Leontina

oH sWEET mOTHER OF gOD! I managed to cobble together seven hours of sleep, with another hour of the twilight drool stage about half way through.

So *this* is what it feels like to wake up energized! I like it, I like it very much.

Poor Fred. Instead of being the protector of his sleep this morning, I must wake him in a few minutes, as we need to be out the door in just a bit, piled into Ruby the CR-V, and on the Yellow Brick Road to see Dr. ShoulderMan, my orthopedic surgeon. I cannot drive, unfortunately -- meaning that I am not licensed (I am, in fact, an excellent driver) -- so he chauffeurs me to all appointments. Most every scheduler with whom I deal knows to pencil me in for the early afternoon slots, as Poor Darling Fred and I are confirmed night owls.

At least, I was a night owl, before the days of osteomyelitis and infected orthopedic prostheses, CRPS, and all those other pesky comorbidities. Now I am a temporally unaffiliated owl.

The surgeon is going to render an opinion about the -- excuse me -- junky gunk both palpable in my arm and oozing from the incision (he last operated on 7/6). His PA's eyes bugged out last week when he examined that shoulder. Since then, though, I finished my course of Zyvox (all $2900 worth), and hopefully that will make a difference.

Yesterday, Fred drove me all around town and I had a great time. Conceivably, it wore me out enough, too, that I was able to sleep. Hmmm. If I can, I'll try and wear myself out again today!

What did we do yesterday? Well, I saw Dr. PainDude's nurse practitioner -- she is infinitely more helpful and, in my experience, more knowledgeable, than the good doctor. Plus she wears some killer shoes. Not that her shoes turn me on, or anything. No, it is just that I have not been able to wear shoes since May 2002. And I love shoes. Particularly Italian shoes.

Allison sported a pair of Leontinas: Supersexy red patent cocco kidskin mule with 150mm extreme heel and genuine leather sole, insole and lining. Entirely hand-made using highest quality leather and natural fabric by master Italian shoemakers.

She did share that her feet hurt.

We covered a wide variety of topics: the deleterious effect of celebrities who off themselves by misuse of pain medication (or, rather, in her estimation -- ill-advised combinations of drugs); the evil Dr. Scott Reuben and his own deleterious effect on the world of pain medicine; my particular situation (she used to work for my orthopedic surgeon); the price of Zyvox and tea in China.

Super shoes. Prescriptions for methadone, percocet, tizanidine, and amitriptyline. Could life get any better? [Shut. Up. I. Am. Being. Ironic. Sardonic. All. Kinds. Of. -Ics.]

I have worked out an effective pain management regimen, about which I keep her and Dr. PainDude informed. It's a combination of pharmaceuticals -- and that means as little drug as possible -- and distraction -- but mostly? Lately, I have resorted to heavy doses of meditation and basic relaxation techniques. It has caused some unrest here at Marlinspike Hall, deep, deep in the Tête de Hergé, as Fred, La Bonne et Belle Bianca Castafiore (a sister shoe freak), and the Four Felines all feel "cut off," deprived of my affection and attention.

Still, the pain is pretty bad. It hits me in those periods when I'm not covered by my "regimen." Like right now -- I need to take breakthrough pain meds, do some pendulum swings, work on my legs (a whole other post), and take a mental ax to the anxiety surging through my body at the thought of what the surgeon may propose. If forced to resort to the dreaded Pain Scale, I am at a 7.

And out of time! Think good thoughts -- think "no surgery--no surgery--no surgery--no surgery--no surgery." Cross the applicable digits.

[Thanks!]