I have a problem.
I have a problem elbow.
I've been suffering (and I don't use that term lightly) from lateral epicondylitis -aka tennis elbow, for 17 months now. And it isn't getting better.
At the beginning, I was able to control my symptoms with ice and anti-inflammatory drugs. There was one particularly bad bout in November of 2009 that I opted to use ultrasound and iontophoresis and it resolved. I mean, completely resolved.
When I transferred from outpatient to acute care, I began having twinges again. I tried stretching, ice, ultrasounds and NSAIDs, but when it didn't get better after a couple of months, I finally gave in and had a cortisone injection. I had immediate and complete relief that lasted about two months.
We had a period of time at my work where we had a lot of bariatric patients and that aggravated my elbow again. Three months later, I was back at the orthopedist's office getting yet ANOTHER cortisone injection, but this time the relief wasn't immediate... and it wasn't complete.
After two months of discomfort, I decided to have someone other than myself treat my elbow. I have been going to outpatient for about three weeks now.... and I was seeing a small improvement until last week. I had a patient who began to fall, and used my PT instincts to catch him before he hit the ground, wrenching my elbow in the process. My elbow is now swollen and sore.
And I'm really scared.
I know the statistics: I know that if you have a prolonged tendonitis or inflammation around a joint that you are more likely to develop scar tissue. I know that I only have one more cortisone injection in my future. I know that the next course of action after the injection is surgery... and that lateral epicondyle releases aren't always successful, and may lead to weakening of the extensor tendons.
I know that if I have surgery I'll essentially end my career as an acute care PT.
I had a long heart-to-heart with my PT, who is also my former boss, and I shed a few tears. He told me that when he palpates my elbow he feels a lot of inflammation and scar tissue. He told me that while outpatient therapy is making small gains, I have a set back everyday when I go to work. He told me to come home and carefully look at my options.
Since my first year of undergrad, I've never wanted to be anything but a physical therapist. I just don't know what my options are right now.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Hollywood makes it look easy.
When I pictured my life with kids, I had an idyllic sense of what my life would be like:
I would come home from a fulfilling day at work and make a delicious and nutritious dinner that my family would devour. My children would happily play with one another while I cooked, with the occasional squabble that could be nixed with a stern glance. We would eat together as a family and then play a game or read a book together. My children would crawl into bed, I'd sing them a lullaby, and then I would finish whatever minor things needed to be done around the house, like the dinner dishes. I would crawl into my own bed, and fall into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.
Reality has a way of kicking you in the butt and then taunting you while you're down.
My work is just that: work. I deal with really sick people, some who are dying, all day long. It seems like lately we've had more people die than success stories. I leave work exhausted and emotionally drained. Most nights, I meet Scott and home and we throw something together for our dinners: one for us and one for Chloe. She is such a picky eater. Usually her supper consists of bread and yogurt. We keep trying to introduce new things, but she isn't buying it.
The kids squabble. With each other. With the animals. With us.
I'm tired of telling Chloe to stop screaming and use her words.
I'm tired of telling Caleb to stop whining and tattling on his sister.
I'm tired of telling both of them to quit tackling the cat or stop cornering the dog.
Bedtime is a battle every night with Caleb.
I just finished another round of sleep training with Chloe who completely lost her ability to self-soothe after months of teething and ear infections. Fingers crossed, its working so far.
My house looks like a tornado hit it.
My kitchen is consistently dirty.
But despite all of this, I'm happy. Really happy, not in that fake Hollywood kind of way either.
I would come home from a fulfilling day at work and make a delicious and nutritious dinner that my family would devour. My children would happily play with one another while I cooked, with the occasional squabble that could be nixed with a stern glance. We would eat together as a family and then play a game or read a book together. My children would crawl into bed, I'd sing them a lullaby, and then I would finish whatever minor things needed to be done around the house, like the dinner dishes. I would crawl into my own bed, and fall into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.
Reality has a way of kicking you in the butt and then taunting you while you're down.
My work is just that: work. I deal with really sick people, some who are dying, all day long. It seems like lately we've had more people die than success stories. I leave work exhausted and emotionally drained. Most nights, I meet Scott and home and we throw something together for our dinners: one for us and one for Chloe. She is such a picky eater. Usually her supper consists of bread and yogurt. We keep trying to introduce new things, but she isn't buying it.
The kids squabble. With each other. With the animals. With us.
I'm tired of telling Chloe to stop screaming and use her words.
I'm tired of telling Caleb to stop whining and tattling on his sister.
I'm tired of telling both of them to quit tackling the cat or stop cornering the dog.
Bedtime is a battle every night with Caleb.
I just finished another round of sleep training with Chloe who completely lost her ability to self-soothe after months of teething and ear infections. Fingers crossed, its working so far.
My house looks like a tornado hit it.
My kitchen is consistently dirty.
But despite all of this, I'm happy. Really happy, not in that fake Hollywood kind of way either.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
My Girl
Looking back, the majority of posts lately have been about Caleb and how I am adjusting to parenting a toddler, now preschooler. But there is another very important little one at our house: my girl.
Chloe is chill. She takes everything in stride. Brother beating her over the head with a car? A quick yell, and she moves away from him. Mean mommy takes away the markers she is trying to eat? Stomps her feet a couple of times and finds something else to play with. And she loves books. I mean really loves them. She will bring me a pile of books and happily sit in my lap while I read to her for half an hour.
She wakes up in the morning glowing. She is full of smiles and cuddles for mom or dad. She claps her hands when she sees her daycare teachers and friends. She says "Hi!" to just about everyone in the supermarket.
She is that confident, exuberant, effortless beauty that I always wanted to be. I hope her charisma and laid back attitude stay with her - especially during those tumultuous teenage years.
Sometimes, I look at Chloe and I wonder what I did so differently between my two kids. Caleb is shy, and occassionally self-depricating. I wonder if it is the difference in my confidence in my ability to parent this time around or truly deep-rooted personality differences? Believe me when I say that I understand (even though I am an only child) that there are differences between my kids. I know that even if I was doing exactly the same thing with them, that they would turn out to have their own personalities and quirks. I guess it just makes me reflect back on my psych minor and wonder the extent of nature vs. nurture.
Chloe is chill. She takes everything in stride. Brother beating her over the head with a car? A quick yell, and she moves away from him. Mean mommy takes away the markers she is trying to eat? Stomps her feet a couple of times and finds something else to play with. And she loves books. I mean really loves them. She will bring me a pile of books and happily sit in my lap while I read to her for half an hour.
She wakes up in the morning glowing. She is full of smiles and cuddles for mom or dad. She claps her hands when she sees her daycare teachers and friends. She says "Hi!" to just about everyone in the supermarket.
She is that confident, exuberant, effortless beauty that I always wanted to be. I hope her charisma and laid back attitude stay with her - especially during those tumultuous teenage years.
Sometimes, I look at Chloe and I wonder what I did so differently between my two kids. Caleb is shy, and occassionally self-depricating. I wonder if it is the difference in my confidence in my ability to parent this time around or truly deep-rooted personality differences? Believe me when I say that I understand (even though I am an only child) that there are differences between my kids. I know that even if I was doing exactly the same thing with them, that they would turn out to have their own personalities and quirks. I guess it just makes me reflect back on my psych minor and wonder the extent of nature vs. nurture.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
On Parenthood
We have officially been living in our house for two years now. And FINALLY, I feel like we are making some friends. There are two sets of parents who have little ones Caleb's age whom we have become closer with. Close enough to count them as our emergency contacts for daycare. Close enough to call up for an impromptu dinner or playdate. And it's nice. Really nice.
But it's not the same as having a good girlfriend.
When we were living in Alabama, the girlfriends that I had that had children of their own we in the same new stage of mommyhood that I was in: inexperienced, full of doubt, and a little scared.
I'm still scared.
I'm scared that I am going to so thoroughly mess up my child that he won't be a productive member of society. I am scared that when I lose my temper with him that I am scarring him for life. I'm scared I'm over-disciplining him. I'm scared that I'm not disciplining him the right way.
I want so badly to have a child that is a competent, rational thinking, charismatic, loving member of society. And I'm really afraid of screwing him up.
The moms that I've met here are confident. And chill. I don't feel like they obsess over parenting like I do, because it seems to come so naturally to them. I wanna be chill. But it's not in my make up.
For example, we had a playdate today with a mom and her two boys who live down the street. We were going to play in the pool, eat some hotdogs and hang out. I worried so much about it I had bad dreams last night. Then I frantically cleaned the first floor of the house this morning. And to be honest, the playdate went well, but I over-thought every little thing and stressed out about how I spoke to my children in front of this other mother.
So, I need to learn how to chill. Are they selling personalities yet on ebay?
But it's not the same as having a good girlfriend.
When we were living in Alabama, the girlfriends that I had that had children of their own we in the same new stage of mommyhood that I was in: inexperienced, full of doubt, and a little scared.
I'm still scared.
I'm scared that I am going to so thoroughly mess up my child that he won't be a productive member of society. I am scared that when I lose my temper with him that I am scarring him for life. I'm scared I'm over-disciplining him. I'm scared that I'm not disciplining him the right way.
I want so badly to have a child that is a competent, rational thinking, charismatic, loving member of society. And I'm really afraid of screwing him up.
The moms that I've met here are confident. And chill. I don't feel like they obsess over parenting like I do, because it seems to come so naturally to them. I wanna be chill. But it's not in my make up.
For example, we had a playdate today with a mom and her two boys who live down the street. We were going to play in the pool, eat some hotdogs and hang out. I worried so much about it I had bad dreams last night. Then I frantically cleaned the first floor of the house this morning. And to be honest, the playdate went well, but I over-thought every little thing and stressed out about how I spoke to my children in front of this other mother.
So, I need to learn how to chill. Are they selling personalities yet on ebay?
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Where nonsense seems sensical
Despite multiple promises to myself about keeping up with blogging, and keeping a list of entries that I want to write, things have fallen by the wayside and I find myself playing catch-up again.
I makes me sad when I get so far behind in blogging, because I really enjoy writing - it is a good outlet for me. Organizing emotions on a page and making sense of things, ordering them... very therapeutic.
So, a quick update:
We have finally found our groove as a family of four. And it feels pretty cool.
We finally have two kids who sleep through the night. And that is even cooler.
Caleb and Chloe have both discovered that the other one isn't leaving. Some moments of cool, some moments of arrhgghhhhhh!!!!!
We are working on sharing. We are working on being patient. We are trying to remember how to discipline a 13 month old, but I don't remember Caleb being this rambunctious.
And I, I am working on controlling my temper. I am working on controlling my voice. And I started running.
I makes me sad when I get so far behind in blogging, because I really enjoy writing - it is a good outlet for me. Organizing emotions on a page and making sense of things, ordering them... very therapeutic.
So, a quick update:
We have finally found our groove as a family of four. And it feels pretty cool.
We finally have two kids who sleep through the night. And that is even cooler.
Caleb and Chloe have both discovered that the other one isn't leaving. Some moments of cool, some moments of arrhgghhhhhh!!!!!
We are working on sharing. We are working on being patient. We are trying to remember how to discipline a 13 month old, but I don't remember Caleb being this rambunctious.
And I, I am working on controlling my temper. I am working on controlling my voice. And I started running.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Accomplishments
When I was young, I used to measure the success of a day on how well recess went: if we played Gummi Bears or HeMan, it was a good day. If we had to play Smurfs, or (ugh) house with boys, it was a bad day.
When I was in seventh and eighth grade, success was not having any of the popular kids upset with me. I so desperately wanted to be cool and liked...
(There is a part of me that wishes I could travel back in time and show my 12 year old self what my life is like now. I wish I could tell that girl that being "cool" isn't as important as being kind. It would have saved me a lot of grief in my later years.)
In high school, a successful day was catching the eye of *that boy*. You know who I'm talking about: the guy whose name you scribbled all over your diary, the one that made you turn 12 shade of red when he caught you staring across the cafeteria, and the one that still gives you a little smile when you think about him (unless of course, you had extremely poor taste in men, and then you might cringe a little...)
When I finally went to university, a successful day was making to all of my classes, going to work, and preparing a meal that was edible. Studying was a bonus.
From July until October of 1998, a successful day was making my mom laugh.
In Grad school a successful day was all in the adaptation: adapting to a new culture, a new climate and new roommates. Sure, there was studying to be done, but it wasn't the mundane studying that I had in undergrad, because I knew that everything I was learning was going to be put to use in my career and that in itself was fulfilling.
Clinicals: a successful day was not crying. Especially not in front of my clinical instructor.
Parenting has brought about a whole new perspective and an entirely different idea of what success is: Some days it is about survival. Some days it is watching your child do something for the first time. Some days it is about learning to hold back. Some days are about how to hold on tighter. Some days are about the moments that you thought parenting was all about. Some days are just a success because you only sent your kid for 10 time outs.
Today, my success stems from realizing that forming these little minds into productive members of society is an accomplishment. Even if today the only lesson learned is how to share the MagnaDoodle.
When I was in seventh and eighth grade, success was not having any of the popular kids upset with me. I so desperately wanted to be cool and liked...
(There is a part of me that wishes I could travel back in time and show my 12 year old self what my life is like now. I wish I could tell that girl that being "cool" isn't as important as being kind. It would have saved me a lot of grief in my later years.)
In high school, a successful day was catching the eye of *that boy*. You know who I'm talking about: the guy whose name you scribbled all over your diary, the one that made you turn 12 shade of red when he caught you staring across the cafeteria, and the one that still gives you a little smile when you think about him (unless of course, you had extremely poor taste in men, and then you might cringe a little...)
When I finally went to university, a successful day was making to all of my classes, going to work, and preparing a meal that was edible. Studying was a bonus.
From July until October of 1998, a successful day was making my mom laugh.
In Grad school a successful day was all in the adaptation: adapting to a new culture, a new climate and new roommates. Sure, there was studying to be done, but it wasn't the mundane studying that I had in undergrad, because I knew that everything I was learning was going to be put to use in my career and that in itself was fulfilling.
Clinicals: a successful day was not crying. Especially not in front of my clinical instructor.
Parenting has brought about a whole new perspective and an entirely different idea of what success is: Some days it is about survival. Some days it is watching your child do something for the first time. Some days it is about learning to hold back. Some days are about how to hold on tighter. Some days are about the moments that you thought parenting was all about. Some days are just a success because you only sent your kid for 10 time outs.
Today, my success stems from realizing that forming these little minds into productive members of society is an accomplishment. Even if today the only lesson learned is how to share the MagnaDoodle.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Calebisms
There are many joys to having a three year old - there are the constant mood swings, the temper tantrums that are punctuated with moments of sanity and reason, and the verbal diarrhea. Mostly the verbal diarrhea.
Sitting at dinner tonight Caleb was talking non-stop nonsense. I looked at him and said "You're crazy."
"No I'm not!"
"Are too."
"No, I'm three!"
*Sigh*
He also gets on these tangents whenever he sees Chloe doing something. "When I was little I (insert whatever Chloe is currently doing)." He then becomes very defensive if I tell him "No, Honey, you didn't do that."
*Double sigh*.
I think I also traumatized Caleb for life trying to explain true tooth fairy to him. "When you get bigger your teeth are going to fall out." His eyes immediately filled with tears and said "I don't want my teeth to fall out!" I then had to spend the next half hour showing him pictures of me when I was little without teeth and telling him about the joys of getting money under your pillow. Way to emotionally scar your child on a Tuesday night.
And finally, the other day I was discussing Scott's job and I referred to him as my husband. Our daycare teacher looked at me funny and said "You're married?!?!"
"Yes, for five years."
"Oh!! Caleb told me you weren't. He was telling two of the little of the girls in his class that he was going to marry them. When he other teacher and I told him he was a little young he told us 'My mom and dad aren't married so I can get married whenever I want.'"
Fabulous. See what I mean about the verbal diarrhea?
Sitting at dinner tonight Caleb was talking non-stop nonsense. I looked at him and said "You're crazy."
"No I'm not!"
"Are too."
"No, I'm three!"
*Sigh*
He also gets on these tangents whenever he sees Chloe doing something. "When I was little I (insert whatever Chloe is currently doing)." He then becomes very defensive if I tell him "No, Honey, you didn't do that."
*Double sigh*.
I think I also traumatized Caleb for life trying to explain true tooth fairy to him. "When you get bigger your teeth are going to fall out." His eyes immediately filled with tears and said "I don't want my teeth to fall out!" I then had to spend the next half hour showing him pictures of me when I was little without teeth and telling him about the joys of getting money under your pillow. Way to emotionally scar your child on a Tuesday night.
And finally, the other day I was discussing Scott's job and I referred to him as my husband. Our daycare teacher looked at me funny and said "You're married?!?!"
"Yes, for five years."
"Oh!! Caleb told me you weren't. He was telling two of the little of the girls in his class that he was going to marry them. When he other teacher and I told him he was a little young he told us 'My mom and dad aren't married so I can get married whenever I want.'"
Fabulous. See what I mean about the verbal diarrhea?
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