Wednesday, November 19, 2014
I have to pause to tell you the story about that pedestal. My mum spotted it in an antique store, and had to have it. When she got it home (it comes apart in several pieces) we popped it into the tub in the laundry room and started cleaning it.
"Look at that detail" she said pointing to the section we were cleaning. "Even the cherubs have pubic hair."
Upon closer inspection, it just turned out to be a century's worth of dirt, which was disappointing because pubic hair on a cherub might have been an artistic first.
And in other news (Stop reading here if you want to end on a cheerful note, because I'm going to have a moan).
I've had some setbacks of late, just when I thought I might finally be able to go get the tooth finished. Yesterday, I woke up with a stiff knee. By the end of the day I had swelling in both knees, ankles, and the calf of one leg. I went to bed thinking it was some arthritis/lupus related thing, but when I woke this morning I had large (quarter to half dollar sized) spots some of which were bright red, others which had already started to bruise.
"Oh, I know what this is!" I said excitedly to Mr. ETB who was by that point looking a little pale.
I should note, I am not the do-it-yourself sort of anthropologist that sets their own broken bones (though I did buddy-tape a broken toe to the one beside it years ago, but that's all a doctor would have done). I have no desire to be a GP, and I find the whole medical environment unpleasant which is why I do my damnedest to stay the hell away from it.
So I recycled a diagnosis.
About 25 years ago I was in an automobile accident. My injuries were surprisingly mild considering what the car looked like afterward (seat belts save lives, kids!). About two weeks later, I had my knee and ankle stiffen up, to the point where I was walking down stairs sideways to avoid putting weight on it. It seemed so odd to have that happen so long after the initial accident-besides, my injuries were in the top half of my body. It made no sense. Within a day I had the spots, then the bruising. I went to our family doctor who had no clue what was happening. I was referred to a dermatologist who likely wouldn't have known either, had it not recently happened to her. It was, she said my body's reaction to the trauma of the accident. I think I was given steroids and sent home with instructions to keep my leg elevated. It went away, and I never thought about it again-until this morning. I'd say having disinfecting solution going into my body was probably the source of trauma, and the reaction of my immune system to the intrusion. Erythema Nodosum isn't terribly common in people my age, but it happens. If it isn't better after a bit, I can see a doctor for another course of steroids, but for now I'm pretty confident I understand what's happening. It is a relief, but I'm still incredibly angry about it.
Or, I could be completely wrong and this could be some horrible, life-threatening thing, or an alien life form taking over my body in which case I won't need to devote any more time to worrying about that tooth, but those are the gambles you take.
I'm managing the stairs in that sideways stepping (my left leg is the worse of the two) manner I used years ago, and keeping my legs as elevated as possible through the day. The pain isn't bad when I'm simply standing, but any bending motion, like lowering myself down to the toilet is incredibly painful. Mr. ETB says that since Christmas is just around the corner, if I want to call the medical supplies place and have an elevated commode delivered, he's cool with that. I might take him up on the offer. I had a root canal, and now I can't walk-how crazy. On the positive side, I've made great progress on Danny's birthday quilt as I'm spending a great deal of time sitting with my leg elevated.
You don't want to see photos, trust me. Google it if you must, but I warned you.
Here's one from the archives from this time last year-a recycled photo.