My Right Foot

I've managed to avoid any sort of long term injuries in my life, beyond the occasional scar. The closest I've come was a scooter wreck in college which resulted in my sliding down asphalt on my bare hands for several feet. The way I landed in the fall did some nerve damage that largely curtailed my ability to put any weight on the side of my right knee or hold a tray in my job as a Pizza Hut waiter, for the better part of three months. All that stuff eventually healed, though. And I'm sure what ails me now will eventually heal as well, but even with that knowledge I'm mystified as to why my right foot has been giving me pain and grief for the past two months.

It started innocently enough. Just before my last doctor's appointment, I noticed that my right foot had a bit of an ache to it at the end of the day. It didn't hurt to walk on it at all. In fact, just putting weight on it and walking, even up and down my hilly neighborhood, gave me no indication of pain at all. Pressure on the bottom and top of my foot gave me no discomfort, but any pressure on the sides of my foot, near the toes, caused pain to go shooting through it. It was only a little at first, but it began to increase as the days went by. I couldn't remember hurting my foot, but decided it was likely to go away on its own. It didn't, though. I wondered if perhaps my choice of Skechers Shape Ups footware might have something to do with it. After all, I'd been known to wear them on my walks up and down the local hills and it seemed logical that the side to side rotation those shoes allow might not be great combined with hills. Why this would affect my foot and not my ankle I wasn't sure, but it was a theory. The other thing that popped into mind was that it might have something to do with my cholesterol medicine, Crestor. During my last doctor's visit, Dr. Ralph had asked if I'd experienced any muscle pain. I'd not realized this was sometimes a side effect of Crestor, but he said it could be. The pain in my foot didn't seem to be muscular, but what did I really know?

Of course, within a day of this possibility floating to mind, I caught one of those ambulance chasing attorney ads on cable for a guy trying to drum up clients for a class action suit against Crestor. According to the commercial, if I've experienced muscle deterioration, tissue necrosis, liver damage, seizures or sudden death, I could have grounds for a lawsuit. Now, I don't think I have any of those symptoms, and such ads are engines of instant fury in my house. However, hearing that such things are even remotely possible does cause one to look at one's foot and wonder. The wife's theory was that it could be a stress fracture.

"How do you fix that?" I asked.

"You stay off it," she said.

Days passed and the foot not only didn't get any better, but the pain got a bit worse. Still no problem with walking, but pressure put on the sides of the foot shot sharper pain through the whole foot. My wife had to be extra careful when examining it that she didn't press too hard or I'd scream like a girl. And lord help the dog that jumped into bed with us in the middle of the night only to land on the side of my foot.

Last week, I put in an appointment with Dr. Ralph so we could get to the bottom of this. The pain remained in the days before the appointment, too. It even worsened on Monday afternoon, after the wife and I did a bunch of yard work. The next morning, I expected it would be in full flare up for my appointment, but it wasn't. My foot felt almost completely fine, to the point that I could squeeze the sides of it with no pain at all. It felt at about 90 percent of normal. Was this all in my head somehow? Was the nearness of the appointment a trigger for a swift reduction in pyschosomatic pain? The wife suggested that, no, it was probably just an effect of the Alieve I'd taken before bed. But my foot felt better throughout the examination and subsequent travels around the hospital.

Dr. Ralph ordered x-rays, which we had taken, and an MRI scheduled for the weekend, which we would have to see if insurance would approve. It seemed insane to me, though, that we might have to go through the expense of an MRI, even one paid for by insurance, if my damn foot wasn't sure if it was injured or not. The pain did return by the afternoon, but it seemed pretty wussy to me to be complaining about a pain that didn't have any affect on me in the majority of situations. Then I'd step slightly wrong, or bump the side of my foot into something and the pain would flare up anew. Seemed like something that needed at least a diagnosis.

As of today, we learned that insurance has not approved my MRI. Their point is that MRIs are expensive and they'd only be willing to pay for one if I first did 4 to 6 weeks of physical therapy to see if that made the pain go away first. My point, and more importantly my physician wife's point, is that physical therapy is great stuff provided you know what the injury is that you're using it to treat. Insurance said they don't care. And I can sort of see their point. I mean, I'm able to walk with no pain at all for 95 percent of the time, so coughing up a couple of grand for fancy testing doesn't make as much sense for my case as it would for, say, someone who can't walk at all. And, really, I could live with my current level of pain for an extended period if I had to. I feel kind of wussy to be whining about it at all. One of my relatives has spent much of the past thirty years practically bedridden from back pain. I can walk a flight of stairs or even run, provided the surface was pretty level.

And because my pain is not so great, I doubt I'll be harmed by physical therapy at all, and could likely benefit from it. I'm game for trying it out either way. We've scheduled the first session for next week.

Actual Semi-Paraphrased Conversations Heard on CNN last night #8 (a.k.a. why interrupting on a satellite delay makes for shitty news coverage)

(This conversation is paraphrased, as I couldn't find a video clip of it, but the gist of this did occur on my TV last night as I watched CNN coverage of the Libya bombing.)

CNN ANCHOR DON LEMON-- We interrupt our Japan coverage to now go to Nic Robertson who is in Tripoli. Nic what is the situation on the ground there?

REPORTER NIC ROBERTSON-- (ENORMOUS PAUSE FOR SATELLITE DELAY. A STILL PICTURE OF NIC ROBERTSON IS ON THE SCREEN RATHER THAN VIDEO FOOTAGE, PRESUMABLY BECAUSE HE WAS TAKING COVER IN A SAFE LOCATION) Don, a few moments ago, we began to hear the sound of anti-aircraft fire outside. I don't know if you can hear it now, but there is some in the background at the moment. The anti-aircraft fire seemed to occur as a result of--

DON LEMON-- (INTERRUPTING) Nic... Nic... Nic...

NIC ROBERTSON-- some explosions that occurred elsewhere in the city.

DON LEMON-- Nic... Nic... If you could just...

NIC ROBERTSON-- Two large expl... (FINALLY HEARS DON INTERRUPTING AND PAUSES)

DON LEMON-- Nic... Nic... If you could just be quiet for a second, so we could hear the gunfire.

NIC ROBERTSON-- (ENORMOUS SATELLITE DELAY) Um... All right. Uh... Let me see if I can move a little...

DON LEMON-- Yes, Nic. Please do so.

NIC ROBERTSON-- ...closer to the window, so you might be able to-- (HEARS DON)

DON LEMON-- Yes, Nic. If you could just be quiet for a second, we might be able to hear the gunfire.

NIC ROBERTSON-- (ENORMOUS SATELLITE DELAY) Um... yes. All right.

(PROTRACTED PERIOD OF SILENCE WITH THE BARELY AUDIBLE SOUND OF TINY POPS IN THE DISTANCE)

NIC ROBERTSON-- As I was saying...


Dear Don Lemon: Shut up and let the reporter do his job.

Tales from the "LiberryCAST"

My original blog Tales from the "Liberry" represented Liberry 1.0 and 2.0 in the whole "Liberry" narrative.

This blog is therefore Liberry 3.0.

Now I would like to call your attention to Liberry 4.0, an all new/old podcast called Tales from the "LiberryCAST."

What's a podcast, you ask? (Okay, so only a couple of you are actually asking that. Chances are if you're a regular blog reader, you know what podcasts are as well. In case not, though...) Podcasts are basically internet-based radio shows that you download with your computer and/or portable media device and listen to at your leisure. (I'm rather partial to Google's LISTEN app for my Droid phone, which syncs up with Google Reader to deliver my daily dose of podcast content. Other phones have similar programs.)

I've been a podcaster for nearly two years now for a nonprofit writers group I work for, but have been Jonesing to turn my skills toward more creative ventures. In a lot of ways, podcasts are like the cable access channel of online media, in that anyone can put together a show for relatively little money and potentially find an audience. Some are great. Some are crap. And there are an awful lot of them. But there aren't very many library-blog-based podcasts, so I figure I'll have that market to myself for a while yet.

As much as I like writing Borderland Tales (and I'm still going to keep writing it), I miss Tales from the "Liberry." I'm terribly proud of that blog and think a goodly chunk of it is worth revisiting. So TFT"LC" is to be a weekly audio adaptation of some of my favorite stories from the five year run of this blog, polished up with a new coat of paint and some behind the scenes commentary. It's a project I've been threatening to do for several months now, but which I've finally pulled the trigger on just to get it off the ground.

The first episode can be found at the Tales from the "LiberryCAST" website and is also available through iTunes. If you like what you hear, pass the word on. You can also follow the podcast courtesy of @LiberryCast on Twitter.

Actual Telephone Conversations Heard at My House #7 (a.k.a.: Marriage Shorthand Theatre 3000)

*RING*

ME-- Hello?

WIFE-- (CALLING FROM WORK) Hey. I need to access my knowledge repository of all things moviewise.

ME-- Okay. lemme get my hat.

WIFE-- I need to know the movie with the baby with the red curly hair... It was sort of a sci fi thing... Early 90s.... Kind of with the dwarves... Sort of like Time Bandits...

ME-- Willow?

WIFE-- Yeah, that's it. Thank you. Bye.

(You don't want to face us across a Cranium board)

TFTLM: Got Them Soul Coughing Video Game Addict Blues (Part 5)

True to my word, I radically changed my diet. Out were all dairy, red meat, pork and a great deal of the salt I'd been eating. In were fiber-rich fruits, veggies, grains, plus Egg Beaters, turkey sausage, chicken and fish for protein. My theory was that the the weight, cholesterol and blood pressure would drop in dramatic levels with those fatty and caloric restrictions. And the weight did drop. Kind of. A little bit. Not exactly dramatically, but gradually, to the tune of about a pound a week. It still galled me that I'm not even 40 and am already having to take old man pills, but if it would keep me out of the cardiac ward I figured it was worth it.

Unfortunately, the blood pressure didn't seem to give a wet crap what I did or didn't eat. After three weeks on the new regime, I asked the wife to test my BP and it was still through the roof. We called it in to Dr. Ralph, who then put me on Lisinopril, an ace inhibitor and the eventual source of my hacking cough.

I stuck to this diet for three months, with only one or two breaks for a cheeseburger or pizza the whole time. I was proud, though not precisely enjoying myself, but it was still a doable thing. My next checkup was in November. To my and Dr. Ralph's delight, my blood pressure and cholesterol had not only returned to normal levels, but had dropped to enviable levels. He was astounded that I'd been able to make such great strides. Not astounded enough that he wanted to immediately drop all meds, but astounded. I agreed to stay on my meds for another three months and immediately went and ate a massive bacon, egg, cheese and potato biscuit for lunch to celebrate my good fortune.

Jump ahead to December, during my coughing fits and the wife pronouncement of
"Ohhhh! You have an ace cough." Such fits, she explained, were one of the possible side effects of Lysinopril in a small percentage of its users. The onset of my ace cough had just been unfortunately timed with a cold so its cause was masked. She advised me to drop that med and see if the cough went away. After all, my blood pressure had been great at my last visit so I should be fine. What I didn't realize was that it takes a couple of weeks for the ace cough symptoms to go away, so dropping Lysinopril was not an immediate fix. I continued to hack and wheeze well into the new year and had only ceased the fits for a handful of weeks before my next appointment with Dr. Ralph.

It was around this time, in January, that our video game situation took a major turn as well. Since Thanksgiving, I'd been looking into gaming systems and was still pretty well convinced the PS3 was the way I wanted to go. But I also hate paying retail for anything. I kept waiting for some kind of massive PS3 sale online, but none seemed forthcoming. (This was before I learned how much crackdown Sony, Microsoft and Nintendo have on retailers who discount their systems.) And to paraphrase a line from my all time favorite film, Raising Arizona, soon I even found myself driving by Gamestops that weren't on the way home. At the wife's suggestion, one day, I even went into one and had a look around--just browsing, mind. If it had been up to me, we would probably have just browsed and left, but the wife knows me better than I admit to knowing myself, and after having a look at some of the games there and talking to the manager, she said, "Oh, just get one, already!"

As I said, the Play Station 3 is the first game console I've owned since the Atari 2600. As great as my expectations for the machine were, the PS3 surpassed them by a good distance. It's one thing to know that the PS3 is capable of syncing up to your wireless network and streaming Netflix, but my experience with home theater appliances being able to do that has been limited to our LG Bluray player, which can't hold a wireless connection for any useful amount of time and causes one to spend most of one's viewing time constantly doing pushbutton wireless connection for it. (In fact, we went without Netflix streaming for around 6 months because the LG refused to behave and I'd been unable to convince it otherwise after an entire afternoon spent trying to do so.) I expected that sort of hassle from the PS3 but I did not get it. It took one login to the network and that sucker has run smooth ever since. And the Netflix streaming software it runs is leagues better than LG's, not to mention it's a Bluray player to start with. In fact, if our LG Bluray player ever sees power again, it'll be because it's hooked to a different TV altogether--possibly in someone else's house.

And, of course, there's the gaming aspect of it. Of course, I loaded up with the Half-Life Orange Box, so I can play through the last few Half Life episodes. But it also came with Portal, which I like almost more than Half Life. The wife picked up Oblivion, too, but has spent more time playing Infamous--a more modern day RPG style game. However, the game that has charmed us more than any other thus far has been Little Big Planet. I adore any game where I can customize things to suit my wishes and LBP has that going for it by the bucketful. We've not done a lot of game buying and most of it has been from the used game section of Gamestop, but we really like the system. And the cool thing about being so behind in the gaming world is that there are SO many now classic games for us to catch up on.

Meanwhile, I had my third visit with Dr. Ralph a couple weeks back. My blood pressure was still good, but my occasional dalliances with bacon and cheese since my last visit have lingered in my system, for my cholesterol had risen above recommended levels again. It's still not at the boo scary level it had been, but it was enough that Dr. Ralph upped my intake of Crestor to 10 mg a day. Which, I guess, means for the time being I'm still a slave to big pharm. And big turkey.

TFTLM: Got Them Soul Coughing Video Game Addict Blues (Part 4)

Before the wife finished with the old company, I decided to take what advantage I had left of our job insurance and get my eyes checked. So on a Tuesday in August, I went for my eye exam at the same place I once swore I'd never set foot in again. The only reason I was going back on my vow and allowing my foot to land upon their floor again was because that office had done my wife a good turn a couple months back by seeing her after hours and with no appointment after a different optometrist flaked on the appointment my wife had made with her. Such good turns should be rewarded, I figured, so I gave them a second chance. And for my second chance, they did me a good turn.

The exam went well, I was seen quickly, initial testing done, eyes were dilated and while that was kicking in I was sent up to browse frames. I'd already decided that I would just stick with my current drill-mount rimless frames, as they've held up amazingly well despite repeated dog attacks. I expected the lady in the frames section (a different lady than Liz, though she's still around), to give me a hard sell on a new pair, but after asking me to put my regular frames back on my head, she agreed that they were the right style for my face and looked good, so there was no need for any change. Sweet. Only after I was ushered back into the chair did problems occur--not on the part of the office staff, but on the part of my eyes.

I began to suspect something might be amiss when the doctor spent a good five minutes examining the interior of my eyes. When he finished, he looked a bit concerned and asked if I'd had any problems with high blood pressure.

"Not that I know of," I said.

"Have you had your cholesterol checked recently?" he asked.

"No."

"Hmm," he said. He went on to explain that while there might not be a huge cause for worry just yet, there had been some definite change in the vessels within my eyes in the past year of the kind that wouldn't normally occur in a healthy individual. Arterial venous nicking, it's called. He recommended I see a doctor.

Now, I'll be first to admit that I've not exactly been in fantastic shape in the past year. I exercise every day, whether it's going to the gym or walking the dogs through our hillyass neighborhood, but my exercise regimen could not be described as rigorous. I can still make it up our gravity hill driveway with no breathing problems at all, but I don't spend a great deal of time on intense cardio otherwise.

So in I went to see Dr. Ralph, my wife's partner at her old clinic. Blood was tested and the results tallied. Not only did I have extremely high cholesterol, but it had tag-teamed with high blood pressure to put me in a very sorry state. I was instantly insulted that my own body had turned against me. I was also dead set against taking medication for it, because it was my firm believe that I could tackle the problem by adjusting my diet. The way I saw it, I'd practically been existing on bacon and cheese and bacon-wrapped cheese for months. Surely if I dropped red meat, pork and dairy from my diet, everything would even back out and then I could reintroduce my favorites slowly. I mentioned this plan to Dr. Ralph and he agreed that it was solid enough, but suggested we try me out on a daily intake of 5 mg of Crestor as a backup and try and lose some weight. According to him, for my height I was ideally supposed to weigh 165. I explained that I hadn't weighed that since probably the 8th grade and that even at my thinnest in college I had only gotten down to 175 before falling off the cheese wagon. I haven't seen the underside of 200 since then, though I came within sight of it a couple of times. But if I put my mind to it, I could stick to a dietary program with little problem. He told me to do that and if the blood pressure didn't come down some, he'd put me on lisinopril to help out. If everything came down with Crestor and diet, we could talk about ditching meds altogether. His point to me was that these conditions were likely inherited, as evidenced by my Papaw, who was thinner than Kate Beckinsale and had 3 heart attacks before one finally got the upper hand on him. For folks who had genetics going against them, AND were fatasses like myself, drugs such as Crestor were tools to even the odds. This made sense, so grudgingly I agreed.

(TO BE CONTINUED...)