eruthros

I had a computer problem recently -- a recurring video GPU error, which meant a problem in the motherboard. Which, argh, but the computer is still under warranty, and I have at-home service. So a guy came over and replaced my motherboard (twice, long story involving service tags), and then there was a video display problem with lines on the screen indicating a connection problem with the last motherboard, so a different guy came over and replaced the LCD and the motherboard (again).

And, here is the thing: the second guy tried to convince me that there wasn't a problem after he replaced the LCD, because he didn't want to replace the motherboard. He didn't come out and say "oh, there isn't a problem," but he said things like "I don't see any lines" and "that's supposed to be there, it's part of the background texture," and "I don't think that will fix it, but I guuuuessss I could trrrrry," heaving a great sigh like this wasn't his job and he wasn't getting paid for it.

I find that sort of thing very difficult; it's hard for me to say, in the face of expert authority, "No. There is still a problem. Fix it." But I did, this time; I said "I still see lines." He said, "that's probably a screen resolution issue." I said, "No, this is the screen resolution I've always been set at, and there wasn't a problem until the most recent motherboard." He said, "It probably won't fix it." I said, "Try anyway." And finally he said, "okay, I'll put a new motherboard in."

Unsurprisingly, this fixed the problem.

***

I sometimes think about the way that people who are considered "experts," people who know more about the system than I am presumed to know, use social pressure and body language and leading questions to push me into denying my own experience.

And so my (white, male, expert) doctor says, "oh, that shouldn't hurt" casually, and I start to doubt myself: did it really hurt? Was it just uncomfortable? Or he says, "But you feel the pain when you're sitting down, too?" in an incredulous tone of voice, and I doubt myself: do I feel the pain when I sit down? Am I making too much of it?

I have joint and muscle pain. I have it pretty much all the time. My physical therapist is like, look, my goal is to get you down to maybe a two or a three on the scale of pain for general walking; we can't aim for no pain at all. And despite that, despite my lived experience, despite the fact that I am here in this body feeling this thing, seeing this thing, hearing my joints pop, I begin to wonder: Do I feel that? Is that pain there? Are those symptoms real? Am I complaining too much? (Hysterical, whining, weak, complaining, silly.)

And I don't think (most) doctors know how much they push people into denying their bodily experience. I don't think they're aware of the degree to which their prompting pushes people out of their bodies, makes them say: no, I don't see that. When my doctor says "and it's getting better?" I want to say yes; when my doctor says "but it's no big deal, right?" I want to say yes; when my doctor frowns when he pushes at my joints, looks dubious, looks skeptical, and then says "it's fine when I do this?" I want to say yes. Sometimes I do, sometimes I find myself saying "oh, yes" and "of course not" and "it's fine," and at the time I feel like it's fine, like it's normal, like it's no big deal -- and I feel that way because I have been pushed to ignore my body. I've believed what he's telling me, instead of believing what I feel. And I don't think most doctors know that they do it at all, let alone that they most often direct that kind of skepticism, that kind of attempt to get people to believe them instead of their own bodily experience, at women and people of color and queer folks and people with chronic pain. I don't think they know that when they say, oh, no, I'm sure you don't need stronger painkillers, and I say okay, that there is any sort of power dynamic there, that I am telling anything other than the truth -- that the truth I am telling is their truth.

I don't think (most) doctors know what it feels like, two hours later, to stop and say: yes, yes I saw that, it was there all along, why did I deny it; I felt that pain, my knee hurt, I wanted to ask more questions. And to stop and wonder: why didn't I? Why didn't I stand up to him? (Stupid, pushover, weak, silly.) Now I have to make another appointment, now I have to wait two more weeks, now I will feel even stupider going in and saying, yes, there is a problem, make it better -- even though maybe next time, I'll do it again, say yes again when I want to say no, I can still see the lines on the screen, they're right there, stop telling me I don't see them, they're right fucking there.

Lo, I am cranky today, because today I was waiting eagerly for reevaluation of my hands, and hoping to be able to take the brace off. (Immobilization sucks.) And instead, I have to use the brace for another week, I popped out two other joints typing yesterday, and I'm possibly going to be referred to a hand specialist more than an hour away in a city to which we have no bus service. (And I am, of course, car-less.)

Also now I am doing about forty-five minutes of hip pt to prevent dislocations, and my hips hurt. Owwww.

Also I read a book by one of my favorite gender theorists today, but it was crappy -- she hadn't figured out her audience and it was boring and patronizing and full of fail.

Also I got dust in my motherboard in the middle of nowhere and now I need a new one, which is covered under warranty but still irritating.

whine whine whine

But at least there is fic to reread! I am currently rereading A Deeper Season by lightgetsin (Vorkosigan-verse), because it is awesome and makes me go awww.

What are your favorite cranky-day stories to reread?

1) I need the election to happen now, because of how I spend my days reading blogs and violently skyrocketing from joy and sniffles to despair and anger to complete bafflement and hilarity.

I mean, seriously, firefox's new most-visited feature informs me that, after from igoogle (my home page) and you guys, all of my most commonly visited pages are either political blogs or stuff for the super sekrit project.

2) I now have early-morning physical therapy appointments twice a week. So I'm getting up when it's still dark, going up to the office to be hit with sticks, and I have to pay for it. This hardly seems fair.

3) I cut myself on my bialetti coffee maker this morning. One of those nice deep gouges in the knuckle. How is that even possible?

Okay. So. It's supposed to get up to 35+ today, and it hit 41 yesterday. But it was freezing last night.

What does that mean? Well, mostly it means that I wrenched my back and my ankle not-falling-down on my nextdoor neighbor's sidewalk. Which is covered in black ice. Apparently they don't sand or salt or anything. PAH.

Fortunately, it is a Wednesday, and I don't carry my laptop to campus on Wednesdays, so all I have to worry about is twisting an ankle or beating up my Turkish textbook. But it is supposed to be like this again tomorrow, pah.

On the other hand, high near thirty-six. I'm not wearing a sweater! Or long underwear! Or wool socks! Or a scarf and a hat and gloves! And it's only twenty-eight right now. Heaven knows what thirty-six will feel like. Heaven, I imagine. I'll get a smoothie because I'll be so overheated.

***

I hope to go the the Philadelphia Flower Show the weekend before spring break, btw, which should be the weekend of the ninth. Perhaps I will see some of y'all there? Student tickets at the door are a mere $15.

So. I don't know. I saw this cap of Daniel from "Orpheus" and thought to myself "self, there is someone with a very pondering, wistful expression." How I got from wistful to really wanting to be a lumberjack is anybody's guess. (Also, P6J-908 is the planet from Zero Hour with the incredible growing plant. I can never remember the designation for any of the "lovely. trees." planets.)

This is also my first attempt at animated text. *peers at icon dubiously* I find ImageReady basically 100% baffling. But it doesn't seem to have blown up yet.

*

Yesterday I worked all of our required hours at the co-op in a row, thus causing back pain and knee spasms. Still, it's nice to be done. (And they told me I was a fabulous cooperator!) But. I have this keep-on-trucking problem; it's useful for tech work and manual labor, because I'll just keep going. Like, forever. As long as there are still things to get done, I'll keep doing them -- great in terms of never failing to get the shop door up even at two am, but a bit of a bummer the next day, when I discover that lifting heavy boxes for six hours has given me incredible knee pain. (I'm in my mid-twenties and have Jack O'Neill's knees. It hardly seems fair, but it's one of them bone things that you can't really do much about.) Blahblah whine.