Igor????

All right, what do I mean when I say, "I am Igor" ?

I used to have a friend who teased that a monster named Igor lived in his basement. So when I started limping, I felt like something not quite human.

And I've noticed people react differently to crutches and to my cane. Cane says, "Old. In the way." Crutches say, "Active but temporarily injured."

-- Rachel

Was it George?

I wait for my last connecting bus in the morning, in a sort of five-lane-wide tunnel under a building. Today, I was nearly deafened in this somewhat enclosed space by sirens and loud sonic bursts (accompanied by red, white, and blue light bursts) from first one, then a series of police motorcycles. A limo came past, then a few more limos, then three Bauer buses with opaque windows. I've watched West Wing -- was this the presidential motorcade, complete with staffers and reporters in those Bauer buses? The motorcade headed onto the freeway and out of site, and my bus arrived and I rode to work.

-- Rachel

Breathing

"Oh, good, you're not dead," said my co-worker. "There were no visible signs of breathing." I had taken a pain pill, had a bad reaction, thrown up into a wastebasket, and gone to the lounge to clear my head. I'd fallen asleep on the couch. Three and a half hours later, I was stll out. I woke up, had lunch, still felt shaky, and started for home. Now I'm simply stuck in traffic on the bus. It's a Spare the Air day, all the Muni and AC Transit buses are free, but about 20,000 drivers haven't gotten it. No thanks to THEM that I'm stll breathing.

--Rachel

posted from Palm TungstenT3 by wi-fi

I am Igor

Tuesday it took me nearly three hours to get to the office: probably 30 minutes hobbling a single block, using one crutch; waiting for the next #88 bus (probably 20 minutes); waiting almost 45 minutes for the F bus to reach the transfer point; time to cross the bridge; time to wait for the next bus; time to ride the #10 to Fourth and Townsend; time to hobble up Lusk to the building.

But my coworkers surrounded me with concern. One offered to give me a ride home. Another offered to drive me to work the rest of the week. Somebody drove my car home from its Emeryville parking space. A neighbor drove me to an ATM and then to my massage therapy appointment, and waited until I was done. Today, someone walked across the street and picked up my sandwich order at lunch. Another friend is picking me up at BART this evening, and still another will take me to the airport this weekend and help me get boarded on a plane.

My massage therapist is a wizard. He pulled and poked, and some of it hurt, but when it was done I could stand somewhat more comfortably, and he suggested I borrow a cane from him rather than use the crutches. Since I had fallen five times using crutches or a single crutch, this seemed worth trying. The swelling in my foot went down visibly while I was in the therapist's office -- when I left, I could actually buckle the Clarks sandal I was wearing on the injured foot. (Before, I had worn the shoe buckled over the toes, but open across the arch.)

Crutches are only for the young, I decided. You need strong thigh muscles in the "good" leg, and strong hands and strong arms. My thigh and arm muscles started spasming after using the crutches for a short time. I'm strong enough to pull myself along for a few minutes, but not for any extended time. The cane is easier, though my right hand and forearm are now sore. -- Rachel

No fracture on Xray

Still hurts like blazes, and I have crutches. I crawled up my front steps in the dark rather than risk falling. But at least I'm finally home, and I've had a little food. (Lunch was about 1:30pm, lo-o-ng ago.)
--Rachel
Created on my Palm Tungsten T|3 and uploaded via wifi

Broken ankle

I have always disliked the back doors of some buses. You have to lean hard against the handles to get the door open, and it won't STAY open unless you keep leaning on it. Very difficult to manage if you are holding any packages or luggage.

To add to these delightful doors, the city of Emeryville has decided on trendy angled curbs, as if the whole sidewalk was a short, steep driveway. So as I tried to exit from the 7:30 J bus, I fell, and then I landed on the slanted curb. I could feel bones crunch, and I held on tight to the bus door (which now decided to stay open), and stood there in intense pain. Two different tiny women offered help, but I'd have knocked them down if I had actually leaned on them. The bus roared off as soon as I let go of the door, Another young woman did help me get to a signpost, which I clung to for a while.

I realized that another bus was parked at the curb. A largish, older woman walked up to the bus, and I asked her to ask the driver of the parked 57 bus for first aid. The woman reported the parked bus had no driver.

The driver walked past me to her 57, and I asked her for help. She refused, saying I hadn't been her passenger. She said she'd seen the other bus stop, because she'd been driving behind it, but she hadn't seen me fall.

Eventually I called a couple of friends, arranged to be picked uo, and talkedto the Kaiser advice nurse.

At the moment (around 9:30 pm), my ankle is being iced and I am waiting at Kaiser Oakland for my spot in the Small Injury clinic, and a nurse has brought me dinner: half a pint of milk and 8 graham crackers.

--Rachel
Created on my Palm Tungsten T|3 and uploaded via wifi

Family Portrait

This wonderful old photo features my aunt Ardis, my mother, my aunt Lorraine, and my uncle Roscoe. Tucked into the frame is baby Beverly, who hadn't yet been born when the larger portrait was taken.

I'm using this photo on my business site, First Hand Life, where I describe my oral history project. --Rachel

Created on my Palm Tungsten T|3 and uploaded via wifi

Morning Glory

Radial but not bilateral symmetry.
--Rachel

Created on my Palm Tungsten T|3 and uploaded via wifi

Brassy birds

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These birds kept coming up and trying to eat my lunch. They're in a mall parking lot in San Rafael, and I believe they are cowbirds.
--Rachel
Created on my Palm Tungsten T|3 and uploaded via wifi

Test upload from Palm Tungsten T3

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Created on my Palm Tungsten T|3 and uploaded via wifi

Audio Books

My current audio book is The Sunday Philosophy Club, by Alexander McCall Smith (better known for The No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency, The Kalahari Typing School for Men, etc.). -- Rachel

sent from the Palm Tungsten T3

Live from my Palm Tungsten T3

Not that I have much to say tonight. But it's exciting to send from such a portable device--blog from a bus! a concert!
-- Rachel

From palm tungsten

Text from palm.

--Rachel

Clutter

Most of my life, I've live with more clutter than your average person. Sometimes I can master it; mostly I don't seem to. I have wondered if it was because, as the oldest of four children, I learned early to take over space. But other times, I've wondered if the problem was a kind of obsessive-compulsive disorder.

The problem causes me intense shame; I generally refuse to let people see the inside of my home. It creates related problems: bills get lost, etc. I have quietly discussed the problem with some friends (others have been suprememly unhelpful -- "why don't you just set your house on fire?" asked one, intending to be humorous but in fact sending me to bed with depression for a three-day weekend); one recently sent me information last week about a truly useful book on the topic.

  I'd like to recommend "Buried in Treasures" by Tolin et al. The book is based on lengthy research, and the authors seem really to understand the problem. For more info, see Amazon.com or Tower.com.


More to follow, probably. -- Rachel

Birdhouse

I bought this little birdhouse at my local Joann crafts store, but it appears to be functional. There's even a little door in the back for cleaning out the box between seasons. I'm hoping some bird family will come live here.

-- Rachel