Slogging On

I slog on,,,,,

My knee plagues me in terrible pain, especially nights.  I was to be referred to physical therapy.  Last week I called my doctor's office to see if the referral went through.  They had told me the physical therapy place would call me when the referral went through to schedule.  I found out the referral was approved, but the place had not called.  The office said I should call them.  I did.  No answer, just a message machine but the voicemail assured me my call was important and they would call back.  I left my name and number.  No call back.

I called twice more in the next days with exact same result.  I have no idea what to think.

I found knee strengthening exercises online and began to do them, although last night the pain was significant.  I lulled myself to sleep finally chanting.

I called my brother to complain yesterday, expressing frustration with the medical system.  He laughed and said they're good at pushing pills but when you have something really wrong, not so good.   He talked about a friend whose wife, he announced, was told she had stage 4 cancer.  "Stage 4," my brother said, "I'm so sorry.  Is she getting any treatment?"  "Well," his friend said, "she has an appointment to discuss options in two months."  My brother's jaw dropped.

It's been almost six weeks since I injured my knee.  I still don't have any idea what is really wrong with it, although the last visit, I was told its likely an MCL tear but beyond that, I have no clue what to do since sounds like the physical rehab place is for some reason, stalling out.  First I was told at the ER, it was likely a ligament tear, that I'd need to see an orthopedist, then get an MRI but would have to go through my doctor's office.  I go to the resident clinic, since they, I was told then, were the only place in the system, accepting new patients.  I went over six months without a doctor after my last one quit.

When I finally got in, it was December of last year and I'd first injured my knee in late November, carrying heavy objects up some stairs, then a couple weeks later, sliding on a hairball.   The new doctor I had, two months out of med school, told me then my knee issue was one of old age, to use ice and take Aleve.  She was new to me and I didn't want to make waves then, since it'd taken so long to get a new doctor who could renew my bp med, so I went along.   I'd already been applying ice, using a brace and taking Aleve.

But then a couple weeks before I reinjured my knee it became terribly unstable, and felt like to was going to cave in to the inside, or extend outward, beyond straight, which was an awful feeling.  I called, trying to make an appointment, but was told my doctor, whom I'd seen just the once, couldn't see me for several weeks.  I got an appointment for the next Monday with another newbie.   It was that night, with one step up from the garage to the house, that something on the backside of my knee gave way, with a loud pop, and I could no longer put weight on my right foot.  

That next Monday, the doctor I saw, announced I had bursitis and he could cure me.   I had no reason not to believe him.  He brought out needles and injected my knee first with an anesthetic, then cortisone.  I walked out without crutches, but that was because of the anesthetic.  Three days later it wore off and the pain intensified, but he had said it would but then it would get better.  So I gave it a month and it never got better.  And went in  again.  The doctor seemed almost angry I would come in, complaining of severe pain, especially at night, and gave the new diagnosis of MCL tear, and that I would need physical rehab and sent off the order.  That's where I am now, six weeks after the injury, without a clue, feeling at a loss, and physical rehab has the approved referral but won't answer or call me back.


More kittens.  One nights break and one kitten, Flower, was caught at the Albany location, where she was left in a trap outside all night, for her mom and siblings to see.  No surprise no more have been caught there.

Flower is already fixed now and mostly tame too.   At least to me.

Then another nonprofit referred a Lebanon woman to me, with a mom and kittens who had shown up.  I took a trap up there.  She'd already grabbed two kittens, both boys, both darling.  Yesterday she caught the young adult male, a skinny teen, who hangs out with the mom, so he's here too, and I don't know what I'll do with him.   And then a darling little girl kitten.  I guess there are two more kittens and mom.

This little Lebanon trailer park boy is already very tame.

This little girl was so scared, but a little bit of KMR, syringe fed, changed things around.

The third Lebanon trailer park kitten, a little boy, is a little wilder.

I also had caught two kittens living in the dumpster at Circle K, then when trying to catch their mom, a young adult black male, who was fixed Monday along with 8 others, the other 8 all being kittens.  Five of those are from a stray mom in Brownsville, not yet caught.  They are being fostered in Brownsville.  I only got a quick glance at a couple of them when I drove over Thursday during the day, to pay the Heartland bill for the six fixed there, Flower, plus the five from Brownsville.

Circle K dumpster girl Sitka

And Sitka's sis Wrangle

At Willamette Humane's clinic, Eclipse, the black young male from Circle K, and Sitka and Wrangle, the two dumpster kittens, were being fixed.  The two kittens were tested, as any group that takes kittens for adoption, wants that done.  Can be an expensive add on, however.

Circle K young adult male Eclipse.  He needs a barn home.  The kittens mom is gray and I hope to catch her too.

So I have six kittens again in the bathroom and two young adult males, Eclipse and the orange tabby teen from the Lebanon trailer park, are in the garage, waiting, for somewhere else to call home.  I don't have a photo yet of the skinny little Lebanon orange tabby boy.

Despite my knee pain and dysfunction, I keep at it, but fortunately, outside of the Circle K kittens, I'm asking caretakers to do the trapping, to lesson any stress on my knee.