Cover letters and other lies

I have applied for at least twenty jobs in the last couple of weeks. My neighbor is a writer and he asked me yesterday if I was doing any writing. I told him only if cover letters count, and they should--they drain my creative juices in a big way. (They make me feel cheap and dirty, too, but that's another issue--I never have liked the whole "sell yourself" paradigm.)

The job I've wanted the most thus far got a cover letter I would be forced to deem a masterpiece. After its completion, I made my Facebook status "if I believe the cover letter I just wrote about myself, I would not only hire me, I would marry me, clone me and leave me everything in the will."

My initial unemployment claim was denied because I didn't have enough hours in the base year. (The base year was funky and took place between 2008 and 2009. I don't get how they determine the base years and I'm not going to try--I get enough headaches as it is.) I have a pending appeal using an alternate, more recent base year. I'm keeping detailed records--the required job logs, printouts of job descriptions, etc. I spent $10.89 today to send a long-distance fax at Kinko's--it seemed a little steep, but I guess they have rent to pay, too. I haven't had any more interviews since the one I went on before my job ended, but I have found a few nice things to wear to interviews, which will definitely help with my confidence when I am called for another one.

This evening is the information session about the technical writing program I plan to attend. I'm trying not to be intimidated or freaked out, but I am a little of each. What if I go and I don't want to do it? Then, of course, there is everyone's favorite old friend--The Fear of Failure. I think the worst part of not working is that I have far too much time to sit around and ruminate. I have gotten a lot of home organization and important errands done and can come up with several other projects that need doing, but there's an awful lot of time left over to think. I hate feeling so adrift in my life.

I'm not gaining weight, but my ankle has been giving me fits so I haven't walked since last week. I did do part of an exercise DVD yesterday; I have a number of them, from Richard Simmons to Hip Hop Abs and a couple I got at Target that prominently feature perky women wearing bronzer. Richard Simmons is over the top, but I can't help but like him; people who knock him should try one of his workouts (I have no opinion about his infomercials, I have never watched them or bought those products). (As an unrelated side note, his appearance on "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" was one of my favorite episodes of that show.) I'm still trying to find a bathing suit I can live with and have yet another one en route from Ebay--I think I have to get in a pool because every other kind of exercise just ends up hurting too much. A long walk feels great when I'm doing it, but then I wake up in excruciating pain during the night for the next week--it just isn't worth it. Mr. Salted and I have come to the conclusion that we will find the money for me to exercise in a pool, whether I have an income or not. I hope this suit works. I do miss, even enjoy, being in the water. (I will enjoy it even more now that I've had Lasik and won't be floundering around blind!) Before and after actually I'm in the water, that's what isn't so easy.

My third wedding anniversary was yesterday. Mr. Salted and I went to our favorite getaway last weekend, or tried to--we got there and discovered the reservations were for this coming weekend and that we had messed up the dates. It is a long drive both ways, so we decided to get a cheap room at the local Econolodge and just go back again this weekend and have two getaways instead of one. He is so supportive, steady, loving, unwavering--just an incredible gift in my life, for which I am extremely thankful.

Spill

I took a spill on my scooter yesterday--trying to maneuver through a tight area of the house, I somehow lost my balance and fell, with most of my weight on the bad leg. The bad leg basically kept me from the floor. It's supposed to be non-weight-bearing, and it's hurt more since then, so I went into the surgeon's office today. He was out of the office, so one of his partners took x-rays and looked at my ankle.

The x-rays looked good to him as far as the bones go. It was too soon to remove the sutures, and if I did any tissue damage, there really isn't a test to determine that. He said the swelling was about what one would expect for this far out from surgery.

There is hardware in my ankle and I'm starting to be able to feel it in there, so I don't know if some of what I'm feeling is normal healing pain or if I ripped something.

I see my actual surgeon on Monday.

The weight is still creeping off at a glacial pace, and today I am tried a new calcium citrate product--they are lemon cream chews, available from BariatricEating.com, and they are v., v. good.

Speaking of BariatricEating.com, I am going to try and join in their live chat support group tonight. I keep meaning to, but either forgetting it or not being in the mood.

Quiet week

The ten-year date from the last blog hit on the day of my group meeting, and I felt under the weather and just didn't want to go, so I played hooky. They had all done a sugar detox, anyway (including no artificial sweeteners) and I was in no mood to justify myself or do much of anything else. I watched bad TV and chilled out, talked to a couple of my nearest and dearest on the phone. It was all good. The last meeting of the group is next week.

The weather has been just beautiful the past few days. I don't spend a lot of time outdoors, but I still appreciate it. It fills the house with natural light; I love to watch the cats jockeying for the sunniest spot under the big living room skylight so they can bake their brains out.

I've been scanning a lot of old pictures for people, and that has been fun. I LOVE to play in Photoshop and can waste hours doing it. I've toyed with the idea of an eventual photo restoration business, but everyone has imaging software now so I don't know how feasible that idea really is. I enjoy it as a hobby nonetheless and have improved a lot of old photos for my friends and family.

I'm eating and feeling well. I'm still eating some things that contain sugar, but not to excess--not even every day. Today I did get a Jet Tea smoothie--something I used to live on that probably has no nutritional value--and am just savoring it slowly, knowing it could be the last one I ever have. That's how I'm looking at it as we use up the last vestiges of things in our house that contain sugar. I know what's coming. I'm researching the food options I will have as soon as I have a surgery date and slowly incorporating them into our pantry and my diet. Asparagus has become my favorite vegetable--fiber AND protein! W00T! Seroquel seems to be working pretty well as a sleep med.

I'm not weighing myself. The only reason I own a scale at all is because we went to Mexico in 2007 and had to weigh our luggage. The ex-bulimic in me still thinks scales are evil, at least for me. I flat-out refuse to let that number tell me what kind of day I'm going to have--or, God forbid, what my worth is as a human being. Unfortunately, that is where my brain tends to go if I get in the habit of weighing in.

The ankle is bothering me a bit; I mostly stay off it unless I have to grocery shop or something. I have to be especially careful on our porch steps--there are four or five. If there is an elevator available, I use it. I have a harder time going down stairs than up them, though I have stumbled doing both directions in the fairly recent past with my ankle issues. I saw the little girl next door staring at me yesterday as I steadied myself with one hand against the wall going down the stairs to my car. (I have this irrational fear that the neighbors think I'm a drunk. I buy a case of beer at Costco for Mr. Salted every now and then--I hate beer and drink NONE of it, and only indulge in booze at all maybe three or four times a year. I rarely leave the house, I keep weird hours, and I always wear sunglasses. I also haven't had a job for a few months. I'm not one to care what the neighbors think, but I have nosy ones, many of whom don't seem to have much to do. Sigh.)

I have some pictures to work on today and I'll probably do some writing. I feel so fortunate to have all this quiet time before the weight-loss surgery to get my head together. A friend paid me to write a resume for her--bought the groceries this week!

Guess who needs reconstructive ankle surgery?

So here's the deal: I had this horrible left ankle fracture when I was 16. The bone was snapped in half and had to be screwed back together. (They removed the screws later.) It's always hurt when it rained and that kind of thing, which I figured was par for the course. Lately, as I've documented here, it has been giving out more and more frequently. I can just be walking along, minding my own business, and it goes over to the side without a warning. Working out on it or a moderate amount of walking causes pain and swelling. Everything hurts it, even just walking around the grocery store. It is one of the reasons I've pursued bariatric surgery with the degree of purpose I have in the past few months.

Back in 1985, when this bone was broken, the orthopedic surgeon just repaired the bones involved--that's what they did back then. They didn't have the technology then to see ligaments or even consider them a problem. I was really young and they probably thought I'd heal up just fine. My ligaments--the ones that provide necessary stability--have long since been shredded. The doctor could tell just by moving my ankle around with his hands that the ligaments there were basically gone and done for; the right ankle, on the other hand, felt just as it should. The difference was obvious in the movement and feeling, especially once it was pointed out and demonstrated to me this way. He said when the bad ankle just gives out now, it's just tearing at existing scar tissue, and the reason I can (thus far) still limp away on my own afterward is because of that scar tissue, but it will still need to be stabilized in a more permanent fashion. Future stabilization = not optional.

Reviewing x-rays taken today, the doctor said, "See now, your bones look gorgeous." (Not a sentence I ever expected to hear...)He could see on the film where the break had been with his practiced eye--right in the ball on the outside.

He said I will have to get this ankle repaired. Not necessarily today, but as soon as I can. It isn't going to get any better on its own, no matter what kind of strength training or exercises I do, and I'm "young" (ha!) and have a long way to go. "You had to know this was coming," he said. Well, yeah, I was afraid it was, but am still "young" (ha HA!) and stupid enough to think that maybe it would fix itself with my eventual weight loss, et. al. Pfffft. What they do is take part of my tendon and reconstruct the stability-providing ligament. I can't walk on it for at least three weeks, but I am allowed to drive an automatic. It's in and out of hospital the same day, no stay. After about a year's time, there is usually a lot of progress that has been made.

So--he said this, and I freaking knew it--walking is no good for me. The ankle can go over at any time--gravel road, crack in the sidewalk, step in a puddle, on a rock, off a curb. The elliptical is no good because you push off from your heel and that can also exacerbate things. Same with the Stairmaster. Since you are usually watching TV or listening to music to provide distraction from the exercise, you're all that much more likely to forget exactly how to compensate for the instability and go boom. I knew this too. Despite the crappy news that I do need surgery, it certainly felt fantastic to be validated. A doctor who listens! We talked about my pending bariatric surgery; he knows my surgeon. He encouraged me to "take care of me first", get stabilized from the GBP, and come in, maybe this fall, and get this taken care of, giving him about a month's leeway. He will write the necessary letters for me and fax his findings from today to my exercise physiologist and bariatric surgeon.

He also said these magic words: "Your weight has nothing to do with this. It is neither here nor there." I wanted to give him a big old hug, kind of like I want to hug the occasional (myopic) cashier who cards me when I buy Mr. Salted's beer at the grocery store. Oh hell, I wanted to kiss him on the mouth, just like a big old grateful hound. Why, thank you, universe! You have dealt me a doctor with a clue!

The bad news is: this puts me out of commission for longer, and I don't know how we will afford it. We'll manage somehow, I'm sure. I don't see what good waiting any longer to fix the ankle would do--it would just mean I had to take time off from a new job (should I be able to find one), and in the meantime, the ankle can still go out whenever it wants to. And it means no school, at least not this year, but I had pretty much given up on that, at least for this year. Maybe the economy will rebound a little by fall 2010.

Ankle

I saw the exercise physiologist yesterday. I told him the last session had blown out the ankle so bad (it hasn't been the same since) that I was finally going to bite the bullet and go to a specialist about it. He recommended someone, and I have an appointment with them Tuesday. (More medical bills we can't afford! Whoopdedoo.)

It surprised me how much even the strength training hurts it. My fear is that they won't be able to find anything wrong with it, but something has to be wrong with it, or it wouldn't be feeling like this. I did break it pretty badly back in the day (almost 25 years ago). It has been giving out randomly for the last ten years. The last year, though, it has given out more and more frequently, every few months, and then down to every few weeks.

I have my six-month session with the exercise physiologist next month, and the six-month nutritionist appointment a couple of days later. Then we resubmit to insurance for approval and after approval, I get the pre-surgery stuff done and voila! Surgery should definitely be in early July. I have to miss some fun stuff this summer while I recover, but there will continue to be fun stuff going on in the future--and hopefully, it will be a lot more fun for me because I won't have this permanent case of the drag-ass/lack of stamina that my weight exacerbates now. I was never a super high-energy person, even as a kid, but I have bursts of energy when something fun is going on. Hopefully I will get them more often!

****

I heard an old friend of mine, younger than myself, was diagnosed with ovarian cancer yesterday. This is the third person I know under the age of 40 to get cancer JUST THIS YEAR. I know there are no guarantees in life and all that, but still want to know why all the nice people get cancer while the psychotic jackasses (thank you, "Veronica Mars") seem to live forever.

Edit, a few days later: my friend had a 10-pound benign tumor removed by emergency surgery. Woohoo!!!

Ankle

So, four days after my appointment, my ankle still hurts. I had to stay off it pretty much completely for a couple of days, elevate, ice, and push the ibuprofen 24-7. It feels like it may be the Achilles as it affects the area around the back of the ankle as well. I emailed my exercise physiologist and told him I didn't think this was normal and that I was going to focus on strength training, tai chi, and when I felt up to it, shorter walks or aerobic DVD moments. I'm also going to check into pool schedules around the area. I know I need to do more to lose more weight more quickly but I also have to be for real. Frankly, the ankle situation is one of the reasons I decided to get this surgery in the first place. It will be a lot easier to work out after some of the weight is off, and some weight is going to come off post-op regardless. Even if the exercise I do isn't always cardio, it builds up strength and improves circulation so it's better than nothing.

Papaya

I bought my first papaya the other day, and ate half of it at lunch today. Let's just say that I was unimpressed with my overall papaya experience.

I like mangoes, and I know I've had things that had papaya in them and liked the taste. Papayas are expensive--I believe I paid $2.99 a pound--but I was trying to switch it up a bit in the fruit department. Little did I know.

I cut into that bad boy and what do you know, it was full of seeds! The skin isn't edible because it's hard and thick. By the time I trimmed the skin off and eliminated the core, there was barely any fruit left, and let's just be frank--it tasted like ass.

Sometimes I feel like I just woke up an alien life form on this planet and don't quite know how I got here (or survived this long here). People are probably reading this thinking, "How did you get to 40 years old without ever eating a papaya?" What can I say? Life is odd.

***

Exercise physiologist appointment was today. It kicked my butt. I walked on the treadmill 30 minutes and did a bunch of strength training. I kept telling him how stuff hurts and how much my balance stinks, and he got to witness one of my graceless unplanned lurches for himself. My ankles are cracking and feel like they're going to give out from under me. I say it's naptime.

Edit, a couple of hours later: I feel like I blew out my stupid ankle again. I'm cancelling my plans for tomorrow and staying off it so I can actually enjoy our anniversary getaway next week.