Groundhog Broken Foot


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I’m in a funk. A foot funk! I feel like a Groundhog that didn’t see the level change in the cement so now I get six more weeks of boot.

If you heard about this, you thought the foot story was done. Well, sort of; we’re about a third done. As of yesterday, since it is officially now confirmed I have the number one missed fracture by urgent care, allow me to use this as a teaching experience.



DIAGNOSIS: broken. Lisfranc fracture.

SOLUTION: surgery.


The fact that this is a common sports injury still baffles me that it is also the most commonly missed. Or, if you know you have a fracture you keep missing, why doesn’t urgent care start thinking of this to get better at recognizing it?

Here ye! Here ye! IF the top and under your foot is bruised and sensitive in the middle, IF your toes are bruised purple, IF your foot seems to have widened, and IF – you cannot go up on tip-toe, you might have a lisfranc fracture. If I had known this existed, I would have fought a little harder.

I knew something was wrong. It didn’t hurt like rolling an ankle or spraining your foot. Trust me, I’ve done both. Unfortunately, in the fall for the past nine years every three years, I fart up my feet. At first I thought it was a grad school thing, but unless the dissertation channels the same energy waves, two in the PhD program is a new record! (Although… must power stronger waves. I’ve never had an actual break before!)

The other weird part about all of this is that I had to warning signs with the doctor and the technician. First, at urgent care, the doctor came in and said “this looks like an old fracture” and pointed to what now seems like my now permanent foot lump. At the time I was too tired and in too much pain to argue. They also gave the justification that if you’ve rolled your ankle, it can create similar looking x-rays. That I’ve done. Old fracture I haven’t.  The other warning was when I went to my PCP five and a half weeks later because I needed a referral  to a podiatrist because something was still wrong, when they ordered the x-rays, I pointed to the spot on my foot and said it looked like the bone was crushed. But the actual foot part of the bone looked fine – from that angle, so no: second time doctor and radiologist said it’s just really sprained. Another round of trying anti-inflammatories for a week. And then it took another two weeks to process the referral to the specialist.

The lack of diagnosis is because a lisfranc fracture can only be diagnosed with a weight bearing x-ray. Which no one did. Forcing weight on an injury isn’t really people’s style I’m guessing. But now that I know this exists! Basically your foot cracks down the line of your big toe, thus causing your foot to widen. It’s kind of cool to realize that’s even possible. If you know lisfranc exists!


At first I was told two weeks. Then I was told three days. Either way, I way missed the magic window for surgery to fix this right and fast. We will now do six weeks of boot, and then start weaning out of it. Therefore, I’m in a groundhog funk. Probably because as if I wasn’t having the time of my life with the boot, but now I get to go to NYC, Iceland, and the Blue Lagoon, all with a freaking foot boot!

So, what I’ve learned from all of this: sometimes, you need to be a little louder complaining. Two doctors and two radiologists said it wasn’t broken. I had been saying since day one it was. Sometimes you actually do know your body better than anyone else. And Doctors, including PhDs, aren’t gods. We’re human. Error is possible and ship happens. But don’t be passive. Whatever you do, stop being passive.


Brother of Mine


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I’m currently amazed by the people we meet as adults. And the things we get to witness when we branch out from what we’ve always known.

There’s this guy that used to work with my husband. He was let go about a year ago now. And while, as with most things, we disagree with how the situation was handled by corporate, we also understand the business logic and wish he could have held it together a little longer to keep his job. Or at least leave on his own terms so that he might not be stuck in what appears to be an unhireable situation.

He’s still invited to all our friend events. At our wedding, we insisted on a photo with my husband’s work and the guy politely stepped aside and said he wasn’t part of them. I insisted that that’s how we know him, he sat at that work’s claimed table, and to get over here, he was going to be part of the picture!

A few weeks ago we were at a birthday party and the waitress put his tab on someone else’s bill. It was completely by accident, and we all kind of saw the receiver of the large receipt’s face that he wasn’t happy about it, but he paid it without question. He hadn’t had much sleep, so maybe that was a factor? But the point is they both were not happy about it; but one paid it forward and the other was grateful.

Tonight we were all out for a bittersweet celebration. When the bills started coming around, he asked for his bill, another friend pipped up and said it was taken care of. Once again the guy wasn’t happy, and the other guy said, “No. Thank you for all the help with my wife’s party.” (The event a few weeks ago.)

Later my husband heard the guy say, “He can be mad right now. I’d rather him be mad now, but if I help, he can still come out with us.” I guess it’s weird for me having grown up without my own social group, but watching my sister’s stab each other in the back. I never wanted that, therefore I never wanted a social group. Here I sit watching such good friends, from such different parts of the world, and at different points in life, yet they all have each others backs. And it just truly amazes me! It’s so rare that you get to see a community in action. I was joking earlier that my social identity now runs through my husband’s friends. But you know what, I’m okay with that. I can’t meet a better group of people. And tonight, I’ve never been happier to be completely surrounded by the most loving nerds.

nerd glasses



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How does such a crazy day start with just such a familiar name on a Cole bottle?

At first, I just thought it was strange. How a 19 year old cat who followed me forever was suddenly gone and I was thinking of her. Then I was just irritated with myself for being sappy. And then I thought about Vtine, another kitten we lost, and how hard it is to not know. And to keep hoping someday she’ll show up to be reunited with us and her litter mate brother!

But the weirdest part of an Emily Coke bottle is when you realize you decided to check an Emily’s Facebook profile hours after finishing the coke. We’re not good friends. She’s actually the daughter of one of my mom’s best friends and I don’t go to her page that often. But last night I did, and it turned out her brother had just passed away.

I never met him. But D, we will miss you. Thank you for bringing my mom back to talking to me. Even if that did open a whole other can of worms I have yet to talk about.

Friday Finale: The Return of the Ghost Voicemail


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We conclude this working Friday with the return of my own personal Casper the Friendly Voicemail Ghost. Complete with red light, text notice, and blinking voicemail icon.


Now Casper has been with me at work for almost a month now. He randomly showed up right after I switched groups and likes to make an appearance whenever he thinks I’m not paying enough attention to the family pictures in the corner by the phone. The
Help Desk said they have seen this issue one time before and the only solution at the time was to give the guy a brand new extension. They have since learned more about the network and databases and are trying to track down who calls and activates Casper’s appearance. Here’s the kicker though: the one thing new I did receive when starting at the company was a brand new extension. So while they could give me another new one, I kind of wonder if it’s my amazing abilities to attract flat out crazy electronics and if Casper will just live with me as a cube mate and that’s the way it’s going to be.

I’m okay with that. I’ll keep him around to remind me to look at the pictures. And as a subtle reminder to calm the perfectionist in me. You can’t always fix everything.

I Hate Shoes! & Why the Blog Will Be Revived


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A month and a week ago I reentered the work force. Due to the increasing amount of crazy things that come out of my mouth as I reenter this world, and funny stories I’m accumulating, 1capital2another will resurrect!

Some context: I’m still a PhD Candidate in Michigan. My July defense was postponed until Fall. I should be working on my dissertation as I type this instead.

Also, once you hit 4th year, you loose priority for funding for the program. So, I set off to find a way to pay the bills! Exciting adult-life-type stuff. And I found several companies willing to hire me for my previous work experience in data warehousing. I had also decided that I wasn’t ready to be a professor and wanted to go back to industry for a while. I got everything I wanted, and after a month, I realized I still don’t know that I want it. So part of the blog revival is a sounding board for me to figure things out.

Now, let’s talk about shoes. I never knew there were so many evil shoes for females until this job! And I’m talking flats! Talk about ankle bitters. I refuse to admit or try the girl trick of just living with blisters until your heels callus up and deal. So far, my favorites are a pair of zip up boots, which therefore have nothing to rub on my heel, but have a heel to the shoe which is a whole other level of irritating for an 8 hour shift, and my $6 H&M slippers. There should be more cheap slippers in the world.

Because The World Needs More Body Issues


This kind of stuff makes me so mad. It’s not enough that media and thus society wants everyone to be thin, and repeatedly tells us so. Now, here is the ultimate solution: if you can’t reach a certain size, you can now pretend to with a dress designed onto another dress!
We were shopping for a dress to wear to a company holiday party and I was told this was cute. My response? No way in hell. Whoever thought that up cannot have my money and I will not help promote them by wearing it. The End.

To Invite or Not To Invite: Conundrums In An Alcoholic Family

I have never felt the holidays were something to be upset about. Especially Christmas – this was always my holiday!

However, I’m engaged this Christmas! And that part of my life could not be happier and more exciting. It’s the rest of the drama it brings with my personal life that could not be more annoying on MY holiday.

This will be the second Christmas I have spent with his family; the third I have not gone home to be with my alcoholic mother. As an added bonus to the maddness’ crazy head, a month ago I cashed in what little retirement I had to overnight it so that she would not be evicted. Now, aside from money not growing on trees, I’m a grad student, who found out before Thanksgiving that between two alcoholic disappearances from her and several strokes from my alcoholic father, my graduation will be delayed. And my funding runs out in May. To continue, each semester will cost exactly the amount I had to send to her apartment complex.

Last night I received a bogus email from mom telling me to have no regrets. This is the same email that estranged her from my sister years ago. I realize my response telling her to get help was probably wrong and fruitless, but every time I enlist her few friends for an intervention they don’t back me up. Who is supposed to keep trying to tell her she needs help then?

My alcoholic sister has been lying to me about her address for years. I know where she lives now, but I am not interested or looking forward to a battle to get her real address from her to send a wedding invitation.

So aside from the mom drama, what keeps me up at night is who to invite to the wedding. The friends I’ve talked to say just invite everyone; those with an excuse won’t come. But if they all do, it won’t be a pretty picture. I’m the one that asked dad to quit coming to birthday parties when we were little because he was so obnoxious to everyone inventing stories about my mom. But at the same time, during Thanksgiving meet-the-fiance introductions, it was dad and sister who showed up to dinner, no questions asked. Mom had to finally be told to be at an earlier lunch or I’m sorry we missed you and even then a friend had to final guilt trip her into showing up!

I keep trying to tell myself to make it through the holidays and then I can talk to other family about this. That this is not family holiday conversation. It’s just so maddening to live in a world where everyone makes up their own version-S of the truth. And also why I want a cash bar at the wedding so they can pay for their own substance abuse lol. I know the day won’t be perfect, but so far, it could be. I just can’t decide where I draw the line between damage control and letting people do as they will anyway.

Anywho, after a dispute about decorations and the decision to not have a tree this year, my fiance surprised me with a homecoming of the tree and stockings being put up! So for now, I’ll sit in front of my YouTube fire and hope the next few days go quickly. Merry Christmas everyone!


Dear Charlie


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Dear Charlie,

I know you think the world is hard. But I’m here to tell you: you haven’t seen anything yet.

Breaking up with your first boyfriend is part of life. You will be stronger for this. If he cries, quit worrying about what if: you will cry too. It will break your heart. But you will have learned more about yourself during this process than you ever could have imagined.

If you are lonesome, know I will always be here. And so will all of your cousins. He will have his dad nearby. If he is lonesome, he will be okay too.

If you are sad, look to the sky. You will remember the good days. And someday, you’ll realize this wasn’t so difficult. If he is sad, he will find joy in the grass, watching the pup you bought together. Do not fear; he is taken care of.

You haven’t seen anything yet.

The Emily Dream


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We’ve joked for a while now that Emily was the insane elder upstairs that we don’t talk about.

At almost 19, Emily exhibited signs of cat dementia. Actually, she had shown them for almost ten years, but I didn’t know it was a thing. Thanks to the Kitten and Cat Advice group on Facebook, this was pointed out to me.

So I had this dream that she was found, and the apartment complex/a doctor/vet’s office had UPSed her to California because I wasn’t home. I kept waiting for the UPS package to arrive to bring her back; my fiance and I had worked out a plan to keep her safe and well cared for. I woke up waiting for the package and thinking it was okay to keep snoozing because she was used to living in “rustic” conditions. (I kept waiting for her to arrive in wooden UPS box. She was found in a metal dumpster when she was little; not sure where I got the rustic idea.)

But, alas, I don’t get to return home to my friend of 19 years. After Thanksgiving in Texas, in which, yes, I did show Sam the infamous capital of Austin, although unfortunately not a lot of it this trip, he returned home to find her gone. Emily and I have been through everything together. From crazy parents, many moves, and first love heartaches, to the realization that my dad and sister were gone, a totally different kind of heartache. I texted her last night. I don’t really expect to hear back from her. I guess I was just looking for someone to tell that a final piece of childhood is gone.

Honestly, I can’t tell you why I’m writing this other than I was told it helps to get it out. No one wants to read a post about a dead cat. I can’t decide if I’m more mad that I was traveling again and wasn’t there for her or in disbelief: she was supposed to see me through all the degrees. One of the themes from Thanksgiving has been learning its okay to slow down and take my time with graduation. Do I take this as a sign now to be true? She got me all the way to All But Dissertation; now I can just let it be since she won’t be barking at me to get it done anyway. I guess.

Today’s objectives: first, try to figure out how to tell my bosses that the two papers that were already late have been derailed once again. Because growing up is so much fun. And second, make peace. I don’t want to spend the next two weeks hoping to come home to the UPS package.

Fly high Emily. Dance on all the roof tops with your bell and beauty!

Fly high Emily. Dance on all the roof tops with your bell and beauty!