A carnival of technology

I was excused from my opportunity to participate in real-life Law & Order on account of my foot, which was ruled by Judge Bensonetta Tipton Lane to be a hardship. I still had to sit around for a while beforehand, though. After a short respite from throbbing, my heel has started aching recently, so I kind of wish I’d brought the painkillers.

I found no evidence to contradict my hypothesis that everyone comes in a standby juror. I woke up early in the morning and, groggy from my now worsened Sunday night insomnia, barreled down the highway through surprisingly light traffic and arrived at the courthouse about 45 minutes early. I may have been able to call up the office of the Jury Clerk to get a deferment, but maybe not. There are three valid excuses that can get you removed from the jury pool—permanent disability, old as dirt or not living in the county anymore—and several temporary deferment excuses like being a full time student or a home school teacher, but illness or injury is not listed as a valid excuse. I guess that kind of thing is ultimately up to the judge. I parked in the Turner Field parking lot (go Braves I guess) and rode the free shuttle to the courthouse. I hobbled through the metal detector on crutches, after which I was wanded, and my crutches were passed back through the x-ray machine. They did not contain a bomb.

Jury duty mostly involves sitting in a big room on the seventh floor of the courthouse. There were two groups waiting for something to happen: the red sticker state court jurors and the white sticker county superior court jurors, the latter of which I was in. We watched a thrilling orientation video in which unpaid actors explained the importance of jury duty and the things to expect, we swore to tell the truth and be good jurors or something like that, and then we waited. Someone from the AJC was there selling papers. I didn’t get a chance to check the magazine rack, but I’ve been told that the library is hilariously old. I got through three or four chapters of For Whom the Bell Tolls before my name came up.

Even though I was a standby juror, I got called pretty early. I became juror 28 in the second panel to be selected, which turned out to be for a murder trial. Exciting! 60 or so of us made our slow way down to the first floor using the only elevator of 6 that was actually working, waited some more, got briefed by the bailiff, waited some more, stood around while the bailiff handed out numbered paddles used to speed up the initial question and answer sessions, filed into the courtroom, swore something again, and then the selection got underway. Juror 6 was a defense attorney, which made things a little odd. Everyone in the courthouse recognized him and was surprised that he got stuck with jury duty. He realized that he had little chance of being picked in a criminal trial but seemed nervous before we went into the courtroom that it would end up being a civil case.

I don’t know any of the details of the case beyond the indictment that was read to us. There were four charges on the indictment, all of which basically said that the grand jury thinks this dude killed some other dude. The defendant (he looked like a nice enough guy), two lawyers and an aide sat on our left, and an assistant DA and an aide for the state sat on the right. The judge started asking a bunch of questions, then the prosecution asked some more questions, followed by the defense asking some other questions. The questions, besides some seemingly general ones about whether we could be fair and impartial in a murder trial and whether we hate cops, seemed to concentrate a lot on opinions regarding guns. After a while of the group questioning the judge picked twelve of us to move from the general seating area to the jury box for individual questioning. I ended up in the first group there, probably because I declared that I had a hardship that would prevent me from sitting in the jury box for whatever interval the judge said. Specifically, my foot freaking hurt.

Once the questioning got past the people unable to explain their opinions on guns or reasons for being unable to pass judgment fairly, the judge just asked me if my foot hurt, I answered in the affirmative, and the lawyers, at the judge’s suggestion, motioned to give me the boot forthwith. While hopping my way out I heard the judge comment to the next juror that her hardship probably wasn’t as impressive as mine, so I win. Woo! Jury per diem apparently went up by five bucks since Mike served, so in a couple of weeks I’ll have $25 that I have to give back if my company finds out or remembers. Woo?

If you can read this, I’ve moved the website to Site5. I’m kind of bad at running my own server, so it makes sense to pay someone else to do it instead. I went with Site5 mainly because David Cantrell uses it, and I figure we probably have similar demands. They’re pretty cheap and they give me a shell account with enough power that I don’t need to call support when I want something installed, so it seems like a pretty sweet deal.

I only moved the web site and email to Site5, so if you were one of the couple of people who used any of the other services, you’ll need to point yourself to fiona.gophernet.org instead.

I’m a little paranoid about email. I haven’t had email not pointed at a local machine in ages, and it may take me some time to get used to this whole client/server thing. Also, I don’t know if it’s configured correctly, so everything may be disappearing into the Internet’s cold abyss for all I know. But it least it won’t break because I tripped over a cord or the apartment got too hot during the day or anything like that.

I don’t want to turn this into some sort of creepy dream blog, but I have been dreaming vividly lately. Maybe it’s the pain, or the pain meds. One curious theme has been walking. I’ve had dreams where I am aware of my cast, but I walk on both feet. Sometime it works and sometimes I collapse when I try to use my right foot.

I experience myoclonic twitches when falling asleep. I don’t know how common this is, but it has a name and I don’t think it’s considered a disease, so it’s probably not too bad. I also sneeze when I look at the sun and shiver when I pee. The twitches basically mean that my body sometimes mistakes falling asleep for dying, and it decides to give me a kick so that I stop it. Usually this manifests itself as twitchy legs as I fade into unconsciousness, but once in a fortunately rare while, while navigating that limbo between the worlds, I’ll begin to have something akin to a dream while still not really asleep, maybe a sort of elaborate hallucination, and then suddenly I’ll wake up with a feeling like an electric shock. Internet suggests that this might be a form of seizure, and it kind of sucks. Usually this and the twitches only happen when I try to sleep in the middle of the day.

I’ve been noticing the twitches a lot more recently. One of my feet is in a cast, so having a twitching leg rattling around inside it is enough to wake me up. So far I haven’t felt any pain in my heel as a result of this—usually only my toes hurt from trying to curl their way out of the cast or something—but I do wonder if I’m doing any damage.

My walking dreams got me thinking about sleep walking. I know I’ve done it before, long ago, but I don’t have anyone around now to let me know if I’m still doing it. I’m aware in dreams that there’s something wrong with my foot but never use the crutches. Would sleep walking be the same?

In other news, Kat has a website now where she has her art and stuff, so you might want to check that out.

Hawaiian Tropic sent me this email on the 10th:

Thank you for your email. Our Ozone SPF 70 Sunblock is currently offered in a 4oz size only. The formula is very costly and to package it in a larger size it would be too costly for the consumer. Ozone SPF 70 is the highest SPF that is sold in the US at this time. Unfortunately, we do not have a directory of where our products are located in your area. Generally, we recommend trying Wal-Mart, K-Mart, Target and your local grocery and drugstores. If you are unsuccessful in those places, you can always order it directly from us either off of our website in the surf shop area or by phone. You can reach us at 1-800-874-4844 ext. 2189 Monday through Thursday between 9a.m.-4p.m. Eastern Standard Time.

Thank you for your email. We are sorry to hear you are dissatisfied with Hawaiian Tropic Ozone 60+. The formula was just recently changed; therefore it is possible that you might pick up the old formula. Please return the product for testing in our lab. A packet will be mailed right away which will include a postage paid mailer for your convenience in returning the product, a brief questionnaire, and a form from which you may choose a replacement product. We will proceed with investigation of your complaint promptly upon receipt of the product and information. Again, we are sorry you are dissatisfied and await your response.

I kind of doubt that their lab tests are going to find the presence of burny skin feeling chemical, but at least I get a free bottle of something else out of the deal.

I suppose I owe y’all an update on my foot. I had a CT scan done on Thursday to get a picture of just how messed up things are and where everything is. It was a fairly quick procedure; I just lied down on a table, aligned myself to fit the laser sight thingy, and the technician hit a few buttons to send the table into the big ring of medical scanning. I didn’t take any contrast junk, so the whole process took about five or ten minutes. My only worry was that, since I was pushed pretty close to the edge of the narrow table in order to get my foot into the middle, that I might fall asleep and fall off. Today I went back to Dr. Newfield to have the films read.

I won’t be having surgery, at least not yet. The doc’s main worry was that the fracture pushed up into one of the ankle joints, which it didn’t. The main problem instead is that my heel is basically going to grow back on the side of my foot. It’s pretty well messed up. Surgery can’t do a whole lot at this point since it broke into so many little pieces. I won’t lose any range of motion, but I may have some pain afterward due to the big piece of bone growing in all cockeyed. The doctor said my best route is to let it grow back like that, and if it hurts, cut off the extra piece of bone. I’ll be in this cast for at least a month, maybe two, before I switch to something I can walk around in.

As far as getting around, my biggest problem right now is that my left foot, the one that isn’t broken into a million pieces, hurts like hell from having hopped around on it for all this time. I’m still taking the painkillers off and on, but now it’s for the “good” foot. I’ve started going back to work this week, but I think I’m going to start doing a lot more work from home instead.

State Farm took a statement of my memories of the incident on Friday, and they seem not to be fighting it. I faxed in the quote from the bicycle shop, and they’re supposed to cut me a check, so repairs on that should start soon. As for the medical insurance, I think that’s going to be a mess. My health insurance wants me to just bill everything to them through the usual channels for now, and they’ll pursue payments from State Farm, after which they’ll reimburse me for the copays and whatnot. I just got the bill from the ambulance company today, which hasn’t gone through insurance yet. Ambulance rides are kind of expensive. Apparently they also charge $8.50 per mile and another $46.20 for that IV tube I didn’t need. Or maybe it was $82.90 to mess up my arm. I’m not totally sure how this is broken down. At least the bruise from that is gone now.

Dear Hawaiian Tropic,

I sunburn fairly easily, so I wear sunscreen daily, usually SPF 45 or somewhere thereabout. A little while ago I happened to see one of your products, Ozone SPF 70, advertised at the end of a drugstore aisle, so I picked it up on a lark. I really liked it. I like the scent, it works well, and it seems to hold up reasonably well to sweat. However, I have two problems with the product: 1) it seems to cost about twice as much as other sunscreens, and 2) I can’t actually find any more. What I did find was Ozone Sport SPF 60+, which I thought would be the same or a very similar product. I also cost the same for an 8 oz bottle as 4 oz of the SPF 70, so I picked some up.

The SPF 60+ irritates my skin. My skin doesn’t turn red or break out or anything visible, but it creates an intense burning sensation, as if I rubbed hot peppers on myself instead of sunscreen. I’ve never had this happen before with sunscreen, so I found it both surprising and a cause for concern. Was this experience an anomaly, or are the different products in your Ozone line different enough that one could be soothing and effective and the other irritating? After the burning sensation stopped I didn’t get sunburned, so I suppose the SPF 60 is effective, but I don’t plan to use any more of it.

The SPF 60+ sunscreen came in an 8oz bottle with a 2oz travel bottle, has a UPC of 075486047504 and a batch number of 5033E.

If anyone has some good sunscreen recommendations, I’m all ears. I find it kind of funny that a company with “Hawaiian” in the name is based out of Florida.

In other news, I had my foot scanned today. I go back to the bone doctor on Tuesday to see how it looks. The driver’s insurance agent was supposed to call me and hasn’t, so I’m going to call State Farm tomorrow. I contacted my health insurance company, and the way they want to do things is just let everything play out first with them getting the bills followed by collecting those payments back from State Farm along with my copays and whatever, which they claim they will reimburse to me. The customer service agent didn’t care to take the insurance info. After my last hospital visit I received a form in the mail asking about liabilities and police reports and whatnot, so I guess I just need to wait for that. As for the bike, I hope Roswell Bikes doesn’t mind hanging on to it for a little bit longer.

I swear every other person in Atlanta must be a personal injury lawyer. This place is nuts.

So I’ve been watching a lot of daytime television. I noticed on Sunday evening that a couple of toes were the color of a grape juice stain, so I called up the hospital’s help line and they told me to come in. Turns out they were serious about that whole foot elevation thing. I wasn’t doing enough of it, so my foot swole up nice and big. I got a new, larger, looser splint, and I spent nearly all of Monday on the couch with a new stack of things to keep my foot up high. It reminded a little of the time I had chicken pox, except this time I wasn’t delirious with a fever, and I don’t have cable so I was watching those People’s Court shows instead of a Columbo marathon. Every daytime television commercial is for a lawyer. All of them. If Tide and Febreeze and whoever else wants to get their names out there into the minds of daytime television watchers, they’d be better off buying product placement spots in lawyer commercials. I guess the half of Atlanta that doesn’t spend its time lawyering is mostly out there getting injured.

Ken Nugent, who may not be able to get my $140,000 but does work with doctors and nurses and some crap, was, as always, my favorite. He looks very unlawyerish, as if Chevy Chase gained a few pounds, picked up a little bit of a Georgia accent, put on a suit and started doing law stuff. Gary Martin Hays & Associates, whose angry suited guy looks much more imposing on the refrigerator magnets, was also well represented, and I don’t remember any of the others. I think someone may have tried to sell me carpet or windows or something in between these volleys, but I’m sure it was a mistake.

That was yesterday. Today was police station and the bone doctor. While waiting for my copy of the police report at the station, I happened to be sitting next to a lawyer who was there to help his paralegal with an identity theft problem. He noticed my splint and started commenting on that and how he just recently had a similar case. Apparently he used to work for an insurance company and decided to switch sides. I got some free advice and his number, which I may need, but that comes later.

The bone doctor visit went as well as that sort of thing can go. I have a cast, and there’s a good chance that it’s all I need. There’s also a chance that it’s not, so I get to have a CT scan done in the next few days to find out if I need a screw in my heel. Apparently my heel has some more pieces down there now than there should be, and one of those pieces is attached to that big tendon, which could be troublesome. Other than that I just need to keep it elevated for the next week or so, and the cast maybe comes off in another six weeks.

Since I have the police report now, I went ahead and started calling about insurance claims and that sort of thing. Lawyerin’ Doug cautioned me that one out of every 3.5 drivers (damn those half drivers) uses State Farm, and that State Farm can be some real dicks when it comes to paying claims. Sure enough, it’s State Farm (do I get special treatment for being a policy holder? They’re paying for the bike either way), and, on top of that, Driver 1 is disputing his liability with State Farm. Pedestrian 2 is angry. The problem seems to be that Driver 1 doesn’t agree that I was coming at him straight on, and the witness at the scene is not on the police report. In fact, this report kind of blows. I have no idea how this dispute process works. I figure I’ll give lawyerin’ Doug a call next week if things are still at a standstill.

I dropped the bicycle off at the shop today, and they gave me an estimate for repairs. The rear wheel is all busted up, and that particular brand can only be bought as a set. The crank is messed up, I’ll need a new bottom bracket to fit the new crank, and the rear rack is bent.

Total estimate: $578.

My busted foot is still the center of my attention, so I’m going to write about that some more.

Dr. Funk (who, strangely, does not suggest I move my body to the beat) apparently got bored Thursday night and took another look at the x-ray films. He called me up at 8am to let me know that my heel is screwed up, so I really ought to follow up with that orthopedic clinic. I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep on Thursday night. I’ve been sleeping on the couch so that I can raise my leg up and let it hang off the end, which is a lot less painful than lying in a bed regardless of the various leg-raising apparatuses I tried to jury-rig together. My couch isn’t terribly comfortable, but it’s at least familiar. This is that old couch with the sort of mesoamerican psychedelic pattern, and it’s been around since I was about twelve. I’ve slept on it before, but I’d still like to be in a bed.

I’ve found that I am able to drive, but I’d rather not. I can move the gas pedal without any trouble, but I have to get my left foot in on the action in order to brake. I guess this automatic transmission really is working out for the best. I picked up my hard drive from UPS and filled my Lortab prescription, as well as picking up some ibuprofen to fill the recommendation for an OTC antiinflammatory. I’ve taken Lortab, a mix of a little hydrocodone and a lot of acetaminophen, before, and generally it doesn’t do a thing for me. It’s supposed to knock you out I guess? I remember one experience back towards the end of high school or maybe the start of college when I had a really nasty cough, and Dr. Irle reached into his magic bag of free samples and handed me a pile of tiny bottles of hyrdocodone cough syrup. That stuff left me feeling completely cracked out when I took it. It did take care of the cough, though. This time around I don’t know if it’s the extra pain killers I’m taking or what, but I took some pills, lay down on the couch and quickly fell asleep. Whichever pill is doing the work is helping a lot, so yay.

I still don’t have an appointment with the orthopedist. The first time I called, I was put on hold and hung up on after ten minutes of an annoying information loop and smoove jazz. The second time, I got through to someone, and she started giving me some crap about my insurance. I repeated everything on the card two or three times and, exhausted, I mentioned that my insurance wouldn’t be the ultimate payer for this, at which point she transferred me to someone else who wasn’t there. This wouldn’t be a problem in Canada. I still don’t even have the information from the guy who ran me over. I called the police department and was told the report wouldn’t be ready until Tuesday or so.

I spent most of yesterday on the couch. I have a couple of movies that need to go back to Blockbuster tomorrow, so I’ve been watching them regardless of whether they’re appropriate for the situation. At least Vertigo isn’t as bad as Rear Window. I’ve got things set up in the bathroom with a folding chair so I can shower and shave without too much trouble, but I really dread trying to clean up my kitchen so I can do some cooking. After finishing my leftovers, I ordered a pizza last night, instead. I think I’ll try doing some grocery shopping later today if for nothing else than to pick up some milk to do a body good. Maybe I’ll try one of those hoveround carts. And then I’ll visit the grand canyon.

These crutches (or rather, all crutches) suck. I’ve worn a couple of spots raw on my wrists where they rub against the metal bits (I think I’ll start wearing my bike gloves), and holy crap are my arms sore this morning. Also, it’s impossible to carry anything with the crutches, so I’ve been doing a lot of one-legged hopping around the apartment. I do not understand the crutch height indicators. They seem about the right height, but the hole that the legs are adjusted out to (the tallest one) is marked with “Approximate patient height: 5?9?” I’m a little taller than 5?9?. I keep thinking that a wheelchair would be nice, but maybe the crutches will help me finally build up some upper body strength (bike doesn’t do much for that), and besides, it’s hard enough getting up the stairs to my apartment as it is.

I got hit by a car.

Ok, that’s out of the way. Friends and family, please calm down. I am not seriously injured, and I will attempt to answer the questions now burning in your minds forthwith.

As you can probably understand, I generally try to stay off of Roswell Road, but sometimes it’s just so damned convenient that the temptation is too great. I don’t think it’s a bad road in the right frame of mind. Those freaking drainage grates are some serious hazards, but I can keep up with most traffic when traveling south from north of 285, so I have no qualms about taking it in light traffic and riding in the middle of the lane. I learned my expensive lesson, and I don’t mess with those grates. Those things are bad news.

So I was riding home tonight, and I took Roswell Road. It was late and dark, so I thought this the best decision. My alternate route, winding around through Sandy Spring Circle and that terrifying downhill run on super-narrow Lake Forrest or whatever it’s called, besides being longer, I thought would be more dangerous in these conditions; it’s poorly lit and has that longish stretch down a crowded two-lane road. Roswell Road has lots of light and lots of lanes, so I take that, I get home quickly, I don’t get run over and everything’s copacetic. That was the plan. I actually had a bad experience on Mount Vernon earlier in the same ride—some douchebag in a gray Suburban tried the old pass-and-turn-right trick on top of me, and that used up all of my swearing. Wide Roswell Road looked pretty appealing.

I was cruising along Roswell Road around Hammond when some prick in a BMW (I don’t actually know if he’s a prick, but he does drive a BMW and he did hit me) turned into the Whole Foods parking lot. That’s great and all—Whole Foods isn’t really my thing as I’ve mentioned before, but if that’s what you like then go for it, man—but he apparently didn’t look very hard, or else he would have seen my headlight coming along down the road. Seriously dude, I was wearing a safety orange shirt, riding along a well lit stretch of road and had a big white light on my front. I understand that I should view every event as my fault in the interests of my own survival, but I’m not sure how I could have handled this one better other than having an intense distrust of any cars in the turn lane. I thought he had stopped, so I didn’t have time to brake when it became clear that he hadn’t, and dude hit my rear wheel. I went tumbling out into the road, hit quite gracefully (no scrapes!), and, still moving with my downhill momentum, rolled over (breaking that stupid blinking light on my belt) onto the sidewalk. This was where I found that I couldn’t walk.

The BMW pulled into the parking lot and got out of his car, and two people nearby also stopped to help. One was a man dressed in a suit who looked kind of lawyerish. I thought maybe he was an ambulance chaser or something just based on his clothes, but he didn’t offer me a business card or anything, so I suppose not. Maybe he just likes to dress fancy. The other part in this scene was played by a nice young woman who asked all the questions you’re supposed to ask when you find someone lying in the road and offered me a cigarette. Mr. Fancy Pants called 911, Ms. Nice Lady tried to comfort me and ensure I wasn’t in any immediate danger, and I was fuming and cursing and discovering, as well as demonstrating, that I couldn’t put any weight on my right foot. The car came at me from the left side, so I guess I messed up my foot on the way down. I’ve been keeping the clip on that foot (my non-chocolate foot) tighter lately, so I probably gave it a good twist. Meanwhile, Mr. Prick got me an ice pack and tried to figure out what was going on. I don’t know why he had ice and ziplocks with him. He was dressed like he just came from the gym.

911 was slow to answer, but the police were very quick to respond. Yay incorporation? Senior Officer Joseph Simone arrived at the scene, took everyone’s information (Ms. Cigarettes was not a witness to the event, but Mr. Fancy Pants was and seemed delighted to repeat that I was keeping up with traffic), and very kindly waited with my bike while I went to the hospital in an ambulance and Sean (thanks again, Sean) came to pick it up. I hope he didn’t have to wait too long. I think I’ll get him some kind of gift card after I regain some more mobility.

The experience with the paramedics was a little bit weird. An ambulance showed up at about the same as the Sandy Springs Fire & Rescue truck, and the EMTs shooed the first responders away after I answered a couple of questions and made it clear that I wasn’t about to die. Things were pretty casual after that. One EMT wanted some kind of splint with a foot piece, but the other EMT said they didn’t have any like that, so they mangled something together with a piece of a foam-coated cardboard and a couple of ace bandages. It was up to me to awkwardly scrabble my way on and off of stretchers while someone held up my bum leg. I think one of the guys was a trainee. Portly experienced EMT dude stuck an IV thingy into me (after complimenting my nice veins) in case the hospital wanted to inject me with something (they didn’t), and trainee dude tried to insert the catheter. He didn’t do a very good job, so portly guy finished it up and gave trainee a lecture on catheters on the ride to the hospital. I was asked which hospital I wanted to go to. There were no sirens or flashing lights, we obeyed all of the traffic laws, and I was pushed into Northside as a casual code 3.

After signing my name to three four different forms (sorting out the insurance on this one is going to suck), I got x-rayed, waited around and wondered about what parts of the pain scale my foot was passing through, and eventually got examined by some doctor who poked me and prodded me and listened to my heart and did all of those doctory things. He started out the conversation by asking if I’d had any trouble with that foot before, which I thought was a bad sign. Turns out I broke my ankle. Maybe. A little bit. Doc wasn’t super-sure, but it looked like some kind of fracture and I have a splint and crutches just in case along with a scrip for some Vicodin which, if it’s the same stuff they gave me in the hospital, isn’t going to do a damn thing. I’m supposed to see an Orthopedist to get this all sorted out. My foot still hurts like hell, mostly around the heel, and crutches really suck. I have no idea how I’m going to get around anywhere.

Mobility is going to be hard. I’m taking off work tomorrow since I can’t drive very well or sit down for a long time (this entry is being written in multiple sittings, honest injun). I tried driving down to the mailboxes, but that didn’t go very well. It may have been because I had the parking brake on. I need to go the UPS center tomorrow to pick up a package before they send it back. This one is my external Seagate hard drive that decided to fail about three months into its five-year warranty, and I waited until now because I bought some new shaving supplies again (an alum block and some Proraso cream, which is super-nice), but UPS left those latter two at my door instead of leaving more notices. I might just call a cab. I hope I can get some sleep.