When I Say It's a Small Town...

According to the interwebz, the town I now live in has a population of just under 3,700 people.

If you're like me, that number alone doesn't really mean much to you.  By comparison, the town I moved from, which I thought was a small town, has a population of a little more than 47,000.  That sounds like a lot of people, but living there, it felt like a small town to me.  Of course, I moved there from Cincinnati, which has a population of more than 296,000.  Anyway, by comparison, 3,700 people sounds small, doesn't it?

But here's what it means, practically speaking.

There are six places to eat in town: McDonald's, Pizza Hut, Dominoes (which is carry out and delivery only), Subway, a little diner, and a Chinese restaurant.  Oh, and there is the gas station/deli, called Pump and Deli.  So seven places to eat, if you count that.

There is one grocery store, a fairly small Kroger.  There is no Walmart.  There is a theater that shows one movie.  There is a small hardware store, but no Lowe's, no Home Depot, and no Menard's.  There are more churches than restaurants.  The city municipal building is about the size of a small home.  I live in the county seat and the county general hospital is nearby.  I'm pretty sure my high school was larger than this hospital, and I  went to a pretty small high school; I've seen nursing homes bigger than this hospital.

I bet there are more chicken than people in this town.  Probably more cows, too.  You can buy fresh eggs all over the place.  Drive down any country road and you'll see a number of signs at the end of long gravel driveways, saying something like "Free Range Brown Eggs for Sale."  You just knock on the door and ask for a dozen.  But not on Sundays.  A lot of people around here won't sell anything on Sundays.

This is what I mean when I say it's a small town.

Adjusting to a New Place

Isaac and I are all moved in now.  By that, I mean that all my stuff is here at the new apartment.   All my stuff is not put away yet.  I'm still working on that.  I am exhausted.  Isaac
says he is worn out, too, although I'm not sure why because he did not do much work.

We are both adjusting to being in a new place.  I didn't sleep well last night, which is nothing new for me, and I expected I would have some trouble sleeping in a new place.  It's hard to get used to new sounds and stuff like that.  I had nightmares about the hospital last night.

I'm working with Isaac, helping him get used to things here.  We've been practicing turning on lights in all the rooms, so he can get used to where the light switches are here.  I've been having him bring me my medication, so he can get used to where it's kept here.  There is an elevator in our building, and Isaac has learned the word "elevator" now; I ask him, "Where's the elevator?" and he trots down the hall to it.

He barks sometimes when he hears someone in the hallway or hears another apartment door slam shut.  He's just letting me know he heard something.  He's not real worried about it, but he's not sure what noises are normal here and what noises aren't.  This afternoon I started rewarding him with a yummy treat if we hear a noise and he doesn't bark.  I say, "Quiet," and praise him, and give him a treat.

Virtual Tour of My New Apartment: Before

Here is the "before" tour of my apartment.  There are some things in it already, it's not completely empty, but there's no furniture yet and it's pretty disorganized.  It might be a couple weeks before you get the "after tour," we'll see how quickly I work.

Here's the outside of the building.

And here's my front door.

The sign on the door says, "Working Service Dog Lives Here."  At the bottom it says, "In Accordance with ADA Regulations, Dog is Non-Aggressive.  Do Not Separate Service Dog from Handler."  That's for emergency purposes, like if the building is on fire and the fire fighters have to break down the door to rescue me and Isaac.

And this is the entryway of my apartment.  There's Isaac, lounging on the floor.

This is the living room.  That's Isaac's blankie in the floor.

Here's the bedroom.

And here are a couple pictures of the kitchen.

And the bathroom (which is mostly done already).

Driving to My Apartment

I'm going to post a photo tour of my apartment soon, but I thought I'd post some pics of the drive to my apartment first.  My apartment is in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere, which is one of the things I like about it.  Whichever direction from which you approach, it looks pretty much like this.

Update: Doula Agreed to Refund

That was actually easy.  Thank goodness.  It's about time something was easy!

I Emailed the Doula, Requesting a Partial Refund

A few days ago, I wrote about how the doula was really late for my appointment with the surgeon.  I emailed her today, requesting a partial refund.  I paid her $150 for her services, and since the appointment was about half over when she showed up, I asked for her to refund half of that money.  That seems more than fair to me; maybe I should have asked for a full refund.  I figured I am more likely to get half back, though.  We'll see.

An Accessible Apartment

Today I spent much of the day at my new apartment.  I finished the cleaning (all I had left to do was vacuum and wipe out the kitchen cabinets).  I had some groceries and other items to put away, once I finished wiping out the cabinets. That was actually kind of fun.  Strange how that works.  It's normally not so much fun to put away groceries but in my new place, deciding where everything would go, it was kind of nice.

I washed my new dishes, too.  Well, they aren't exactly new, but they are new to me.  I got them free off of FreeCycle.  See, aren't they pretty?  I really, really like them.

My apartment is built to be accessible.  There are the grab bars in the tub and around the toilet, which I've mentioned previously that I don't like.  They might come in handy; today I took a shower at my apartment and I discovered I can put shampoo bottles on the bars and then I can reach them without bending over, the way I have to bend over a bit to reach the shampoo if I keep it on the edge of the tub.  I still don't like the way they look, though.

The doorways are all wide, so wheelchairs can fit through them easily.  The door handles are the kind that you push down on, instead of knobs that you turn.  That way people with poor manual dexterity can open the doors.  The bathroom is kind of big, which I like; it's the only room in the house that's not tiny.  But it's big enough for a wheelchair to fit in there.

When I was putting things away, though, it occurred to me that I can put things wherever I want.  It's just me living there (well, me and Isaac and Cayenne), so I can decide where everything goes.  That means I can store things where I can easily reach them, without having to bend over.  I guess I could have made more of an effort to do that in my old house, but we already had places for everything before my back got so bad.  I moved some things as my back got worse, but never got around to rearranging everything.  Plus, it wasn't just my house; things were where Mike liked them to be, too.  Also, I didn't have a lot of kitchen cabinets at my old house; my new apartment has a teeny tiny kitchen, but somehow it has a lot of cabinet space.  I'm probably going to end up not having much in the lower cabinets, because it's so hard to bend over to get things.  There should be plenty of room in the cabinets above the counter for the things I use regularly.

I wonder how much better my back with feel, when I don't have to bend for things all the time?

Moving with a Disability

Moving is hard work for anyone, I know.  It can be extra hard when you have a disability, though.

For instance, packing requires a lot of bending and lifting.  Even though I've tried as much as possible not to lift really heavy things, my back is still quite unhappy with me these days.  Cleaning my new apartment, which was necessary before moving in, was hard on my back, too.  Doing all these things day after day for the last week has caused a lot of back pain, pain that at times shoots all the way down my legs, which it never used to do.  For the most part, I try to avoid doing things that cause my pain to worsen, but it really can't be helped now.

Also, it's exhausting.  Not just physically, but also mentally.  Keeping track of all the things that need to be done, making a million phone calls, making sure I don't forget anything important, it wears me out.

If you're not familiar with spoon theory, take a minute to read about it here.  When you're disabled, you don't have that many spoons to begin with.  And then, tasks that might seem simple or small to most people can use up a lot of spoons for someone with a disability. 

For instance, grocery shopping takes a lot of spoons for me.  It's hard on my back, bending over, reaching for groceries, getting items out of the cart when it's time to check out, then loading the car, then carrying groceries from the car into the house.  If the store is crowded, or even if it's not, if I have a lot of things to get, it makes me anxious and tired.  I had a very long grocery list of things I needed to get for my new apartment.  I ended up dividing it into two parts and today I bought all the non-perishable things on my list.  Friday, the day before the actual move, I will buy all the perishable things.  I'm guessing most people are able to accomplish all their grocery shopping in one trip, but I just couldn't.  Even dividing it into two parts, today's trip wore me out.  I ended up coming home and sleeping for about an hour.

I will be so glad when it's all over.  Just a few more days.

More on Tethering Kids to Dogs

Recently, I wrote about tethering kids to dogs.  A mom named Karlye took the time to email me to tell me about her two-year-old son who is autistic and his service dog MaddySue.  I asked Karlye if I could post her email her so other readers could learn more about this issue, and she generously said yes.  I broke the message into paragraphs to make it easier to read, but otherwise haven't changed anything.

My son and I are part of a three unit tethering team. He is an autistic two year old that has had difficulty in the past with wandering and bolting as well as anxiety and lack of communication. MaddySue, our 6 year old boxer has allowed he and I to have a new lease on life. The security of knowing my son will no longer run toward traffic with me frantically running behind and screaming his name praying he won't get hit is like a fresh breath of air. When the two of them are in a confined place such as our back yard, they are tethered to each other because of my sons climbing skills, he can easily climb trees or over fences, but with the privacy fence I know that if MaddySue took off chasing whatever she couldn't go far. That being said,  when we are in public we function as a three unit team. MaddySue and kip are tethered together while there is a lengthy lead from me to MaddySue. We can now all enjoy outings to the mall or whatnot knowing that she can keep him close and in the event she looses her focus, I'm there to control her.I too could never immagine leaving MaddySue and kip tethered together in public without me for fear if all the dangers that lurk, so in that regard I agree with you. 

Our life has changed so much because of this. Not only is MaddySue a tether dog, she has also been trained for sensory stimulation. In the event that kip is having severe anxiety or is upset MaddySue uses her body to put pressure on him to allow him to relax and gain control of the situation instead of running away. She has also helped with communication, before we had her he spoke with only three words from ASL, none vocalized. He now plays with her by saying "fetch or come" and has even started verbalizing to his father and myself by hiding behind MaddySue and then talking to us indirectly using only a few words but no sign language! Miss MaddySue is a blessing to our family....
 
Thank you for taking the time to read this and maybe this can help you to understand better the other options for tether training.

Moving Stuff

Yesterday Isaac and I spent most of the day at the new apartment.  I took one of his blankets (unwashed, so it would smell like home) for him to lie on, several of his toys, two new stuffed animals, and a new beef bone for him to chew on.  There is no furniture in the apartment yet; that won't be there until next weekend.

I cleaned while Isaac followed me around, taking occasional breaks to play with his toys and gnaw on his bone.  Um, Isaac took breaks to play with his toys and gnaw on his bone.  I did not not gnaw on his bone, although I did throw his Kong for him a few times and play tug with his new stuffed animals.

I like the apartment a lot better after spending some time there and cleaning it.  In addition to physically cleaning everything (it wasn't really that dirty, they did a pretty good job cleaning before I signed the lease, but I just wanted to sanitize everything), I lit candles in every room and burned some incense.  A friend came over and smudged the whole place with sage and sweet grass.  I played some spiritual music, chanted, and sang.  I added essential oils to the water I was cleaning with.  My friend also sprinkled holy water in every room.  I opened the windows and aired everything out.  The energy feels a lot better now.

I hung up my new shower curtain, which does hide the grab bars in the bathtub, of course.  The bars around the toilet seem a little less noticeable with other stuff in the room, like a bright green towel that I got at the thrift store for a dollar.  I got a few other things for the bathroom at Walmart, like a trash can and a toothbrush holder and a wonderful fluffy pale green rug (as soon as I put the rug down, Isaac lay down on it; he approves!).

Isaac and I went for a couple of long walks, since the weather was nice again.  He needed to sniff everything and pee on as many bushes and trees and telephone poles as possible.  He felt it was important to let all the other dogs know there is a new dog in town!

I think Isaac will adjust to the move pretty easily.  He'll probably adjust more easily than I will, actually.

Poem: Praying My Own Private Rosary

Praying My Own Private Rosary

I peel the bandage back,

see the neat row of stitches

stepping across my wrist

like the tracks of a bird

in the snow.

Gingerly I trace the threads,

touch the knots

like rosary beads,

only I don’t

know what to pray.

Poem: In a House on Fire

In a House on Fire

The smoke was a serpent

winding its way beneath my door,

silent as it crept across the floor, searching.

I did not know it was there until it rose,

sliding up one leg, wrapping itself around my waist,

coiling across my shoulders, licking my neck.

Oh, I fought it, that heavy gray dark.

The smoke tangled itself in my hair,

whispered my name,

soft and seductive as a lover.

I struggled, and I succumbed.

Poem: Prozac in the Water

It seems like a poetry kind of day.

Prozac in the Water

They should just put Prozac in the water supply,

you say, but I shake my head.

The water would be so bitter.

It would taste like the insides of mental institutions,

like Belleview, McLean,

like ECT and strait jackets and quiet rooms.

It would taste like walls painted hospital-green,

like paper slippers and gowns that open in the back.

Cold sheet packs and insulin shock and trans-orbital lobotomies.

The city couldn’t swallow it, I say.

Weird Rule for Service Dogs

Today I signed the lease for my new apartment.  They have this written service dog policy that they had me sign.  Most of the things in it were normal "service dog rules," like the dog must be on a leash at all times except if doing a task that requires him to be off leash, you must pick up after the dog, etc.  But one of the things was that the service dog must be no more than 24 inches from me at all times.  I asked if that meant I could not take him out for a walk on the property on a longer leash and let him sniff around and stuff.  The property  manager seemed confused and said he didn't know.  So I asked if they have that same policy for tenants with pets, because the property does allow pets.  He said he didn't think so, then he looked up their pet policy and it says nothing about how close a pet dog has to be to its owner.

So then we had this conversation.

Me: So my dog has to be within two feet of me because he's a service dog?

Manager: Yeah, I guess so.

Me: What if I hire a dog walker?  I plan to hire someone that can take him for a run sometimes.  Will the dog have to be that close to the dog walker, too?  Or can he be on a longer leash with the dog walker?

Manager: I don't think he'd have to be that close to the dog walker.  The dog walker won't be signing this list of rules.

Me: So other tenants with pet dogs don't have to keep their dogs that close to them, and a dog walker won't have to keep my dog that close to her.  The rule just applies to me?  And of course anyone else that is disabled and has a service dog.

Manager: Yeah.

Me: And that is because I have a disability?

Manager: I guess so, yeah.

Me: That doesn't sound right to me.  Are you sure you're allowed to do that?  To have different rules for disabled tenants?

Manager:  No.  Probably not.  I don't think we can enforce that.  I wouldn't worry about it.

Me: If you can't enforce it, why are you asking me to sign something saying I agree to it?

Manager:  I don't know.

Me:  Well, who would know?

Manager (thinks a while): I guess our compliance officer.

Me: Great!  What's their name and number?

The compliance officer was not in the office today.  Hopefully she returns my call Monday.  I'm think it is not legal to have a different rule like that just for disabled tenants.  But I will find out.

Whenever I Start Feeling Sorry for Myself, Someone Steps in and Does Something Really Kind

Makes me think I should stop feeling sorry for myself.

An acquaintance, not someone I know that well, who lives in another state, sent me a message shortly after I complained about not having anyone to go with me when I have the biopsy.  Since she lives on the other side of the country, she can't drive me to the hospital.  However, she offered to pay for a cab if I need to go by myself so I don't have to worry about coming up with the cash for that.  How incredibly kind is that, to offer that to someone that is virtually a stranger?  I know her somewhat from a discussion forum online, that's it.

It's nice when the Universe proves us wrong, don't you think?

Saw the Surgeon... Sigh, I am Depressed

I actually like the surgeon.  I'll start with the positive.  I told him I have PTSD and that doctors and hospitals make me very anxious.  He seemed understanding and in fact told me that he also has PTSD, as a result of  having been a combat surgeon in Iraq.  He added that he realizes his PTSD is not as severe as mine is, but said he understands the anxiety one can have with the condition.  So that was nice.

The doula showed up late, which made me even more anxious and also made me angry.  I'm still angry about it.  She had agreed to meet me there 15 minutes before my scheduled appointment and ten minutes after she was supposed to be there, she called me and said she was sorry she was running late and that she was almost there and would be there in just a few minutes.  By that time, I was thinking she just wasn't going to show and I was anxious and trying not to cry and also feeling sorry for myself because apparently I cannot even pay someone to care enough to be there for me at a time like this.

She finally did show up, about 25 minutes after my scheduled appointment time, about 40 minutes after she was supposed to be there, half an hour after she called to say she would be there in a few minutes.  I had not seen the surgeon yet, but I was in the exam room, dressed in a hospital gown, had already had vital signs taken, already talked to the medical assistant, etc.  The appointment was half over; we were out of the office about half an hour later.  By the time she got there, I was anxious, angry, depressed, and trying not to cry.  I was also shut down, dissociating; I had turned off the feelings as much as I could and was just trying to get through the moment.

She apologized several times and told me she is never late.  Well, apparently that's not true, because she was late today.  I did tell her that I was extremely anxious and that her being so late did not help and that I had been thinking that I can't even pay someone to care enough to be there for me.  She apologized again.  I didn't really care.  Her apologies didn't make me feel any better.  I thought I'd explained pretty well how anxious I was and how important it was to me to have support for the appointment, but she didn't make sure she was there on time.  And it wasn't like there was a horrible accident that shut down the highway or something.  She was just late.

Because she was late and I was angry and everything, I didn't really trust her.  Having her there didn't make me feel better.  In fact, I almost asked her to just leave.  Looking back on it now, I kind of wish I had.

After my appointment, she told me to call her if I needed her to go with me for the biopsy, which will be done in a couple weeks.  Yeah, right.  Why would I want her to do that, when I can't count on her to show up on time?  I gave her the check I'd made out for her services and said goodbye and left.  Now I'm sorry I paid her.  At least, I wish I'd told her I only wanted to pay half the fee, since she was only there for half the appointment.  Maybe I'll email her and tell her I want a partial refund.  I don't know.  I didn't want to do anything like that out of anger, and I was very angry, but I don't have a lot of money and it was difficult to come up with the cash to pay her and then she didn't even show up on  time.  I feel like she should have offered to reduce the fee, really.  I shouldn't have to ask.

Anyway.  Moving on.

I need a biopsy, which I already knew.  The surgeon said it should be done at the hospital so they can do it under fluoroscopy, a special kind of x-ray to guide the needle.  If I understood him correctly, he was recommending I be sedated for the procedure, but I don't think that is mandatory.  I think he just felt it would be better in terms of managing the pain and anxiety and PTSD and stuff.  That sounded good to me.  I talked to him about pain management and he said there would be some pain afterwards but that he would prescribe pain medication.

That all sounded good to me but here is the problem.  If I am sedated for the procedure, I cannot drive myself home afterward.  I'm not sure yet when the procedure will be; it will be either May 1 or May 15.  They are supposed to call me tomorrow to let me know.  Well, a friend had told me she would go with me for the biopsy, but now she can't get off work if it's on May 1.  I am trying not to complain, because I know people have to work and they need their jobs and they can't just drop everything because I need a ride.  But it's not like I chose for this to happen now and it's not like I have a lot of choice about when the procedure will be.  When you need surgery, you have to do it when the surgeon is available and when an OR is available.  That's just how it works.

I don't trust the doula to do it, even if I could come up with the money for her to go with me.  I'm trying to think of other options and I'm coming up pretty blank.  People are saying things like oh, they would love to help if only they lived closer or if only they could get off work, etc.  Well, I understand why they can't do it.  I really do.  But... well, this is important.  I mean, I need a surgical procedure to find out if I have cancer.  I think it's sad that there is no one in my life that sees it as so important they would just drop everything in order to be there.  I understand why they can't, I really do.  But shouldn't there be someone?  At least one person, in this whole wide world?

I was thinking of taking a cab, if the hospital would release me to a cab instead of a friend or family member.  But the hospital is a 20 minute drive from where I live now and about a 45 minute drive from my new apartment, where I will be living when it's time for the biopsy.  That would be a really expensive cab ride.  And I'd have to take a cab there, too, because if I drove myself there and then took a cab home, my car would still be at the hospital and I'd have no way to get it back.

Then I thought, maybe I could stay in a hotel near the hospital.  I could probably find a cheap place and then it would only be a couple miles.  The cost of a hotel plus a cab for a short distance would probably be cheaper than a cab from my apartment.  I don't know how comfortable I would be at a hotel.  But it might work.

Then I thought, maybe I can just be awake for the procedure.  I think being sedated was optional, I think the surgeon just thought that would be easier.  But if I was awake, they would use a local anesthetic so it probably wouldn't be that painful.  Then I could drive myself home.  I don't know how much pain I will be in afterward but probably not too much pain to drive.  I could take my pain meds as soon as I got home.  I'm sure being awake for the procedure would make me anxious but at least then I wouldn't have to worry about a ride and I wouldn't have to feel guilty about inconveniencing everyone.

I'm depressed, though.  I just don't have the energy for this right now.  I want to use my energy focusing on my health, on getting through this with as little emotional trauma as possible.  Instead, I feel like I have to worry about everyone else and how to make things as easy as possible for them. 

Seeing the Surgeon Tomorrow

Yes, tomorrow I see the surgeon to talk about a biopsy.  I decided to go.

A friend of mine (she lives in another state, otherwise she would probably be going with me) suggested I hire a doula to go with me.  If you aren't familiar with doulas, they are professionals that support women during pregnancy, childbirth, and the postpartum period.  During childbirth, they do things like help with relaxation and pain relief, provide emotional support, and advocate for women with medical staff.  Of course, I'm not pregnant, but those are the kinds of things I need help with when I see the surgeon and when I have the biopsy.  I thought that was the most brilliant idea I'd ever heard.  I told my friend she gets a gold star for thinking outside the box.

So I called a doula in a nearby town (I live in a small town, not many doulas around here, it seems) and she is willing to drive a bit further than she normally does to see clients and to help me with the appointment tomorrow and any future appointments.

I'm not sure what's going to happen tomorrow.  The surgeon may be able to do the biopsy in his office but it may need to be done in a hospital.  He might be able to do a needle aspiration biopsy, where he just extracts some fluid or cells with a needle; he should be able to do that in his office and might even be able to do it tomorrow because it should be a quick and easy procedure.  He might have to do a surgical biopsy, which he might be able to do in his office but which might have to be done in a hospital; even if it can be done in his office, he probably won't be able to do that tomorrow because it will be a longer, more involved procedure.  I'd be thrilled if all that was needed was the needle aspiration biopsy and if it could be done tomorrow.  Then it would be over and done with.

I specifically asked my primary care provider to refer me to a surgeon that practices somewhere other than at the hospital where I had the terrible experience last November.  There is a person at her office that handles all referrals, and despite my request, she tried to refer me to a surgeon that practices at the same hospital.  When I told her I would not see him because of that, and pointed out that I had specifically requested a surgeon that practiced somewhere else, she said well, he would probably be able to do the procedure in his office she she didn't think it really mattered. 

I was angry about that.  She doesn't know if he can do it in his office or not.  What if I went to the appointment only to find out it had to be done in the hospital?  I'd have to pay for that appointment, but if I didn't want to go to that hospital, then I'd have to find a new surgeon, which would delay the procedure, and pay for an initial consultation with the new surgeon, which would be extra money I really can't afford.  If it didn't really matter, I wouldn't have bothered to specify that the surgeon needed to practice somewhere else.  I just thought it was very insensitive for her to ignore my needs like that.  It didn't really put me in the mood to proceed with the whole thing, you know?

But now I have an appointment with a surgeon that practices at a different hospital, one I've never been to.  I looked up some reviews of him online and people say he is a good listener and spends lots of time with patients and seems to care about their needs and explains things well.  So hopefully I will like him.

I am anxious about it.