Got new job

Back at Psychiatric Hospital. 3-11 on the short term adult acute unit- i.e. people fresh off the streets, acutely ill. Looking forward to it. Plus get to wear my new cowboy boots cause my foot surgeon says I can only wear boots or sneakers, and I hate sneakers.

And I get to go buy lots of pairs of black jeans that if, not closely looked at, don't appear to be jeans cause for some reason even though we're supposed to wear street clothes to help the patients feel more at ease (??) Denim apparently increases hallucinations. Or something.

And I got a phone call last night from my good friend who lives in Michigan who isn't Aughra announcing that one of the two brothers we know from our hometown who are unfortunately both mentally ill- one is currently under the diagnosis of schizoaffective bipolar type was recently transferred to a longer term hospital after 6 involuntary commitments, joining and then going AWOL from the Army, and blaming me for having the secrets of scientology hidden on a piece of paper and not giving it to him- the other brother, who is usually the more stable one, went and joined the National Guard, went through training fine, and then they tried to innoculate him. Since he's likely got the same condition as his brother or at quite possibly the most common of the schizophrenia family, paranoid type he refused the inoculations, got discharged, and went on the run. Last his family heard he was somewhere in South Jersey.

Until yesterday when he arrived in Lansing, MI. My friend was totally freaked out- he's known both of them for a long time- i.e. before they got sick- and has managed to avoid most of the seriously fucked up psychotic times by living so far away. However, the Nat'l Guard inoculation refuser found him. Told him he was staying at a local hotel and then wandered off.
My friend called me, I told him to call his parents, tell them where he was, then call the local crisis intervention center for an emergency screening because he told my friend he planned on going to Canada next and that Channel 2 was after him and all the antipsychotic medicines were poisons made to torture people and we didn't want him to go to Canada alone, with no money, on no meds, and possibly get himself killed or god knows what else because he's completely out of his mind right now. In the literal sense. I thought the crisis team would definitely bring him to local hospital with psych unit for evaluation, and that he would probably meet criteria for involuntary commital. So. Fucking. Sad.

Friend was supposed to call me back. Hasn't done so yet. Worried.

1:15 pm- update.
Friend called crazy brother's parents. Mom home, relieved to know where son was. Dad called friend at home and told him he was wiring CB money through Western Union. WTF? Now CB is flush with cash and completely out of his mind. Crisis intervention in Lansing says they can't do anything unless he's actively trying to hurt himself or someone else.

CB remains (we think) at hotel, probably planning trip to Canada. CB's parents? Fucked up. Crisis intervention? Fucked up.
CB- hopefully will be ok- not get hurt, not hurt anyone else. Schizophrenia? so fucked up. Sigh.

Man, you people...

I post a picture of my super cute ex-boyfriend who was in a (sort of) famous like band and no one comments on how cute he is!?!?

He's the one on the far right. Yes I realize it's a small photo. Still! I'm just so excited that thanks to the internet there is tangible evidence of the fact that I once did in fact have a social life.

Begging for comments here, folks. No shame. Tell me I'm still kind of cool.

Please.

So I got new US weekly today

with pics of Nicole Richie and Lindsay Lohan both of whom I am.so.utterly.enchanted.by.it's.mind.numbing. They look like refugees from some starvation camp where the only food is hair dye, make-up, spray-on tanner, and designer clothing. Am I alone in thinking that being able to see someone's scapula, ribs, vertebrae, etc. is not attractive? Cause the only people in real life I've ever seen that look like that are 80+ year old ladies dying of something.

One of the two of them, I forget which says "People lose weight when they grow up. They lose their baby fat."

No, their metabolism stops and most of them don't have an army of people to cook meals for them, bully theirs asses to the gym and give them high-powered colonics. Stupid rich people.

I

My Dad Is Awesome

Bye bye anonymity- check out my dad's train layout website. .


When people would come to my parents' house, the attractions were:
1. Milo - may he be happily running around doggie heaven barking his head off at everything and being surrounded by Milk Bones
and
2. The Train Layout. Boyfriends of the past, many with absolutely nothing resembling even a passing interest in toy trains, would stare transfixed for hours. It's that impressive.

I dated this one darling boy, who for a brief period of time played in the Casualties, . (the picture at the top of the page-boy on far right with big mohawk and sweet face- that was my Shawn) and he was so in love with the train room that I had to literally drag him out of there. In both mine and Shawn's defense, I'd like to add that he was only in the band for a few months (drumming) and that he smelled way better than the rest of them.

It was during this time, probably 1997-98, that while I had short fuschia hair in little spikes, was standing on the corner of St. Marks (yes I realize just how cliche this is), wearing bondage pants, an Adicts bum flap and a shredded sweater over a black bra while holding hands with Shawn (sorry Carrie- that was his girlfriend but she lived far away and we still were Friends) standing there with his 14" midnight blue mohawk with 3" orange guiders on either side that a tourist came up to me and asked me if anyone ever told me that I looked like Bette Midler or Blossom, the girl who played Bette Midler as a young girl in that damned movie Beaches. It became apparent at about that point that rhinoplasty was definitely in the cards. (Which I had when I was 21 and told the otolaryngologist performing the surgery that I was sick of people telling me I looked like Bette Midler, at which point he told me that he was her doctor. After an awkard silence, I asked him to please not tell her that he was doing a nose job on a girl so she wouldn't look like her. The woman is damn talented, but I can't sing for shit and really don't want to look like her)

On a side note it's very bizarre to go to the mall and see 15 year old girls wearing Casualties patches and thinking "I used to date one of them." .

But the point of this post isn't about my nose or how cool Shawn's hair was (he preferred to use AquaNet hairspray, claiming that gelatin was a pain in the ass and he would flatten the mohawk in a big history book, and had to drive with his head tilted so it didn't get bent on the roof of his totally non bitchin' camaro,) but about how cool my dad is.

He has the best sense of humor, which is especially impressive in that my mom, bless her, really doesn't get most jokes. Chidren and dogs love him. Growing up, my mom worked the 3-11 shift, so my dad was in charge of me and my 2 brothers. Thursday nights were McDonalds nights. We'd huddle in the back of the ancient civic hatchback without heat, covered in a blanket and lament that we were missing the Cosby show. Once my older brother gave my little brother a chicken McPiece with the hot mustard and the face he made from the "hot" to this day still brings me to tears. Poor little bro.

My dad hates his job, but he gets up and commutes at the ass crack of dawn anyway. He's got his faults, of course, but on the whole, I'm really lucky to have such a great dad. Especially since I married a geekier version of him. Though I'm not certain that he wouldn't sell all of his children for a good deal from MTH the train supplier of his choice, I wouldn't trade anything about him. I wish he'd eat better and lose weight, but until I actually quit smoking, I feel kind of like an ass saying that.

So this post's for you, Dad. You rock. Now get back to work. I love ya!

A little about Psych Nursing

To start with, I worked (and hopefully will work again) on a locked unit. That means there are 2 sets of heavy metal doors that you need a special key to get in and out of. There's a gap of about 20 feet between the two of them just in case anyone "elopes" which for some reason is the term used instead of 'escape'.. I guess it sounds less scary.

Bug (not you Lightning Bug's Butt, my Bug) was convinced that the patients all walked around in johnny coats with their butts flapping in the breeze. Some of the patients, when they acheive level 3, are allowed to go outside for walks. The "outside area" is a small picnic area with a huge black fence that has one of those tops that leans over. There isn't actually barbed wire but the effect is much the same. Originally when I started, there was no fence there and the patients would go wander off for 20 minutes and then come shuffling back when it was time to go back in.

It's a no-smoking unit. I feel this is kind of cruel, as almost 99% of the patients smoke, and there have actually been studies that show that smoking releases endorphins in the schizophrenic brain that are calming. I guess instead we just use more Haldol. There is one long term unit- patients have been there for anywhere from 1 to 5 years- it's their home. They are allowed to go smoke 2x a day. The other patients get mad about that until we remind them that the smoking patients also get to stay at Sweet Valley Psych for years and most of our patients are on the unit from about 10 days-3 weeks on average.

Some of the greats: I am now trying to create pseudonyms....though I fear that these will just make them sound sicker than they are-
we had one patient, whose particular fixation was religious fanatiscm. That's pretty common. I"ve never met a patient who thought they were Jesus, but I've met a few who knew him.

This particular patient had embraced Orthodox Judaism in a big big big way. His parents were the sweetest, cutest little things you could imagine, As usual, schizophrenia raises it's ugly head in men around the ages of 19-23 roughly, a little later in women. We've had female patients in their last year of medical school before they had their first psychotic break. It's truly tragic.

But back to this one patient, the one I will call...Steven...Berg. Yeah. (Note to all: that is not actually close to his name)
He would pray for hours, scream and rail at his parents for not being totally kosher (they were High Holiday Jews though his mom really did make the best chicken soup on earth) wear the yamulke, this other thing tied around his waist with strings hanging down (sorry I'm not Jewish I don't know what it's called!) and wrap these black leather bands around his wrists up to his elbows. Another characteristic of this patient that is not at all unusual, is that he was wicked intelligent. He tended to get a little grumpy now and then. One of these occasions, one that I will never forget, was him standing in front of the nursing desk and arguing with the nurses about something they wouldn't allow him to do.
Patient "Oh Yeah? You think you're so fucking great?" (the amount of swearing from the patients in truly amazing, and even moreso in that I'm not allowed to do it back)

"Look, Steven, why don't you try and sit in the quiet room for a little bit and get your behavior under control?" (Quiet room is what you're thinking but you can go in their just to chill, or you can get dragged in and strapped down and injected with Haldol/Ativan/Cogentin aka the "5:2:1". The nurses were suggesting the former.

"Patient: You all just SIT THERE ALL THE TIME (fairly true). What would you do if I just took a dump right here, huh? If I just dropped my pants and shit right here on the carpet?"

"Steven, please, you know this behavior is inappropropriate." (inappropriate is key word for 'totally fucked up and would you cut the shit please?')

Steven proceeded to give all the nurses the finger, drop trou, and shit on the rug.

The only nurse not rendered totally speechless (as well as the 23 other patients all standing there, mouths agape) was Linda, who was able to mutter "That's totally inappropriate!"


Mercifully, I was out on a break at this time, wandering the halls, la la la, when I heard "Dr. Strong to A1, Dr. Strong to A1" . So I ran ahead to the unit, got there just as the floor psychiatrist came out. She was leaning against the wall, laughing so hard that there were tears streaming down her face.

"What happened?" I asked.
"Steven Berg just shit on the floor." She doubled over and walked off. (By now she'd written the order for the 5:2:1 and the 4 hours restraint order.)

I opened the 1st door and then the 2nd door, and the smell almost knocked me over. Even after a year of med/surg, I don't think I ever smelled shit this bad. Not GI Bleed shit, not C-difficile shit. Perhaps because it was malicious shit?

Steve spent the next 4 hours in 4 point restraints, yelling at us until the meds kicked in at which point it was more like muttering.

I can't wait to go back.

The best part is when someone comes in, completely and totally psychotic, thinking things like Phil Collins is their next door neighbor and is in love with them and they would have an affair but their (the patient) sister won't allow it. They come in snarling, spitting, sneering and swinging. Sometimes, if we're really lucky, after a few weeks of meds (so various it requires a separate post) and groups and one on one therapy and just someone sitting there and listening to them, you get to meet the person behind the illness. And that's why I love it.

Schizophrenia in particular is like invasion of the pod people- it wears your body but it steals your life. Not that terminal diseases are great by any means, but they at least end. People with these disorders suffer usually a good 40 years before something kills them or, often, they kill themselves.

Go here. Read a little, learn a little. It's way more common than you think and the suffering these people go through is unbelievable. Except the Axis II patients. That's another post altogether.

So I finally did it.

I quit my job. No longer employed as Med/Surg nurse on ortho/gastric bypass/diabetes (MRSA foot), GI (upper and lower) bleed floor.

Kind of sad. Part of me feels like a quitter, for giving up on the job after only a year, even though I had only planned to do a year of medical/surgical nursing in the first place before going back to psychiatric nursing. Still, there are co-workers I really liked a great deal. There were also nurses I absolutely loathed, for instance- Gail, my nurse manager, whom I refer to as Blinky due to her utter inability to form any form of facial expression. Good example: About a year ago, I was leaving Sweet Valley General, in my car when my cell phone rang. The ringer said "Milo" which meant that it was my mom calling. I answered, and was very surprised to hear her best friend on the phone. "What are you doing now? Would you be able to stop over here for a little bit? Nothing's wrong, everyone's ok, don't worry." This of course led to instant panic attack. Luckily that day I had found a percocet on the floor of the med room and after checking the narc book to make sure the count was right, I pocketed it, just "in case I had some sort of horrible day that required medication." I took that pill dry as soon as I hung up the phone, tears already streaming down my face. Have you ever had that experience where you get a message or note from someone telling you to call them about something you know is bad news, and you put it off as long as you can because the time in between is the only time in your life you will have without whatever the horrible knowledge is? That was this scenario. However, the time to get from my job to my mom's house is about 10 minutes, even getting stuck at every traffic light.

I got to the house and my mom and Madeline sat me down. Madeline sat down next to me. By this point I could barely breathe. My mom then announced "I had a mammogram last night-" and at that point I broke into hysterics because I knew exactly what was coming next. "They did an aspiration biopsy. . I have breast cancer." Most of what followed was me sobbing and wheezing because while she was explaining that the tumor was small and seemed to have spread very little and the prognosis according to the doctor was "excellent" all I heard was "My mom has cancer and she's going to die" over and over.

I called Blinky immediately, to let her know that I was going to be out of work the following Thursday and Friday for my mom's lumpectomy and to help her take care of her the next day. She was out of the office. I left a message. When I returned to work on Monday and told her this in person, she sat there and stared at me. She blinked. (In case you haven't gotten this by now, that's what she does) "You couldn't have given me more notice?" she asks, in regard to the fact that I have to miss work in order to be at the bedside of my CANCER STRICKEN mother!! I was determined not to cry in front of this wench and at this point the anger was starting to take over. I explained that "no, sorry, my mom didn't know that she had BREAST CANCER until just now and they scheduled the surgery as soon as they could." She just blinked. "Well we can't pay you for those days." Then she stood up to escort me out of her office and continued to blink at me. No "I"m so sorry, can I do anything for you?" "I hope everything is OK". Nothing. Just blinking. I loathe her.

To sum up- my mom had her lumpectomy last June, went through dose dense chemotherapy (like a FUCKING TROOPER!) and then radiation. She lost all her hair and was at one point so anemic that she told me "if I had to spend the rest of my life like this, I'd kill myself." I cannot possibly count the number of times I broke down and cried throughout this, and to be perfectly honest much of it was selfish. I was crying for me. What on earth would I do without my mom? She makes me nuts, yes, but I love her so much that the thought of trying to go on, have a baby, buy a house, etc. without her there? I couldn't handle it. But in order to make up for all the shit I put her through as a teenaged nightmare, I was determined to be strong for her. And so I was. But when she wasn't around, I cried.

Currently she is back at work with a cute short haircut and her old kick ass attitude. She's much tougher than I could ever be.

And she works in the ER at the hospital that I'm trying to get back to go to back to psych. I gave my resignation letter to the Director of Nursing, Blinky's boss, and gave her some line about being afraid that if I went up to the floor I'd get all teary. (probably tears of joy but that's not polite to mention). Instead of being angry or irritated that after all this time of disability, the DON gave me her card and told me to call her if I ever needed a recommendation for a job.

Also kind of glad- the stress of fearing return to that job (the one that makes me cry and take Klonopin every day in the elevator on the way up to the floor) and all the times I've freaked out and cried at work are things of the past. No more blood transfusions at the last minute. No more MRSA. No more trying to start IVs on people with no veins. Instead I can look forwar to my schizophrenic and bipolar and antisocial and borderline and depressed patients. One of the best parts? If they get sick (medically- we just send them off to medicine). I loved working psych and I'm so glad to be going back. And I get to wear normal clothing instead of scrubs (which come in sizes like 7X which mean you can eat tons and tons of food and get hugely fat and it's ok because people expect nurses to be fat.) As a psych nurse, I get to try and pass as normal human being. Plus I can go complain to my mom on my lunch breaks about the patients that we both know and loathe. HIPAA kiss my ass.

And the reason I'm up at this time? Bug allowed me to take a nap after taking some cold medicine before, and instead of waking me up after 2 hours, he let me sleep for 7. My schedule is so desperately thrown off at this point I can't see it recovering any time soon.

Witness the fruits of my labor

a fast internet connection, and a fascination for all things I cannot afford. I present to you: the shopping list. FredFlare.com. Cute stuff, some strangely hideous- sale stuff CHEAP. Just purchased Alice in Wonderland Pjs for $15, matching socks for $4.95 and a pinhole camera set for $20.00. Pretty neat.

Earrings I own.
(these earrings I received as a Christmas gift (thanks Mary!) in black and people always stop me and ask me where they’re from.)

another bag I want. . ( I don’t have this bag (unfortunately) but I do have a lovely black bag with little buckles and a fuschia heart logo. Gorgeous. Gift from Bug. PS Should any of you come into large sums of money and feel like gifting, I really love the red one with the black whipstitch.

Alvin & Sparky, they make cashmere things. . I have these slippers but Isaac the dog got them for me for my birthday so it's not like I spent that obscene amount of money. And they are really frelling soft.

Really ritzy candles are like crack to me. mmmm . I particularly like Black Baies. . If someone could tell me how to pronounce that, I'd be psyched. For more reasonably priced and also very good smelling ones, I go to this place instead. . Try the sage. Also the Fracas. Mmmm good.

In case you hadn't noticed, the creation of the internet means that there are literally thousands of small women owned businesses creating handbags. Mercifully, my handbag addiction is only minor.. This is one. . So is this and this. . There are literally thousands more of them out there. Beware.

Oh, and for people who are thinking "Gee, Fox seems like such a nice girl I wonder what she would like as a gift?" I direct you here. . Thanks!

Isn't my lack of an actual life sad? I quit my job at Sweet Valley High and will hopefully be working at Sweet Valley Psych again soon. My ankle is huge. I had to have half of my toenail cut off. And I'm breaking out. Aughra's non pregnancy seems to be contagious as well. Sigh.

If everyone thinks really hard about this at one time

I might be able to get Bug to charge the damn digital camera so I can send pictures of sculpey creations to Aughra who can then post them for me here. Including KING SLUG. So if you want to see...really...bad...art... powerize your thoughts now!

BUG Charge the camera charge the camera charge the camera

Fun with stupid things

LIke name generators. The best site I've found is this one.


Some of the name generators are:
The Kawaii Japanese Name Generator by Shuichigami
Name Your Penis by badasstronaut.
WHAT YOUR NAME MEANS
The Very British Name Generator
你有哪一種惡魔果實的潛力
Harry Potter Name Generator
The Third Grade Insult Generator
The "If Your Name Was An Emo Song... Generator Thingy"
The Silly White Guy Who Thinks He Is Actually A Black Gangsta' Rapper But Is Actually Trippin' Since He Is A White Fo'.
What's Your Fairy Name? by badasstronaut
The Mega Hardcore Son-of-a-Bitch Punk-Ass "Don't give a Fuck 'bout Nuthin Name Generator
What your friends would really like to call you.

SAPPHIRE hardcore sex worker name generator
Reveal Your Ridden Harry-Pottery Patronus
The Damned Hippie Name Generator
The Ethnic Stud Name Generator
Dragon Name Generator
The "totally gay nickname Carl would give you" Name Generator
The fluffy kitten name generator
what would your book be called? (by steve and aryn)
Pirate Name Generator
-=My advice for you=-
-=What is your future job=-
The People You Don't Wanna Be Name Generator
Your Melissa Ferrick Song Name
Balla name generator
Which one of Steve and Aryn's Sayings would you be? (by Steve and Aryn)
What is your super hero name? (by Steve and Aryn)
What would the potted plant say to you (by steve and aryn)
What would Steve and Aryn name you??
The Name You Would have if YOU Starred in an Anime
the name of your band if your kool
Gay or not to be generator
How fat people want to f*** you.
anime show name animator
the stupid old people name g-rater
Name Your Chav Child
Vampire Name Generator
Dark Elf Clan Name

Since I am lame and will be spending the next few days updating m resume ane applying for a psychatric nurse job, you could all humor me by generating names on this site and then posting them in the domments section. Use your given name insetead of blogger handle fof bettr results. Whadda aya saY?

There are people who think Joss Whedon is God.

I wouldn't go that far. Sure I loved Buffy the Vampire Slayer cause it was fun and the writing was really clever and I thought Spike was kind of cute (cause if you've somehow missed this by now- I am a big Lame-o. ) and I really enjoyed the characters of Xander and Willow in particular. Of course, as everyone knows, the best thing about BTVS was that I met Aughra. Her son Calum was born the same night as the season 4 episode "New Moon Rising" was premiering and when I see it on FX or watch the DVD I always think of that.

So I liked Buffy, and David Boreanaz was pretty hot in the beginning (not that he's still not 100 times better than most people I know- except you Bug, my darling husband) so I thought, hey, let's try this new Angel show out. I loved Doyle, and was pissed when they killed him off, and even more pissed when Glenn Quinn who in addition to playing Doyle played Marc, Becky's dumb boyfriend on Roseanne, permanently wrote himself out of all shows and movies forevermore. As I've said before, Heroin Kills Cute Boys .

The point of all this? Their was an episode of Angel in the final season called "Smile Time".. Boreanaz gets turned into a puppet. And as he's a vampire, he actually vamps out and kills another puppet. Yes, children, it's fucking glorious. (Sorry for the cussing, Daddy) . So- Realizing the fortune to be made in marketing replicas of the Angel Puppet, Diamond Select Toys did just that. . Note the price. When I first saw it available for pre-order in November, I immediately ordered one for Aughra, when it cost $50.00. It arrived towards the end of March. When FX aired Smile Time, I ran out and bought the DVD set and ordered myself one of the last 2 available at TFAW also for $50.00 Apparently there were only 5000 made and now people are having to spend upwards of $150 to get one. But me and Aughra already have ours. Cause we fucking rock. Mine is number 1389 of 5000. He smells like Essenza di Zegna cause that's what Bug smells like because I think it's purty.

But as far as Whedon being God- that post was filled for me by Gary Oldman in 1991.

But Whedon gave me Aughra and for that I shall be eternally grateful. Plus lots of fun little quips. And the DVD sets lined up in order (1-7) allow you to see Sarah Michelle Gellar get skinnier and skinnier until it finally looks like she just came from Fischer and Diaz with some kind of doll stand propping her up.

My New Obsession

In the everlasting attempt to curtail my boredom/depression from this damn ankle thing, I have taken up the fantastic art of POLYMER CLAY SCULPTING. . You should scroll down on that page till you get to the red dragon egg.

I have orders requested by friends already. Aughra wants a camel, Calum wants "Yoda or a bat" (I told him that Yoda was way out my league but I'd try really hard on the bat) and my friend Jerry wants a spider monkey.

Sounds simple, no? One little problem. I absolutely suck at this. I have all my clay, my tinfoil armature material, my wire, my little eyeballs to put in to give them character, I even have magic pebbles for my creations to hold or have glowing...belly things...yeah, and everything I've tried comes out looking like multicolored poo.

The worst part of all of this? Bug was like "oh cool, Sculpey!" In 45 seconds he'd rendered a perfect bear's head wearing a crown. Bastard.

But I shall defeat him. Because as soon as I leave physical therapy today, I'm going to go to Pearl Paints and spending more money that I don't have. And then I shall eventually be the Sculpey Queen.

Maybe.

All about Physical Therapy

Yay! Only 12,000,897 sessions to go!

I arrive at PT, after frantically searching apt. which is somewhat messy (just a little), for keys and for some book to read during the warm pack electo stim combo. A little bit about the stim- Electrical Stimulation ('Stim') forces a muscle or muscle group to contract and relax. The therapist places a pair of surface patches containing electrodes on the skin over the area to be treated (my left foot). Each patch attaches to a lead (insulated wires) connecting to equipment that controls and regulates the stim. The therapist programs the equipment to deliver the correct amount of stimulation for a set period of time. (12 reallllly long minutes)
The electrical current affects nerve and muscle cells, which may be at rest or reacting to the stimulus. The treatment is not painful, they say. The patient feels a gentle pulsating or on and off sensation. It feels like I have repeatedly stuck my entire foot into an electrical outlet with forks tied around my toes. This is supposed to relieve pain by having the muscles contract a lot so they're too tired to seize up and cause painful spasms later. This may be true for most people, but alas- I am a total wuss and I think it hurts. At least my book is awesome( and a great representative of things I like to read) and reading about others suffering from the way virulent forms of syphilis in the 17th, and 18th centuries makes me feel better. Maybe today I'll get to the 19th and 20th century poxites.

So after electrowarmo therapy, it's off to do my ankle exercises. I stand on a scary little round board and move my foot in all the directions it will go. Fun. Then there's the balance board of torture, and if I'm really lucky, I get to use the Walk Against The Giant Bungee Cord Resistance.

Monday I got to go in the pool. Initially I didn't want to go in the pool, as I haven't worn a bathing suit in 10 years. I don't swim nude, I just don't swim. I ordered one- a little oldladyish, but hey, what can I say? I'm not a water person. However, once I did get in the pool it was fun and I jumped around and had to do MORE exercises. Physical therapy is turning into more gym like than spa like. Grr. And my ankle still hurts and I haven't had any pain pills for weeeeeeeeeks.

And then I died.