Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Helluva Head Cold

Holy moley.  Fighting a head cold since last Wednesday, and only now beginning to emerge from the fog.  GrandGirlie had a fever and runny nose three days before, and I am the only one who caught it.

Now I only have a stuffy, runny nose and chest congestion.  Soooo much better than I've felt in days.  I juggled  a few cold remedies, depending on the time of day or night, but in the end, it was better to just deal with the darned cold, than to be stupid and foggy and debilitated.

Never mind a cure for MS.  When are we going to find a cure for the Common Cold?

Little Pond

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Feeling Better?

Apparently "feeling better" is not actually being better.  I am reminded of my training in Recovery.  "Feelings are not facts!"  Generally this is a great mantra for people who feel as if they are going mad.  Unfortunately, it works both ways.

I visited my new Neuro today, who I will refer to as Ms. Neuro.  Not that I've never had a female before.  However, this is a lady who seems competent and self assured.  While things are not always as they seem--see above quote--I left the appointment a little more assured of subsequent proper monitoring.

At no point did she sound convinced that I am healing.  I know I am healing because my knees hurt like hell.  In fact, they hurt like never before.  Frankly, to have my knees feeling anything whatsoever is a comfort.  After a few walking demonstrations, Ms. Neuro began to explain some of the newer drugs available to improve my gait, as she said.  No links until I know more.

I also feel as though my sight returned.  Recall that I had an episode of double vision in September of 2009.  My sight was sort of crummy for a while.  This past spring an MRI done specifically to follow up on that showed a great deal of correction. 

Feelings are not facts.  Ms. Neuro determined that I am experiencing some sort of weakness in the side vision of both eyes, that creates double vision.  Dumbass that I am, I simply said, "Doesn't everybody?"  I was tersely given to understand that no, it is not normal.

Long story short:  There is to be no--none--whatsoever--preparations for Tday.  Husband RJ is incredulous, and suggests that Ms. Neuro can't possibly understand our situation.  We must have Tday at our house.

B---s---t!  I agree with Ms. Neuro, and am beginning to wonder about ole RJ.  Her exact prescription is that we go to my daughter's place, bringing nothing that requires homemaking, and that someone else drive me to and from the party.  Apparently, she detects a certain amount of SuperWoman complex, and wants to knock me down a few.

Funny thing is I agree with her.  Wouldn't it be nice to enjoy a couple glasses of wine, sit back and watch the mob work without me, and go home to sleep in a tryptophan and alcohol induced coma?

Damn.  I'm feeling better already.

Little Pond

Friday, November 12, 2010

Sorry about the visual.

This week I remembered why I shave you-know-where year round.  It's getting colder here in the Southern Tier of Upstate New York, and I'm inclined to stop shaving legs and underarms.  But anyone who must wear incontinent or feminine protection can tell you what happened.

I have to feel clean.  Clean, clean, clean!  That's one of the things that makes living with a smoker so very difficult.  Dusting and vacuuming are constant and can occur at the drop of an ash.  As for the physical cleanliness, I have creams and powders for my face, body, and especially my feet.

All unscented and without alcohol, thank you very much.  And they can't be aerosols, either, because that would precipitate an asthmatic incident.

Now that I'm on disability, I have plenty of time to wash, shower, touch up with a washcloth, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.  I also can return to those items of clothing that I couldn't wear to work.

The nicest being those lovely undies from Victoria's Secret.  I have a perfectly prosaic reason for frequenting Vickie's.  If you've ever seen my photos in the other Blogger blogs, the answer is obvious.  To say that this kid is not buxom is an understatement.  Vickie's puts out an enormous array of sizes, and you get to try them on, assisted by highly skilled salespersons.  It took decades, but VS finally began to put out bras for people like me, whose incidentals are a little bigger than lentils.

I love the incredible variety of their panties, too, and have a whole drawer of the darned things.  Some VS undies are very abbreviated, so much so that one can barely find enough material to attach the sticky surface of my intimate protection.  And I can just pass by the gorgeous layouts--all attractively priced!--of thongs.

Now, I don't go out for more than 1-2 hours at a time, for the same reason I wear intimate protection.  Let me tell you, even one hour is way, way, way to much time when one's nether curls are stuck to a pad and being cruelly yanked by any movement whatsoever over the course of grocery shopping or doctor's visits.

Even with the accumulated nerve damage done by 15 years of RRMS, the exquisite discomfort of those tiny hair-pulls are enough to have this person climbing the walls,  unassisted by salesperson or ladder.  It's enough to send me speeding home to a fast shower, and yes, some very gingerly barbering of a very delicate area.  

Please, someone tell me it isn't just me.

Oh, and sorry for the visuals.

Little Pond