So Many Roadblocks, So Much Time

It seems as if every appointment with Occupational Therapy is to be fraught with obstacles. First one, there was the wild kid running around who crashed into my knee. The second one had the broken brake on the hydraulic table/bed. The third one was cancelled! That's right! No sooner had I gotten my untimely treatment started after two months of delays, than my third appointment was cancelled!

I was driving T-Hoe on Errand Day, trying to turn into the bank while avoiding a guy on a mower whizzing across the entrance. My cell phone rang. I tried to answer with one hand while steering with the other. The Pony had said the number calling had last been used last week.

"Oh! That's the hospital number. My leg appointments. Give it to me! Hello?"

"Mom. It didn't slide. You haven't answered. Here. Let me get it."

The Pony accepted the call, and I pulled up into the employee parking area to take it.

"Is this HM? I'm calling for HM about her appointment tomorrow at 8:30."

"This is her."

"Your therapist is sick, and won't be in tomorrow. So your appointment is cancelled."

"Oh. That's okay with me. Thank you so much for calling to let me know."

"We have you on Monday at 1:00."

"Yes. I'll be there. Thank you."

I'm not disappointed to miss that session. I don't really like to get out of the Mansion that early. I just hope they don't tack that on at the end of the 12 weeks now!

Seems Like There Should Be An Easier Way

Automation is out of control! To make one person's life easier, it takes inconveniencing a myriad of others. It's not like this is anything new. It just came up on my gripe list this week.

You may recall that I will be hauling myself down to Occupational Therapy in Bill-Paying Town three times a week, for 12 weeks (!) for treatment on my legs. Which still probably won't qualify me for a knee replacement, but maybe that's not meant to be.

Anyhoo... for each appointment, I get an email and a text saying that I need to do the pre-check-in on YourChart. Oh, and I also have a regular (follow-up) appointment with my NP this week. So I got 10 such reminders on Thursday! They were for Friday/Monday/Tuesday/Friday leg appointments, and the Wednesday NP appointment. At least I only had to log onto YourChart and confirm FIVE times, not all 10.

Surely this could be more streamlined. The only screens that I had to interact with were for each visit, to automatically sign my consent for treatment and billing. That's it! Just a fake signature. They have all the rest of my info. Wouldn't you think I could consent to the entire 12 weeks of treatment ONE TIME? So I would only need to fake sign once, rather than 36 times???

As for the appointment my NP had scheduled when I was there in March about my legs, the follow-up two months into the future in May, which he said he still needed, rather than combine it with my regular 6-month appointment in June... that dang YourChart had the AUDACITY to ask me what my appointment was for!

YOU tell ME! I didn't make the appointment! My NP made the appointment. Surely it should have some type of code as a follow-up for some other type of code.

But no. I was supposed to say what my "complaint" (heh, heh, I could have a field day with that!) was, and the reason for it, etc.

I will probably get a little persnickety when I see my NP. You know, what with having seen the OT only ONE WEEK before this "follow-up" appointment to see how the treatment is going. My blood pressure reading may not be in the normal range.

Mystery (Somewhat) Solved

It's been a week since my Fave went missing. She usually works the afternoon shift four days, over the weekend at the Gas Station Chicken Store. I was highly optimistic on Thursday. Surely Fave would be back, just like normal. Wouldn't she? 

NOPE!

The car in the parking lot was that of the Other Gal. She works the other afternoon shifts, and also mornings on the weekends. She's okay. I have no issues with her. The tickets she sells me do not seem as lucky. Over this past week, my winnings have suffered! However... I got up the gumption on Thursday, around 4:30, with no other customers in the store. As Other Gal was handing back my $2 change, I took the plunge...

"I was surprised to see you here today. I was expecting Fave."

"Oh. Well..."

"What's going on with that?"

"Fave got shot."

"WHAT? SHOT??? That's terrible! I was thinking maybe she got another dog bite. Losing the end of her thumb was bad enough. But SHOT!!! That's even worse! How did THAT happen?"

"Well. She was with her dog. Apparently somebody said he was going to shoot the dog, and Fave said no he wasn't."

"Where did she get hit?"

"The abdomen, I think? I haven't talked to her. And maybe on her calf. I think the bullet just grazed her."

"The abdomen is not good! I hope she's okay. But thanks for the info."

What in the actual NOT-HEAVEN??? There comes a time when maybe you have to evaluate your situation, and maybe, just maybe, realize that this dog is not the best thing to have in your life. I'm sure Fave loves her dog. But she's lost work from breaking up a fight, then lost the end of her thumb for breaking up another fight, and now she's been SHOT!

Maybe when she returns, I can get more of the story, straight from the dog-momma's mouth.

Mrs. HM Is Back To Her Tasteful Self (Kind Of)

Blow the long horns, and start the pageantry for the official announcement: Mrs. HM Seems To Be Slowly Regaining Her Taste!

I don't want to jump the gun, put the cart before the horse, or count my chickens before they hatch. But I have HOPE! Which started on Thursday morning. I almost detected a smidgen of flavor at the first bite of banana. WHAT? Was it possible? Sadly, the rest of the banana was just as tasteless as it had been for the past 12 days. It was the 14th day since I fell ill. Time to be healed!

The oatmeal just had the newly-regular taste that I can only describe as "discernable sweetness." No actual flavor, but it was sweet, not savory. I opened up my little jar of Vicks VapoRub and took a whiff. Nope. Nothing. It might as well be an unscented candle.

On my Errand Day with The Pony, I shared my hope. I had a generic Halls MenthoLyptus Honey Lemon cough drop. There were a couple of instances where I thought I noticed lemon! Not while consciously trying to taste it. But randomly, which got my attention back on my taste buds.

I had another cough drop just before my snack of 1 oz of sharp cheddar and 12 dill pickle chips. Not really needed to open up my nasal passages, because I could breathe in and out normally through my nose. I had hoped the MenthoLyptus would waft up into the recesses of my sinuses and shrink the tissues a bit more, to let those flavor molecules proceed to the tiny patch that recognizes them. Nope.

At suppertime, I tried the Vicks jar again. I think I could tell it was Vicks! Barely. I had a can of sardines with mustard sauce. The mustard was tangy, as usual. Perhaps a bit more so this time. Still no sardine flavor. No taste in the Ritz crackers. But the Progresso Chunky Chicken Noodle Soup? I got a small taste of the broth!!! Just a hint, and just a couple times. It was like if La Croix made soup, that would have been the flavor!

Now it's Friday at noon. I can definitely tell I am sniffing a jar of Vicks VapoRub. The banana SEEMED to taste like a banana. But so many of them lately have not much flavor anyway. And I got a couple Brown Sugar Maple vibes from my oatmeal. 

I'm ON THE MEND! Tonight, I'm planning to have a TACO SALAD, made with the boneless skinless chicken breasts I had cooked yesterday for Farmer H's suppers. His with Lemon Pepper, but mine just plain. I think the medium salsa, and Frank's Original RedHot Sauce, might give my nostrils a kick.

Things are looking up for Mrs. HM's nose!

Mrs. HM's Leg Can't Catch A Break

I feel like something is destined to go wrong with each step of my leg journey! First all the trouble getting the appointment. As I was leaving after the second session, on Wednesday, my Occupational Therapist asked me if I ever went to the Wound Care Clinic.

"Do you have time? First I was told that the Wound Care clinic would call me for an appointment. After a couple weeks, I sent messages through YourChart asking what was going on. I was told to call Wound Care myself. They didn't want me! Said it was a task for Physical Therapy, and that they would talk to my NP, and Physical Therapy would call me. Nobody did. Another call to the office, and I was told to call Physical Therapy myself. They said they didn't handle it. I called my NP's office again. The was told that Occupational Therapy would handle that, and give me a call. Nobody did. Another call to NP. More advice to call on my own for an appointment. Occupational Therapy said they had a wait list, and I'd get a call when they had an opening. Now here I am!"

"I was wondering, because I saw a couple of referrals in your chart, and I was trying to figure out what that was all about. Is there anything we could have done that would have made it easier for you?"

"Everybody I talked to was VERY NICE! Even the ones who didn't want me, heh, heh! I don't have any complaints about anybody. I was trying to do the right thing, because I knew I had a follow-up appointment in two months, and the two months were almost over! My appointment is next week. I didn't want to show up and be asked, "So you haven't done ANYTHING?" I didn't want to seem pushy, but I didn't know what to do. If somebody had just called me from somewhere, and said, "We have a waiting list and we'll call when we can fit you it... that would have been very helpful."

My second visit was at 8:30 a.m. The day after I left the first appointment at 2:30 p.m. At least no toddler rammed into my leg this time! The only child I saw was a cutie, a little girl about 6 months old, with wild spiky black hair, whose mom had to use the bathroom, so a receptionist came out an held her. I was called back only two minutes past my appointment time. And then the next obstacle beset me.

There were four people in my treatment room! My OT, two women, and a man. I wondered what they were going to do to me! This seemed serious! OT had said that she would be doing some kind of massage this time. Did it take FOUR people? I'm not an elephant! One person can easily reach across me! They were moving that low flat table bed around. It's on wheels. Covered with blue vinyl, with a hinged part so you can have your head and shoulders elevated. It's just like the one they had in the x-ray room when I got my knee x-rays, and the gal told me to sit on the end. Oh, and did I mention that it rises on hydraulics like a car lift?

Turns out a part broke on the brake the day before. Something snapped.

"I didn't do it!"

"Oh, no. You didn't do it. This was before you were even here."

They all puttered around. The bed had been against the wall, but it was being moved out so OT could move all the way around me. The one lady was in charge of the office equipment, I think. She was going to call the supplier, but trying to work out a makeshift brake for the day, using a plastic wedge, which was too big. 

"Can you put it against the wall? No? Maybe you can use another room today, with the other table. It's only a couple inches narrower."

"I don't know. What's the weight limit? That's the problem if I use it all day. But I can use that room for my next appointment, because I don't need the table. I'm just fitting for a bra. So you can work on this one while I'm not in here. But I need this table after that."

The table wasn't all THAT rolly. OT got on the other side of it as I climbed on, and it didn't roll. She jacked me up about halfway, then sat on her rolly stool, moving all around the table, massaging my lymphatic pressure points or something. She explained, but I didn't catch it all. It was abdomen, armpits, neck, groin, legs, and even feet! This was after I sat on the end first, and she unrolled all the wrappings from my lower legs and feet.

Anyhoo... afterwards I got all wrapped up again. Next appointment for Friday morning.

Be Careful What You Hound People For

Tuesday afternoon was the long-awaited appointment for the leg service I was referred for on March 9th. It was at the occupational therapy facility near the hospital and my NP's office. Farmer H drove me. I was told this first appointment was a consultation. I told Farmer H it might just take 15 minutes. Or maybe a half hour, depending on how they booked. I didn't think anything would be actually done on this day.

WRONG!!!

We got there at 12:35. My appointment was 1:00, but I'd been told to arrive at 12:45. It's over in Bill-Paying Town, so a 30-minute drive on the highway. NOBODY was in the parking lot!

"Is this the right place?"

"Yeah. There's the address above the door. This is what they told me. It must be because of lunch time. At least we got a good parking space!"

A couple more cars arrived. Two people went in, so I did, too, while Farmer H fiddled around in A-Cad for a moment. I got checked in. Nothing to fill out, because I had done it through YourChart. At least the receptionist VALidated my efforts by thanking me for that.

The waiting room filled up quickly. The worst part was KIDS! Only two, but they were four years old, and one had been running wild for 10 minutes when the other arrived. He was good at first, but saw The Runner, and started doing it himself. Which eventually ended with Second Runner stumbling and falling ON MY LEFT KNEE! It was quite startling, and unwelcome, but didn't hurt too much, because that's the better of my knees. Farmer H picked him up, and his grandma apologized to Not-Heaven and back. I don't hold it against the kid, because obviously he has some issue that's being dealt with through occupational therapy. It's just that I'd prefer a child-free environment at this stage in my knees life.

I was called back to a room with a chair and a low flat table. My Occupational Therapist was a gal in her early 30s. I liked her immediately, because she was matter-of-fact and put me at ease. I pulled up my pantlegs for the exam, while sitting on the chair and she wheeling over on her doctor stool. She heard my tale. Poked at my legs a bit. Asked me some history. Said it is definitely lymphedema, not cellulitis, but that it's possible cellulitis could develop, especially after a surgery, when there's a lot of swelling.

OT then had me sit on the end of that low table, making sure I felt secure, far enough back, and RAISED IT UP! High! I felt like a car getting worked on! OT wheeled over to my dangling my legs, and had my shoes and socks off before I could object. I don't like people touching me. Of course you don't really have much choice when you're there to get your legs worked on.

OT took about a bazillion measurements, then said she was going to wash my legs (they weren't dirty, it's standard procedure!) and wrap them. That I couldn't get them wet. That I'd need "shower bags" if I took a shower, or to do sponge baths.

"For how long?"

"Until I'm done seeing you."

Which will be THREE TIMES A WEEK until the END OF JULY!!!

What in the Not-Heaven have I gotten myself into? No way am I going that long without a shower! I said so to OT (in a polite way looking for a solution). 

OT said that since I had mentioned wrapping my legs at home with an ACE bandage (which I have been doing for a while, because it makes my knees feel better), that I could undo her wrappings, and put them back on as soon as the shower was over. Since she wants the wraps left on continuously between visits, when she wraps them again. She said a lot of her patients can't bend over to reach their feet, so they can't re-wrap, but she could see I had no problem doing that.

The goal is to squeeze fluid out of the tissues, and then maintain that after the three months by using home wraps and therapies. Again, I'm not sure if this will be good enough for the orthopedist, but it can't hurt giving it a try. That's why he referred me to my NP for such a referral.

Anyhoo... that's the plan. I went back again today (Wednesday), and I go Friday. As you might assume, more tales will follow.

A Valiant Attempt

Maybe, just maybe, someone is feeling guilty for inflicting me with the never-ending sickness. Not that Farmer H deliberately infected me with his not-pneumonia. But he had it so long (still coughing a bit) and is not careful with keeping his virus-y excretions off common property like the remote.

My own sickness is over as far as I'm concerned. Except the smell and taste absence. My cough is virtually nonexistent now. I feel fine. But I was bemoaning my tastelessness as Farmer H rushed back to town Tuesday night to the elderly apartments.

"I guess I'll fix your supper when you get back, then. Just grilled cheese. I can't make anything that needs tasting. I might never taste again. That's how I feel. It's been so long."

Farmer H had barely left when I got a phone call.

"Do you want some Hot & Sour Soup? I can go by and get Chinese."

"I can't taste anything anyway. But that USED to open up my head. I only like it from the one behind Dairy Queen. Not the good one where we've been getting our Chinese lately."

"Well. I can go there..."

"Yeah. You can get yourself something, so I don't have to cook. Just get me a small soup."

My hero, Farmer H, brought home my small Hot & Sour Soup. It looked really hot. All orange-y and oily. Usually, it's more brown. But it still had the mushrooms and tofu and scraggly stuff that I don't know what it is. I heated it up on the stove, to boiling, around 8:30. 

I suppose the soup was delicious. I couldn't taste it. The texture was good. The spice level was excessive. Good thing I had a bottle of Sprite Zero Sugar to sip through a straw. I literally CHOKE when that spice hits the back of my throat wrong. It takes carbonation to get rid of it, and I didn't need any more caffeine. 

Despite all the sputtering and snorting and eye-watering and coughing from the Not-Heavenish heat of that soup, my taste did not return!!!

I appreciate Farmer H's effort. I guess I'll just have to hurry up and wait some more.