The purpose of Sassistas!TM is to dole out sassy and stimulating perspectives on the weird and wonderful incongruities of life . . . or what we prefer to call our social soup. From the ridiculous to the sublime, from the stupid to the miraculous — we’re all swimming in it. Let’s make it easier to swallow.
"Age seldom arrives smoothly or quickly, said the novelist Jean Rhys, "It's more often a succession of jerks."
Yesterday, the dull pain that began last summer in Flannista's left knee was officially diagnosed as osteoarthritis. My femur and tibia are basically scraping each other. "You've lost the teflon there," said my orthopedist, pointing to a large white area on the right of the actual MRI of my left knee above. The MRI report indicates "moderate-to-large joint effusion"; a fancy schmancy way to say that's fluid or whatever -- I'm not sure.
I was given four treatment options: continue to do nothing and pop Aleve when the pain significantly inhibits movement; injections of cortisone; injections of Orthovisc, a "high molecular weight hyaluronan"; or knee replacement. I asked my orthopedist about physical therapy (which I resorted to when I was diagnosed with frozen shoulder 15 years ago) yoga, and other alternative treatments. He concurred that all were good options but would not stop the deterioration. My doctor recommended starting with a cortisone shot and then trying the Orthovisc injections -- "think of it as WD-40 exclusively for the knee", he said. According to its flyer, Orthovisc "can provide significant pain reduction for arthritis of the knee for up to six months, with only three weekly treatments."
Apparently, Orthovisc is quite expensive. My knee was injected with cortisone because I had to first confirm that my health insurance would cover Orthovisc. It does.
THE BAD NEWS: I can't exercise for at least 24 hours following an injection. More significantly, I need to scale WAY back on weight-bearing exercise such as walking and jogging. Also, my knee will likely need to be replaced at some point.
THE GOOD NEWS: Biking is GREAT for knee arthritis! That I couldn't bend my knee enough to bike was what got me to the orthopedist in the first place. As you know, I love, love, love to bike. Swimming is also good. Twenty years ago when I turned 40, I vowed to learn how to swim and did. Seasonal allergies made swimming laps difficult, but heck, I may dive in again, er, hit the pool again. Alas, I can't dive, but heck, maybe it's time to learn that, too.
And dare I say it? Should I take a clue from Montaigne who wrote: "There is nothing more remarkable in the life of Socrates than that he found time in his old age to learn to dance and play on instruments and thought it time well spent."
To be sure, I won't be break dancing (and it won't be a Cakewalk), but Mashed Potato here I come!
Last fall, a man named Richard Neill posted a rant on U.K. maxipad maker Bodyform's Facebook wall, calling out the brand for false advertising -- saying his girlfriend doesn't have happy periods like those depicted in the ads, but instead, becomes "the little girl from the exorcist with added venom and extra 360-degree head spin." Richard's post got more than 84,000 likes.
Rather than ignore Richard's post, Bodyform one-upped him with the video above.
The Sassistas! think this is brilliant marketing. What do you think?
Flannista doesn't want to disclose too many details in order to maintain Matissta's privacy, but yesterday she had an afternoon medical procedure as a follow-up to a possible "abnormalitiy" discovered late last Fall. What I thought would be a routine appointment/procedure, i.e. an hour long, ended up taking at least two hours. I was alone in the waiting room, listening to music on my iPod. I started out listening to the soundtrack from "Girl with a Pearl Earring", but as the minutes turned into another hour, I began to listen over and over to "At the Beach", the music accompanying an extraordinarily dire ending to the movie, "Take Shelter". Click here to listen to that music (it's actually very, very good). After about the tenth time of listening to that cut, I shut off the music and began to pace the waiting room, picking up one outdated magazine after another in order to beat back what I assumed was going to be bad news. Following apporximates what I was thinking.
The doctor is now telling Matissta that she must have surgery immediately in order to have six more months to live. They are calling around area hospitals to see which one and which doctor can do the surgery first thing tomorrow morning. She should have gotten that last will and testment done. I'm going to have to find a cattie sitter. Will need to get Huck to All Dog's Club. I wonder if Matiss will be out of the hospital by the time barista visits at Easter . . . oh good, barista . . . it will be good to have her around. I need to get some groceries . . . tell the rector what happened. Speaking of church, WTF, GOD! Hasn't Matissta's life been challenging enough? What is it, precisely, that you want?! I swear, it's never enough. I am so, so, so weary of life lately and the fact that when things get tough, you get going, like, AWAY! Oh, wait, I'm sorry. I always blame you, don't I? Honestly, I'm sorry. I take it all back. Tell me what I need to do. Tell you what, I'm going to try and be thankful at LEAST once a day, okay, God? And I'm going to stop bitching about the future and be thankful every single minute that I'm alive . . . but I simply REFUSE to become Pollyanna . . . oh, and I can't forget to mail Pachasista's birthday card . . . and yes, I am going to take a different approach to life from now on. I promise.
You know how this goes. While in the waiting room Sista C had been emailing me off and on. After the appointment, Matiss and I called her to let her know all was fine. I said to her, "You know that you've been waiting a long time in a doctor's office when you start bargaining with God." Sista C replied, "You made some hefty deals, did ya?"
Guess I did with this whole trying-to-be-thankful-at-least-once-a-day bargain. I read once that bargaining with God is pointless; that God already has a thousand followers that will do what you bargained to do for free.
Sigh. Still, I'd like to know if you've ever found yourself bargaining with God so I don't feel so small and petty.
Pictured above is what Matissta discovered when she walked into Flannista's home last evening to check up on the Catties. Apparently, Jem managed to move a 20-pound weight and open the doors to Flann's laundry room and attack a brand new, unopened bag of catfood.
I forwarded this photo to treesta who immediately sent me a photo she took of Jem the last time she was at my house and I wasn't there:
What advice do you have for the owner of a Super Cat?