Tomorrow is the First Day of Spring

...and I am already up to, and beyond, my full dosage of antihistamines.  All the trees are budding, and some are beginning to bloom.

Just about one month ahead of schedule.  Not to pee on anyone's parade, but fellow allergic people know why I am not pleased.  Usually I start with tree season, including "non-allergenic" ones, such as the evergreens.  Then I move into the early blossoms and their pollen.  This is followed by hayfever season, then ragweed, and finally the dust, mold and everything else of late summer/early autumn.

When I look in the mirror--which I rarely do--I see dark circles around my eyes.  Something like Tim Burton's Corpse Bride.  And all I hear in my plugged ears is constant tinnitus.

My morning yoga, begun flat on my back on the bed, is now accompanied by choking on my own phlegm.  And nearly every time I stand up from sitting, I can expect light-headedness.

Husband RJ, a smoker, is complaining of runny nose and sneezing, so I know I'm not alone.

You know the pollen maps on the Weather Channel website?

I won't even go there.

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Little Pond

Very Belated Apologies

Seven years:  that's how long I have been blogging my experiences with MS.

In all that time, I have never felt the fatigue that I have now.

Bright, clever and cheery.  Boy was I suckered in.  Seventeen years ago, I was a much younger woman.  The first attack really flattened me, but not for long.  I quickly shortened a 2-3 week hospital stay to five days.  My neuro was amazed and admiring.

The ensuing years repeated that pattern.  An attack, some Solumedrol, and maybe a new maintenance drug:  I always landed on my feet, able to return to work, even after some really nasty tailspins that left me flat-out for weeks.

Somehow, I knew that this attack, now two years ago, was different.

Of course, I had aged a decade and a half.  And every single exacerbation had left a scar and further disability.  Ah, but I always returned to work, chipper and enthusiastic.  Bring it!  That was my motto.

Now I feel the mind-numbing fatigue and aches,  the fall-inducing limp and foot-drop, and of course, the whiny, weepy, throat-choking emotional swings.  Oh yes, I've gotten older, but the Multiple Sclerosis has also matured.

Typing creates stupid problems with the keyboard, sending the cursor up to the previous paragraphs, and inserting my thoughts where they don't belong.  Even just sitting brings a clearer understanding of the damage to the nerves in my feet and legs.  Any fatigue will double my vision and lessen my hearing.  And there are days when I am so tired of living that I'm ready to join my ancestors in the Big Sleep:  the very same feeling my 82-year-old mother relates to me over the phone.

Yeah, the cheeriness may return with the Spring, and the fatigue is being eased by my loyal kid, VeggiGirl.  She is a God-send, just as my two youngest brothers are there for my aging, ailing parents.  VeggiGirl, Husband RJ and I are there for my 82-year-old mother-in-law, and don't think I'm not aware of how draining all THAT is.

So a very humble apology is appropriate here:  I am very, very sorry if any of my posts left ANYONE feeling as if they were not doing enough, despite their illness.  And sorry if my chatter made anyone jealous and feeling blue or worse yet, guilty.

Time and Multiple Sclerosis have caught up with me.  Everyone says better days are coming, because MS progresses less when age wears down the immune system.  Well, apparently 58 years is not enough age for that just yet.

And please forgive me if this post is a downer.  Spring is here, and better days are coming.

I promise.

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Little Pond

We have gone to the dogs.

And cats.

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Little Pond

The first step is admitting we have a problem.

Wow.

Life can change in an instant.

VeggieGirl moved back home.  Things just didn't work out with her man.  They are on good terms, though, and I am grateful for that.  I still miss my former SIL, and, well, all the young fellows that used to hang around here.  Guess they are all just surrogate sons to me.

So now we are a much busier household.  TWO dogs and FOUR cats.  Photos here.  VG's dog Frankie is a rescue, and we can see why.  A barker.  It's taken me a week to teach him to stop when I command it.  That means there are two dogs (HuggaMutt is also now full time)  that must be calmed and commanded.  We live on a street with a lot of foot traffic:  mostly dog walkers.  I do an awful lot of commanding.

And, yes, I understand that enough exercise will calm them down.  Unfortunately, that is the very thing I cannot offer.  Last year's back injury was caused by dog-walking on ice.  The snow has arrived and the best I can do is to push them out to the back yard.

Thank heavens they have each other for exericse.  I let them romp and tussle;  that sort of noise has never bothered me.  After all, I was raised with five brothers; scuffles were the rule, not the exception.

The cats are pretty much taking care of themselves.  We have a kitty room with two twin beds thrown together and covered in comforters, pillows, throws, and a huge, bean-bag style turtle to use as a bed on the beds.  All behind the security of a baby gate:  it is their haven away from boisterous dogs.

As for me, VG is a cook at the local Soup's On!  This ensures a steady stream of good,  often vegetarian, fare.  We also cook together and for each other.

The only problem now is that I have no time to clean my house.  It will be months before I can get it back to my usual uncluttered, low-allergen norm.  By that time, VG will probably have found a new appartment.

And I will miss her.

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Little Pond

Strange feelings

If Husband RJ didn't work, I wouldn't even know that today was Veteran's Day.  My cutter made the appointment for today, and there was another patron there when I arrived.

This is a huge day in my family.  My Grampa John Irving was a veteran of two wars, with two purple hearts.  His best friend, my Grammy's Brother Henry Lamb went missing in action, presumably dead, the day before.

But today is like any other, except for the blues that Armistice Day always gives me.  Oh yes, the flag is hanging alongside our porch.  The paper is full of sales flyers.

My Grammy's poem graces Pat's Pond.

A special post on the Civil War Prison Camp is quite a change for River Visits.

My love and prayers go out today to all of you who lost a relative in any of our many wars, conflicts and police actions.  Special shout out to my ancestors and cousin Joel Baker, recently departed and a veteran of Korea.

If my heart keeps hurting, I will head out to the Chemung: bundled against the cold and using a cane to maintain balance.  My sight is failing slightly now, with a cataract and plain old age.  My hearing is a mess and the visit will be short.  Still grateful that I can walk, and see, and hear, such as it is.  The river will even out my spirits and tire me just enough for a midday nap.

You understand.

Better now.

If I had to guess why I feel rotten, I would probably pin it on the late pollen season.  Yes, the wet summer has indeed given way to a warm, wet fall.  Still not a lot of pretty leaf-peeping, and it's almost impossible to find my favorite allergy pills.  Soon I will be paying a premium for Chlor-Trimetron; one of the few relatively inexpensive remedies that doesn't raise my blood pressure.  I also have to take a Zyrtec (its generic equivalent) every day.  It's a very rare summer that requires the extra boost, and this summer has been a real b!+c#.

One very bright spot:  I got my knees back!

Must have been about 45 years old when I noticed that I no longer had visible knees.  Just a fatty pack of skin where they used to be.  I was exercising and dieting and walking, and nothing worked.

I gave up, resigned to lack of knees as being part of the whole middle-age thing, along with lack of waist-line.

This summer filled the air with so much pollen, so much rain, and so much suffocating humid heat, that I spent extra time indoors, playing my beloved Final Fantasy video games.  In order to not pile on the weight, I sit on a recumbent stationary bicycle, and pedal during gaming.  The resistence is set very low, because I tend to get leg cramps at night, and overworking those muscles worsens them.

The bad pollen season actually started in the early spring, with "tree season."  Most hay-fever sufferers know nothing about tree season, because most trees are non-allergenic.  Supposedly.   My older daughter also suffers from tree season, even though she doesn't get hay-fever.  My younger daughter gets neither:  lucky her.  I am allergic to just about any pollen anyone can name, and I bet would even show allergies if I moved to Arizona, with my Blog Sister, Karen.

So I've been stuck indoors, pedalling away in front of my games.  I started with Final Fantasy, the original and am all the way up to Final Fantasy 6, one of my favorites.  When I tire of TV, I go to my games; when I tire of my games, I go to TV.  I also walk five days a week with my younger daughter, right after she gets out of work at Barb's Soup's On.

And I also now must do yoga, since I sprained my back falling on ice last winter.

I found out about the knees when I sat down on a low seat and had to struggle to stand.  I finally grabbed my knees and rocked my way up.  In doing so, I felt...

Knee caps!!!  I am so amped! 

Maybe I will even get my waistline back.

Well, I still have to weather the eating season:  Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Maybe next year.

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Little Pond