Twizzle Knock

So, when I was a kid I did a lot of sleep walking.
A lot.
Doing and saying a lot of bizarre things.
As I got older I grew out of it.
Somewhat.

But when I am super tired, or sound asleep at the beginning of the night, I am entirely incoherent. If anyone tries to speak with me, get any info out of me, or try to hold any form of conversation with me, words that have nothing to do with each other or any subject come flying out of my mouth, eventually in a tirade, which is probably intended to mean " Hey you rotten kids quit bugging me and let me sleep!" But none of those words are actually strung together.

This causes no end of humour and practical joking on the part of my kids,
"Hey lets go ask mom something while she's asleep! Hahahahah!"

So in the nighttime last night, I awakened (apparently) and jotted myself a note, which, today
as I look at it, makes no sense what so ever.

The message reads: "twizzle knock".

Now to be fair, Twizzle is the cat.
Did she knock on the door?
Did she knock on wood?
Did she knock off the other cat and stuff her body in a trash can?
Who can say, who can know?

I go to work.

I come home.

There is the stupid note I wrote still on the counter.
I look at it again. WTH was I thinking?
("I am going kookoo", I tell myself.)

Oh well, time to make dinner.

I say to myself: "Oh, I should turn on some music while I make dinner. I will fire up my playlist on Grooveshark.com"

What?
Now what!
There's no friggin internet?
I can't cook dinner with no internet!

Now I realise that my note is not stupid.
I realise that in my nocturnal stupor, I managed, with what meager faculties I could engage, to scrape out of my sleep the only two words that would explain the dilemma to a future, awake Me:

"Twizzle knocked the modem off the book case in the middle of the night resulting in all the wires falling out and some body has to dig it out from behind the book cases, re-plug in all the crap and then re-boot."

And I used two words to 'splain all that?
I am not so kookoo as I thought.

Or maybe I am...

I love how...

...my kids love me when they want something, or when they need a shoulder to cry on or when they need a listening ear or a ready defender. But apparently on all the other days they are just too embarrassed to bring a friend home. Today for example. I bust my butt to make a nice bar B que for my kids. 1 goes to a bar b que some where else at the last minute, the other texts me that she is too embarrassed to bring her friend to our house for dinner.
Great.
What am I...?
Uh-huh.
Yeah.
Tell me that don't hurt.

Todays Game: Find the Pin

Must have dissolved over the years. Still, you can see the screws easily enough. (click on images to enlarge.)

You can see the screws holding together what I am told is the talus/sub-talus area of my ankle joint. And yes, the tech laughed at my stupidly high arches, which cause me no end of shoe shopping issues.

It may be something as simple as just opening the skin and removing the screws, as apparently the tech mentioned that sometimes they can work their way back out. He worked for a local Foot and Ankle Surgery clinic for 20 years before coming to the Radiology clinic so I like to think his shooting my Xray was providential.

Dry bones and stripped screws

Backstory: 22 years ago I suffered a crushed ankle (technically the talus/sub-talus bones). The Portland Winterhawks Hockey Team Doctor happened by the E.R. and said, "don't fuse it, I think I can save it."
So 3 screws and a pin later (and 6 months non weight bearing in a wheelchair), he was right. He projected that I would get another good 10 years out of it before needing a fusion. He was wrong. I've had a good 22 year run with it.

But now I can tell that the joint is bad, and it feels like the screws have stripped inside the bones. (You carpenters will have a good idea of what that might entail, but in bones not wood.)

So, the dilemma is tempting: it feels so GOOD to strap on that velcro protective boot that comes wtih orthopedic foot injuries. It relieves SO much (if not all of the pain.) The problem is, it's like being in a cast and so you lose muscle tone. The only muscle tone left that would allow you to remove the boot and remain walking.

Right now, I can tell that my gait is becoming more and more stunted, in order to guard the weak bones. Going up and down steps is a fascinating physical gyration that few but myself would recognize as being "off".

I am so tempted to strap on the boot and live in it...but such ongoing restriction only weakens whatever muscle tone remains.

What to do, what to do...

...and yet...
I long for the boot.