The Multiple Sclerosis Companion

2012-01-18T11:09:00.000-05:00

The first step is admitting we have a problem.

Wow.

2012-01-13T10:14:00.001-05:00

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.

Little Pond

Strange feelings

2011-11-11T10:31:00.000-05:00

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.

2011-10-21T08:59:00.002-04:00

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.

pb
Little Pond

What the hell happened?

2011-10-13T11:25:00.000-04:00

For crying out loud, I began the month on such a high note. Honestly thought that the post summer exacerbation would not hit me.
Now here I am, gasping for breath, exhausted by an hour and a half of grocery shopping. My legs feel like they were lent to me without the users' manual, and I somehow forgot some step or other in their maintenance. I have to keep dropping my hands down into my lap for a rest between sentences.

The ringing in my ears is drowning out the sounds coming from the laundry room downstairs. Last night was one anxiety dream after another, each followed by a trip to the bathroom, often with no success.

And I still feel like I could have some sort of potty accident at any minute. The cats need flea medicine and I don't dare drive up to the Tractor Supply.

I blame it all on Wednesday, when I pulled out the hose to clean and tie up the awnings. Wednesday was cold and foggy, so after about an hour of being soaked from head to foot, I stopped everything and took a warm shower. Then I dropped into bed for a two-hour nap. When I woke, the sun was out and the porch was sparkling.

Is it possible to trigger and exacerbation in one short morning? Wednesday afternoon I felt sick to my stomach and very iffy, in need of staying close to the bathroom, for both ends. My lungs are clogged, my head and neck hurt like the dickens, and even my eyesight sucks.

Good Lord. What the hell happened?

If this doesn't clear up by Monday, the neuro is getting a call.

pb
Little Pond

Hurray for the cool days!

2011-10-03T11:25:00.000-04:00

Finally. Weather I can live with. I must be made for the Equinox. I've always said that I want to retire to Bermuda. The temps rarely go out of the 70's F (low 20's C).

This summer played havoc with the immune system: I'm taking two different allergy medicines. Generic Zyrtec and generic chlor-trimetron. Nose still runs like a leaky faucet; coughing up lung "biscuits" galore. A low-intensity headache is the norm and being asleep is my favorite state.

At present I get most of my exercise in the basement, riding a recumbent stationary bike. While playing my favorite RPGs, of course. My younger daughter walks with me after work on weekdays. And I still wander the riverfront with Ellie on weekends.

One more week to go carrying Ellie around to avoid steps. Then we can return to the lower portion of the Chemung, just downstream of the city.

Don't expect any pretty foliage shots this fall. There aren't any. I even go out without my camera.

Hope everyone is recovering from all these natural disasters. We are still waiting to get a contractor for roof work. Same as everyone else in the neighborhood. Wind and rain make for leaking houses here, and complete flooding for my unfortunate neighbors along the Susquehanna.

pb
Little Pond

Ahh, the Information Age!

2011-09-06T15:08:00.007-04:00

My last "conversation" on the phone:

texter: Hey

pb: Hey yourself

texter: Whats up?

pb: Ok. Who's this?

texter: This is joel. Is this john?

pb: Nope. Wrong number.

texter: Ok lol. Im sorry to bug ya.

pb: No problem

texter: K. Unless your a girl and want to chat. Haha jk

pb: Female. Wanna talk about SocSecurity or AARP?

texter: Ha ha sure :-)

pb: No. Seriously. 57 years old. Have a nice day.

texter: K. Have a good one.

Older and wiser?

2011-08-20T10:18:00.000-04:00

I thought long and hard over this one, but finally decided to post.
In 2009, my then-neuro put me on diazepam for the twitching legs at night. It really does help, but I still have trouble some nights. This spring, my family doctor diagnosed depression and put me on sertraline. I was hesitant, but decided to follow through. It had been a rough winter full of death and difficulty and further disability, so I figured it couldn't hurt.

This week I was filling up my little day-by-day pill dispensers, and I held the bottle of diazepam and looked at all the pills in there. For the first time ever, I made a mental note that one could easily kill oneself with that many pills. Then I finished prepping the dispenser and put away all my drugs.

Two years ago, such a thought would have me tearing up and reaching for my Recovery books. I would have been afraid that I might carry out the notion.

This time I simply finished what I was doing, and decided to think about it later. When I did, I finally concluded that I just don't want to die right now.

For the first time in my life, I am in a fairly decent place. I am not overworked, although I am now naturally underpaid. No one expects too much of me, either as family member or otherwise. It is obvious that I cannot be the go-to person now.

Wouldn't it have been so much better to have learned to say NO sooner, instead of waiting until I was undeniably ill and incapable of performing as Superwoman any more?

I would love to say that I am teaching my daughters not to be Superwomen, but... BUT.

They are much more likely--and already are--doing as I have done, rather than listening to my good advice. Now I simply pray for all us Superwomen, and hope we can bow out before we are knocked out.

pb
Little Pond

We can give again!

2011-07-01T19:21:00.001-04:00

It's been over fifteen years, but I have finally rejoined the fellowship of those who give blood. My old work buddy, Stephanie, was looking for anyone to join her at our Clemens Center. We hugged and then rolled up our sleeves.

Not too different after so many years. The major difference is that I am no longer hovering just above the lowest weight allowed. Truthfully, its been more than fifteen years for that, but this time I had no problems with fainting or dehydration. I ate like a pig before I went.

It's good to be back.

pb
Little Pond

In case you were wondering...

2011-05-26T10:28:00.000-04:00

what I have been doing with all my time. I am exercising on a recumbent bicycle about an hour or so every day. I am still unable to use a treadmill, but I do also walk a couple -- and by couple, I do mean two--blocks with my daughter.
I haven't lost any weight, not to crow about, but I have been multi-tasking with my video games.

Yep. I am still a game geek. Only now I have to admit it.

pb
Little Pond

Sabotage!

2011-04-21T14:55:00.000-04:00

Aha!

This week my Recovery training finally kicked in.

I had not recognized my doctor's use of the term "resisting" when he diagnosed the depression. It simply irked me that my neuro and my family practitioner had consulted "behind my back."

Classic "fearful temper." And my decision not to attend any sort of therapy: classic "sabotage." It is not up to me to diagnose and reject the professional's prescription.

I have returned to my training and am re-reading the three books I acquired over the years. If necessary, the website offers an updated bibliography.

My next doctor's visit will be in two weeks, I will discuss what happened with him. If he still decides I need therapy, it is my job to follow through, one way or another.

And my last post? Anyone trained in Recovery will recognize the sabotage and the resulting physical symptoms. Most of them have abated.

pb
Little Pond

Surprise.

2011-04-16T09:32:00.000-04:00

Either the Zoloft is working, or my daily walks with VeggiGirl are brightening up my day.

Still have uncontrollable shakes, and the sprain is intermittent and echoing at my hips. I assume the pains in my hips are connected to some sort of compensatory body adjustment. Still, I am determined to keep at the exercise, and a walking cane is mandatory for any foray from the house.

It's almost comical to witness and discuss my MIL's walking problems. She claims she doesn't need a cane, but insists that the only problem is her balance. Well, duh. Same here.

VeggiGirl suggests I use a walker in the winter, but frankly, that seems a bit extreme. If the cane went out from under me, why wouldn't a walker do the same? It's time to recognize that icy roads and sidewalks are a bit more dangerous for a woman with osteopenia. My "sprained" finger still hurts, and hurts even more during exercise. And it's interesting to note the discomfort I feel during the back stretching routine.

Oh, well. I will do "as much as I can for as long as I can." It's always worked in the past.

pb
Little Pond

Informal update

2011-04-11T16:52:00.000-04:00

At this time last year, it was just beginning to dawn on me that I was disabled. I could not remember much about the past winter, especially Christmas of 2009, and I was frantically trying to get a grasp of my situation.

Now I do know that I did NOT have an exasperation. The MRI showed no new damage.

What I did, and still do, have is a worsening of the symptoms. I am now more tired than ever, although I am working out as much as possible. I walk with my daughter on the sidewalks near home, and every week I take her and the two dachshunds to the river for a leash-less visit.

Most of the feeling is back in my hands and legs, but heaviness is the rule, and not the exception. I sleep eight hours a night and two more at noon.

I am taking very good care of myself, and am being treated for depression. I know me: I will adjust and I will come back.

But I cannot yet predict a return to work.

pb
Little Pond

I'm too old for angst.

2011-03-03T10:23:00.000-05:00

At least I thought so until this winter. I know it's because I am stuck in the house. The sprained back, reinforced by the broken pinkie, is keeping me inside during this snowy winter. No more falls, please.

So now I feel the lack of sunshine: aches, anxiety, and depression. Never mind that I'm already on anti-anxiety meds, along with anti-depressants, as well as loads of antispasmotics. Several deaths in the family have me crying to go home to my aged mother and father. At least before they, too, join the growing line of the recently passed.

This trip will cost a fortune. I cannot stay seated for the eight hours it will take to get to Maine from Elmira, so we are planning on an RV. This will allow us to bring the kids and grandkids, the latter which my parents have seen in person.

So naturally, the gas prices are rising, perhaps to $5/gallon this year. The RV alone will likely cost over $1200.00 to rent! The kids are chipping in, of course, but still, we have to eat and to pay our rented site at Yankeeland Campground.

If we don't pay taxes this year, we can easily afford it, but I know better than that.

We have got to somehow afford this trip.

I just don't know how.

pb
Little Pond

Not to make it all about me, but

2011-02-13T10:16:00.001-05:00

RJ's Dad died after several weeks of struggling with congestive heart failure and pneumonia. It was all so sudden, given that we all visited at his home for our yearly Christmas Eve party.

We are currently busy creating a slide show for the funeral home. I couldn't sleep much last night, and finally got up around four to sort through and replace photos after scanning them. The show has 27 pics now, and I expect at least one more.

We've been keeping my MIL busy with the preparations, and RJ and I have been driving her around. First it was the Nursing Facility, and now to the funeral home, and back and forth between our houses. I am not getting much rest and my silly back sprain is achy.

We were spared a lengthy goodbye, except that Duane, my FIL, was flitting in and out of reality. So glad I quit smoking early on in life, and wish RJ would do the same. Heart disease is in his family, so the recent events will surely play out again with him. It was and is so hard on my MIL, so it's like a preview for us.

In the meantime, we are all doing the best we can, and hope all the arrangements will do Duane proud.

He deserves it; he was a good guy.

pb
Little Pond

A word to the wise

2011-01-31T18:30:00.000-05:00

Don't do what I did.

I have four canes; two are already pretty and two are old, wooden ones. I decided to decorate the canes, to make them more appropriate to the Little Pond.

I found some Chinese dragons stickers and some tiny butterfly stickers.

The Chinese dragons are large and snake around my heavy cane, the one I use for walking around the city blocks. Good support and rather cool.

The teeny, tiny butterflies took forever to apply to my lighter cane. Looked pretty to me, so I lacquered the cane, to set the little buggers forever.

Unfortunately, I have since seen photos of my granddaughter playing with the butterfly cane. They are too tiny. If anything, they make the wood look diseased.

Now I am painstakingly picking off the dozens and dozens of butterflies. AND the lacquer made them UN-stick. It's a mess, and will probably take weeks to undo. In the meantime, I will try wrapping the cane in green grosgrain ribbon. Green is a good color for me.

I used pretty Christmassy ribbon to make candy canes over the holiday. That also taught me that big is better and bright is right.

Tiny doesn't cut it. And don't lacquer the results.

pb
Little Pond

Stretching is bad

2011-01-22T09:25:00.000-05:00

...and good. I had the exercises down pretty well. The PT told me I was doing them wrong, but the wrongness was that I had added an extra step. That step was one of the new exercises.

I wound up doing an extra step to ease the pain of some of the stretches. So that was good. What wasn't so good was the other new exercise.

Simple pelvic tilts send me climbing the walls for relief. So now I just revert back to the earlier stretches afterwards until the spasms abate. Then I try again.

Looks like it's going to be a longer road to recovery than I thought.

Meantime all the bills are pouring in from the sprain and all its earlier missed diagnosis-related visits.

And--along with everyone else in the area--our heating bills jumped a full 1/3 higher! Guess we all will just be eating less this New Year. No need for resolutions.

pb
Little Pond

Permission to stretch

2011-01-14T10:07:00.000-05:00

...has been granted. Let me tell you, stretching is definitely better. The PT watched me carefully as I practiced the two simple exercises. I will do them 2-3 times a day with reps of 5 each for now.

I continue the heat therapy, but has stopped the morning dose of Naproxen. Still shaky by night-time, so I dose for the evening.

Things are much better now that I can feel stretching, and know I am helping, not harming.

Putting off my doggy walks until at least Sunday. By then I should be in good shape.

Husband RJ is completely taken up in ferrying my MIL to visit my FIL at the hospital. Plans are now being made to tranfer to nursing facility. MIL is definitely not in any shape to care for him. A few hours' visit and she needs home, food and rest.

I am still unable to visit, until they move him where I don't have to worry about catching something that could kill ME.

pb
Little Pond

Thank heavens for heat patches!

2011-01-11T11:27:00.000-05:00

They are plentifully available. I buy the ones that go across the back, double-wide, and split them in two. The sprain is just in my lower left lumbar area.

Really puts the scotch on driving, floor and carpet washing, and even dog walking. For now.

It's nice not to feel that sickening, tearing feeling; I must be getting better.

I remember my dad wearing a brace for what seemed like years. Guess I have it easy. Physical Therapy, consisting of ultrasound and manual massage, again tomorrow.

In the meantime, I'm trying to keep the house clean and food at ready. FIL is still in hospital, but somewhat better. I'm hoping to entice my MIL to eat again. She looks so drawn and depressed.

And I can't be much help, except to leave out lunches while I do the midday nap thing.

What a mess. God help everybody.

pb
Little Pond

Funny how it's playing out.

2011-01-05T12:21:00.000-05:00

Until this back injury, I have been unaware of any real feeling from the chest down. There is distress when I need to empty my bladder, but not like anything I used to feel before MS. There is a very minor discomfort when I should empty my bowels: unfortunately, not enough to prevent an accident away from home.

In fact, one could even prick me with a pin or knife or any sharp object, and I won't feel much more than pressure. So I'm not really surprised that I injured a muscle without realizing it.

So, okay, I've sprained my lower left back. The most amazing thing is the amount of pain: enough to send me to the doctor with fears of a kidney stone, abscess or even a tumor.

I am told that a tumor would not necessary hurt at all. In fact, we are worrying about my Dad right now. He has blood in the urine and no bladder symptoms. They are looking into any possibilities of renal cancer. In fact my Grampa died of cancer in his urinary tract, although I had always thought it was bladder cancer.

The doctor prescribed 500mg of Naproxen twice a day, and heat for any further pain. I have some of those nifty patches for heat, and am testing them against my skin. I half expect to show a nasty rash from the adhesive, but I am willing to test it first, since they really do help. Also, the patch can be stuck to a tight-fitting undershirt if need be. It's all good.

Finally, I visit the physical therapist this afternoon at 4:15. Oddly enough, that should be an excellent time. Husband RJ will be home to field any calls from MammaDog, who might need sitting services. More importantly, by the late afternoon I am practically in tears from fighting the pain all day. And the shakes are unmistakable and uncontrollable by then. Perhaps the PT can help with these.

I'll keep you all posted.

pb
Little Pond

Another diagnosis

2011-01-04T09:17:00.000-05:00

I finally went for an xray, to determine if there was a kidney stone.

There wasn't. The doctor referred me back to my usual family physician, presumably because he has my MS history and knows more.

Now the diagnosis is a sprained lower left back. With the heat therapy and prescription Naprosin, I am finally getting some relief from the pain. The expensive antibiotic did clear up the leukocytes and blood in the urine, so I think I will save it for later. UTI's are a constant threat for me.

For now, it's pain killers, heat stick-ons (which work very well, thank you very much), and physical therapy will begin three times a week, starting Wednesday. It's at the end of the day, when I am shakiest, so it should be interesting to observe. Let's hope it's not painful to accomplish.

pb
Little Pond

Uh Oh

2011-01-02T17:51:00.000-05:00

Pain felt better from ibuprofen, not from healing. Now I can't put on socks or tie my shoes. Guess I'll go in for an X-ray Monday. I was supposed to go Thursday, but call me Cleo. I'm the queen of denial.

pb
Little Pond

I'll survive

2010-12-30T09:56:00.000-05:00

Banish any crazy thoughts of renal failure.

Three days on a very expensive antibiotic is beginning to clear things up a bit. Unfortunately, such a long time before seeing the doctor has left me in pain for a while to come.

A huge copay and a long recovery period should teach me not to self diagnose next time. Without the copay, Levaquin costs over $400 for 14 horse pills. And the inflammation will take weeks to go away.

How's an MSer supposed to know what went wrong? I thought I might have pulled a back muscle, so I waited for it to subside on its own. And it did subside. The remaining pain stayed along for the ride.

Not all better, but at least on the mend.

Oh, and having a new grandson (7 lbs, 2.6 oz and 20.5 inches long) (3.25 kilos and 52.07 cm) born just yesterday also eases the pain.

pb
Little Pond

Something is wrong.

2010-12-25T14:19:00.000-05:00

You know, if I had real feeling in my body, I would almost guess some sort of UTI. But I used those little orange pills and get no relief. Is it my left kidney? Can't be a left ovary, because that's been gone for years.

This is a weird pain in my lower back. Enough pain to make me writhe if I need to bend over for anything. Pain anywhere below the belt is odd. This is not a Multiple Sclerosis thing at all. It's almost comical, the way I trigger it, just to have some sort of feeling below the belly button. Or actually right about at belly button level, only in the back.

It's even warm in just one teensy spot on my back, and there's no knot for the muscles. Fascinating.

(Only an MSer could play with pain out of sheer enjoyment. I HAVE PAIN. YIPPEE!)

I will call my family practitioner Monday morning.

Weird.

pb
Little Pond

Christmas time is tired time

2010-12-24T08:36:00.000-05:00

Bet this looks familiar to many of you. The baby has moved the Christmas Creche figurines, one by one. She watches as I line them up for her to see, telling about each one. When we are done, every piece except the manger and Baby Jesus will be laid out on the cocktail table.

Fortunately, VM will turn her attention to HuggaMutt. And I will return the figures to their rightful place. A visit from the baby consists of my watching her and letting her entertain me with her wanderings.

Happy Holidays to you all.

pb
Little Pond

In the Merry Mood

2010-12-19T09:08:00.000-05:00

Just had to go up, one more time.

2010-12-10T09:43:00.001-05:00

Everything was already decorated, but I wanted to give some old stocking hangers to my daughter. I found them in the attic, alongside a box of Christmas angels. Had just promised myself I wouldn't put up any more stuff, but I couldn't resist.

Instead of a simple bag of stocking hangers, I descended the ladder carrying a small box with the bag of hangers, an angel ornament, and my Holy Family tree topper.

Don't know how I did it, but that little box caused me to trip on the attic pull-down ladder. In a split second, I knew it was either the box or me. One or the other would have to crash. I let go of the box and grabbed for the stairs' mechanism. Crash went the box, and I don't quite remember what happened to me.

I now have a huge, scraping bruise on my left leg, some strange achiness around my right ankle, and a certain amount of skin off both hands. I can hardly move today, and my limp is worse than ever. Fortunately, with the MS, I don't really have much pain.

Worst of all: two stocking hangers broken beyond repair, and Baby Jesus flung out of his mother's arms, and she out of St. Joseph's embrace. Baby Jesus is missing a hand, and Mary will need to be reglued. Only the angel ornament survived the wreck unscathed.

Wasn't really worth the trip.

pb
Little Pond

No one else

2010-12-06T08:28:00.002-05:00

A week later, and I still am fighting the snots. And I still am the only person in the vicinity with a cold.

And let me tell you, dusty stuff stowed away since last year doesn't help. One good thing: when I couldn't take the sneezing and hacking, I cut the decorating short.

Result? A few boxes left unopened, and a tastefully understated living room, still ready for Christmas.

And tons less to be destroyed by a very busy, overly curious toddler. Picture taken at MamaDog's home.

Enjoy the season, everyone!

pb
Little Pond

Helluva Head Cold

2010-11-30T08:52:00.000-05:00

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?

pb
Little Pond

Feeling Better?

2010-11-23T08:56:00.000-05:00

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.

pb
Little Pond

Sorry about the visual.

2010-11-12T08:50:00.002-05:00

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.

pb
Little Pond

It's safe to go back to Little Pond

2010-09-27T14:05:00.001-04:00

We had an ugly hiatus for a while, after a nasty malware was stuck to Pats Pond.

I cleaned it up and we seem to be back in business.

Rest assured, I will watch carefully for those weird comments that seem to be non-sequitors.

What the frig? Who has nothing but time and the will to ruin other people's sites?

pb
Little Pond

Where's the logic?

2010-09-14T11:33:00.000-04:00

What part of "disabled" and "fatigue" is hard to understand?

The amount of paperwork to get here was literally staggering. I was reeling under the complexity and volume of it all. Looks like we are settled for a short while, until the next request for medical update.

Now my neighbors want me to doggy-sit for them. The poor old muck is clearly dying of arthritis and poorly-set broken bones that were hidden by the arthritis or whatever. This dog needs to be carried everywhere, so it's good thing it weighs only about eight pounds, or about 3.5 kilos.

I still have my granddog three days a week. The two critters are now in competition for snacks and attention. Three visits a day for the little rat, for the next three weeks, and Ellie is three days on, four days off. Husband RJ is working full time, and so expects me to handle it. He was the one who couldn't say no.

Now for the kicker: the dog's owners are both retired on disability, and travel often. They said (to RJ) that their dog doesn't like the regular dog sitter any more.

I wish my disability gave me leave to travel all around. I can't go two hours away, or even more than two hours anywhere close. Somehow I got the wrong disability.

Right?

pb
Little Pond

Blessed relief

2010-08-03T08:54:00.000-04:00

Say hello to the e-cigarettes!

With the click of a mouse, we ushered in a new century. Now there is no excuse to smoke around us asthmatics. E-cigarettes deliver a dose of nicotine, and the soothing relief of the need to puff.

My sister introduced us during a visit, and we purchased a starter kit for Husband RJ. He favors the menthol cigarettes, but prefers the flavored e-cigs.

The house is cleaner already. Since it is summer, RJ takes the real deal on the porch. First time ever, although this may be temporary with the frigid winters we experience in Upstate New York.

I'll take whatever I can get, and my own lungs feel better these days.

pb
Little Pond

My latest therapy

2010-07-31T12:22:00.003-04:00

Not that I have much choice. When Ellie is visiting, we will go out every day, more often than not to the Chemung River. In bad weather, we go to Elmira College, Eldridge Park or even something closer like Riverview Park in Elmira Downtown.

I am feeling better every day, but there is so much damage that seems permanent this time around. The loss of hearing is worse, the ringing in the ears is the worst I've ever seen (and I've seen some tough stuff), weakness on the left side is worrisome. And over all of it is a killer fatigue.

But I have come back before, and I will again. It took time, and this will, too.

I will survive.

pb
Little Pond

Too Tall?

2010-07-21T09:14:00.001-04:00

It's the big day. Neuro followup visit.

I have a huge packet of forms for them to fax to Aetna. Gannett insists I apply for longterm coverage. Apparently, they--and only they--get to decide whether or not I retire.

Here is my list of observances. I hate to call them complaints:

half deaf, left side; tinnitus right side
numbness up to knees, but some feeling in toes
clumsy hands
nap every afternoon, but poor sleep at night
no strength in arms. Just enough to pick up the baby!
poor balance. I feel "too tall" for my height, for goodness sakes.
forgetful and stupid
too tired to walk more than 20 mins
can't style hair (hair or arms? your call)
incontinent

Let's see how it all shakes out.

pb
Little Pond

"It just exploded!"

2010-07-14T10:57:00.000-04:00

I'm back from Walmart, ready to replace the shower head.

This morning, Husband RJ came downstairs mumbling about the shower head, how it was spraying all over the place. I had just "repaired" it with electrical tape, hoping to delay a trip out for a new one.

While not exactly admitting to damaging the thing, he did say he dropped it onto the side of the bathtub at one time. The attachement was cracked right at the coupling to the hose.

No problem, I simply taped it securely, making it useful until we could get to Walmart for a new one.

So why is this posted to the MS Companion?

Well, I forgot.

I forgot that as an MSer, I shower in only slightly warm water. Many women I know will also shower in slightly warm water. Just warm enough to be comfortable. The head gave me no problem.

I forgot that Husband RJ fills the entire upstairs with fog when he showers.

He apparently turned the hot on fully, then adjusted the temperature with the cold water. Then he pulled the diverter. Apparently the shower head lifted itself out of its fixture and exploded on its way down to the floor of the tub! The remaining hose snaked and swirled all over the stall, squirting in every direction.

God I wish I had been there to see it all!

pb
Little Pond

The Eagle Has Landed

2010-07-09T11:44:00.001-04:00

We are now on Disability. More details later. At present, I am weathering the heat wave.

Out to the river before 8 AM. Resting in a cooled house most of the day. I hope to go to the grocery store later, when we are expecting rain.

Yesterday, I went for groceries at 6AM. Good thing, too. It was sweltering and suffocating both.

pb
Little Pond

It finally hit me at 4AM.

2010-05-22T09:08:00.002-04:00

This exacerbation is not going away any time soon.

A dull ache from ear to ear at the back of my head was the little birdie who told me so.

In early July I will see the neuro, but I don't know if I should wait that long. After all, Solumedrol therapy is unpleasant this time of year, but the summer is shot anyhow.

Time to seek intermediate financial help, too. If I'm lucky, that is. Maybe a stopgap loan? I don't know.

There goes the 401K.

pb
Little Pond

A new process begins...

2010-05-18T08:36:00.003-04:00

So.

I've finally accepted that I cannot work like this. My neuro has sent the word to my family doctor that he recommends indefinite disability status. My gut is so nervous about the future that I feel awful every day. Multiple Sclerosis symptoms are now pretty constant: two different ringtones in my ears, along with very poor hearing in the left; numbness and dysaesthesia in both legs to the thighs and no real balance to speak of; clumsy numbness in both hands and my face; visual acuity comes and goes. On top of that, asthma is taking its usual toll this time of year.

I'm a terrible driver and use the car as little as possible. My home is sort of a part-time prison, only I have no energy to fix it up. Tidying and sweeping takes most of my energy every day.

I won't go into detail about the incontinence, except to affirm that self-catheterization is a wonderful thing. That's only half of that story.

The bills are currently being paid by my employer's insurance, but that will come to a halt in a few weeks.

Today I go online to prepare for a meeting with Social Security. The information and documents are all collected, and I've been dreading the meeting tomorrow for over a week. Husband RJ wants to come along, but I see no reason for it, except that I am chronically fatigued. As often as that leaves me feeling faint, I haven't fainted since the February Solumedrol infusion. I refuse to be a fainting Victorian lady; I don't even own a corset, not even a cute, sexy one.

The bills must be paid at all costs. Literally.

This time "all costs" cannot include working, as I have since my diagnosis fifteen years ago.

Pretty pickle, isn't it?

pb
Little Pond

Attitude Adjustment

2010-05-04T11:09:00.003-04:00

I just got off the phone with my mother in the next state. She told me that I will need time to adjust to my situation: Time to get all the paperwork through. Time to work out all the financial details. Time to adjust to being disabled and home.

And finally, time to learn how to live with the man I married.

Yep. Poor Husband RJ is now sort of an opponent. He's always in the bathroom when I need to go. He takes up too much room in the bed. He hogs the computer. His smoking bothers my asthma. All the gardening, indoors and out, keeps the floors in a constant mess.

The poor guy can no longer manage to mow the yard in one go. The mower messes with the hearing in my MS-damaged hearing. All the time now, since he takes it in little batches.

And this should sound familiar to fellow MSers: every day is a battle over the climate control. He likes it too hot in the winter and too cold in the summer.

For me, that is. The air conditioning kicks up neuralgia spots in my head and neck. Even with the compromise of 73 degrees max and 71 minimum, the blowing is annoying both to my hearing and the neuralgia. It was a tad easier in the winter, because I would bundle up or strip down. I sort of do that in the summer, too.

Now I treasure the times he's at work.

And feel guilty about that, too.

pb
Little Pond

Fifteen years ago.

2010-05-01T18:38:00.002-04:00

March 1995. I began to notice a strange feeling in my left foot, around the toes. They felt pinched, or wet or something.

I was working in an audiovisual company on the East side of town in a largely unheated building. I bundled up a little more, glad that I worked nights in a more comfortable place. The Black Monday crash of the 80's had ruined my career as an editor, so I was working two part time jobs.

May 1995. We were pasteup artists goofing around with the Exacto knives. I forget what made me think of it, but I asked my coworker to stab me in the leg. She very cautiously did so, and shortly announced that she had drawn blood. At the same time, my sight was deteriorating, to the point where I could not discern the difference between a raw, unsharpened photo and its properly processed counterpart.

My general practitioner tested my reactions with a pin. He looked serious and was uncharacteristically quiet. I was sent to the hospital for a neurological exam. During that exam, done with electrodes and all the fixings, the neuro announced that I was being sent to another hospital for an MRI. I knew about MRI's from my work with educational audiovisuals.

Half a day later I was flat on my back in the hospital, having my first Solumedrol Drip. A very relieved neuro told me I did not have Guillein-Barre, but I did have Multiple Sclerosis. Years later I would remember that a college buddy had something that made her walk stiffly and feel constantly tired.

Memorial Day weekend 1995 was spent in the hospital. I insisted on returning to work in five days. The neuro was astounded, but I had to return to my night job, because they were considering me for a full time, benefited position. I needed the money and the benefits.

Fifteen years ago this month, I began my journey with Multiple Sclerosis. This year I am fighting to regain normalcy, but it doesn't look good. It has been over two months since the Solumedrol drip, and I am only partly recovered. Never before have I been on a long term disability.

What a difference fifteen years makes.

pb
Little Pond.

Another brother down.

2010-04-25T09:24:00.002-04:00

Please visit Little Pond today and follow the links in the top two posts. We need to support those who care for us when we get beyond medical help.

pb
Little Pond

Rinse and repeat

2010-04-14T11:55:00.002-04:00

Wow. It's deja vue all over again, as they say. Monday I finished the latest round of doctors' visits and MRI--this time with a complete spinal scan.

As a matter of course I went to the neuro's to inquire if paperwork went out to Aetna for the temporary disability time. At the moment I am required to return to work Monday, April 18.

Not feeling great, but really, I went right back to work after the first attack, some fifteen years ago. Perhaps the intervening years have taken their toll on my ability to bounce back.

As has already happened twice before, the office reacted with shock when I announce that I was going back to work on Monday. Voiced the same indignation over the insurance company wanting further documentation. And, of course, had not sent in any of the papers that I had filled and given to them to send along to Aetna.

Just like the last time. If I were feeling just a tad better, I would return to work on Monday and tell the neuro (and his office) to screw himself. I'm tired of playing my own disability caseworker.

Although I must admit, I'm becoming a pretty good one. Lots of practice, you know.

Maybe I should consider a change of careers.

pb
Little Pond

A working-over?

2010-04-07T12:05:00.003-04:00

So now I have been poked, prodded, stuck, and a few things I can't describe in any sort of good taste. In fact, who knew all the places they can tack-on electrodes?

At this point, I have healed from the bruising left after the three Solumedrol infusions. And I have gotten over the rashes left by the tapes used to secure various medically-invasive implements. The worst one being the goop used to secure and maintain the connection needed for the electrodes attached to my scalp. Again: who knew?

And lets not forget the ringing in the ears. Two different tones, apparently one for each side. It wasn't there, I don't think, before all this frigging loveliness.

Ahem. Some of the adhesive left only a minor spot or two that healed in just a day or so, but the electrode in the hair, well, that is still a sore/hot spot in my scalp. Sort of like those hot spots fleas leave on a dog.

Without going into the nasty details, I am only left with a Urinary Tract Infection, caused by the tubing used to pump me full of sterile water. Of course, I have a mild UTI almost all the time, anyway, from self-catheterizing, but the laboratories caught this one. Now I am on Amoxicillin for the next ten days.

Last, but certainly not least, is the after effects of the MRI: an entirely new one now scheduled for next week.

We are now officially keeping the Arnot Ogden Medical Center in business, single-handedly. The bills for the copays, etc, are piling up.

pb
Little Pond

"Normal" MRI

2010-03-24T09:52:00.003-04:00

Don't want to say too much about the MRI results just yet, because the neuro hasn't seen them; he's still in Mexico.

"There are 2 punctate foci of high signal in the left frontal perventricular
white matter on the FLAIR sequence of doubtful significance, and there is
asymmetry in CSF space about the IACs left larger than right, a normal
variant."

Whatever that means. So you can see I really need to discuss it with the neuro. Anyway, at best this means that there was no new damage! At worst: I would have to go in for another MRI. Pray it's the first, please.

So lets see where I stand:

Two calls and two letters from Aetna, and I am still scheduled to return to work the 29th. Fine, I guess, although my neuro, if he were able to be reached, would probably not like that at all, since he prescribes three months at home.

Papers were not sent to Aetna with the doctor's orders until last Friday. See post below. The doctor's orders are faxed, but nothing from Aetna.

I called the uro only to find that "no tests, no appointments" is the report from them. This was puzzling, since I know he told me we would have some sort of followup. I said as much and thanked the person. Less than an hour later I get a frantic message on the machine that I should call back immediately.

Figures. Of course there are not only tests, but followup appointments and more tests, enough to fill next week with a lot of running around.

Of course. Wonder if I will be hearing of their firing soon, too?

So this morning I called Aetna yet again and told them I have a whole week of appointments scheduled and really can't go back to work yet. I am now in Farmville, rearranging my crops and livestock, while waiting for the inevitable callback.

You know, I would heal an awful lot faster if I weren't always so knotted up in nerves over whatever paperwork wasn't getting done by whoever. Many times I have had to do all the running, faxing, and calling myself.

Another thing: I am a very conscientious worker who not only gets work done, but has the courtesy to follow up immediately with whomever I promised the work. I see none of this in any of these offices.

Doesn't anyone do their job well anymore?

pb
Little Pond

After a couple of days to sink in...

2010-03-22T08:39:00.002-04:00

Friday's events are becoming real. They were so dreamlike, I needed the time to assimilate them.

The lady in the neuro's office is gone. While my neuro is on vacation for a month, the parent company--a local medical center--fired her.

My mother and daughters all wanted the results to the MRI. Usually I wait to hear from my neuro on that, because they have a better idea what it will actually mean, and I won't get hysterical or so depressed.

This time, however, everyone was waiting, so I called the neuro office. The phone rang a very, very long time, and was finally answered by a shaky-sounding fellow who mostly handles the ortho's business. He informed me that the lady was gone, but he would dig up the results.

The results were negative. Huh? What's that mean? It said it was "normal." (Much more on that later.)

At that point, I panicked. But I am not well, and my work insurance will cancel, and I will need to return to work, and I will need to travel three hours every day again. Et cetera.

The nice man couldn't help me and I could hear the phones ringing in the background as he told me that the lady who processed the neuro's stuff was now gone, fired in the early part of the week. Stunned, I thanked him and hung up the phone.

It was a pretty fair bet that they didn't file the papers I sent them on Monday. The fired lady took her time about everything, usually smiling and telling me they would be fine, sweetie.

Yes, sweetie. I called my family and informed them that the MRI was normal. My younger daughter told me to call my GP and ask him what we should do.

Duh. I never thought of that.

I called the GP, who immediately--and I do mean immediately--called back and told me to ride the neuro's office until I had proof that those papers went out. The GP couldn't help me at all, because it would all cycle back to the neuro.

Well, I went in person to the neuro office, and found the poor fellow rummaging through files, with a phone in one ear, and the other phones ringing incessantly, and people still waiting for the ortho, lined up nicely in the waiting room.

After waiting until I was sure he took care of the others, I approached him again and explained my troubles. It seemed to me that we simply needed to find out if papers were faxed to Aetna.

He brightened right up and began rummaging again. He took care of the waiting ortho patients, and finally unlocked the neuro's office--remember how the neuro had gone on vacation-- and came back empty handed. He began to look desperate, then wandered out to the "back room" and came back with my folder.

He actually told me I needed to look at the folder and tell him what was significant! There, right on top, were the papers that needed to be sent. I sighed with relief and pointed them out to him. He shook his head and said, "If they had gone out, there would be a notation on it."

We looked them over, page by page, and ultimately found that the last paper needed to be signed by me.

I signed the paper, and he faxed them to Aetna on the spot, returned copies to me. Those papers included the "office notes" that should have been sent weeks ago. The nice man marked a paragraph for Aetna that gave the time period that was needed for my recovery: three months.

Mystery solved; immediate crisis averted. I thanked him profusely.

Now I have to work on the uro's office. They were supposed to call me with a date for my tests.

That was last week, so here we go again.

pb
Little Pond

Overdid.

2010-03-11T15:10:00.003-05:00

How do you like my new header?

Thanks to my BlogSis

(DigitalKaren.com)

for a new, much fresher look!

Yesterday, I was wiped out after the MRI. No real exercise, no real anything, but I was exhausted. Fell asleep in front of the television that evening.

Today I tried my usual round of groceries.

I started at Walmart, "cherry-picking" the best prices on our weekly stuff. Then I moved to Tops, already noticeably flagging.

When I finished Tops, I knew I needed to hit Weis for 5-6 items not available elsewhere. I finished the shopping and went home.

Then I found that I still needed to run the bank errands.

All in all, some four hours of running. After all, what else did I have planned? Anything not finished would need to be done Friday, likely in the rain.

I can barely move right now, and am blogging because I don't have the energy to do anything else.

I won't do that again. Four hours is way too much for me, these days.

Well, maybe better days are coming.

pb
Little Pond

Let the testing begin!

2010-03-10T06:55:00.002-05:00

MRI today at 2:30. I am apprehensive enough to lose sleep over it, but not enough to demand an Open MRI. I will meditate and pray during the ordeal.

Neuro Lab on the 30th for hearing and vision tests.

Still waiting on Elmira Urology appointment. I don't want to see the numbnuts out in Corning. They were worse than useless the last time. We actually wound up having the Neuros write prescriptions for them, because they refused! My suspicions are that Elmira Uro will be more of the same, but at least we can get some tests out of them.

Will follow-up with the Uros after I survive the MRI.

Anxiety is growing. The bad economy, lack of local advertising, and who knows what else, all promise no good for local employment.

pb
Little Pond

Back in whack

2010-03-09T08:40:00.002-05:00

So here's the p00p:

Yesterday I noticed that I had inadvertently stopped taking the Potassium supplements need to counteract the diurected needed to regulate my blood pressure. (That was a trip!)

And today I can already see better and am much more awake. My blood pressure is normal and I ran right through the morning paper, the sudoku and the crossword. Admittedly, those are the easier versions that get harder as the week wears on.

Unfortunately, I still wobble. A lot.

Aetna tells me I am covered until March 28th. At the same time, they requested the dates for 1: the MRI, 2: the bladder tests, and 3: the next neuro visit. A quick trip to Arnot Health Services (neuro) verified that the next visit is April 26th. The two scans/tests are not yet set, because our insurance requires pre-approval.

Where does that leave me? Assuming the tests are approved, we should be then covered until the neuro visit in later April.

I assume nothing.

Am I ready to return to work?

I would say "yes" if I were working here in Elmira. A resounding "no" if I must go to Binghamton. For the first time in a year, I am getting about 8-9 hours of sleep, albeit interrupted by trips to the bathroom. And that includes a short nap at midday.

The bottom line is this: if I am not covered by Aetna, I will definitely return to work on the 29th of March, even if I must return to Binghamton. We are only one paycheck away from financial disaster--the crash and subsequent Bank shenanigans have guranteed that. I had been merrily paying down and eliminating bills before then. Then one after another, they ground to a near halt, as the interest rates rose to unimaginable levels, at least for someone who never missed a payment, had an excellent rating, etc.

It doesn't take a neurologist to figure out what triggered this last exacerbation. Eleven hour days of commuting and working await me, but my job is in Binghamton, and they are holding for me. And the bills still need to be paid.

pb
Little Pond

Out of whack!

2010-03-08T08:28:00.004-05:00

For the past several days I've been awakening in a strange fog, almost a stupor. I can't see clearly and have no balance and, worst of all, I'm dizzy. Over the balance of the day, I can usually even out to the point where I can at least drive, if not walk very far.

Until today, I have been attributing it to the leftover steroids in my system, worsened by middle age. After all, it has been around a decade since my last infusion.

Today, I was replenishing my everyday cubby of prescription meds, when I noticed that I have no bottle for Potassium.

Potassium was the first substance that went completely awry when I started Diovan for the blood pressure. That was a few years ago, and I had the same sort of symptoms back then. Now, it's been about a week, maybe, since I tossed the old bottle and did not replace it. I forgot.

So many meds, so little brain space to store them in!

Now I must wait a few days before I reassess my post-Solumedrol progress.

My current status: Aching, twitching muscles, especially in my arms and thighs. Dizziness and weakness. Bad taste in my mouth, relieved only with a good scrubbing with baking soda (toothpaste tastes bad, too!): I can't even taste chocolate and citrus. Poor overall coordination and emotional depression. Not weepy, but just hopelessness and anxiety constantly playing in the background.

Back in a few days with a new report.

Expecting great things!

pb
Little Pond

Solumedrol, then and now

2010-03-03T07:17:00.002-05:00

Before it fades in my memory, I want to mention the Solumedrol drip. Almost a decade has passed since my last infusion, so this trip was new territory.

It is my best guess that infusion centers are a result of insurance giants protecting their bottom line. Since we used to have to chip in a sizeable amount out of pocket, we are not complaining about the ride over and back. Reasonable, I guess, although the nurses were not pleased to learn I was alone after a minor "episode."

A liter of the solution used to infuse over a few hours, done by a very attentive home health care provider. I was amazed to see only a very tiny--maybe 250 l.--amount waiting for me. The nurses said it would take one hour, and that they would check with my doctor. Neuro wanted several hours, but agreed to try the new way.

Immediately, my hand swelled up. In fact, both hands swelled up and got very sore and achy. The discomfort left me wondering if something was going very wrong. I say discomfort, because it is very difficult to detect pain these days. This exacerbation has left me in a mess.

In the meantime, MSers were also taking the cure around me. They seemed comfortable, at least in contrast to the many others who were getting, blood, and God knows whatever else was being dispensed there that day. In fact, I watched one MSer come, receive his infusion, and leave, all in the time it took for the nurses to even find a vein to poke in my arms.

Was I a wimp? Well, in ten years I had gotten older. I also developed hypertension and asthma during that time, so things were very different for this old carcass.

About 20 minutes in, I could hardly stand what was now pain. I moved my body, to see if shifting my weight in the chair would help. This made my head light and my stomach sick, and I reached for the wastebasket. There was so much paper and medical waste, that I thought the overworked nurses didn't need a mess to clean, so I straightened up to sit back. The curtain of sparkles fascinated me a second or two before I realized I was fainting.

"Some help over here, please." I am still proud that I maintained full composure.

Chaos ensued. A call went out for more nurses. A call went out for the Rapid Response Team. And seemingly dozens of hands picked me up and placed me into a lounger--my chair. (Later, I would find little bruises on my arms and legs.) The RRT couldn't find the infusion center and showed up when I was fully stabilized. I was not impressed with the RRT.

Of course: "This never happened before." I knew that was coming, because they had told me, and my neuro after me, that they had never had a problem with Solumedrol.

They resumed the drip and we finished over the next hours. The remaining infusions were two-hour drips over the next two days, and were uncomfortable, but uneventful.

So, did I just get old? I think so, because others breezed through. The nurses watched more carefully, and offered food and drink over the next two days. No more troubles.

Maybe I'm just a wimp, after all.

pb
Little Pond

A few days into the treatment

2010-02-28T07:29:00.002-05:00

Hands are still a little bit wooden, but the Solumedrol is doing its thing. Of course, I feel like I've been tossed down a rocky hill. But it is a familiar sensation, and I know it means that everything is working.

It all finally got rolling on Tuesday. MammaDog brought me to the neuro's, where we proceded to drive the poor man crazy in stereo. We can work up quite a repetory together.

I had been keeping him abreast of the rapid decline I was experiencing over the past few weeks. His reponse was immediate this time:

Doctor's orders to be off work until July 6. Why that exact date, I can't imagine.

Prescription for a three day infusion of Solumedrol, followed by a four day taper of Prednisone.

Re-evaluation in April.

An MRI and a huge battery of blood tests for CBC, Comprehensive Metabolic, Free T4 and TSH, all routine. I will go for the blood tests this week, close to home.

The steriods are depleting me of stamina, so I am no venturing far. Also, my sight always seems to go out during the treatments.

If it were not for the earthquake in Chile, I would have nothing to worry about for a while. As it stands, my sister and BIL's family, as well as our foster son, Brian Alegria, are all beyond our reach and ability to contact. I worried myself to exhaustion yesterday, and am leaving it all in the hands of their local and authorities. They are experts in earthquakes, and sounded very confident in their ability to recover. The death tolls are relatively low.

My foster son is a slum dweller, and they reside higher over the coast in a hilltop village, sort of. One can only hope that they simply had less to crash down on them. As for the Tapias, and their extended family, we can only join our prayers as a clan.

When I have more energy, I will have more news.

Thanks to all for your prayers and well wishes.

pb

For God's Sake, Get a Grip!

2010-02-11T12:21:00.004-05:00

Today is Thursday, and I am home because of a furlough day. Actually, I was looking forward to this one, because I was to have seen my Neuro--who will remain nameless for now.

Due to 1 1/2 inches of snow (3.81 cm) we were canceled. Yep, that's right. Not even enough snow to shovel, only to sweep, was enough to cancel my appointment.

A little background for anyone just tripping somehow on this blog:

Diagnosed with MS in 1995 (I think. Need to ask my husband RJ to verify.) At that time I was unceremoniously dropped into a hospital bed after my legs went numb and my sight got fuzzy. From that, I recovered and returned to work in five days. It was only the first of many Solumedrol infusions over the next decade or so.

I continued to work, because my supervisors and coworkers made it plain that I was not only useful, but absolutely necessary for the office to function properly. For which I was thankful nearly every day of the next 13 1/2 years. Able to continue to contribute, despite the lack of elevator or nearby ladies' room, even though my mobility and continence were both compromised. I worked because I preferred to work.

Fast forward to March 2009:

Facing certain layoff, those of us who couldn't afford to accept it, put in applications for jobs in the new CNY order of things. At the time we were already forced to accept five days unpaid layoff each quarter--although that stopped in the Fall of 2009.

By September 2009, I was already experiencing loss of feeling or numbness in my legs, and a very strange double vision in my right eye. The vision thing was weird because I have always experienced most of the MS involvement on my left side. It lasted a few hours.

But I was out in Binghamton and my doctor, who for now will remain nameless, was not to be reached. His substitute told me it was probably an exacerbation and I should see an eye doctor, "if it would make me feel better." Boy, did I feel sheepish. Still do.

In December 2009, my neuro, who for now will remain nameless, quickly, and without examining me, decided I was "distraught" and prescribed a tranquilizer. (Now I felt like an idiot!) It didn't matter that I told him I hate, hate, hated the long drives to Binghamton, and felt like I was losing ground. He decided I was hysterical and needed to calm down.

He also insisted I shouldn't drive and should go to the Human Resources and tell them so:
(See below for how well THAT worked out for me.)

By January 2010, I was sick enough to finally send the jerk a long letter detailing just exactly what I was going through every single work day.

These include (but are not limited to):

Numbness in my chin and nose, and around my eyes.
Numbness and clumsiness in both hands.
Numbness up to, but not quite including, my hips.
Loss of balance.
Loss of hearing in my left ear.
Loss of clarity of vision, sometime more in my left eye, but also somewhat in my right.
The worst emotional roller-coaster feeling I have EVER experienced in the last 14 years.
Extreme, unremitting fatigue. I am so tired, I cannot even sleep anymore, not without exhausting dreams of working, fighting, driving--well, you know--anxiety nightmares. Every single night.
Almost total bowel incontinence: including the inability to empty them on command.
Bladder incontinence, compounded by intermittent inability to urinate on the toilet.

Without going into disgusting detail of how I am managing all this while commuting/working 11 to 13 hours, five days a week, I can simply assure you that:

I live in terror of a huge bowel and/or bladder accident. I do wear protection and I keep doggie bags with me. You know, the ones I use to pick up Ellie's messes. I use a lot of them.

Much of the time I do not make it to the ladies room, and must clean up after myself. I'll bet the janitors are really beginning to wonder what the hell is going on.

I can count on at least one bladder accident a day that is caused by the 1 1/2 hour commute alone.

The ladies' room is farther away than it ever has been in my working career: that is to say 42 years. I simply do not make it. A lot.

Can anyone tell me if this sounds like I should be getting some sort of cooperation for someone, anyone, say, my neurologist?

The difficulties I have faced have left me depressed. Frankly, I have too many bills to pay to push for total disability. I need to work.

I need to work and I want to work near home. I was some sort of accomodation from stinking Gannett, for whom I have slaved for over 15 years. Even at my sickest, I rarely used sick days. I almost never use up my personal and vacation days.

I like to work. I want to work. I need to work.

Why the hell can't I get any help with this?

Because of yesterday's debacle, I have nothing to report to anyone. I took an unauthorized personal day to visit the neuro, and he couldn't be bothered to go to work. Because of 1 1/2" of snow (3.81 cm)!!!

I have never felt so trapped in my life.

Except for those weeks in Spain when they wouldn't return my passport, and wouldn't grant me the visa I needed to stay there, either. Back then, I had friends in somewhat high places, who pulled strings and got me both.

No such friends now, just every Catch-22 imaginable. And a neuro who strikes me as something less than fully competent, and for now remains nameless.

And I feel so unwell.

pb
Little Pond

I want my naps back.

2010-01-20T05:43:00.002-05:00

My co-commuters had an intervention, and I no longer share the driving. They say the spasticity is getting scary. I couldn't argue that.

Every day at about one pm I begin drifting off at work. In fact, nearly all my worst errors occur at that time. Funny: I used to be an excellent employee--a top performer and contributor.

I am desperately trying to keep up with family, friends and even fellow bloggers in Facebook. And it's not working.

The working and commuting are making it impossible to find time to go to the doctors, dentists, etc. I miss having my teeth cleaned and am unable to "visit" with the neuro for that "chat" he suggested over the phone a while back. "Unwell" now is part of my regular vocabulary, so please don't ask me how I am doing. I don't want to complain.

While we are still (mostly) paying our bills, my house is falling into disrepair and filth. I miss my blogs and my books; I miss writing. When I get home at night after eleven or more hours of commuting and working, I have no energy for anything except television. Yesterday, I cried over not being able to write.

People with relapsing-remissing Multiple Sclerosis should not be working and travelling long hours. If you are a doctor, and your patient says she or he needs to alleviate the work situation, please cooperate as much as possible.

New York is a horrible state in which to navigate the disability system. I understand that you don't want to get involved, and waste all the time and effort, but this Multiple Sclerosis patient seems to be slipping away, both physically and mentally, and she is trapped.

pb
Little Pond

Weird as hell

2009-12-10T05:24:00.002-05:00

A very strange interlude. Has this happened to anyone else?

The latest visit with the neuro was strange from beginning to end and after. First off, he didn't go through the usual test of my eyes, strength, balance, etc.

Then he asked about work. I told him I drive 1 1/2 hours each way to work, that I dislike my workday and that I am tired.

Then he told me "I don't want you driving three hours a day." We then discussed the need to husband my resources and spend less time devoted to getting back and forth to work and more time seeing to my health. He said I should go to human resources and talk to them.

Well my boss told me right off that HR wouldn't do anything without a note from him. I admit I was so messed up by the whole concept of such a change, that it hadn't occurred to me that they would even talk to me at all. I had my husband call the doctor's office.

The office told us that the doctor does not give "notes." He would only sign papers from work.

I contacted HR, who told me they do not provide papers without a note from the doctor. Instant stalemate.

W. T. F? Why on earth would the doctor even tell me to get the ball rolling on all that silliness? The doctor's office then said that the record (whatever that could be) of our visit (what visit? nothing happened.) would be sent to my Primary Care Physician marked as Priority.

That was last week. Where on earth does that leave me?

I can tell you that I went to my boss and told her that I am mystified by all this. I had to assure her that I do not intend to quit working, and that I frankly am looking for a new neuro.

I intend to get a copy of the record of our "visit" and find out exactly what that guy was thinking. Or at least what he put down on paper.

Oh, yes. He also prescribed Valium to talk in small doses all day. My co-commuters immediately raised objections to that. So I am not taking Valium, because I have to share the driving.

It binds me up anyway.

pb

Eight Months of Worry

2009-11-28T07:00:00.003-05:00

Have taken their toll on me. I am now resolved to retire and apply on disability in the Summer.

Still, concerns of financial problems cropping up have me wishy washy about the whole thing. We have not cleared away the bills as I had hoped two years ago. The banks have seen to that, and they are getting worse as times go on.

On the bright side I have had a couple of reassurances from Higher Up that things will turn out well, or at least for the best:

The Two Dreams

Seemed like a place in Elmira, but we didn't own it. My mother was part of the dream, as if we were both staying there by ourselves.

Outside in the street a large rig, like a semi was almost clogging the street and parked itself. I remember seeing how huge it was as I stood near it. Then, people came out of it, like a large family. I think they were in the back, but that wasn't really important to the dream.

My mom or I invited them into the small place upstairs. We all crowded into the living room, everyone sitting in different spots. The children were becoming restless and it broke my heart, so I offered them something to eat. My mother looked at me and asked what we thought we were going to feed them. I didn't have an answer, so I went into the kitchen to check.

The place was pretty bereft of cooking utensils, and the fridge had very little. Somehow, I figured I could put together something from the freezer and some buns. But the freezer was all frosted over and the shelves were broken. I asked my mother about it, and she sort of shrugged. We began digging into the rime, which came away easily.

First I found a packet of a little meat, not very fancy, like hunter's venison. I thawed it and threw it into the oven. While I was scrounging for more, some of the children came to me and whined for food. Their mother or mothers pulled them away into the living room.

This again tore my heart, and I shouted after them, trying to console them. "We will manage! No one will go hungry."

In the meantime, the little steak seemed to be enough for four or five people, so we carved it and sent it out. Immediately we found another packet, but probably the last one, in the frost.

When I thawed that one, it was too large for the little pan we found, so we had to spread it out on a cookie sheet.

There would certainly be enough, and we would not need to scrounge for more. I could smell bread, so I guess my mom was baking, too.

At that point, I realized that we were in a "loaves and fishes" situation, and everything was much brighter.

No one would go hungry.

Right after that, I found myself in a thrown-together church, meeting in a gymnasium. The church where I was baptised was for the longest while just like that.

We were praying when the person behind me grabbed my arm. When I looked, a lady (apparently someone from my childhood) looked startled and pointed out that she wasn't touching me.

At that moment I was lifted up to the ceiling, with everyone watching. I was estatic, as was the entire congregation. We all praised God, and I floated back down again. No one was frightened by the happening, and we finished out service. Incidentally, I mentioned that the ceiling was acoustic tile, and that they should be replaced. That was just a strange aside.

Afterwards a senior woman came to me, and jokingly told me, "Now maybe you can bless our restroom, because it's a disaster!"

I thought that was a sensible thing to try, so I went upstairs in the back of the gym, and there was indeed a restroom. It was very old, with a huge tub, the sort for just soaking things, like a washer-room tub, for clothes. It was filled to the brim with water, almost overflowing.

Everyone around me was going about their business, the way that athletes do after or before a game. All the women ignored me, because they were busy.

I stared at the brimming tub, and was struck by the notion that there indeed was plenty of water for the blessing.

What it all means is anyones guess, but I woke in a cheery mood.

Now if the Banks were only run by believers in God, we'd be all set. Alas, it is obvious that this is not so. One can only imagine how this is affecting those less fortunate.

And I actually saw a car dealer bragging that they were Pioneers in Sub-Prime Lending!

The evil of it just gives me the willies.

Just off

2009-08-23T18:43:00.002-04:00

Now I am past the slightly scary exacerbation, with its very temporary double vision. I am working five days a week. Not much time for my life, but there you have it.

My days involve some three hours commute, and 7 1/2 hours working in less than wonderful conditions. My whole way of getting through is to simply repeat " I don't care " constantly to myself.

When I was a teenager, I worked in factories in some pretty nasty conditions. Always, the way I made it through was by telling myself I could put up with anything temporarily.

So I guess the next 5-7 years will be full of my mantra, and the knowledge that it is all temporary. Perhaps with the economy improving, the 401K will improve, and there will be jobs closer to home.

Boy, I am hoping that for everybody.

pb

Not so good.

2009-08-09T12:06:00.003-04:00

Lately we have many people out sick, and a few people out on vacation. There is more than enough work to go around, and not enough people.

All compounded by the ridiculous loud drone that makes everyone both on edge and half asleep at the same time. Whoever decided that we need to put workers around the air conditioning compressor ought to be take out and shot. With lousy 7mm handguns, about two hundred of them. For a long, slow, annoying death, like we are suffering.

Then, oh goody! We, and when I say we, I mean those of us who already get up freaking early so we can commute the hour or so to work. Yes, that "we." Anyway, we were asked to come in a half-hour early. So let's rush our asses to work on Friday, when the whole world is on the Southern Tier Expressway (17 to the locals) with their campers and suv's, everyone going to a vacation destination except "we."

So the place is insane when we get there. Still people out sick and others on vacation. And that lovely drone buzzing us along...

There wasn't a thing I could do for more than 10 minutes before I was interrupted by a person looking for my coworkers on vacation. I spent half the day promising myself that I would get to the bathroom soon, real soon. And the other half resigned to the fact that there was no such thing Friday.

When I finally ran to the potty, at about 11, after having arrived at 9:30, all without benefit of a break, I noticed that my sight had suddenly gone double! Everything had an extra edge on it. Like a shiny ghost self just in front or behind it. This gave me a sick feeling when I tried to walk, because it threw me off balance.

Now, my father had a similar experience, minus the horrific work day, because he's retired. He'd had a TIA. I was not a happy camper.

There was no break in the action until I finally gave up and went to lunch. I called Husband RJ and told him I would probably head directly to the emergency room when I got home.

There was no freaking way I would sit in a strange emergency room some 4-6 hours, then have my husband drive out to Binghamton to come for me.

As we got closer to quitting time, I mentioned to the boss that I was having a problem and would see a doctor when I got home, but would likely need to follow up with doctors on Monday. When I described what I was experiencing, she ordered me to go to the Emergency Room.

At that moment I regretted having mentioned it. She enlisted an HR person, and the two of them worked on me to go to the emergency room. "Let us call you an ambulance." No freaking way.

Anyway, when I got home, I called my Neuro.

Weird. The doctor on call very calmly told me he thought it was the MS. He sounded so completely and calmly convinced that I simply accepted it. He thought maybe I would want to check with my eye doctor, but that fizzled out because they never got back to me.

By the time I got up in the morning the whole episode had passed. My face is still slightly numb from it all, but that was it.

Weird.

pb
Little Pond

Died and went to Hell

2009-07-31T06:49:00.002-04:00

...last March.

The constant hum at work is so loud I hear it in my sleep. Turns out it is the airconditioning compressor. It runs loudest and most constantly during these (almost) Dog Days.

We have been informed that we cannot wear music headphones.

I think I have earplugs. I hope.

Going stark raving mad.

pb
Little Pond

Let's get one thing straight.

2009-07-26T14:12:00.003-04:00

I am disabled. I walk with a cane.

The trips to the Chemung River are specifically related to the disability. When Ellie and I walk through the street of Elmira, I walk with a cane, and Ellie walks with a choke-chain. We call it "Walking Pretty." She stays at my side and we try to move briskly along, to get off the hot streets in the summer, or to get in from the bitter cold in the winter.

On the banks of the Chemung River, Ellie is free to poke and hunt, and I am able to take pictures. We keep the leash handy for encounters with other human-dog pairs.

Yet I stress that the River is dangerous. Ellie does not swim in the river where it is deep and flowing, and I do not wade. Well, almost never.

Ellie is allowed to swim where the river is fairly still and shallow. The proof of this is her tail: up when she wades, and lower when she wades.

I would never risk my little buddy's safety.

Little Pond

Night of the Long Knives, revisited.

2009-07-09T15:02:00.005-04:00

Again.

It started last week, before the public announcement. One of our building supers was "offered" early retirement, and he took it. One day it was "Hi" and the next it was "Bye!"

Yesterday I got word that the lady with whom I had a disagreement (and since reconciled) was let go. No way would I wish it on anyone, especially not her. She and her coworkers were lucky enough to get work with Gannett after their publishing house went under. After only a year or so, it has to be hard for her.

Today the list got significantly longer, including a few people I knew well. I am told this current batch is being "let go," so I don't think they were offered a buyout. We were never promised a buyout this go-around, anyway.

As I remember, those who were on vacation, or out sick, when the white list went into effect, were removed when they returned. Same thing happened when I went on partial layoff years ago. I could still go back and learn my fate.

One can only hope they will allow me some sort of retirement, if they do.

But, by now I feel that whatever happens, happens.

We have bigger fish to fry.

pb
Little Pond

Delicious! Recipe for disaster.

2009-07-06T13:59:00.004-04:00

After a quick visit with Violet and her new parents, I stopped by a Chinese takeout to grab a "house special" chow mein. Bought a whole quart, even though I am the only person in the entire family (both sides, likely) who eats the stuff.

Little things began tapping at the back of my head. "Chinese Buffet" on the sign, instead of "Family Depot," however that really translates from the original language. Well, it had literally been more than a year since I last ordered from there.

Very spare place, with only three workers. Used to be busier, with many people. Oh, and no "Buffet" or any sign of it. Well, okay, it's a holiday weekend, after all.

Finally, the most damning clue of all: it was delicious! Usually I would consider it a huge slug of veggies and some little pieces of meat and shrimp. Good for me, but not great tasting. I generally fix it with duck sauce.

This stuff was wonderful: flavorful and welcome; it didn't even need soy sauce. I ate two enormous servings and saved the rest for the next day.

The final clue came last night in my sleep. Weird, off-the-wall dreams, that somewhere, somehow, always feature a bathroom.

I woke up crampy and cranky, and flew into the real bathroom. Twice within twenty minutes.

When things settled down, I took the HuggaMutt for a walk in the Newtown Creek area. Had to duck into some heavy shrubbery to ease my bladder, where I got a nasty surprise.

Time to head home, change my clothes, and do a special load of laundry.

If you live in the Elmira/Southport area, and are sensitive to MSG, here's a tip: Avoid the Chinese Buffet in Southport Plaza.

Avoid it like the Plague.

pb
Little Pond

You probably know

2009-07-04T19:11:00.006-04:00

Yesterday, Violet Meadow Johns became the youngest person ever to cause me to have a wetting accident, and the only one to ever cause three.

Three accidents, to be exact.

She arrived at 2:09pm, in a bit of a rush, after her mother suddenly dialated and effaced, fully and all at once.

We were just arriving to console our daughter for having to go through another day of pitocin and slow, annoying, contractions. She'd already begun to deliver.

There was a quick, lovely visit with a teeny, squalling newborn, and we were rushed out to give the mother and baby time to bond and practice nursing.

It was the beginning of many rushes to find facilities. I never made it to the ladies room for any of them, but I did go through lots of protection, and glad of it. And, with a building full of nurses and various supplies, who cares?

Don't know when things will settle down enough in the nerve department, but then again, I don't much care. Busy with other stuff, we are.

She's perfect, she's beautiful, she's a miracle, and well worth all the trouble.

Little Pond

The best therapy

2009-06-19T12:35:00.003-04:00

I'd have to say my little HuggaMutt is my best therapy. I can really feel the difference, now that I cannot visit the River so often.

Truthfully, I rarely go to the Chemung without my little buddy. She's good for my nerves when she's just being a dog. Her latest thing, now that the water is warm enough, it to wade or swim out to inspect anything within range. Usually it will be a log, a stick or some detritus, but often, I cannot understand what she thinks she sees:

GoRiverDogging

Little Pond

And finally...

2009-06-15T07:28:00.002-04:00

One door closes, but another opens.

The loss of feeling in my outer pelvis left me bereft, until I realized that I was more in tune with what was directly inside that area.

I hope you know what I mean.

There is a strange jumbling of feeling caused by MS. I believe this is called dysaesthesia. Boy, did that ever happen to me. It is the cause of "accidents" at time and the bane of my working life. A twinge, then a loss of control, all further troubled or even triggered by any physical or emotional shock or upset.

But, it's a little gift from heaven during intimacy. If we plan ahead, and protect against incontinence by a quick visit to the little girls' room beforehand, well, we can ring the bell nearly every time.

Not a bad little development in a middle-aged MSer's life, eh?

pb
Little Pond

More about the naughty bits.

2009-06-05T07:31:00.003-04:00

I started this whole "naughty bits" thing because I couldn't find a way into mentioning something delicate but important.

During the "first" attack of MS that hit me in, I think, 1995, I lost a lot of feeling in my body before we could staunch it with Solumedrol.

The numbness had moved all the way up my legs and arms. My very core was beginning to numb out. In fact, I knew the Solumedrol was working when I got my monthly period and began to have cramps. The doctor let me out of the hospital a few days later.

That attack left me with very little feeling in my pubic region. That is to say that what were once excruciatingly painful menses became just crampy, despite the monthly clogging of my pelvic varicose veins. That's right, varicose veins. And also cysts. AND endometriosis.

Much of which I have passed on to my unlucky daughters.

Of course, perimenopause, and finally, the real deal, menopause, have alleviated all that. I'm not finished in that department, either.

It was strange that there were actually benefits to the damage done by Multiple Sclerosis.

There's more, though. Later.

I have to go to work now.

pb
Little Pond

More on shaving!

2009-06-03T09:09:00.004-04:00

I honestly think that shaving is the best way to go. Even still.

In my Junior Year Abroad, I learned that the Spanish (at that time 1973-4) considered shaving disgusting for a woman. Interestingly enough, in medieval times, their Moroccan overlords would shave a harem girl from the neck down, just before she was presented to please her master for the night. That must have been quite a shock for the virgins.

Otherwise, I remember a time we were having a waxing party in the dorm. This involved copious wine, snacks, and waxing one another. Someday I may write a sexual fantasy about it, to pass it on appropriately to the men!

One of the girls got silly, and couldn't bring herself to continue the chore. She had drawn blood, which sometimes happens when a person must wax the same spot twice, and left my muy amiga Rosa with one (ONE!) hairy armpit, just before she was to go to a pool party with her fiance.

Rosa was furious, and enlisted the rest of us to take turns and pull the hairs with a tweezer. One tough broad, and the sweetest soul on the face of the planet, was Rosa. (I've often equated her with the Blessed Mother, who also must have been, to quote Fr. Andrew Greeley, "tough as nails.")

There was no convincing her to shave. All the girls thought that was disgusting. We never shaved in Spain.

One final note: I gave up waxing after I found that I still got shaving bumps. The hairs came back too weak to break the surface, and lay directly underneath, until they burst out.

Disgusting.

pb
Little Pond

So where did the electrolysis leave us?

2009-05-23T09:33:00.004-04:00

We now have many little holes along the bikini line. Rather like tiny navels, they fill with lint, so I can't wear black panties. And it behooves me to scrub with a scrub brush once in a while.

Now I shave. Not exactly a fanatic about it, I still feel that I need to shave the naughty bits. I used to shave in the summer, anyway, whenever I needed to wear "feminine protection." Just struck me as more efficient for keeping clean. Eventually, it seemed worthwhile to completely shave the Venusian Triangle.

As with all shaving, this presented problems. Bikini lines are constantly rubbed by underwear, at least mine are. Scottish ancestory has endowed me with wavy hair, anywhere I care to grow it.

Shaving bumps are de rigeur for shavers in my family. My poor Daddy used to be constantly picking them out with a needle in my childhood, very occasionally enlisting my help when I was old enough.

After a long learning curve accompanied by my very own needle for digging recalcitrant hairs, I finally hit on the solution in a back issue of Playboy. A very bad shave for those areas would have to do. I ultimately began to simply clip them into a Yassir-Arafat-looking sort of shave and completely depilitate the absolute nethermost parts.

Keeps me busy year-round now, what with the need for incontinence protection. I even filch Husband RJ's Vidal Sasoon Mustache and Beard clippers.

Rather appropriate tool for the job, don't you think?

pb
Little Pond

Naughty Bits

2009-05-21T07:26:00.002-04:00

Never mind that the bits don't feel much these days, they are still naughty. Why else would I hesitate to write about them?

I remember in Spain, back some thirty years ago, one could get legs waxed all the way up to the bikini line for about 10 buck ( in pesetas, of course). The victim simply stood on a table and the waxer slopped the stuff on in four dollops per leg and (after setting up two more victims) came back to rip it off the same way.

I declined, as did my more hirsute American friend. Too close to home, she'd say.

Fast forward to the 1980's. The GP gave me a hormone to ease the symptoms of what they now call Peri-Menopause, or whatever the latest term is. I began to grow hair where the Good Lord had previously spared me. Luckily for me, a group of friends were exploring/training in electrolysis, and needed a guinea pig. For free, no less!

The works, babeee! It was a few years before my first exacerbation and hurt like the dickens, but in those dinkie little bikinis we wore then, well, I looked like a Barbie doll. My GP even gave me a prescription for pain pills, although one of the co-conspirators was a doctorate in psychology who successfully used hypnosis and other mental tricks.

Those people were so anti-hair that they shaved their entire bodies, too. The leader of the band was a militant naturist, and the rest of us followed in varying degrees. My first encounters with nudists were in the 60's and 70's with communes and a few family friends. My own folks were never horribly body-conscious, so I was really open minded.

Now for the kicker. Hey, you knew there had to be one, right?

The last time I went for electrolysis, I was doing the stray facial hairs that accumulate after age 50. The now-totally licensed and very experienced electrologist was reluctant to work on me because of the MS. She was right.

The stray facial hairs were weird enough, with me twitching all the time at each shock, or rather, each pulsation. I was happy to undergo the torture to avoide shaving, so I directed her to a stray hair on the "happy line" that points to those important "bits." She gave it a quick zap.

My whole body convulsed, bringing my knees involuntarily almost up to where she was working. She never worked on me again. I believed she was completely unnerved.

So now I shave everything.

More later.

pb
Little Pond

If I were a guy,

2009-05-15T07:31:00.002-04:00

I would totally have a mustache. This may not be the first time I've written about this, but I had an interesting dream.

It was like a commercial for shave cream, except it was for the underarms. In it, the shave cream gave a perfect shave, leaving the skin as if there were no hair follicles.

Every woman's dream, right? And I do know about waxing, and did it for years. The reason I shave now is that the act of scraping the skin leaves it more youthful over a very long period of time.

Evidently, I'm not going anywhere soon; may as well go there looking good.

Had a small kidney stone incident this week, apparently. "Apparently," because I never went to the doctor or ER. Wednesday, it was my turn to drive and it began to manifest during my shower. With ten minutes to go, I simply grunted with the pain and got in the car.

Very painful drive over the next twenty minutes. I hit the lavatory at the first coworker's stop, and already the worst was over. I spent a miserable day looking like death (or so I was repeatedly told) and scaring the bejesis out of my coworkers.

But, hey... I figured there were hospitals in Binghamton, if need be.

Short story: long, hard day, better night, and getting better each day.

More about shaving in a later post: "the naughty bits!"

pb

Truckers call it the Double Nickel

2009-04-30T10:03:00.004-04:00

Got a surprise present last night.

This weekend we will celebrate at Garcias Mexican Restaurant, where I will, no doubt, opt for the chimichanga, guacamole salad and a glass of Dos Equis Special Lager.

It's good to get old.

pb
Little Pond

Serenity

2009-04-27T12:16:00.003-04:00

Can one week of peace and quiet make up for my shattered life? We hope to find out. On break until May 4.

pb
Little Pond

Getting out of shape

2009-04-20T07:41:00.003-04:00

No, not the HuggaMutt, but GrammaDog. Two days of intensive hiking, and five days of commuting and working in the pits of Binghamton. It's Monday, and I am about to do it all over again. Getting flabby and my legs are getting MS-y.

Watching the want ads in the paper, Craig's List, Monster, Career Builder, and Twin Tiers Help Wanted. Pretty sparse, so I'm lucky to have a job. Unfortunately, the bills are already piling up.

It's going to be a tough year.

pb
Little Pond

Not great.

2009-04-05T11:52:00.002-04:00

The commuting is killing me, and I am not even driving much. I am tired all the time, 24/7 now. The fatigue allowed me to let my guard down, and I cannot do that there.

Went to my supervisor with a problem that had been vexing me for over an hour, and I mentioned good humoredly that I had "got to the point where I didn't care about it anymore." No raised voices or tears or even peevish crabbing. Even with some rest it still seems innocuous, but ya gotta watch yer back, right?

The supervisor took it to her boss and we had ourselves a little intervention. During which I was told that if I have a problem with anything, I had better "keep it to yourself" because an account representative could have been listening. As if I had announced the thing to the room, or even anyone else, but the boss.

Guess that strange look she always wears when she talks to me was some sort of a warning. I had figured she was shy or something, but keep in mind that I have many more years with the company than she has (many, many!), so I should have been wary of her.

I am now, alright. What a shame I had forgotten to beware of younger supervisors. Well, at least I have a weekend to rest up and get on the game and very much on guard, permanently.

Visited the river. Once with the HuggaMutt.

pb
Little Pond

Tired all the time.

2009-03-29T13:02:00.004-04:00

But so are my fellow carpoolers. We are adjusting to the (essentially) 10 hour days.

I get up on Saturday, grocery shop, and off to bed.

But I did take the Huggamutt for a walk on Saturday and Sunday.

pb
Little Pond

Miss visiting with you all.

2009-03-28T06:57:00.005-04:00

I now carpool. That is, I am riding until I buy a car that will stand up to the punishment. The weeks I drive, I will be tired, tired, tired, but it will be one week out of three.

Car shopping today or tomorrow; I have an offer on the Geo!

Looks like Fridays will be a horror show for a few weeks. Yesterday, I worked almost ten hours. Because I took a furlough day, it was all straight pay.

Hope to get Ellie this weekend.

pb
Little Pond

Morning after the first day

2009-03-17T08:32:00.002-04:00

The drive is worse than I thought; the Geo Tracker is not good at high speeds. Every truck simply shoves me aside with its wind, even if it's just a large SUV. I am now a white-knuckle driver, dreading slippery conditions.

Sixty miles up, as many again back: my work day is now ten hours. I will recalculate my actually wages for the 57.5 hour week and look locally for something similar or better, on that basis alone.

The work itself is child's play, with only mastering Adobe InDesign on the to-do list. That will surely come in a week or two.

I was left to my own devices for two hours on my very first day. I fell back on what I already know and worked out resulting printing problems accordingly. Soon everyone else will be on a schedule closer to mine, so I must suck up the peace and quiet while I may.

The whole place is in transition, and everything will change again shortly. Gannett wants to sell the building on Vestal Parkway and move everything closer to the new plant in Johnson City. Except for the inevitable upheaval, the move should make little difference otherwise.

Minus the grueling commutes and its problems, the people are lovely, the work easy. Unfortunately, the ladies room is just as distant as it was in Elmira. For now.

pb
Little Pond

Poor design alert (update!)

2009-03-11T09:15:00.002-04:00

Blue Denim Bakeables.

Husband RJ bought one of these potatoes for a recipe that I never completed. Today I wanted a potato for steak and onions.

On the label it showed that cooking instructions were on its reverse, so I scraped and peeled and scratched long enough to realize that the label was not a "peel off" sort.

I finally broke into it and read the reverse.

The results?

Specially prepared to deliver oven-baked taste straight from the microwave, Masser's BAKEables are fast, healthy, and delicious!

DO NOT remove or poke holes in wrap.

Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Curiouser and courioser: my email to the company, sent directly from their website, came back UNDELIVERABLE.

Little Pond

Poor design alert

2009-02-28T16:38:00.004-05:00

For those of us with no strength in our hands, sewing is quite a challenge. I have to use pliers to help me sew on a button.

And I use the Buttoneer to tack down upholstery. Buttoneers are great, but they get a little tricky for any of us who have trouble working with tiny objects. In my case, this is due to the lack of real feeling in my fingertips. But it is still nice to reach for the tool and make a quick repair.

And so, I was irritated to see that I was out of the attachers for the Buttoneer, and kept a mental note to find more. Usually this would entail going to Michaels or Jo-Ann Fabrics. The past few visits, they were out of the refills.

And so, I was delighted to find that Singer also has something similar. I purchased a kit and soon set out to repair the kitty chair. The kitty chair is a stationary lounger that Ellie and they use for naps and viewing out the window. It sometimes gets rather ratty looking after a few years of scratching and constant use.

And so, I sat on the floor with my Singer "BM," lets call it. I followed the illustrations, slipped an attacher into the slide, and stuck it into the fabric.

The attacher slipped through and didn't attach. This was puzzling, since I've been working with the Buttoneer for years with no problem.

And so I reread the directions and tried again. By now, it was getting difficult to insert the attacher. See, with the Buttoneer, if the first one doesn't work, it is simple to slide the second one in line down to the slide. There are two to a set, and it's easy to try again.

Not so with the BM. One must snip off each by scissor, those teeny, tiny little attachers that one easily drops and loses on the floor.

I did finally sink one, and only one, attacher properly, and littered the rug with all the rejects. At this point, the very, very delicate needle end is bent and must be bent back with a pair of pliers.

Rinse and repeat. A few more attachers later, I still had only one in place doing its job.

Okay, the think works, but it is very poorly designed. I'm not nuts about the tiny attachers of the Buttoneers, but the Singer's are a nightmare.

I am so glad that I could not find a refill when I bought the darned thing. I won't even waste the gas it would cost to return it to Target.

pb
Little Pond

Cost cutting

2009-02-25T08:55:00.003-05:00

Today I am "out of office" on unpaid furlough day. I will visit the river with Ellie, and pretend to dry clean in the meanwhiles.

In an effort to cut costs, I am now wearing old suits, broken up with jeans, blouses, etc. They never get much wearing because they are labeled DRY CLEAN ONLY.

I get around that by throwing the worn item in with a clean dryer load. In a normal morning, I can do this two or three times, allowing several trips through the dryer for the same piece.

Seems to work. Obviously, this is no good for a dirty item, just a one-time-worn item. Dirty items get a Dryel or "Dry Cleaners' Secret" treatment first, followed by a thorough airing.

Don't try this with a load of new clothes, or their dye will ruin your dry-clean-only item. Furthermore, a load of new towels could conceivably leave a lot of lint.

We don't have much trouble with "new" anything around here, these days. And with the long commute and its associated gas costs, we are not likely to buy much soon.

At least I have a wardrobe for the position in Johnson City. Four old suits equal (with a couple weeks dieting; hooray for Lent!) a lot of different mix and match opportunities.

pb
Little Pond

Gannett update

2009-02-18T10:28:00.003-05:00

The position offered to me is a lateral move. No surprise there; they are cutting costs and won't want to give me the extra pay for the advertising one.

Now I am looking at a 45-50 min commute each way. I drive a 95 Geo Tracker that is literally held together with duct tape. Literally. The body, anyway.

A new car will cost a monthly payment. The trip will use about 5 gals of gas each way. And we are still on the furlough system.

It's a pay cut.

pb
Little Pond

Surviving the winter (now that it's sunny)

2009-02-09T09:16:00.001-05:00

(If you've got sunshine, here are your marching orders: Get Out!!! See our comment thread.)

That's what it's all about right now. I am forcing myself to eat lots of fruit and veggies, or drink them, if I can't.

That means no fresh fruit for me except melons. The acidity is too hard on my stomach, which is already addicted to Prilosec. As for vegetables, they are mostly cooked or in my V8 drink at work. The occasional warm spinach salad works for me, too:

Baby leaf spinach
Celery
Green onions
Mushrooms
Olives (I prefer black)
Bacon sprinkles (hot turky bacon preferred)

The above should be washed and dried, but not heated. The heated part is the dressing.

Honey mustard dressing mixed with
Sprinkle cheese (Crumbled feta, parmesan, bleue, votre preference)

I don't like it sweet, so I cut it with olive oil, or a little dijon-style
mustard. This mixture goes into the micro for 30 secs., then poured over
the salad.

Don't forget the cracked pepper, but skip the salt. Too much in
cheese as it is.

My favorite winter salad. Forget the low calorie with this; it's comfort food.

And lately, I've begun to reintroduce dried fruit, such as dates and raisins. Eaten only in very sparing amounts, again due to the wimpy stomach situation.

And all of this is forced, because I really just want lots of comfort foods in the winter, including a dish of pistachio ice cream once in a while. When I'm miserably chilled, I substitute pistachio pudding instead.

Needless to say, the middle-age spread is my constant companion, despite tons of walking with the HuggaMutt, and incessant worrying over tight clothes.

Damn that Punxsutawney Phil.

pb
Little Pond

It's awfully cold.

2009-01-25T12:14:00.000-05:00

But we are making the best of it.

The chest cold has abated and we bundle up to ridiculous levels. Cabin fever trumps chest cold any day.

Ellie was game for a trip to Foster Island.

And the RiverHag walked right down the middle of the Chemung.

pb
Little Pond

We are back, with an update (Jan 15)

2009-01-14T09:08:00.004-05:00

...and we are coughing up a storm. Welcome to Elmira in Upstate New York, where chest colds are our signature product.

The Presario is back and it's been cleaned. We actually lost the hard drive to the broken Windows. Or was it the other way around?

I've just come from 13 days straight working, followed by 5 days off, then back to normal. At this point it is clear that they are eliminating jobs right and left. The paper features classifieds only five days per week, and some more publications are being eliminated.

After working a few weekends I can see why they eliminated that job. What a crashing bore! I even got sick of taking breaks. We still need the two of us, but I am not so sure we need both of us on full time. Since they offered part time to other axed coworkers, it is possible that may be what awaits.

I would sorely miss the vacation and holiday pay, but if that is what it takes, then so be it. After all, I am not relying on the health benefits. Other fringe benefits are also disappearing, one by one. I feel sorry for anyone who was using Gannett to go to school, because that is done.

Another possible worry: one week's unpaid furlough is making the rounds of the rumor mill.

Heigh-ho. Anxiety is becoming the norm around here.

Update: we are being furloughed, one day at a time, five days over ten weeks. Salaried personnel lose a week straight. One girl is planning on consoling herself in Florida during her furlough.

pb
Little Pond

Technical Difficulties

2008-12-27T19:41:00.005-05:00

While not impossible, it will be very difficult to post for the next two weeks or so.

Our Compaq notebook suffered a nervous breakdown and will be gone for at least two weeks.

Only posts of momentous import will appear.

Such as this from Little Pond.

Forget my other posts. UPDATE

2008-12-11T11:24:00.003-05:00

Please go here and read a fellow mser's troubles. They are not uncommon to many people with ms.

Please read her posts and offer her prayers, direction, if you have it, and help, if you can.

She is struggling mightily, but the situation is dire.

We have a response! See below: if anyone else can follow suit, it would be great.

An awful shock.

2008-12-11T09:45:00.003-05:00

We had weathered last week's Night of the Long Knives. I was on vacation and sent worried emails on Friday. Turns out the day had been Wednesday.

We were all sort of silently rejoicing by Friday that we were safe (this time around).

We were wrong.

Yesterday a coworker in our department was handed his hat when he arrived to work. The ladies in our department were in tears. That did not include me. I was too furious to even cry over his bewildered expression.

This happened because he wasn't here the day they handed out pink slips last week. The people in Binghamton were too lazy to return (way, way, way out here, a whole 40 minutes away!) the next day to inform him properly.

Too involved in their own stupid selves to properly handle the termination. So a working man had the entire weekend through Wednesday to believe that he would have a decent Christmas, after all...

"Human resources" just doesn't get it. God damn them to Hell forever and a year.

pb
Little Pond

2008-12-10T09:07:00.003-05:00

Go to Little Pond for today's post.

Also, I missed the latest cut at the paper. Things are still being pared back, and our duties are shipping bit by bit, up to Binghamton.

pb
Little Pond

Magic Jack?

2008-12-06T12:29:00.000-05:00

Anybody out there know anything about it?

Sounds too good to be true.

All the paperwork looks to be on the up and up.

pb
Little Pond

In the middle of my vacation week

2008-12-03T16:33:00.004-05:00

And yet I still need a nap, every single day. And that is after 10 hours of sleep at night!

I am mystified, because I thought I was doing better.

One bright spot: last night I was running through the channels when I came across the PBS special broadcast of Black and White Night. They were running a telethon.

Husband RJ came in and set the DVR to record. I never knew he like Orbison, too!

Even the telethon was less annoying because it had people who knew him, including his widow. We watched the whole thing together. Sometimes I was crying; Orbison had the most amazing voice and manner, just staring (I think) off into the distance.

It was pure magic.

I slept like a baby that night.

pb
Little Pond

I'm a dumbass.

2008-11-09T22:01:00.003-05:00

I just found a note from my NP. I was working a sudoku while waiting, and again afterwards in her office. Today I took out the booklet, to rework and retry the puzzle. Papers fell out, including a note and new appointment card.

Never looked at either, just stuffed them in the booklet, I guess. Must've been more upset than I remember, and I remember being upset.

The note recommends an additional 1000 iu per day, over and above the stuff I'm already taking. Now I remember her spiel about all the extra benefits of taking more D3. Apparently they are finding more all the time.

So I went to Puritan's Pride and ordered more than a year's worth, because their deals make it worth it.

So maybe I will get to know where it leaves us, after all.

pb
Little Pond

More about osteoporosis.

2008-11-07T07:54:00.002-05:00

After the bone scanning, I was so disappointed to learn that I am still losing ground. In fact, the next scan will almost certainly put me squarely in the osteoporotic (geez, what a word) group.

The good news was that she recommended Vitamin D3 to help absorb the calcium. I take a lot of calcium and plenty of dairy products, instead of meat. I'd never heard of Vitamin D3.

The bad news is that I am most certainly already getting Vitamin D3. I shop Puritan's Pride, and learned that Vitamin D3 is in their formulas already.

So where does that leave me?

Where does that leave any of us?

pb
Little Pond

Spread the word.

2008-11-04T11:13:00.002-05:00

Being thin and staying thin is bad for us.

Today I learned that from my NP at the Women's Health Center.

My bone scan shows more loss: despite the exercise, increased calcium and vitamin D.

Thinness is a risk factor in osteoporosis. And those of us who need steroids are going to suffer more, anyway.

See. My fat is my friend.

Let's have another dish of Friendly's Rich and Creamy, Purely Pistachio.

pb
Little Pond

To my local readers,

2008-11-01T19:39:00.002-04:00

Tuesday is Voting Day. I will be getting a bone density scan at 8:30, followed by a mammogram, and then voting. I hope to carve out time to walk Ellie through the neighborhood. Wednesday she goes for a fatty tumor removal, and it will be tough on her.

It's a big medical week for us, but nothing is more important than voting. We want to re-elect Katie Hughes as County Clerk. She has been most helpful in the upkeep of our Handicap Access parking rights.

I am so active now, that it's a shame I still need the hanger, but lately my hearing is much worse. I need that hanger to keep me close to the building, out of the way of cars I can't hear. Things are so bad at work that I am actually considering whether to learn lip-reading.

Seriously.

Wonder if they've improved devices for nerve deafness? Years ago, the audiologist told me not to get sucked into buying a hearing aid; nerve deafness can't be fixed that way. But the messy situation is this: the hearing is fairly normal in one ear, but the confusion of signals I get in the other overcomes the good hearing.

I am just guessing what is being said. I am just guessing the direction of a sound. I am just guessing what a sound represents.

And I am mostly guessing wrong. They are laughing at me in the workplace. Apologies all around later, but it's clear I need to do something, anything.

Anyway, we need Katie Hughes, who goes out of her way to help with renewals, and walks the newbies through a difficult administrative maze.

However you lean, please just vote.

pb
Little Pond

Bleak Landscape

2008-10-22T23:13:00.003-04:00

The point of this photo may be a little obscure. If you've followed the RiverDog and the RiverHag, then you know that I love the little arbors, the woodsy havens that I find around the river banks.

So this is not a photo of just anything, it is a photo of something missing. At the top you can see a little inlet; it's one of Ellie's favorite spots.

This is how it looked a few weeks ago.

But the NYS Department of Environmental Conservation has ruled: there can be no trees within 15 feet (5 meters) of the levee. People are losing trees from their backyards, due to this ruling. It's for our safety, in case of overflowing riverbanks.

I feel for the homeowners, but also felt that they would have to take the hit for the rest of us. I still believe that.

But right now, I miss my beautiful trees. The herons used to hide in them, and we hikers could find a tiny bit of shade on a sunny summer morning.

All gone.

pb
Little Pond

Better now. Update: Not.

2008-10-18T21:14:00.003-04:00

We (and I mean all of us here) have started to feel better. Boy, we managed to pick up everything that came along last week. Upper respiratory, chest cold, intestinal distress and fever.

As of Saturday, we are on the road to recovery and beginning to return to the world.

Poor RJ had to run up to Rochester to accompany his dad to a procedure to ease an aneurysm. I can't believe they do one-day surgery for that sort of thing, but there you have it. They are both back. The FIL is on the mend, but feeling his age (80), and RJ is somewhat better and looking forward to his birthday Tuesday (58). We both just need rest, somewhat drained by the bug.

RJ doesn't want a cake, he wants salmon. We'll see if the girls want to go to Red Lobster, or if I should just cook up a couple of fillets here. My guess is the girls will over-rule the toned down version.

Update: note to self: not over it yet. Ate fish with wine at Red Lobster and tossed it all later that evening. A waste of a delicious, expensive meal.

pb
Little Pond

ps: I am noticing the "Followers" thing, but haven't been up to learning anything new yet. This week I'll look into it.

Something old, something new.

2008-10-08T22:27:00.002-04:00

This summer ushered in a brand new sign of old age: my feet hurt. In fact they hurt so much that I am hobbling, at times, to get around.

For the last decade, I have not had any authentic feeling in my feet. Neuropathy, I think it's called, most of the time. The rest of the time the feelings are distorted: feeling wet and cold in the middle of summer and hot and swollen (feelings only!) at times in winter. None of which were reliable indicators of what was actually their status at the time.

So aching, smarting feet strike me as something new. They tell me that my feet are losing their padding, and that is caused by aging. But why are my feet hurting these days?

Understand me, the pain is not distressing, except--you know--it's pain. Hurting feet curtail my activity; that's bad. Hurting feet means I can feel my feet; that's good, I think.

Is the ongoing loss of padding exposing the nerves in my feet?

Why do they hurt?

pb
Little Pond

Should I have known?

2008-10-05T22:42:00.003-04:00

My sister and I had a (literally) painful conversation today. She called to discuss our Thanksgiving plans and we chewed the fat on a variety of topics.

Our conversation was punctuated by fits of coughing, at both ends of the connection.

We began to compare notes, and--get this!--we are sharing the same symptoms. Hers started weeks ago with the nasty, scratchy, painful, dripping sinuses, that then progressed into her lungs.

She is currently on antibiotics for bronchitis. Her doctor suggested that the very heavy allergy season began the whole sorry mess. Her description of the postnasal drip: felt like strep throat, only at the back of the nose. A perfect limning of mine.

How could this happen? She lives in Eastern Massachusetts and I live in Upstate New York.

I have no answer, except that now I am firmly resolved to get an early flu shot this winter.

This is just a gawd-awful illness that hurts my chest, tires me out, then ruins my sleep and, lastly, makes me a disgusting, coughing and grunting, drippy vector of the first real bug of the season.

pb
Little Pond

Oh, bloody hell...

2008-10-02T15:18:00.002-04:00

IT's gone down into my lungs. They feel singed. This is always a bad sign.

Still, painful lungs can go to work, as long as there are throat lozenges to quell the coughing. Will do, in fact. A quick stop at Dollar General on my way to work.

At least the nasty post-nasal drip is almost done. That was weird, snot and salt and watery, all at once. Geeee-ross! If I looked up high enough, another huge glob would slip down back and into the throat. Gross again, but entertaining, except for the time it started me coughing, as if I breathed water down the wrong tube.

Oh wait. That's how the whole lung mess started, no?

At the same time, the skin is going to hell, with tiny painful boils. And the cold sweat now and again, to mix things up a bit.

But I'm going to work, anyway. No doubt I caught it there. Let them deal.

pb
Little Pond