Pilates: No Times

Number of times in my life I have thought to myself "oh boy! I can't wait to do some pilates!"
Zero. Zero times.
About once a year I get tired of having "lower abs, RPrin!" yelled at me ten times a week and start doing pilates. And then I start whining about it almost immediately.
Pilates.
I ... I really hate pilates. This has been discussed many times in the past. But unless and until some sort of magical ab workout materializes that can be done for half an hour every Wednesday and doesn't involve planks and that horrible arm pumping business I am sort of stuck with it. Because honestly, I am too lazy to do ten minutes every night before bed, or any of that nonsense. That's right, ballet, I am too lazy to do you properly. Am I ashamed? Maybe, but I am also quite literally amazed that I get out of bed some days, so I figure I am ahead of the game.

In other sort-of health news:
My ulcer is checking in to make sure I haven't forgotten it. Which hardly seems fair because the ulcer is directly related to the drugs I take for my arthritis. Which I have been forgetting to take on the regular. I have GOT to get my shit together, this is ridiculous. You can't have BOTH an ulcer and a flare up. PICK ONE RPRIN.

It's not a pooch it's a POODGE

I hate pilates. I really do. So it has been...many moons... since I last did any pilates videos on my own time. Uhm... possibly a year. Anyway...
My teacher has been on me about core strength for a while now. I am pretty darn tired of hearing about it (almost as tired as I am of hearing "smaller steps!" during chaînés turns). So maybe it's time to get back on the ol' ab train. Ugh.
Last week I tackled a boring and elderly pilates video that I have done many times in the past. This week it's 93* in the only room with enough space for that sort of thing (a previous tenant must have smoked in there, so I have to leave the window open perpetually), and the thought of half an hour on the floor in the heat (and amongst my dropped straight pins/piles of ugly prom dresses I am supposed to be altering) just wasn't making the cut. So... of course I turned to Pinterest. Because... well, honestly because Pinterest is where I spend most of my time that should be spent working out, anyway (pinning recipes for pomegranate champagne cupcakes > doing boring stinky old crunches).
Here is what Pinterest told me to do:

for the record? I could just about get my feet (barely) off the floor for about 2 seconds. But only if you count them really fast. ONEMISSISSIPPITWOMISSISSIPPII'MDONENOWOHMYGOD.

I Don't Need No Stinkin' Splits

So. My teacher recently instituted a break between barre and center work where we are all supposed to stretch. Which sounds great, because I really miss the guided stretches at the end of my level 1-2 classes and have no self discipline so nothing ever gets stretched at home. But we are all supposed to be using this time to work on our splits. And I decided a few months back that A) There is basically no way in hell I am ever going to be able to accomplish the splits, and B) I am okay with that.
Now, hear me out.
I did try at it for a little while (okay, for a week or two back in November), because I was all inspired by other adult dancers and their splitty achievements. But... I realized it wasn't really a goal for me. A Goal with a capital G.
You know what I really want to be able to do? Fold in half. Like this:

 

from BalletUni

or like this:

from I Have No Idea Where. Let me know if you do.

It looks easy, but it's not! Try it! I (occasionally, you know, when I remember) work on this and I can get my hands flat against the floor but closing that distance between the chest and the legs is a lot harder than it looks at first blush.

To heck with your splits, man! I couldn't even do the splits when I was a kid. And I was a super flexible kid! I was one of those that can hook her feet behind her head FOR NO REASON KNOWN TO MAN. But still! No splits! In class tonight I actually heard (and FELT HOLY COW) something in my hip go TWANG! while doing these split-achieving stretches in class. Can't we do stretches at the barre? I am okay with stretches at the barre that make my parts go twang. But on the floor? ARGH.

Health Stuff Blah

I'm feeling less dire about things today, but I decided to publish this post from a few days ago, anyway. For the sake of ... honesty? Completeness? Who else thinks the word "completeness" is stupid? It's one of those that should really have another tense. Like "completion" would sound better, but sadly it means something else. Sigh...

So, the horrible foot tendon thing that I was experiencing last week has (mostly) gone away. I babied it so much that I actually started getting foot cramps from lack of use! Silly. Silly and yet...

My shins splints are edging very slowly toward feeling better. I can jump! Sort of! (I mean, I am capable of jumping. Not that I am good at it.) It's been a very long and slow process to get to this point. And they still twinge at me when I try to do something like a ballotté, cabrioles, or hopping turns. Well... hmph. Hopping turns are dumb looking, anyway.

It's funny (not like "funny ha ha") the way I have become so utterly terrified of every new and unusual ache, pain, or click. I feel like at any moment I will "lose" another part of my body, but I never know which part, or when. Will it be my lower back, which has been aching for the past few days? Or will it be that pole of tightness down my achilles on cold mornings? My hips, that clonk and grab at me when lowering out of développé? Which part of me will fail completely enough to be in constant pain? And will it be a part I need in order to make it through my day? My work? My hobbies? I had to stop shooting my bow several years ago, will I have to stop dancing, next? Driving? Living in an upstairs apartment? When does it reach the breaking point, the point at which my doctors will believe me when I say I need help? When I finally test positive on their bloodwork will I be confined to a wheelchair?
Truth to tell, it's all kind of nerve-wracking.
I try not to think about it too much, or I'd never get anything accomplished.

 All my mad Google skillz couldn't locate the original source or credit for this image.

As always, if you are or know the creator please let me know so I can properly attribute it. 

The kiss-off

I finally got my kiss-off letter from Kaiser. They basically just restated my entire complaint (replacing "I" with "you") and told me that I should consider going to hell. Which is exactly what I figured they would do. They did say they talked to the rheumatologist in question about it. If nothing else that means she knows that I think she's a useless waste of space. They also said I can get a second opinion if I want. As if I wasn't going to, anyway!
My next step is to get an appointment with another doctor, and to tell them in no uncertain terms what they need to do. Unfortunately, I am no longer willing to make these visits without someone else accompanying me as witness, and until my husband's job calms down enough that he can take an afternoon off without being yelled at for the next solid week I am out of luck.
For now I am just going to go jitter quietly in the corner for a few hours to work off this desperate adrenaline surge.
Ta.

tres mal

I talked to my teacher tonight and told her about the shin splints and we agreed that I am not allowed to jump until I'm feeling better. The bad news is that it means no sauté arabesques or grands jetés. But, let's not be choosy. The good news is that I have a legit reason not to do assemblés. HA! Take THAT assemblé!
The things I've read about shin splints seem to indicate that I should be stretching my calves (moo) and hamstrings more often, so I've been really trying to work on that this week. I even stopped doing the calf exercises I've been working on lately, just in case that is aggravating things. And I took the insoles my acupuncturist insisted I use OUT of my favorite shoes. Because obviously they aren't helping, and I never had shin problems until I started using the silly things. Oh, and because they are uncomfortable and make me grumpy. Okay, maybe the whole thing is making me grumpy.

So. What I'm saying, basically, is pretty please Universe, I really am trying very hard to listen to my body and to work with it's limitations. But, please please with a cherry on top could you please leave me alone for a while so I can get on with it?
  

On an entirely different note I am posting this photo I found on Pinterest because... well... because it's awesome and I don't know what on Earth is going on, here.

Pretty Pirouettes Preface Parental Predicament

*sigh*...
Well, I've taken my last level three class for the next month. I am taking my 1-2 class on Friday and dropping in on another 1-2 class on Monday and then that's it. Tuesday I drive for four hours and then I'm off taking care of my dad until he can drive again (shoulder surgery). They are saying at least a month, up to four. I doubt it will be longer than a month because my father will climb the walls and drive both of us insane if he can't work for much longer than that. If I didn't have to work for a month I would take it easy, but this man is not going to be having it. Not that I am going to be too thrilled about being away from my job, my husband, my cats, and my bed for that long, either. I have four new books to read (plus Don Quixote on my iPhone, which is quite the slog, but it's one of those books you have to read. It's actually got some really clever bits to it, and some quite funny moments that are the prototypes of modern parody.) and six stuffed bunnies to make for Christmas, so I will at least keep myself occupied.
Tuesday night I took class without the splint on my sprained wrist for the first time in over a month! It wasn't all peaches and cream, but it sure made barre easier and I could actually find my balance a few times, which for some reason my wrist has been screwing up terribly.  Also, it means I didn't have to sweat all over the splint, which is good news for everyone.
Head lines are still killing me (so I will be attempting to practice them in the kitchen at Dad's house) but I'm starting to get the hang of pirouettes to a certain extent. It's quite exciting, of course, as pirouettes are so integral to what most people think of as the essence of ballet. At Romeo and Juliet on Sunday I was thinking, though, that pirouettes are actually kind of odd looking. They require a definite gearing-up moment and almost look best when performed by a man, or in an energetic period piece. Maybe piqué turns are more girly, I'm not sure. I think most people are just using the term "pirouette" to mean a ballerina twirling around, and of course there are so many different ways to twirl around! Anyhow, I shall be practicing those, as well, because I am damn well going to have something down pat by the time I drag my wobbling, squodgy self back in to the studio!

Rheumatologist FAIL

This post is going to take me a long time to write (it's taken a full 24 hours to even work up to it) and not only because I have to type the whole thing with one hand (turns out? I am pretty quick at it, which probably means I mostly type one-handed anyway. Sorry, Mavis Beacon.). I will have to write it and then let it settle for a while and THEN go back over it to remove most of the swear words (I am drawing the limit at six uses of the word "fuck", but it going to be an editing nightmare.) So, without further ado...

I visited the rheumatologist again, yesterday.
The first time I went, three years ago, they put me through a battery of blood tests and then brought me in to the office to poke at me and basically tell me to stop whining and suck it up. I avoided them for as long as I could, but the past three years has brought such a rapid increase in symptoms (and changes in my medical history, for example I now have evidence of a family history of rheumatic conditions) and such a flare-up of the attendant inflammation that my primary care doctor has been left feeling helpless and annoyed and my physical therapist has given up on me entirely until my inflammatory processes can be controlled with some efficiency. So. I went back. They put me through the exact same blood tests again which, aside from turning up a possible urinary tract infection (yay?), showed no changes from last time. But this is Kaisers standard operating procedure. After all, repeatedly doing the same thing and expecting different results is the definition of sanity, right?... So, there was hardly any point in going to this appointment, anyway.
You see, with Kaiser, if there isn't a test result to point to then you are not getting a diagnoses or treatment unless your doctor is strong enough to demand it and, here's the kicker, gives a damn. It's what Kaiser is famous for. It's why they are so poorly thought of in the general medical community. But, anyway. My sister, you see, did not test positive for anything, either. They had to do an MRI to find her inflammation and bone fusion. Before that, they just didn't know what to make of her. Now, I am not saying I have the same thing she does, but I AM saying that some actual effort needs to be extended by your doctor, or your illness can slip right through the cracks. Luckily, she does not have Kaiser.
So I went to my appointment. My husband came with me this time, I don't think he believed me when I said that this rheumatologist was horrible and would just fob me off no matter what I said. Well. He knows now. I got there and filled out the forms : how many of these symptoms do you have (lots)? Could you walk three miles if you had to (no)? That sort of thing. Then the doctor came in. Now, let me make this as clear as possible, she had absolutely no intention of helping me, regardless of what I said. She refused to listen to my personal history, family history, or symptoms. She pointed straight to my blood test and said "look, it says that you don't have anything." That was lie number one. There are seronegative auto-immune disorders. And some that CAN be seropositive can ALSO manifest as seronegative. There are probably close to a hundred conditions recognized as rheumatoid-related. Six blood tests is not going to detect them all.
She then made me take off my wrist brace and proceeded to pull and manipulate my SPRAINED WRIST in to several unnatural positions "See? You are mobile. You don't have any inflammation. Anywhere. It's just pain. Nothing physical."
Lie number two. I think we all know that I was sent to her in the first place because I have CRAZY inflammation that my PC doctor can't figure out how to control. Regardless of the pain my body is constantly stiff, my joints popped audibly as she maneuvered my legs. My knees screamed as she bent them beyond their limit.
Then she looked briefly at the questionnaires I had just filled out and said, and I am not exaggerating, "There is nothing I can do for you. You probably just have depression"
It was at this point that I decided she wasn't even trying and didn't give half a damn about anything I said or did. You know what? Maybe sometimes I am depressed. Because I HAVE BEEN IN PAIN EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE FOR THE PAST EIGHT YEARS. That is pretty mother fucking depressing.
My husband asked "what about doing an MRI to see if there is something we're missing"
And here, my friends, is where she pulled out her most egregious lie, yet. "MRIs only show you ligaments. They don't show anything else. They don't show inflammation. Blood tests are the only way to tell if you have inflammation."
Now. I suggest, if you don't know anything about MRIs already, that you go check it out online. Go ahead. Wikipedia it or something. I will wait.
Done?
Okay. She finished up saying "well, sure, you have Reynaud's syndrome, but that doesn't mean anything. You are totally fine, otherwise." LIE. Reynaud's is a rheumatic condition that is usually secondary to other, more serious conditions. For example: Lupus and rheumatoid arthritis. But, oh no! Let's not even contemplate the possibility of seronegative RA. Let's just tell the person who is in chronic pain to the point of no longer being able to work full time THAT SHE IS CRAZY and it's ALL IN HER HEAD. What an amazing treatment plan! Way to go, fucking idiot of a jerk of a complete twat of a doctor! Yay! Kudos for you! Another difficult case successfully deflected and another patient so disgusted and intimidated that she'll probably never get adequate treatment! WAY TO FUCKING GO YOU FUCKING FUCK.

I would file a complaint against this woman if I thought it would do any good. I might STILL file a complaint against her. It won't impact her much and it won't change the quality of my care through this HMO. But, I might do it anyway. Just so that she knows. Feels the ice cube of my distaste dripping down her proverbial underpants.

BITCH.

The End of This Whole Physical Therapy Debacle

So my physical therapy appointment this morning lasted all of ten minutes. I told the PT what happened after my last appointment and he made me lay down and moved my legs a bit. My hips instantly responded with echoingly loud cracks, pops, and crunches. If it was TV they would have thrown up a flash screen. Heck, they would have thrown up several.

And then he looked at me and said  "yeah, you are too screwed up for me to do anything with. Keep doing the clam as well as you can but unless they get this rheumatoid thing under control then you are pretty much fucked." Or words to that effect, anyway.
So, back I go to my primary care doctor, I guess, and once again beg him to send me back to the rheumatology department (he ignored me last time). Yaaay.

I live in central CA, you grow tomatoes here or they kick you out

So my (also rheumy) sister has had some luck on an anti-inflammatory diet, especially going gluten-free. And I can't really turn away anything that might even possibly provide some help with this shit (especially after my doctor informed me that my absolutely crappy HMO does not cover topical anti-inflammatory agents even when there is no other viable option. But that is another post. In fact there could just be a long post called "KAISER CAN KISS MY ASS" and the body of the post would read "FUCKYOUKAISERYOUCANSOKISSMYASSYOUMOTHERFUCKINGRATBASTARDS" over and over again). So, I have been looking in to it.

Basically, so far as I can tell, an anti-inflammatory diet means you stop eating everything that you enjoy and start eating nothing but plain salmon with plain steamed broccoli for every meal (and then you die of mercury poisoning BUT WHATEVER).
So I look up information about this stuff and and one source says you aren't supposed to eat:
Red meat. Which is fine because I don't eat read meat anyway and haven't since I was about 15.
Sausages or lunch meat or salami, etc. Basically all the processed meats that taste delicious in a sammich.
Sugar. All of it that isn't in a fruit, pretty much.
Gluten. This includes almost everything processed or packaged as well as every single baked good you ever loved.
Tomatoes. Oh my god, guys. Shit just got REAL.
Potatoes. WHAT?
Soy products. All this excitement and I can't even eat tofu? Seriously? Are you going to take rice away from me, too?
RICE. But only white rice, which leaves me wild and brown rice, which I like but my husband won't touch with a stick. But hey, at least I can have rice cakes with peanut butter, right?
PEANUTS and SUNFLOWER SEEDS.
And then I look at some other source and they are saying the exact opposite of everything that the first source said and then... Okay, you know what? Go to hell, anti-inflammatory diet.

But, I am trying to cut back on some of the gluten in my life. I can do that. Right now I am saying that I am "watching" my gluten intake. For example, yesterday I "watched" myself eat half a box of shortbread cookies and a significant amount of pizza.
*Sigh*
So, my goal is not to worry too much about every single forbidden thing, and not to eliminate gluten from my life entirely but to at least take it down a notch and see what happens. I know I am doing it wrong. But, look. I can substitute a rice cake for toast. No problem. But I CAN'T substitute a rice cake for a doughnut, you know? That can pretty much go to hell.