We got a bumper crop of the tiniest pumpkins ever grown in RJ's garden.  We gave away a few, mostly for cooking.  Then we kept the rest on the back stoop and stairs to get them out of the heat.

 

Finally, after the Labor Day weekend, we set them out on our front porch for display.

 

Here's a picture before the local rapscallions get their hands on them.  We expect to find them either smashed in the road, or chewed by the squirrels.  In the meantime, we are enjoying them.

 

 I am still walking Ellie, when she is healthy enough, by the river.  Her illness has made her lazy, and she prefers the well-worn paths on the levees to the scruffy grasses and plants by the banks of the Chemung.

On the way, we captured this prize pumpkin in the back yard of a neighbor's lot.  Somehow this wound up outside his fencing.  Makes us wonder if the darned thing planted itself from last year!

 

Hardy bugger, eh?

 

For an update on one of our pets, go here.

 

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Little Pond

 

I'm cool.

Go here to see the mess that tornado left of our area.

While I spent a scary few minutes in a hail/rain/windstorm, I am fine.  The worst of it was no electricity for 23 hours.  And we had a minor cleanup in our back yard.

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Little Pond

Living with MS

Well, it's a bit like bird watching with a dog.  I can get close to the real thing, but am never able to finish what I want to do.

In this case, both the MS and the dog would not allow me to get a clean shot of the ever-elusive Green Heron of Foster Island.


We came slowly around the island--quiet--oh so quietly.  Ellie was being a little angel, just sort of moseying a tad to the left and ahead of me.  I heard the strange, almost metallic call of the critter, and I sited it immediately.

I began to take quickly successive shots, but the little fellow didn't care for me.  It pulled up and away, so I dropped the camera pod and tried to zoom in.

The little stinker remained just beyond the range of the optical zoom.  Luckily, our Canon has a digital zoom also; unfortunately, the images stabilizer does not work in that mode.  Still I kept snapping away, shaky hands and all.

Until I noticed that Ellie had gone missing.  I could hear snorting and frantic digging.  She had gotten down to the concave bank, and was working manfully to dig her way to a muskrat.

No dice, Baby Dog.  I jumped down to the bank and grabbed her by the collar and yanked her back into the sunshine.  Then came the ridiculously laborious trek up the three foot bank. 

Not even my reinforced camera pod to help.  And a very unwilling and frantically scurrying RiverDog to pull me back to the muskrat burrow. 

All for the enjoyment of three teenagers sitting in a nearby pavillion.  One even had to stop laughing to pee behind a recycling bin.

Well, I did get one almost decent shot, but only I would know that it was a green heron.

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Little Pond

Seventeen Years Ago

Yep.  It was 17 years ago that I was diagnosed.  A lot happened in those years, but one thing remained the same:

Because we were well-insured, our doctor ordered every test under the sun back then.  He even sent me to an Audiologist for my hearing.  I was having an awful time with a very obnoxious tinnitis that deafened me in my left ear.

The Audiologist told me that I suffered a significant loss all right, but not to worry because I had super hearing in my right ear. His advice:  "Don't let anyone sell you a hearing aid for this sort of thing."  End of visit, no sale.

This summer I took my mother in law in for a hearing aids.  We are still working out the bugs, but they certainly help her.  A LOT.

Just for s#its and giggles, I, too, had my hearing tested.  My left ear is noticeably deafer than my right, and as a bonus, each ear has its own tinnitus.

You've probably guessed some of this:  of course they tried to sell me hearing aids.  No sale.

Here's the corker:

My hearing loss is about 25% between the two ears: actually just about normal for a person my age.  But they wanted to sell me hearing aid thats would make their own special buzzing to offset the tinnitus.  They insisted that their "audiologist" recommended it!

End of visit, no sale.

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Little Pond

I gave up

No, not in my fight against the MS.  I gave up trying to find my bikini-line razors.

Thank heavens for Amazon.

I think I may have gotten my first set from Sam's Club, but damned if I can find them at Walmart, Walgreens, RiteAid, or anywhere else around here.

I got sick of searching and went online.

Why so important, just now?

Well, as my readers know, I am not shy about the fact that I shave "down there."  Not just the bikini line, either.  Year-round, regardless of the weather or dress.  Incontinence makes this a necessity.

I can't stand to be "dirty."  Tena just loves me; I am their best customer.  I would rather skip a meal or two than go without a fresh pad.  And the Super-thins are very expensive:  more like a few meals.

When I was amassing all the medical input for the Social Security Disability claim, it was imperative that I establish medical documentation for everything.  Everything.  That led me to the local Urologic Partners in Elmira.

The Assistant at the Urologists noted my freshly-shaven bottom, and mentioned that one of the head honchos there wanted to know why some women shaved.  Obviously a person fond of furry kitties, if you catch my drift.

She was very disappointed to hear my sensible reason.  Apparently she'd been collecting sexier answers from the clientele.  And my guess, although she didn't actually say so, was that most pro-shavers do it for the same reason that Linda Lovelace did.

Not me.  Not now.

Parenthetically, there is a comedienne on Comedy Central who does a who schtick on Brazilian waxing.  One punchline has to do with, "and the lips?" "NO!  No lips, thank you."

Now that really gives me the shivers!  I had to get drunk just to wax my legs, and I gave up on my underarms decades ago.  Same for the Epilady, which left me vulnerable to ingrown hairs in a week or two. 

I reiterate:  Thank heavens for Amazon. Noxema disposable bikini shavers: 15 for 23 bucks, shipping included.  They are properly curved and don't give too close a shave.

Who needs shaving bumps in the bikini area?

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Little Pond

My knees make a crunching sound?

So I now do yoga every day, to ease lower back pain.  I look pretty fit, and I definitely feel better on days I do those stretches.

So naturally there has to be a downside.  Living with MS, I've learned to expect them. 

How can there be a downside to yoga?

Well, the stretching is designed to work the lower back muscles, and it manages it very well, by making me more flexible.  Furthermore, it teaches me to use other muscles to make up for the loss of the strength in the lower back.

I now have little baby abs I haven't had since before my kids were born.  So naturally, there is no longer any place there to shoot the copaxone.  MY FAT WAS MY FRIEND.  Say with with me all you self-injectors:  My fat is my friend.  No fat means not much subcutaneous flexibility.

Beta bruises are common for those who shoot Beta Seron.  But copaxone has never bruised me before.  I've accidentally shot a blood vessel and gotten a quick, but disconcerting, rush.  But bruises are beginning to show on my belly and, well, forget the legs.  The rubbing from the jeans put a quick end to that experiment.

All right, I can live with the bruises.  I have tons of them anyway, just from being an MS spaz.

So What the Hell is this crunching sound in my knees during stretches?  Listen, I've had a crunching sound in my kneck for at least a decade, but I never had to listen to my knees.

I will be seeing my Neuro soon, and will ask her about it.  Too late to talk to the Family Practitioner; another of my doctors has bowed out of practice.

Any guesses, out there?  Bet yet, any solutions?

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Little Pond

Bet you recognized the symptoms!

My last illness was apparently something that was going around the East Coast.  Everyone I know got at least a touch of it, and it is still making the rounds.

Right after I recovered, my little Ellie dog got very sick and I was afraid we would lose her.  She wound up a day and a half in the hospital on IV antiobiotics.  She came home to boiled chicken and rice: her new staple in our household.  No more treats (except to cozen down a pill) and very few chewies.

I am better, but of course I am still tired.  Running nose makes me a disgusting thing to have to kiss, poor RJ.  This spring my trips to the river are shorter:  entire trip out and home cannot take more than an hour or so.  Housekeeping is also curtailed.  I spend the usual two hours sleeping in the middle of the day, and find I cannot take on any work or visit, or whatever, in the afternoon.  Nights, I use the recumbent bicycle to play games for about an hour, then I turn couch-potato another hour before bed.

No idea whatsoever about my weight, cholesterol, bone density.  All things will be revealed in the next five weeks, starting Friday.

I am no fun.  Even alcohol has been reduced to an occasional vodka and veggie juice.  Triple distilled vodka at that.  I used to drink only Dewars and soda water, but I've learned that I can expect burning in my bladder and urethra when I do that.  Sheeeeesh!

Did I mention that wine puts me right to sleep and beer gives me reflux and gas?  God help me, I can only drink Rolling Rock: so I don't bother.

Bottom line:  Ellie and I visit three days a week, on restricted diets and activity.  We still get out to the river, but back home by 11AM for light lunch and naps.  I'm okay, but always tired, lame, and cranky.

How could I ever return to work?

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Little Pond