Archive for April, 2008

Chickens in the bathroom


jefferson state
Originally uploaded by Liz.

A funny detail from the trip back. We called a bunch of bed and breakfasts in Grants Pass rather late at night. The only one that was in business had a super nice proprietor who answered our questions and was very excited to have some business. She asked if we were okay with pets and we were excited back at the thought maybe we get to sleep in a B&B with some cats!

So we were going “Oh! Yes! Pets! We love ‘em!” and she went “Oh good, because I have really.. A LOT.”

Something about the way she said it made me go “Um… like …. what kind of pets do you mean?”

“Oh.. just everything. Like, I have chickens.”

“Well! Chickens! Um but not in the house of course.”
*pause*
“I am actually, massively allergic to chickens.”

“Well, yes. Some chickens. Chicks. In the house. Just got them today, they’re babies. They’re um, in my bathroom. “

Deal off!

Alas, and if I weren’t deadly allergic to chickens I would have liked to have seen the baby chicks and woken up to gentle peeping and a view of the Rogue River.

There is a whole Saga of our hotel-finding that night but I will skip to the part where my tire went flat overnight and I twittered it and CityMama saw my twitter and within like 15 minutes her awesome super nice brother showed up at my car! With an electric tire pump! And he pumped up the flat tire and led me to the local tire shop where they FIXED MY TIRE FOR FREE.

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Just a silly crazy little babbling rambling random self-deprecation alert from a no-one girl

I would like everyone, including myself, to use less self-deprecation, in their blogs, blog titles and descriptions, posts, emails, conversation, and life in general. How are you gendering your self presentation and what survival strategy is this? Do you need it? Is it working? Are you doing it on purpose? Consider.

We can do this on purpose and reclaim patriarchal judgments on “feminine” discursive strategy and that’s what’s often being attempted – and we can join the “howl” and do the girlpower thing and YET… YET… YET. It doesn’t always work. Out of a context of reclaiming, it is completely misinterpreted.

In many contexts it’s not reclaimable, just as performative sex-positive femininity is not, because we don’t have control. Rather than revaluing uncertainty, subjectivity, non-expertise, un-knowing, as we want to, we’re disempowering ourselves systematically.

Here are some words and phrases to watch out for.

Irrationality
* babbling
* random
* crazy
* silly
* rambling
* ranting (see my tagline, above!)

Infantilization and belittling
* little
* girl
* girly
* mommy

Insignificance
* just (“just a random girl”)
* only
* little
* silly
* tenative
* halfway

Disclaimer phrases to disavow responsibility
* I think
* Maybe
* I don’t really know, but
* I’m not an expert, but
* I’m not sure,
* You’re probably much better at this than I am,
* I don’t really understand,

My mission:

EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!

Yes, we are judged harshly as women if we DON’T use these rhetorical strategies to pre-devalue all that we say — whether we’re right or not. And we’re judged more harshly if we make a positive statement and happen to be wrong. SO WHAT. Stand up and be wrong then.

Yes it’s okay to say “I don’t know.” It should be more okay.

It’s also okay to make a strong statement without qualifying it.

I’m resolving to fight this a lot harder.

We should work on both fronts. We need to be calling each other on self-deprecation. Arrogance training.

At the same time, working harder to get men to talk in a way that is less damned arrogant and sure-acting and expert-y when they don’t know any more than we do. Calling them on it, being more aware of it, pointing it out in public. It’s especially helpful when men call out other men on their BS-ing — in front of women.

A combination, a balance, code-switching according to context, could work — but won’t bring down the system that rewards men for overconfident arrogance and women for self-deprecating bullshit.

What do you think? What ways do you notice other people doing this? And what ways do you note your own participation in this gendered communication system?

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On the road rocking out

We started out all perky yesterday morning! It’s a hazy delirium now but here it is in photos.

road trip

Then the road was long and flat or short and twisty and green and blue for a long time, like this:
cinder cone looking thing
and like this:

We partook of the dream-like BBQ near Mt. Shasta with the great view and the very delicious home-cooked-ish sandwiches, and Sarah’s tshirt of an octopus wondering about tentacle porn is funny:
sarah

I am extremely amused and so was Cindymonkey, and we played bikini kill very loud and sang, except for mostly her singing and me headbanging because my throat is sore, and except for Sarah not so much since she was massively hung over and only able to make small meeping noises from the back seat when the screaming got too loud,


at these signs, because we did not realize before that that was the name and we were already very excited that we were driving through OLYMPIA home of krs and riot grrl things,

The hotel today is super fucking swanky with parking and a fireplace and a jacuzzi in the room and a fluffy cloudlike king size bed and here I am in the jacuzzi with Sarah:

coffee and book in jacuzzi

My legs are still twitching and numb despite a short nap so I will try to sleep again before the thing tonight.

My plan is to get there super early so I can go up the stairs without people staring at me and then can recover my composure for a bit before I have to talk to anyone.

FROM BED here on the 6th floor in our hotel near Capitol Hill, I can see Mt. Rainier very faintly in the sun & distant haze.

Tonight – party in our room? We have tequila and whiskey.

Sunday – Does anyone want to drive back to San Francisco with me and my charming blog-friend bork? She can’t drive, so it is just me all the way, at a somewhat slow pace, but we can be faster if I have help. (Cindymonkey has to fly back unfortunately!)

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Road trip north!

Mountains that look like volcanoes, covered in snow! Lots of tantalizing roadcuts that we have whooshed past! We got on 101 at Cesar Chavez at 10am. It’s 7:30 now, coming up on Eugene, Oregon. All three of us have to stop about once an hour to pee, which has been extremely pleasant; no one is impatient with anyone else’s bladder. We have healthy food and chocolate from Sarah’s shopping trip and yet chips, sodas, ice cream, beef jerky, ends up in our pockets.

We had lunch at Big D’s BBQ/ Silva’s Restaurant in South Weed, right under Mt. Shasta – sat on a deck outside in the sun & gawked at mountains & devoured the best bbq sandwiches. I highly recommend their coleslaw and potato salad. The sandwiches were on perfectly soft giant buns slathered with garlic butter, toasted, then mayo & lettuce and tomato… *drools in memory*

Everything has gone green! After the pass coming down into Oregon, no more sagebrush and scrub.

I saw some columnar basalt, a lot of mudstone and sandstone layers, something I think was a giant roadcut of ash (as it looked a lot like the painted desert and it was right before we got to Ashland), some stuff to the west that looked granitic (in how it was weathering). Maybe on the way back I’ll stop and look a few times. When we pass a roadcut or some bare rock I get so excited like my cats get when they see a toy mouse.

We are pushing on to Portland tonight so that tomorrow there is only a little to do – that way we can rest.

I need that rest as I started out loping along with only a tiny bit of help from crutches. By now though I am in some pain and limping a lot. Next stop I might need the chair.

I talked with my mom and my grandma rallied a bit & is back in rehab. She was in the hospital with a possible TIA and pneumonia, then out again to rehab sort of place, then last night they couldn’t wake her up and brought her back to the hospital and my mom was very upset & thought she was dying. She might be. She sounds really confused. They have had trouble feeding her. It sounds really tough. My mom is being really brave and a good advocate.

My throat is still horrible. Not scratchy but it seems very swollen. Zond-7 has a cold too and also had a root canal yesterday and was jet lagged and just ill in every way. We ordered pho and went to bed at about 9:30, whimpering with the unfairness of it all but very comforted by the soup and cosy bed. Though, a horrible awakening at 6am as his roommate’s dog got into the house and for some reason shit all over the carpet by the bed so his roommate helped us take up the giant carpet (which was half-pinned underneath the bed) It turned out the dog had kind of lost control various other places so she is probably sick… From there everything went uphill as Zond-7′s fever had broken and I felt perky and good. Coffee, some cheery early-morning reading of Ubik, email check & I was off to get Sarah and cindymonkey. We are enjoying each others’ stories & music.

This is all a bit flat as I’m so tired now!

Earlier I was very excited because of the gorgeous mountains!

At various points in rural highway California we were all eyed in a friendly way at gas stations by cute women, definitely checked out by the check-out girls. OH HAI we are the city freaks! But in Oregon as we neared Grants Pass cindymonkey told us about this one time she was near there at a gas station bathroom and there was a giant obvious group marriage of women in old fashioned dresses giving her dirty looks. She was waiting in line for the bathroom. & one of them came out and gave her an evil-sweet smile and when cindy went in she realized the woman had covered the bathroom in poo like all over everything. (How, in one of those long dresses!?)

My plan tonight is a motel somehwere or Sarah’s friend might find us a hotel. I think they all will go out drinking if we can find a motel at a truck stop with food and a Trucker Saloon, while I gracefully fall onto a motel fainting couch with Vicodin by my side.

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Best Seattle Bed and Breakfast in Capitol Hill

Man I just got off the phone with some really assy bed and breakfast place in Seattle. Here is our conversation:

Me: So you have rooms Fri and Sat?
Seattle Hill House: Yes!
Me: Anything on the first floor? I’m looking at your web site…
Hill House: Why? Is it for an elderly person? We do have a first floor room.
Me: Oh, great. I can do stairs, I just want to minimize them and don’t want to be on the 3rd floor or anything.
Hill House: What do you mean you can do stairs? You have to understand this is a VICTORIAN HOUSE. There are stairs to get into the front door.
Me: Yes, I can see that, I’m looking at the photos of your house on the web site.
Hill House: So, you have to understand, there are stairs to get into the house, it’s a Victorian house. We have stairs.
Me: Yes… I can see the stairs and the front of the house, in the photo. The one on your web site, that I’m looking at. So what are the room rates?
Hill House: We’re not some L-shaped rambler! We’re a Victorian house and any B&B in this area of town is going to have STAIRS TO GET INTO THE HOUSE, and, in the house, there are also stairs.
Me: I said, I can SEE THAT. I am CRIPPLED, not BRAIN DAMAGED.
Hill House: ….
Me: ….
Hill House: Well I didn’t meant to imply
Me: …
Hill House: So you understand, we have stairs?
Me: ….
Hill House: Well then you can see we are probably not the right place for you.
Me: Good-bye.

*heads off merrily to blog it and to review them on Yelp*




Facials! I don’t mean the dirty kind!

I think I’ve had a facial maybe 1 other time and it was one of those deals where you go “Oh, whatever” and abandon yourself and 60 bucks to the hands of fate. Salons and day spas are such a crapshoot. You know that some strangers are going to touch you for a while and some shit’s going to happen to you – but what? It is very like going to a whorehouse but for middle aged suburban ladies (as I’m sure many of you have noticed.)

So what happened to me in this huge fancy (yet cheap) new salon place in downtown Deadwood was that two women removed my socks and shoes and put me into a giant vibrating chair (see?) that also did percussion and kneading. They soaked my feet and hands. I thought the hand soaking bowls were nifty because they put smooth glass pebbles in them so your fingers don’t get bored. There was painting, and dabbing, and massaging with about 6 different kinds of scrubby stuff and lotions. They did all the dabbing and pincering of cuticles and filing early on. They pointed at the autoclaving disinfecting thing to reassure me about how modern they are & that flesh eating bacteria will not rot my fingers off my bones because of their cuticular invasions. There was hot stone massage. I noted they took the hot stones out of a crockpot. The hot stones might have been the best part, but I also liked the HOT LOTION. Dang! Then, a rather elaborate french manicure which is pale pink or clear nails with white tips. I don’t know how long thatall took. A long time.

I find that perhaps because language is a barrier, but perhaps also cultural difference of some kind, the Nail Salon ladies are alert to the slightest twitch and they overinterpret a bit. So, if you fidget, or scratch your nose, they assume no matter WHAT you say that you don’t like what they were doing and they should switch. Alas. An exaggeration of the Curse of the Just Right, where someone is massaging you, and you say “OMG, just right, don’t stop, keep doing exactly that” and they can’t HELP doing it different. Also true for sex. You might have noticed this in your own life.

For the facial part I was led back into the bowels of the building where there were candles and more mysterious Stations for things to Happen and then into a small room with more candles and all sorts of big dentists’ office looking machines. I was given a white cotton muumuu for purposes of neck and shoulder massage which made me feel nearly certain this would not be like my FIRST time I braved the “facial”. When THAT happened oh, it was awful. If you look at my skin, which I recommend you don’t, you will see I am acne-ridden, greasy, and dry-skinned all once. There are blackheads and whiteheads and sort of looming way underneath lurking incipient zits that cannot be stopped but are lined up on a zit conveyer belt waiting for their turn. So in the historic facial of days of yore, some lady whose language I did not speak *squeezed my zits* and sort of eviscerated them with a tiny post-hole digger. It was wildly painful. Afterwards my face was all raw. So anyway, THIS time was awesome. The dental machine turned out to be a high tech Vaporizer which gently puffed warm, perfect steamy air onto my face. A hot towel was wrapped around my head and then infinite strange hot faceclothings and more dabbing and scrubbing and face massage happened. IN between every stage I got hot towelled again. I lost count. First there was coarse grained scrubbing and then a towel. Then fine grained scrubbiness. Towel. Lotiony stuff. Towel. Tingly stuff. A sort of Mask thing which dried as I fell half asleep deliciously to some horrible new age flute music and a botched rendition on guitars of that one Satie piece that they always play in arty movies. Some shoulder and neck rubbing happened while I was lying there on my back with a warm fuzzy blanket over me. There was a point where there was tiny karate-chop percussive massaging all over my face, my sinuses, jaws, much better than you’d think.

So that was pretty awesome. My face does not feel or appear magically different — the point is more the hour of face massage. I don’t really care about the nail polish either (though it is rather splendid) since I will ruin it by tonight, but the good news on that front is whatever they use for polish does not asphyxiate me or them.

The bad part was they were flipping out the whole time about my crippledness (which they didn’t the first time I went there! dammit!) and just could not grasp that I could walk okay. Like, I walked in. With my backpack and crutches. And they saw me walk a little without the crutches. But, they would grab onto my arms while I was walking, or try to lift me up sort of from a chair — unbelieveable — and I had to explain 5 times that no one had dropped me off, Yes I could drive, no I did not have a special car for handicapped people — Yes I could work the pedals — no, no one was coming to get me — this from people who were looking at my feet and watching them move for an hour and a half and I repeat, who saw me walk in and walk around their salon. (My guess is that much like it was in China, Vietnam must not quite be there with popular awareness of ideas of independent living, despite some evidence to the contrary. I dealt with this as if quaaludes were my compass and anchor with a mild half-smile and eventually all the questions stopped as I dozed and sank into the awesome vibrating throne chair and let myself be buffed and squashed and oiled like a motherfucking empress of rome.

Rook drove to M4rin to pick up his mum from her spirituality Retreat & thence to the Assploratorium. They are on their way back. My plan is to feed them soup and hope to god my mom in law goes to bed early after her exhausting day. Armed with my 3 hours of hand, face, and foot massage and new age music I have another plan, which is, ANY time she brings up any crappy health thing or says anything that pisses me off I will Change the subject and ask her what her plan is for when she begins to lose mobility in her 4 story house that has stairs to get in the door, and also what she will do when she can’t drive safely any more, and what her blood pressure is, and I will also regale her with stories about my mom’s parents in their assisted living with expensive round the clock aides. That ought to fix her wagon. If that fails then I will remember some errands and leave for an hour or so.

I have worked on poety translator things, submitted 2 batches of poems to places, cooked, done laundry, on top of all that!

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CISWY reading in Seattle, this weekend!


Liz Reading at Queer Open Mic
Originally uploaded by Liz.

I am road tripping up to Seattle this week! If you are there please come see me at this event ! I would love to see you all and would love the support. April 25, 8pm, Annex Theatre, 1100 East Pike Street.

You will hear me say the word “Lezzie” in a Texas accent. Also, I promise to wear leather pants.

Can I Sit W/You reading

Tickets are priced at $5 and $12, which means you can choose how much to donate.

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Earth Day festival


useful ramp into deep gravel
Originally uploaded by Liz.

The festival was just perfect in the ways that Deadwood town festivals always are – small, well organized, lovely, full of children, with music & food & crafts & art displays & oozing with good intentions & civic pride, sponsored by C4rgill and such companies with mild creepiness. (Their “we lurve nature” brochures remind me of the PR spinmater in “The Fountain at the Center of the World”.)

A band called the Banana Slugs played funk, rock, zydeco, catchy tunes with funny lyrics about the Bay and marine life. You have not lived till you have eaten some PTA chick’s homemade turkey sandwich in your new pink tshirt that has a whale wrestling a giant squid, while the crowd around you roars the refrain “Estuary! Salty and fresh” and small children shake their butts on the lawn. Then everyone lined up to go in canoes, and pet some sharks and eels, and sieve mud to find the tiny worms and shells, and there was a slide show somehow connected to Al Gore’s global warming thing which I did not see the slide show but apparently there was stuff about melting glaciers.

My heart sank when we drove into the blocked-off parking lot next to the cluster of low buildings. For the parking lot was gravel and all around the buildings was gravel. There were some concrete paths half buried in gravel and some wooden walkways. But, I was in for hours of trying to move around. I had not called to check about access. Still, I’m glad I went and didn’t miss it.

I had some moments that were nice where I was like “yay family having fun” but, I could not get to most of the places where Rook and Moomin were, at the times they were there, because of access and crowds (for example there was no way i was going to get to pet a shark with all those people shoving me… bags in the face…people leaning on my chair… I ran over a lot of toes in that aquarium building and then just went to its sidelines in complete disgust) And, so I had a lot of those “parked” moments where you get to sort of watch other people having a nice time and you experience a sort of disabled-person compersion as you enjoy their enjoyment (which is halfway just parental enjoyment of kids doing their thing). I had a nice moment when I wheeled up onto the pier and managed it competently and wheelied over the rough patches and the wind wuthered through my hair and jacket. (Estuary! Salty and fresh!) I felt very alone-in-a-crowd.

Three separate people were especially offensive. I guess I have not been going out to unfamilar places/crowds that often, because it felt like it’s been a while. One woman blessed my heart. Another one said kindly that she “just wanted me to know that she thought I was very brave”. A totally scary tanning-booth possibly-drunk lady with her grown up son with her (looking like he was gonna die of embarrassment) caught my arm as I wheeled past and said “You know, it’s good that you come out. You’re making SUCH A DIFFERENCE” and something else I have mercifully forgotten, but it was so dripping with grossness that I sat there and stared at her with my mouth open and had no witty retort.

A lady tried to push me at one point and I could see her recognition that things were rough for me though she could not figure out why, so I went back after a while and asked the volunteers if someone might sweep the concrete walks free of gravel. That helped. And I went over the giant pit of gravel in the photo here (so tantalizingly leading to a ramp) a few times (in fact, too many times) popping wheelies with every step (step??) so that my front wheels would not sink down.

The bathroom was far, far across a sort of narrow corridor of gravel and logs and there was just no way. If I had brought both my crutches and not just one, maybe.

The nicest bit, besides Moomin petting a shark, was that we ran into my ex girlfriend Nada and her partner & their two kids! It was so, so, good to see Nada and I clutched onto her and felt like crying somehow as I had been feeling very alone in the crowd split off from everyone. Then, it turns out, I had completely forgotten that Nada’s partner is a neurologist at Staffnord, a resident. I mean I knew she was something medical but have not seen her for a long time… since maybe Hurricane Katrina or so… as she was always working so I only really hung out with Nada. Well, she pretty much started banging my kneecaps right there and drool was coming out of her as she looked me up and down like she was a dog and I was a giant hunk of meat and said things like “Goddamn it I’ll do your lumbar puncture myself, it’s easy as pie.” “Uhhh can I have a valium for that, because, terror and pain.” She said the Movement D1sorders clinic had just or was just hiring a ton of awesome people and was all overhauled and I should send her all my documents and history and MRIs and junk. As she asked me questions and I tried to explain the whole crappy story it was a bit intense for me. I admitted, I ahve been avoiding going back to my neuromancer because I feel like he fucked up and misdiagnosed me, though it happens to everyone really – but mostly I dont’ want to go because I just couldn’t cope, emotionally, with more doctoring and tests and running around. Besides, I am getting better or at least not worse. I also confessed (at her questions) that indeed lumbar punctures have been mentioned more than once and when they do I have just not gone back because I am scared of it. She talked of the plexus and de- and re-myelination. And that, in some ways, it is not going to matter what the diagnosis is as long as it is not an immediatly terrifying one like a tumor or ALS which it isn’t, and the real thing to pay attention to is, what feels better, and if I am doing better slowly, then, I am doing things right. (That is how I also feel, and I think it is true.) I felt very guilty over not going to phys therapy regularly or swimming. (So much like trying to explain to the dentist why you don’t floss enough, but worse.) At one point I was really overcome with her kindness and almost cried, but I caught it. “I’ve tried to manage things as best I can, and mostly do, but, it’s hard to manage it right, when you’re in it.” It was kind of her to say she understood.

I made everyone leave because of my exhaustion and having to pee. My legs were so stiff, I think from the effort of the wheelies, low back hurting a lot. I wish I could sleep, or cry and be comforted, or both. I guess I need to go back to the doctor and then go to Staffnord and start all this mess up again.

Rook fell asleep immediately when we returned. I read E. Nesbit and lay in bed doing slow leg-therapy things. We have a role playing game in half an hour, can i pull myself together to sit up and be social?

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Feminist blog historical record

I have thought for a while now that it would be lovely to start keeping a historical record of feminist blogs and the feminist blogosphere. For example when we started having huge surges of discussion (like the Blow Job Wars, or the discussion of the pink/breastcancer/infantilization thing) it is notable in intellectual history.

So, I have some questions.

- When did you start finding feminist blogs?
- What were the first ones you became aware of?
- Which ones did you read, and how did you think of them? How would you describe the character of the blog, its evolution, and the evolution of your thought about it?
- Which feminist blogs are part of your regular, or sporadic, reading now?
- What were the top 10 , or top whatever, or most important, feminist blogs of 2005? What are the most important now?
- If you would like: what is a feminist blog? what makes it feminist?
- What issues are/were important on feminist blogs (and, if you can remember, when were they important)
- What controversies, surges of discussion, did you see begin/continue?
- How have feminist blogging and anti-racist blogging combined, enhanced each other, or not done well enough, in your view?
- How about forums, wikis, mailing lists?

Please answer any or all of these questions, post in comments here. Or, if you must be private, email me and I will treat it as an interview; let me know in email what name you would like me to use in the source.

I will begin writing up some history. I will try to be good about citing sources.

There are a lot of resource guides, but not a lot of history that I’ve seen. But, something important happened and is still happening. We are in its midst. Let’s document it as best we can.

***Update***
Still thinking about all this today while I was offline. What about making it a more formal survey/interview, for people who identify themselves as feminist bloggers. I can post the survey on a wiki/blog (doesn’t have to be the feminist wiki one, but maybe could be) and then people can send in their answers (by email or put them on wiki themselves.) So we could get answers from people who are readers-of-feminist-blogs and also get the bloggers to help define their own history.

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Verticality, mostly

I am taxed with explaining my physical state by various friends online and offline. There is not a lot to tell. I am still going up and down in both pain and functioning. The ups are steadily further up. The downs are still down, but not so bad, and haven’t been too lengthy. So, last week (or was it the week before?) I had a couple, three bad days in a row, using my wheelchair in the house, staying in bed most of the time, and barely leaving the house. I had other days, in the past few weeks, of minimal activity, but able to walk around the house for food, bathroom, doing the laundry, and driving to pick up Moomin. I had a cold for a week. So, I worked from home for two and a half weeks, figuring to save the walking energy for housework.

The “up” days were fabulous, where I could not only do all the housework, walking around the house free but felt perfectly able to do a couple of blocks on crutches.

On Sunday I drove across SF and then walked with crutches across a whole giant supermarket and half a parking lot. Then I managed to get down a sandy cliff trail (not very long, but still, would have been impossible a few months ago) with crutches and sliding on my butt. I laid on the beach. My legs were spasming horribly by that point. But, I made it back up with no functional problem, just pain. Then stairs! (You see how different this is, and how encouraging!) Then I collapsed and cried and stayed in bed, unable to get my leg to stop cramping, unable to deal even with the thought of getting in and out of the bathtub, much less any more stairs or driving. In the morning, I was mostly better, with residual pain and leg cramps. It was the cramp/pain of exhaustion much like I had last fall — but, last fall I had that complete exhaustion even if I walked to the bathroom, I guess because of the Lyrica and Baclofen and a general downhill slide.

I am mostly still in the wheelchair for any distances over one block, or if there are hills, or if I am going into a store or a bar or an event where there might be standing-in-line or standing at all.

I give myself little challenges like, “Park and walk to the ATM without crutches”. I feel a little unsteady when I come out of the car. The curb (or ramp) is hard and I want to hang onto something. In the house, I am more confident, and pop up from resting in bed to lope about. It is a good home rhythm, bed/reading/writing/working, up for 10 minutes to do things, down again, recharge, up again.

Right now I would like to be in the wheelchair around the house, but I don’t want to in front of my mom-in-law because it feels like she would judge me somehow negatively. It doesn’t make sense, but there it is. Most of the day, I used the chair, but I walked a lot around the office at work. I am in pain enough that I would like to get up and wash my face and get a drink. But, I am putting it off hoping the pain will be less in a little while. If I wait till I have to pee, then I can get up and do all those things in one trip and lie down again.

I’d put myself at maybe a 5 – 7 on the Kurtze Expanded Disability Status Scale, up from the really yucky time last fall when it was more like 6 – 8.3.

Have I been back to the doctor? No… I feel like I should, but I can’t bear it.

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