plasticaznbot

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@erica-dreams-in-colour 

Ray-Ban Sunglasses

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Rough Day

I’ll get straight to the point, today was hard. My other wrist is starting to hurt with pain similar to my Kienbock’s wrist, but it also feels like it’s grinding and clicking. I’m really worried I have it in both hands now. I really don’t know what I’ll do if that’s the case. I go for my surgery follow up on Monday and I’m just going to beg them to do an MRI. I just have to know or I’ll drive…

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It’s Been One Week Since

They cut into me. And yes, I do hope that I’ve triggered some 90s nostalgia with that intro. The surgery is complete. They did the vascularized bone graft, shortened the capital and hamate carpals by wedging (sawing them in half and sawing a slice out of them) and screwing them back together. The cast is huuuuge! Literally the size of my calf right now. But luckily I am now on the road to…

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Getting Closer

I’m officially one week away from surgery. I met with my surgeon yesterday and while he didn’t give me the best news, it wasn’t awful either. I can expect to be immobile for at least 6 weeks following surgery. Then I will hopefully be put into an orthoplast (plastic) splint and can start to rebuild my strength and relearn how to use my hand again. He also said something particularly interesting;…

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Diagnosis

Hi Everyone! Some of you know me and some of you don’t. What you might not know is that on November 6th I was diagnosed with Kienbock’s disease, stage 3c.  Kienbock’s?  What’s that?  A new DJ?  Perhaps a new restaurant or one of those fancy hipster drinks?

Unfortunately, it isn’t any of those. Kienbock’s is a rare, incurable bone disorder where one of the bones in my wrist, the lunate, loses its blood supply and dies. And this one tiny bone causes quite a bit of trouble. You see, this bone supports the wrist and without it I’ve lost a lot of function in my hand. My range of motion is dramatically decreased, my grip strength is gone, and wheeeweee the pain! Kienbock’s does not mess around! So, what does this mean for me? A whole lot of doom and gloom and misfortune. Very dramatic, I know.

I’m having surgery on December 5th and from there I’m looking at 6+ months of recovery. The surgery I’m having is experimental; my doctor is going to clean out the necrotic tissue from my lunate, take a vascularized graft from my radius and insert it into the lunate, and shorten my capitate and hamate bones. If all goes well, my bone will re-vascularize and come back to life! Yay! If not, then I will have to get another surgery, a full wrist fusion, and bye bye to all my range of motion plus more recovery time. Boo!

So, what does this mean for me now? Well, since I’m going to be one handed and out of commission for a while to heal, I can no longer attend nursing school (cast/hurt hand = no clinical = no school), hopefully I’ll be able to re-enter once I am fully healed, but that’s up to the dean and to be honest it isn’t looking too positive for me due to the long break I’ll be taking. But, if that is the case and I’m capable of doing it, I plan on reapplying to different schools and still trying to make that dream happen. I also cannot work my current job and must take an unpaid leave of absence until healed (this isn’t covered by FMLA because I haven’t worked at the facility long enough).

It’s going to be a rough 2018.

I’m trying really hard to be optimistic though. I hope that the surgery will work and that this time next year my wrist will be as back to normal as it can be. I won’t lie, this is probably the hardest thing I’ve had to go through and I’m really nervous for what this means for the future. Being taken out of school and work takes away all of my financial means to get by and I don’t have someone to count on for that kind of support. I’m hoping that when my cast is off and/or the pain is tolerable and I can get hired somewhere doing light duty (this is not really available at my current job, it’s quite physical) or maybe find a work from home job, something. But again since everything is so unknown about the surgery, my surgeon couldn’t even give me a percentage on the likelihood of it working, I have no idea what my life will be like after December 5th. And I think the unknown of everything is the most worrisome and the hardest when combined with everything else happening.

I just really want things to be as bright and happy as they were before I was diagnosed instead of the bleakness I feel is overshadowing everything now. But even though I’ve had some days where I get really down and worried about everything, I try to always tell myself that somehow, someway things will work out. They have to.

I’ll be sure to keep updating as much as possible. And if you’re as confused about this disease as I was, leave your questions below and I’ll do my best to answer them!

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This is probably the best thing ever.  Why don’t we teach this to young boys? 

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dad nailed it

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Oh shut up. Every time it rains, it stops raining. Every time you hurt, you heal. After darkness, there is always light and you get reminded of this every morning but still you choose to believe that the night will last forever. Nothing lasts forever. Not the good or the bad. So you might as well smile while you’re here.

Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You (via wordsnquotes)

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Here’s a test:

I’m holding a baby in one hand and a petri dish holding a fetus in the other.

I’m going to drop one. You chose which.

If you really truly believe a fetus is the same thing as a baby, it should be impossible for you to decide. You should have to flip a coin, that’s how impossible the decision should be.

Shot in the dark, you saved the baby.

Because you’re aware there’s a difference.

Now admit it

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A silent protest in Love Park, downtown Philadelphia orchestrated by performance artists protesting the murder of Michael Brown in Ferguson. The onslaught of passerby’s  wanting to take photos with the statue exemplifies the disconnect in American society.  Simply frame out the dead body, and it doesn’t exist.  

Here are some observations by one of the artists involved in the event:

I don’t know who any of these folks are.

They were tourists I presume.

But I heard most of what everything they said. A few lines in particular stood out. There’s one guy not featured in the photos. His friends were trying to get him to join the picture but he couldn’t take his eyes off the body.

"Something about this doesn’t feel right. I’m going to sit this one out, guys." "Com’on man… he’s already dead."

(Laughs.)

There were a billion little quips I heard today. Some broke my heart. Some restored my faith in humanity. There was an older white couple who wanted to take a picture under the statue.

The older gentleman: “Why do they have to always have to shove their politics down our throats.” Older woman: “They’re black kids, honey. They don’t have anything better to do.”

One woman even stepped over the body to get her picture. But as luck would have it the wind blew the caution tape and it got tangle around her foot. She had to stop and take the tape off. She still took her photo.

There was a guy who yelled at us… “We need more dead like them. Yay for the white man!”

"One young guy just cried and then gave me a hug and said ‘thank you. It’s nice to know SOMEBODY sees me.’

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Last year, in total, British police officers actually fired their weapons three times. The number of people fatally shot was zero. In 2012 the figure was just one. Even after adjusting for the smaller size of Britain’s population, British citizens are around 100 times less likely to be shot by a police officer than Americans. Between 2010 and 2014 the police force of one small American city, Albuquerque in New Mexico, shot and killed 23 civilians; seven times more than the number of Brits killed by all of England and Wales’s 43 forces during the same period. The explanation for this gap is simple. In Britain, guns are rare. Only specialist firearms officers carry them; and criminals rarely have access to them. The last time a British police officer was killed by a firearm on duty was in 2012, in a brutal case in Manchester. The annual number of murders by shooting is typically less than 50. Police shootings are enormously controversial. The shooting of Mark Duggan, a known gangster, which in 2011 started riots across London, led to a fiercely debated inquest. Last month, a police officer was charged with murder over a shooting in 2005. The reputation of the Metropolitan Police’s armed officers is still barely recovering from the fatal shooting of Jean Charles de Menezes, an innocent Brazilian, in the wake of the 7/7 terrorist bombings in London. In America, by contrast, it is hardly surprising that cops resort to their weapons more frequently. In 2013, 30 cops were shot and killed—just a fraction of the 9,000 or so murders using guns that happen each year. Add to that a hyper-militarised police culture and a deep history of racial strife and you have the reason why so many civilians are shot by police officers. Unless America can either reduce its colossal gun ownership rates or fix its deep social problems, shootings of civilians by police—justified or not—seem sure to continue.

Armed police: Trigger happy | The Economist (via kenyatta)

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'Olay?' ‘Olay.’ The Fault In Our Sombreros.

Nacho average love story.

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Report it here as well http://www.missingkids.com/cybertipline/

This is important and needs to be stopped.

DO NOT look at the site, the images can be very triggering and are disturbing. You do not need to look at the site to report!!

hi can u please report the blog prettyteenies to abuse@tumblr.com and also to the FBI 1-800-843-5678 for child pornography i would not advise visiting the blog u will cry and/or have a panic attack but please can u report it like what the...

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The odds of being attacked by a shark in the US are 1 in 11,500,000, but no one gets mad at people who want to avoid the ocean.

The odds of a woman being sexually assaulted in her lifetime are 1 in 6, but if she doesn’t feel safe around strange men she’s a stereotyping bitch.

Strange old world we live in.

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When I was a student at Cambridge I remember an anthropology professor holding up a picture of a bone with 28 incisions carved in it. “This is often considered to be man’s first attempt at a calendar” she explained. She paused as we dutifully wrote this down. ‘My question to you is this – what man needs to mark 28 days? I would suggest to you that this is woman’s first attempt at a calendar.’ It was a moment that changed my life. In that second I stopped to question almost everything I had been taught about the past. How often had I overlooked women’s contributions?

Sandi Toksvig. (via loveeintheice, learninglog) (via cucumberoya) (via natalei) (via ausrotten) (via thegrandbudapestmotel6) (via vivianvivisection) (via maycontainfeminists) (via rumbox) (via ratat) (via hcockey) (via hiswordssplashedmewithstars)

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I know I’ve told this story before, but my abusive ex refused to let me take birth control. I was on the pill until he found them in my purse. I went to the Student Health Center—they were completely unhelpful, choosing to lecture me about the importance of safe sex (recommending condoms) instead of actually listening to my problem. Then I went to Planned Parenthood. The Nurse Practitioner took one look at my fading bruises and stopped the exam. She called in the doctor. The doctor came in and simply asked me: “Are you ready to leave him?” When I denied that I was being abused, she didn’t argue with me. She just asked me what I needed. I said I need a birth control method that my boyfriend couldn’t detect. She recommended a few options and we decided on Depo. When I told her that my boyfriend read my emails and listened to my phone messages and was known to follow me, she suggested to do the Depo injections at off hours when the clinic was normally closed. She made a note in my chart and instructed the front desk never to leave messages for me—instead, she programmed her personal cell phone number into my phone under the name “Nora”. She told me she would call me to schedule my appointments; she wouldn’t leave a message, but I should call her back when I was able to. And that was it. No judgment. No lecture. She walked me to the door and told me to call her day or night if I needed anything. That she lived 5 blocks from campus and would come get me. That I wasn’t alone. That she just wanted me to be safe. I never called her to come to my rescue. But I have no doubt that she would have come if I had called. She kept me on Depo for a year, giving me those monthly injections in secret, helping me prevent a desperately unwanted pregnancy. I cannot thank Planned Parenthood enough for the work they do.

Curious Georgiana

always reblog.

(via housewifeswag)