraine, exactly--at least I never felt nauseated--but it certainly impaired me. Once again I found myself wishing that I didn't live alone so that someone could be there to take care of me when I feel ill.

Usually, if I have a day with a bad headache, the next night's sleep re-sets everything to normal. This time, it didn't and I had to take a second sick day.

I got back to work yesterday, but I only managed three and a half hours of sleep last night. Another headache is brewing.

background: a stormy lightning-filled green-tinged sky. Lower left and lower right: semi-transparent semi-profiles of a woman's face, squinting in pain. Lower center: the face of a haggard-looking woman (Peg) faces the camera, unsmiling.

Headache

48 Headache

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Current Mood: headachy

How to put this delicately...

I've felt ~~like absolute crap~~ pretty awful this week.

I've already talked about some of it: I'm wearing a surgical boot, and that has thrown off my usual routine to keep myself healthy. With the boot and foot problems, I've been using a cane on the stairs. I'm not able to do my usual walks. I am having a problem with my wrist which precludes doing yoga (can't do downward dog). So I've done very little exercise at all. Okay, none.

I've had some other medical tests in the last month with results that I didn't like to hear. My cholesterol is edging higher. I've now been diagnosed as having osteopenia--thinning bones.

It's getting colder and darker. I'm starting to feel the effects of seasonal affective disorder, and I discovered this week when I pulled it out that my SAD light is broken. I have to buy another. And those suckers are expensive.

Sleep disorder continues--I had one night this week when I managed only a half and an hour of sleep. The next night's sleep was disrupted by a trip to the emergency room in the middle of the night (don't panic--I was having symptoms which might have been indications that I could be having heart problems, but turned out to be a false alarm. Muscle spasm, possibly, the ER doctor thought.). So that was another night of very short sleep, and I can expect a very big bill in the mail.

It just so happens that the same day I went to the ER, I got three vaccines in one day: Covid, flu, and RSV. I mean, yay for modern medicine, but I was just FLATTENED for the next 36 hours.

So I've been thinking about getting older and about how the body starts to not be able to do everything you want it to do. This week, I've felt sluggish and dull even on my good days. Especially on the day I was so short on sleep and dealing with post-vaccine symptoms, I felt about twenty years older than my actual age. I couldn't even read because of the headache.

This was all very unpleasant and daunting. There was the added issue that I live alone, which just made everything more difficult. When I called about my symptoms, the clinic told me (at 11 p.m.) that I really should go immediately to the ER, and I shouldn't drive myself.

Well, that wasn't going to happen: Fiona and Eric each live about twenty minutes away, my next-door neighbor I might have asked had Covid, and I just felt I couldn't call any of them at 11:00 at night and ask them to pick me up, take me to the ER, and sit around for four hours. And I couldn't afford the ambulance ride.

So that meant I drove myself, in a fog of self-pity.

The next day, as I lay in bed so miserably ill from the vaccines, oh, how I wanted someone there to do the dishes, to fetch me some tea, to run out and get some pho (the ultimate I'm-feeling-sick comfort food) and bring it back to me.

But Rob is gone.

The whole week felt like a fast-forward VCR tape of the process of decline. (I had originally thought to call this card 'Nadir,' but then reasoned, 'No. This isn't the bottom yet." So I hit upon the word 'Ebb.')

I ran across a post on Facebook this week that I've been thinking about, in connection with all this:

The problem in middle life, when the body has reached its climax of power and begins to decline, is to identify yourself not with the body, which is falling away, but with the consciousness of which it is a vehicle. This is something I learned from myths. What am I? Am I the bulb that carries the light? Or am the light of which the bulb is a vehicle?

One of the psychological problems in growing old is the fear of death. People resist the door of death. But the body is a vehicle of consciousness, and if you can identify with the consciousness, you can watch the body go like an old car. There goes the fender, there goes the tire, one thing after another--but it's predictable. And then, gradually, the whole thing drops off, and consciousness, rejoins consciousness. It is no longer in this particular environment."

Image description: Background: a star-filled night sky. Right lower corner: a framed sign reading "nope. NOT ADULTING TODAY." Above it sits a lit kerosene lantern, sitting on the pillow on which a haggard-looking woman (Peg) rests in bed with her eyes closed. Above her (center left of the collage): a rusted-out old truck.

Ebb

41 Ebb

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Current Mood: blah

A little over a week ago, I started feeling pain in my left foot as I was doing my usual walk around Lake Nokomis. I'd broken a toe on that foot last July, but it had seemed to heal up fine. What was going on?

I resisted for a few days, irritated by the prospect of paying yet more medical bills, but when I had to resort to using a cane to go up and down the stairs, I gave in and went into Urgent Care. They did an x-ray and sent me to a podiatrist.

So, apparently, I had nascent mild to moderate arthritis in my foot, and the injury aggravated it. I am now the proud owner of a surgical boot, which is definitely a Glamour Don't. I have to wear it for the next two to six weeks and stop exercising. Ice two times a day.

Worst of all is that I am not supposed to go barefoot or in just my socks, even in my home. I have a collection wonderful of cozy slipper socks that are not to be used anymore. Instead, I have to buy shoes with rigid soles. Very, very expensive and rather ugly shoes.

After a week of being mostly inert on my couch, I am going rather crazy. In addition, I'm finding life maintenance to be rather more difficult at present: dealing with the boot while cooking, cleaning the bathroom, washing dishes, going outside to water the new grass seed my landscape company just put down, etc.

Admittedly, I'm sort of bitter about all this. True, I can eat ice cream whenever I want, but in many ways, growing older has a lot of unfortunate drawbacks.

Image description: Center: x-ray of a foot. Lower left corner: a pile of slipper socks, with a 'No-prohibition' circle over them. Above the slipper socks: a cane. Lower right: a view of a woman's legs crossed at the ankle. The left foot is wearing a surgical boot. Upper left: a woman's shoe. Upper right: a Haflinger clog.

Foot

39 Foot

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Current Mood: hurting

This week has been sort a sort of mixed bag: the good news is that I got my foundation fixed, and I'm very happy with the results. After weeks of trying to find someone and beginning to despair that I would find anyone willing to do it before the snow fell, I got a referral to someone who was willing to come out right away and who gave me a bid with a very good price. He was able to start immediately and got it finished up within four days. Yay!

On the not-so-good side, it's been a challenging week physically. My wrist, which I've had problems with before, has been giving me some pain, and I have decided to go back to physical therapy. In an effort to lick the ongoing sleep problems, I've started with a new medication and good heavens, it's been difficult. I have been COMPLETELY exhausted, nodding off at work, and having to leave meetings early. But I'm gritting my teeth and trying to stick it out. I'm still recovering from the broken toe and so not doing my long walks, which is vexing. I've decided to resume weightlifting, because I know I need to add it to my routine, and I'm truly trying to get healthier. As a result, although I have been taking it cautiously, I have been super sore all over. Between that, the wrist, and the toe, I've been taking a lot of painkillers. As I struggle to stay awake.

As a result of all this, I've been doing everything I can to take care of myself. And trying to do what makes me happy, with, I must say, a great deal of success. The weather has been lovely, which has certainly helped. I went on a picnic by myself last Sunday at the Lake Harriet Rose Garden and on the way home, I came across a street festival and stopped for a while to watch the joyously colorful dancers in complete fascination. I've been experimenting in the kitchen and making fun recipes--it's been a great week for food values.

Today, I plan to go to an art festival. Tomorrow, I'll be going to a party for some dear friends celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary and their retirement.

I've definitely been enjoying myself, despite the pain. And I've been happy.

Peg at picnic

Image description: Center: the fountain at the Lake Harriet Rose Garden in Minneapolis. Lower center: various foods spread on a picnic blanket--cherries, cheese, a plastic cup with wine. Lower/center right: a red rose in full bloom. Lower/center left: a hand holds a small glass jar with tiramisu pudding, with chocolate shavings on top. upper right: a fantastically colorful dancer with a bearded face and tall colorful headdress. Upper, semi-transparent: three different pictures of the process of making zucchini pesto rollups: to the left, slices of zucchini topped with roasted peppers on a cutting board. Upper left, two cups of a muffin tin with the zucchini slices rolled up and topped with egg. Just below that: a plate on a flowered tray, with zucchini rollups next to a fruit bowl with berries.

Enjoyment

28 Enjoyment

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This is embarrassing to admit:

I broke a toe this week.

I've never broken a bone before, but I managed to snap this one (second toe on the left foot) bringing laundry up from the basement. I couldn't see the steps because of the laundry basket I was carrying, and I didn't raise my foot up quite enough and...ouch!

I'm embarrassed about this because it is yet another data point in my ongoing campaign to apparently prove to everyone that I cannot walk like a normal person. I've had, what, four or five falls in the past several years. I didn't talk about the last one (again, embarrassed) but I managed to clobber myself when I was out buying a pride flag. Stumbled over a speed bump in a crumbling, decrepit parking lot and landed on my shoulder and forehead. The shoulder took the brunt of it so I didn't get another concussion, but still, ow.

I've been thinking about my trouble walking. Is this a normal part of aging, or am I just clumsy, or is there something going on with my walk that needs to be addressed? I didn't bother to go to the emergency room because of the toe (a clean break, and I know that they can't do much more than tape it, which I've done), but I'll be talking with my doctor today--should I perhaps see a physical therapist to get my gait evaluated? What on earth is going on?

Walking on a broken toe reminds me of something I learned many years ago when I had foot surgery: you use your toes a LOT to walk. And thinking of walking, of being rooted, of being grounded, reminded me of a poem I wrote back in 2008 when I found an acorn wedged in a hole in my shoe:

I wrote:

the holy tree grows hidden within the heart
the seed lies nestled in secret within the shoe
a reminder of the earth beneath me
the yogi says, while doing Tree Pose,
find your balance
and if at first you start to sway, don't give up
trees sway
get more grounded
I turn my shabby sandal over in my hand
place it on the floor
and slip it over my foot
my walking root
I stride away, swaying,
tree in my heart
toes spread wide
seed in my shoe kissing the earth with every step

All these thoughts came together to make this card. I did not use the most unpleasant picture of the foot I have (behind the tape, the toe is grossly technicolor) to spare your sensibilities.

Image description: Background: a large tree in the forest with exposed roots (pointillism filter over the photo). Hovering over the roots, center, is an injured foot with tape over the first and second toe and a bruised surface. Superimposed over the foot is a germinating seed. Above the foot, top center, is the sole of a black sandal. An acorn is wedged in a hole of the sole.

Grounded

27 Grounded

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Current Mood: embarrassed

I'd mentioned in a recent collage, Rumphy, that I'd taken yet another fall. This is a serious matter for someone my age, especially since I live alone, and I did some research about what I might do to keep myself safe. Thanks to some kind generosity I've recently received, I now have a new iPhone and Apple Watch, and I have spent the last couple of weeks learning about the capabilities of this technology. Both the phone and the watch offer fall protection--if I should have an accident and fail to move, they can detect it. The device will ask if I am okay, and if I don't respond, it can alert both emergency services and my designated personal contacts.

I have a MacBook Plus, and I had an iPod touch, so I'm familiar with Apple products, but this is quite a step forward for me in the sophistication of technology. I'm still learning every day about new things that these gizmos can do. Cool camera, the ability to pay for things without carrying a purse, tracking my health data and exercise, etc. I'm playing with different watch faces, trying to figure out what information I want immediately available to me at the touch of a button.

The trade-off, of course, is that with all these cool new features, there are consequences, some of which are not immediately clear.

I am...ambivalent? Yes, for example, I am moving more/getting more exercise, but that is because I jump to my feet when my wrist buzzes (I try not to feel like a lab rat trained to react to a buzzer). Am I allowing technology to intrude into my life too much? I can pay without my wallet, but is my personal information safe? At the same time, I can see perfectly well how I am being manipulated by what is being offered. Wouldn't I like to have the ability to do this cool thing? That's fine...all I have to do is to turn on this simple toggle switch to allow my new iPhone and Apple watch to collect this data.

Have I allowed a corporation too much power over my personal information, including personal medical records?

Having the fall protection (and the ability to make a phone call by pressing a button on my wrist if I suddenly am incapacitated without my phone nearby) has given me a huge sense of relief. I didn't quite realize until now how much this has been a mental load that was worrying me. I love the new capabilities that are offered by the watch, and I'm sure you'll see a leap in the quality of these collages, with the improvement of my camera.

But I still recognize that I have voluntarily ceded some part of my privacy. I wish that this country had more of the privacy protections observed in the European Union.

That ambivalence is reflected in the card. For now, the trade-off seems worth it to me.

Image description: Background: semi-transparent array of Apple app logos on a black background. Three different Apple watch faces are arranged in a triangle on the top half of the card. Bottom: a silhouette of a woman, arms spread wide in freedom and exhilaration. A man's hand emerges from the upper right corner, holding the strings of a marionette which dangles in the center of the card, over the three watch faces and above the woman's silhouette.

Watch

7 Watch

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This past Sunday at church, the first Sunday of Epiphany, our pastor handed out stickers with stars, each with a word superimposed over it. "These are Epiphany star words, which is a new tradition that some churches are beginning to do during this season. Take this word and meditate upon it this week. What does it mean to you?"

I perked up as I accepted my star sticker, 'Loyal.' Oh, cool, I thought, pleased. I won't have to struggle to come up with something for my digital collage theme for the week.

A yellow star with the word 'Loyal' superimposed over it

A yellow star with the word 'Loyal' superimposed over it

You will note, however, that this didn't turn out to be the theme of the week that I chose. Instead I chose the word 'Rumphy.'

Please note: This post will be slightly longer than usual and perhaps a touch whiny. You have been warned.

'Rumphy' is a family neologism that Rob, the girls, and I have used for years. Eric looked extremely baffled the first time I told him that I was feeling rumphy. "What on earth does THAT mean?"

I had to think back hard to re-uncover the meaning.

Here's the dictionary definition of the word 'harrumph':

verb: harrumph; 3rd person present: harrumphs; past tense: harrumphed; past participle: harrumphed; gerund or present participle: harrumphing

1) clear the throat noisily.
"he harrumphed and said, 'I am deeply obliged.'"

2) grumpily express dissatisfaction or disapproval.
"skeptics tend to harrumph at case histories like this"

Whenever Rob was in a certain mood where he got disgruntled about something, he would put on an old codger aspect and grumble 'harrumph.' Have to do too many phone calls to fix a problem? Harrumph. Stuck in traffic? Harrumph! Did your dinner get burned? Harrumph!

Eventually (as best as I can remember) we identified the underlying mood that makes you say the word 'harrumph' as 'rumphy.' It became an exceedingly useful word that we all used. When someone said they were feeling rumphy, everyone knew that some sympathy, kindness, and coddling (and perhaps gentle teasing) was the best response.

These are the reasons I'm feeling rumphy this week:

• Immediately after that church service, I went home expecting to see Fiona for her weekly visit. But she called to let me know that she had come down with the flu (with gross digestive symptoms). So instead of a pleasant visit with my beloved daughter, I just got a fleeting glimpse of her looking pale and miserable as I handed off some Gatorade to her on her front porch.

This only served to remind me that I was missing seeing Delia, too. Delia had not come to see me over the Christmas holidays because someone had hit her car during the snowstorm the week before, and she can't drive to the Cities until she gets it repaired.

• I've just discovered that apparently, I've developed high blood pressure. I was surprised by a high reading taken by the dental hygienist when I went in to have my teeth cleaned in October. I went into a CVS this week to check my blood pressure at the machine near the pharmacy, only to discover that apparently, the October reading was not a fluke. As I have been working hard to get healthier and have in fact lost fifteen pounds since July, this seems especially aggravating. It feels like my body is doing something that is totally uncalled for, not to mention unauthorized. I will have to go to the doctor and perhaps go on medication. My sister, brother, and both of my parents have a history of high blood pressure, too. Apparently, it's something probably genetically based that just shows up at this age.

• My sleep disorder has been acting up horribly. I am so groggy in the evening, but after I go to bed, I will wake up in the middle of the night and stare at the ceiling, unable to sleep, for hours. On top of that, I'm getting really fed up with using the CPAP machine. If I'm going to have to put up with the thing, at least it should WORK to make me sleep better, you know?

• I'm keeping my house extra cold this year, to try to lower my heating costs. I'm keeping the thermostat at 65 degrees during the day and turning it down to 60 at night. I find that keeping the house so cold puts me into a sort of torpor--I sit huddled up in blankets on the couch and don't want to do much of anything.

• Scam phone calls and scam emails--I wasted time dealing with both this week. People, just leave me ALONE.

• My employer gets its money from donations, and donations are down. There is a lot of worried talk at the office that the churches that pay our salaries with mission support have not sent in their pledged contributions. Understandable, because people are cutting back their charitable giving due to inflation--but conversely, inflation makes the prospect of not getting a raise this year even more appalling.

• The weather has been cold, gray, and miserable. The air quality was terrible this week, and the streets are badly plowed. The snow melted partially and then refroze, leaving a thick layer of ice over everything. This was worsened by freezing rain that fell Wednesday morning.

• On Wednesday, I fell on the icy steps trying to walk down three steps to get my newspaper. I wasn’t in any kind of hurry, and I was even holding the railing. I didn’t hit my head, thank god, so I don’t have another concussion. But I banged up my back and arm pretty good, and I am sure I will have bruises tomorrow.

And then, even more startling, I could actually feel myself going into traumatic shock after crawling back up to the porch. It was ten minutes in the cold on the porch, unable to move, trying not to faint, before I could get back into the house.

It’s my great fear about living alone, that I somehow get hurt or incapacitated and am unable to get help. I’m okay…but those were an awfully long ten minutes.

This is the fourth serious fall I've had in the past five years.

• I've been in a lot of pain the last couple of days from the bruises and from having my muscles wrenched so badly. Painkillers haven't been quite effective enough.

• In an attempt to make myself feel better, I took a long bath with Epsom salts yesterday. I went down to the kitchen and discovered water all over my kitchen island and floor that had apparently poured through the light fixture in the ceiling from the bathtub upstairs. So now I have to call a plumber.

• I can be prone to seasonal affective disorder in January. What's more, at the end of the month, it'll be the five-year anniversary of Rob's death. And I've been missing him. I've been missing him terribly. When I was out there lying on the porch, afraid and trying not to pass out, I just wanted to have him there beside me so desperately. And I've been missing having Eric with me, too. This week has made me all the more aware of how much I hate living alone. My relationship with Eric gives me a lot of joy--in so many ways, he's even a better match for me than Rob was--but we each have our own house, and so we're not living together. And so I'm lonely when I'm home by myself. As I've said before, I'm not meant to live alone.

It's funny--I remarked to Fiona once that being a widow and then falling in love again has helped me, a lifelong monogamist, really get polyamory in a way I never could before. I'm in love with two men at the same time--one of whom is my husband, who just happens to be dead. Eric is extraordinarily kind, gracious, and non-threatened about the fact that I still miss Rob--but I am not living with Eric either. I'm alone.

And that just sucks.

It's been a really hard week.

Background: a misty winter background of snow-covered tree branches. Over this background are a series of words in blue text: From the bottom, going up: 'Missing my boyfriend. Pain. Plumbing. Elevated blood pressure. Gloomy weather. Sleep disorder. Cold. Missing my daughters. Ice. Money worries. Taking a fall. Scammers.' Top, in semi-transparent text: 'Missing my husband.' Diagonally across the card in larger text, is the semi-transparent word 'Harrumph.'

Rumphy

2 Rumphy

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Click here to see the 2021 52 Card Project gallery.

Current Mood: cranky

For the most part, I'm pretty content with my life. But even in the most balanced life, aggravations crop up.

I broke a bowl I've had for thirty-five years. A standard Pyrex bowl, no biggie; I can always go to the store to get another one. But it's been my special bowl for making hollandaise sauce for years (I love Hollandaise sauce), and I was startled to discover, as I stared at the shards in the sink, how cathected I could get to a simple glass bowl.

Work has been frustrating. I won't bore you with the details, but it was a wearying cycle of chasing after people via email and phone who simply wouldn't get back to me, and my work was stuck until they did. My job, as I remarked to Eric, would be so much simpler if people would simply do things when I informed them they had to do them.

As for the bottle of unsweetened cranberry juice, well...it's a well-known home remedy for an annoying personal complaint. If you don't know what that's for, Google it.

The green line at the bottom of the card depicts the fall of the value of my investment portfolio. Yikes.

Image description: Against a background of semi-transparent mild expletives, a woman (Peg) scowls in frustration at a phone in her hand. Upper right corner: a bottle of cranberry juice. Lower left: a Corningware bowl overlaid with a cracked glass filter. Lower center: a green graph with a jagged falling line.

Aggravations

37 Aggravations

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About a month ago, I contacted my doctor to say that I've been feeling awful, and can anything be done? I have been SO exhausted. I walk with some friends around a local lake several times a week, and my stamina has been flagging badly. I used to be the pacesetter. Then I started getting exhausted halfway around the lake. Now I want to quit when I'm a third of the way around the lake. Is this still post-concussion stuff? My plant-based diet? What? I feel as though I have been living in a fog, struggling to stay awake in the evening and yet sleeping badly at night.

So, I met with my doctor, underwent a series of blood tests, and went back for a consult with my sleep doctor, too. Conclusion: yes, the sleep problems probably ARE related to the concussion--that is, concussions can cause sleep issues, and even when symptoms recede, the fact that the sleep pattern has been disordered means that sleep can continue to be screwed up even months later.

The blood tests revealed that I have a Vitamin D deficiency (very common for people in Minnesota--we have less sunlight than other parts of the country) and I'm low on Vitamin B12 (common for vegans).

So, I am back to Sleep Boot Camp (NO naps, later bedtime) and I've started Vitamin D and Vitamin B12 supplements. I hope that I will start feeling better soon. I really want my life back.

Image description: Foreground right: Peg stands hunched over, looking exhausted. A windup key emerges from her back. Behind the windup key a hand holds a Vitamin D pill up against the sun. Lower left: pink pills spell out "B12" Center left: Vitamin D.

Deficiency

28 Deficiency

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This is slightly late, because I ordinarily do my collages on Friday during my Zoom with my coffee group. This past Friday, however, I was getting ready for Minicon instead. (Minicon will probably be the subject of this week's card, which I’ll do on this coming Friday.)

Anyway: a week ago Friday, I went to the doctor's for my annual checkup and rather rashly decided to load up on three vaccines at once: my second Covid booster, my ten-year tetanus booster, and the pneumococcal vaccine. And lordy, lordy, it absolutely wiped me out. I could barely get off the couch all weekend, which I expected, but I didn't expect to be pretty much useless for the entire week. I was totally exhausted. I lasted barely a half hour at my writing group meeting on Wednesday night, and then the critique group ordered me to go to bed and kicked me off the Zoom.

I tried to comfort myself by reasoning that my immune system was revving up, doing what it needed to do to get ready to handle All The Things. But good heavens. That was rough.

The text on the pillowcase is from a button I once gave Rob (I used to give him one on his Christmas stocking every year).

Image description: Background: a muscular woman with her back to the camera lifts weights. Foreground: a woman lies in bed, holding glasses in one hand, covering her face with a pillow with the other. Overlaid on the pillow are the words "It may look like I'm doing nothing, but on a cellular level I'm really quite busy."

Immunity

15 Immunity

Click here to see the 2022 52 Card Project gallery.

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This is my thirteenth collage of the year, which means that I'm 1/4 of the way through the project. Some preliminary conclusions:

I REALLY like doing this, and I have no trouble believing I will finish out the year. I had said at the beginning of the year that I planned to print the images out and paste them to cards, as I did the last time I tried this project. I started with digital collages, and although I thought at the beginning I might do some traditional ones, now I think I will do digital collages throughout the year and probably will not print them. The reason is that now that I am using digital tools, I'm playing a lot with transparency, and that just doesn't turn out well when I try to print, at least on the printers to which I have access.

As I said in my last post, I got my second Moderna shot. I don't feel great, but I am so, so happy. The conception of this card seems blindingly obvious to me: I got the shot yesterday, and today is the first day of Passover. Not a holiday I usually celebrate, but Fiona has several housemates who are Jewish, and they have very kindly invited me to join their Zoom Seder tonight, which I plan to do (although I will probably spend most of it lolling on the couch with my eyes at half-mast)

The background is taken from a still of the movie "Prince of Egypt," which the girls loved to watch as they were growing up, showing the appearance of the Angel of Death which manifests as a ghostly apparition hovering over the darkened buildings. I overlay that with a different artist's conception of the Angel of Death, and below and parallel to that, I put a Covid vaccine syringe (I'd taken a picture of the actual syringe used for my vaccine, but it did not turn out very well, so instead I used a standard stock photo). I debated placing the syringe cross-ways over the angel, (like the circle with a slash through it often placed over symbols to indicate "no...." I also debated using a picture of a doorway marked with blood on the lintel posts, with syringes overlaid over the markings of blood.

But in the end, I just placed the syringe parallel to the Angel, with the angle of the Angel's sword mimicking the placement of the syringe's needle. The meaning isn't quite parallel, because the Angel uses the sword to kill, whereas the needle protects AGAINST the Angel. But in the end, aesthetics won out. I flipped the image of the background, too, so that the Angel as represented by the mist also matches the angle of the Angel in the foreground. Edited to add: Huh, I also just noticed that (entirely coincidentally) it's at about exactly the same angle as the syringe in "Vaccine I."

I'm pretty pleased with this one.

I had decided at the beginning of the year that the cards would have one-word titles. Yes, I'm cheating by making the last vaccine shot "Vaccine I" and this one "Vaccine II." Bite me. If I hadn't decided that, the title of this card would be the caption I put at the top: "Let the angel of death pass by."

Vaccine II

Click here to read about the 52 card project and see the year's gallery.

Peg Kerr's Journal

The Holy Tree Grows Within the Heart

2024 52 Card Project: Week 50: Relief

2024 52 Card Project: Week 36: Crone

2024 52 Card Project: Week 31: Defense

2024 52 Card Project: Week 27: Low

2024 52 Card Project: Week 22: Arthritis

2024 52 Card Project Week 10: Asthma

2024 52 Card Project: Week 1: Flashes and Floaters

2023 52 Card Project Week 51: Hibernal

2023 52 Card Project: Week 50: Baking

2023 52 Card Project: Week 48: Headache

2023 52 Card Project: Week 41: Ebb

2023 52 Card Project: Week 39: Foot

2023 52 Card Project: Week 28: Enjoyment

2023 52 Card Project: Week 27: Grounded

2023 52 Card Project: Week 7: Watch

2023 52 Card Project: Week 2: Rumphy

52 Card Project 2022: Week 37: Aggravations

52 Card Project 2022: Week 28: Deficiency

52 Card Project 2022: Week 15: Immunity

52 Card Project 2021: Week 13: Vaccine II

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May 2025

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