The Disabled Guy hates needles, another Textually Speaking...

I gotta say, these text convos are way easier to share now that I have a phone that does screen captures. I used to have to type them all up manually...

Anyway...

DG hates needles. Which makes the fact he has a monthly blood check even funnier to me. His fear of needles is so bad that he looks away when it happens in a movie. We all do that with some things- for me its anyone causing an injury to themselves. Especially a knee/foot injury, because I've had so many issues with my own that I KNOW how bad it really hurts.

Now, he doesn't faint with this fear of needles. He just can't watch the action. (I can, if they let me. And I'd photograph it, if they'd let me). His fear is that while they're jamming the needles into the flesh, that the needle will break off just under the skin and you'll die before they can stop it. Which is ridiculous and he knows how ridiculous it is- but, phobias make no sense.

This came up because a month ago, I had a steroid shot in my foot for a very long-term plantar faciitis issue. (also known as "bone spurs" and "Pain so bad it feels like a burning hot railroad spike is being hammered into my heel").
Here's a link to my blog about it- with pictures! Well, that shot didn't take. It started out okay, but within a week, I was back to the original level of pain. So yesterday, I had another appointment. My options were limited to: "Get another shot and hope for the best" or "get surgery".

Normally, I'd jump on that surgical bandwagon with the speed of the Flash. Anything to rid myself of this pain. However, one needs at least six weeks to recover (three weeks in a cast) and I don't have that kind of time. In about five weeks, I'm going to start my busy time. The funny thing is- I have about six weeks between all that and the opening of Bristol. But the problem is that I also have fibromyalgia and there is no way to predict how long a delay I'll get from that... but I digress... Today, I sent a text to DG and told him what the doctor told me while I had the needle in my foot.

What he's saying is that he walked into his room, saw a new message 

on his phone and was shocked and grossed out to read what I sent. 

Well, that escalated quickly- Textually Speaking.

You all remember that the Disabled Guy built a fancy treasure chest for my sea captains, right? If not, here's the link to that post. And you all know that I do that whole photography thing... And in that, I do a 365days self-portrait project. I'm on my fifth year. And this is today's 365 (Day 38). This is just a lighting trick. My flash is on a remote trigger, inside the box, and I used my camera's remote to take the photo... and the flash fires when the camera does- giving us this effect. (basically, there's a camera flash inside the box). But that's not important...

The important part is that I sent that photo in a text to DG and this is our subsequent conversation...

A new look... and something not about the Disabled Guy

I've been meaning to update this blog's template and overall look, but I've also been procrastinating myself into oblivion because changing things seemed too much like work. Last night, I was stuck awake with my fibro's idea of insomnia ("diet insomnia", if you will). I changed that one over and let me say, the interface has changed a lot since I first did this. It was easy. The hardest part was updating that banner image. The new photo of the Disabled Guy is from this photo I did for my dad- so it's from October of 2012.

Back when I first set up my blogs, I did the layout and colors in a way so my mom could read them. She preferred the darker background and lighter fonts, so that's how I did it. And, well... its been just over two years since she passed away, four months since we lost Dad.

I know this blog is for my conversations with the Disabled Guy, but I've been wanting to get this out for a few weeks now. I miss my parents every single day. Our lives are never going to be as good as they were when my parents were around. They were good people, good parents, and they are going to be missed by me till the day I die. My day-to-day life has been ripped apart.

But one thing I'm relieved about- and this came to me a few weeks ago- is that I'm glad my dad was active and living his life when he passed away. He went suddenly and he still had plans. But he didn't get sick and linger. Mom got sick and in the last year of her life, she hated "being a burden" to us. She wasn't a burden, but she felt like one. And she hated it. So, I'm glad my dad was able to keep doing what they wanted to do. He got home from a trip on that Saturday and he passed away on Monday- after winterizing his RV for the year.

Sorry to bring you down... if it helps, I was crying through those previous two paragraphs and probably missed some grammar mistakes.