totally unexpected second order effects

I had my last PT appointment* this morning, and went out to lunch with webbob instead of going straight home to sulk. Bob took me to Staples to buy the wrist rest I've been talking about since Tuesday, when the OT suggested it might help the new elbow pain I've been having since I started trying to follow her recommendations about ergonomics. (I never needed one, with the comfortable setup I used before, so it didn't occur to me that I would need one now.) I'm glad he took me to do that this morning...even though I'm perfectly capable of going to Staples on the bus, I suspect I'm even more capable of NOT going there for days and weeks, thinking there has to be some other way to deal with this. Bob just finessed the whole thing. Or I thought he had.

I should have asked Bob, or the clerk at Staples, or somebody, to open the package for me. Foolishly, I thought the manufacturers of ergonomic thingees to reduce hand injuries would have anticipated selling some to people with injured hands. (Or even to people with a strong interest in minimizing their risk of hand injury.) Nevertheless, they sell it in a remarkably stubborn rigid plastic case; I had trouble getting the thing out even *after* judicious use of my hacksaw.

I don't know if it's doing me any good the way the OT thought it would. It makes me push the keyboard a lot further forwards, and kind of splay my elbows out, and those might be good all by themselves. The thuddy side is a shiny dark blue, almost as bright as that blue silicone cookware. It might be nice to have around, if I could stand the smell. It's a gel wrist rest, and it smells of plasticizer and something I can't identify. I don't know how long it takes to offgas. I don't know how long I can stand to keep it in the apartment while I find out. (The order of play is critical: finish post-flea decontamination, move new pillows from car to apartment, move wrist rest to car.) I was hoping the wrist rest would fix the elbow problems, and thought it might cause different elbow problems, or hurt my hands when I typed. Having it be full of migraine triggers is one of those surprises I really don't need in my life.

*PT is supposed to do stretching, strengthening, and things like ultrasound and myofascial release. My recent posts have mostly whined about OT.** This particular PT is the first I've had in 10 years that has done any upper-body strengthening without setting off spectacular pain flares and doing long-term damage. It's been incredibly scary and ridiculously slow, with lots of setbacks. The last appointment means I'm on my own, it doesn't mean I'm finished.

**OT is supposed to do ergonomics, biofeedback, and various exercises for coordination (sensory and small muscle). Unfortunately, both OTs I worked with at this clinic were such idiots that I've mostly been doing exercises in frustration.

the importance of emphasis

I probably don't need to tell you this. Sure, you sometimes organize meetings, and people get mixed up about when and where, such that you get messages saying something like, "The pamphlet said you meet at 11 on the second Friday of every month in the Fox Library, but when I looked for you this morning, nobody was there. The whole library was deserted. Are the meetings at a different time these days?"

An answer like, "We meet the second Friday of every month in the Robbins Library, at 11:00," is quite reasonable. Unfortunately, putting that "Friday" in boldface adds a certain subtext (ie, I think you're an idiot who can't read a calender, doesn't know today is Friday, and did not send that email less than an hour ago.) Going on to say, "We have met this same day and time every month for 8 years, only missing one for a snow storm," seems to rub it in. Pointlessly, as the response concludes "Each September, we meet in the Fox Library."

Nothing is overtly insulting, and I don't think anything is wrong...but I don't particularly feel like going back to give them a try on the second Friday of next month. As ever, I may be overreacting. *shrug* I have a month to get over it.

no man is an island

But a turtle can kinda look like one, from a distance.

( Read more... )

Another thing I'm afraid I don't have energy for is to go across the street and see The Laramie Project. I really resent that inability, because it's right *there*, and it seems so important. Especially now. But my priorities need to be PT, flea control, OT, and job hunting. (And there's not enough left after PT.)
http://www.wickedlocal.com/arlington/homepage/x541348229/A-lesson-in-listening
It's tonight and tomorrow at 7:30. I'm posting this now, in case anybody is looking for something to do in the next hour, then I'll go back and finish the post.

One of the anxieties I hear from the opponents of same-sex marriage is along the lines of, "What terrible things would happen if our children were to learn homosexuals are just ordinarily people, and their lives are as acceptable as normal lives?" An interesting counter to that turns up in the article about this production. A young actor, who was probably 12 when same-sex marriage became recognized by the state government:
Desiree Marquant, a senior, also marveled at the diversity of opinions expressed in the show: "As someone who is very liberal, The Laramie Project has opened my eyes up to whole new viewpoints. Arlington is a pretty accepting town, so to take on these characters with such opposite beliefs from mine is a challenge."

It looks like she's had a fairly sheltered upbringing, but I don't think she's shocked by the existence of homosexuals. It looks like she's shocked by *bigotry*.