Archive for February 2008
Grandpa and Grandma were sitting in their porch rockers watching
the beautiful sunset and reminiscing about “The good old days,”
when Grandma turned to Grandpa and said,
“Honey, do you remember when we first started dating and you used
to just casually reach over and take my hand?”
Grandpa looked over at her, smiled and took her aged hand in his.
With a wry little smile Grandma pressed a little farther,
“Honey, do you remember how after we were engaged you’d sometimes
lean over and suddenly kiss me on the cheek?”
Grandpa leaned slowly toward Grandma and gave her a lingering
kiss on her wrinkled cheek.
Growing bolder still, Grandma said, “Honey, do you remember how,
after we were first married, you’d kind of nibble on my ear?”
Grandpa slowly got up from his rocker and headed into the house.
Alarmed, Grandma said, “Honey, where are you going?”
Grandpa replied, “To get my teeth!”
On second thoughts, maybe it’s not so bad after all. Probably with the top down and a dangerously sexy looking guy behind the wheel, it could go with a bun and a coke. I wouldn’t turn it down if I got it as a gift. It might do something for my street cred. Ha ha.
If I were to get a job again (which I sincerely hope will happen in the next couple of years, health permitting), I think I will buy myself a Ford Ka.
I think they are just the cutest things on four wheels. They have the safety features, the air-con, a reasonable price-tag and boy, do they look easy to park.
Michael hates them. He said if I get one, it will be sleeping outside (the garage). With the keys in the ignition. And a big neon sign, saying “Take me!)
He says they look like a dung beetle on the road. That only endeared them to me even more. I have no problem with dung beetles – I think they’re quite charming. So, yes, if I were to buy a car for myself, it would be the Ka.
For now, though, I am having a fabulous time driving around in our Jetta. Which is still an Etta. (Gotta remember to glue that ‘J’ back on). It handles like a dream. Today Etta and I went off on a little jaunt while M got his lunchtime cycling training session in. This was probably the first time that I really felt relaxed behind the wheel again. Like the good old days. I know I keep going on about it, but it’s just so thrilling after five years of being totally dependent on other people to take me where I wanted to go. No fun that.
I will have to do something about my abysmal parking, though. Talk about a hike from the car to the kerb. And taking up at least one more bay than I’m actually entitled to. *blush*
Today is my 3 month cortisone-free anniversary. Yippee yay, and then some. Fingolimod rocks. Can’t wait till this stuff is available to the masses!
I love B&W photographs. It’s like magic; they can have more clarity than a full-colour, yet don’t reveal imperfections as readily. Brings the best to the front and disguises the not-so-good stuff.
I’m a big fan of sepia, as well. I find it very romantic. It can turn an ordinary photo into something really special.
To my surprise, my photo’s that I lovingly ‘doctored’ on Paint Shop Pro went largely unappreciated. The general consensus was, “We preferred them in colour.”
Well, sooo-reeee! lol.
I like to think it makes me a bit of an artiste. Don’t artistes like stuff in B&W etc. Have a bit of culture, man.
On the issue of vintage cars, I do a smart about-turn. I do not like vintage cars. I’m a girl who appreciates my mod-cons when it comes to cars. When it comes to most stuff, actually. I hate old-fashioned furniture too. (And I mean this strictly as far as my own taste goes. It doesn’t bother me at all how other people furnish their homes. I’m really not being insincere if I compliment your rosewood cabinet that dates back to pre-Victorian times. But it’s not for me).
But back to the cars, old cars really don’t do it for me. Not as a pricey collector’s item, anyway. I don’t get rich people that spend millions acquiring and maintaining a bunch of cars from the 1950′s. Even if it does make them feel sentimental about their youth.
Give me my ABS, ESP, power-steering, air-bags and most important of all…my AIRCON. I want to feel safe and cool, and I ain’t gonna get that from vintage.
I don’t know why, but I used to have a thing for the Alpha-Romeo Spider (1967). I must have seen a picture of it somewhere, and I’ve always said that if I had to choose a vintage car, that would be it. I carried this romantic little idea of it around in my head – one and only concession to anything vintage. Well, no longer. I just did a search on it, and man! It’s butt-ugly. What was I thinking? Even being 18 at the time is no excuse. There must have been a boy involved, i.e. he was a Spider freak, and I lied and said I liked it too and then somehow forgot that I’d been pretending.
Wine. I have absolutely no culture whatsoever when it comes to wine. I don’t drink the stuff. Not, surprisingly, because of any kind of health reason, but simply because I really don’t like it. And that goes for any type of alcohol. I can barely stomach the stuff. I have to gag it down, and why would a person have something that you find that unpalatable?
But when the wine-talk starts, I better shut up because I’m sadly lacking on any sort of etiquette (red meat, red wine, is it?) or knowledge on the subject. I just about know how to pronounce sauvignon blanc. That’s it.
So I’m a little bit of a conundrum. I like classical music and literature, but hate poetry and wine. Is that a bit weird?
It sure took me long enough to log onto wordpress again after my last post.
About 2.5 seconds after I hit publish on my previous entry, I started pondering on the questionable taste of the DIY hotpants photo that I uploaded. Sure, I meant it as a joke, and thought it was really funny that Michael snuck that photo in ( I wasn’t aware I was being filmed, actually). Then I thought, perhaps that was a little something that should have remained categorised under the heading: Personal Joke.
Not that it mattered because even though I tried to go back and delete it before it got picked up by google (et al) feed-reader, it was too late. I couldn’t log onto my dashboard again until today. And the pic has been languishing there so long now that I might as well not even bother removing it. That ship has sailed, along with my trashy photo, lol. I must be more of an attention-seeker than I realised I guess I felt a bit out that I wasn’t in possession of a baby bump, too.
Congrats to my darling parents-in-law. 39 years married today. Now that’s what I call a cause for celebration.
I just spent the past fifteen minutes trying to upload some more photo’s on here. (None of which were of my butt). It was a pic that I doctored last night of my gorgeous pregnant sisters. I think it might be the paintshop pro frames that I put on them that are causing the difficulty in uploading. What a pity.
Other than that, it’s quiet on the home-front. None too productive, either. I’m going to have to pull finger a bit if I want to achieve the goals that I set for myself this year. On some of them I’m doing very well (case in point: driving the car around). In other areas, I’m lagging sadly behind. It is so easy for a day to get swallowed up by domestic chores. Don’t get me wrong – I am delighted that I am able to perform said chores again, but I do want a little more out of my life than that…
We had a lovely family gathering at my parents’ house today. My pregnant baby sis was visiting from Jo’burg, and my pregnant older sis (who lives across the road from me) was there too. I was determined that there would be photo’s taken, as this is probably the last time the two of them would be together before the arrival of their baby girls. Take a gander at how cute these pics are:
They can hardly give each other a hug without bumping…bumps.
Here I am in the mix, too. I’m the skinny one on the left, lol.
The three of us again, me squashed in the middle
This one taken by Michael I found it highly flattering that my hubby of 7 years still wants to take pictures of my rear. Kindof unflattering pic though, as I shoved up the legs of my knee-length pants so they wouldn’t get wet in the pool when I put my feet in the water.
And finally, here is one of Sandy, all recovered from her battle-wounds, and mooching for food.
I just had a huge adventure. Wait for it… I drove myself to the centre of town, all on my own! Okay, I can tell you’re not impressed, a 28 year old woman can drive, big whoop.But this is a dream come true for me. It marks the end of my dependence on other people to go where I want to go. Michael has been SUCH a sweetie-pie these past five years, but I am sure he has had it with toting me round all the time during his lunch break, when all he wants to do is relax a bit in front of the tv.
I have driven on and off here in the suburbs, but I have not driven myself to the city-centre (okay, we live in a very small city, but still) in FIVE years. Not since January 2003 when I had that severe attack of optic neuritis, followed by a crippling relapse of my MS. It has taken me till now to claw my way back to some sense of normalcy.
My heart is singing as I type this.
Not just because I could drive in traffic without incident, but also because I didn’t get mugged. I have been hearing stories of how violent and evil the CBD is, and how people will mug you soon as look at you. I couldn’t get a parking spot close to where I wanted to be, so had to drive around the block. Where I beheld a lovely, easy to get into parking-spot. Not only that, but a really nice car-watcher. My new best friend.
Car watchers don’t have the best reputation in SA. A largely held view is that they don’t serve much of a purpose. They help you park, when you are perfectly able to do so yourself. Then ‘watch’ your car, only to run away if it is stolen or broken into. Or else you can’t find them anywhere in the vicinity of your car when you get back to it. Then as you drive off, they materialise out of nowhere and want money. They are quite unpopular, especially the more obnoxious, in-your-face ones.
But not this guy. Firstly, he helped me park, and believe me when I say, I do need help. Our Jetta (or Etta, as we can it since the ‘J’ fell off) is a big car, and I don’t want to be the one to bump it/ scratch it, or deface it in any way. Yeah, so he helped me, then asked very politely if he could watch my car. I said, yes, PLEASE. And when I went to put parking money in the meter, he told me not to worry – he had some coins and would put one in if he saw a meter-maid coming. So off I went on my looong walk around the block. Anyone who has been reading this blog for any length of time will know what a long walk in the sun will do to me.
Suddenly it occurred to me that I was a good target for a mugging. I looked around nervously, and said a quick prayer for the safe-keeping of my bodily integrity. And you know what? All around me, all I saw were friendly faces. Friendly, innocent-looking faces, going about their business. I went to the shop where I wanted to be, got my stuff and walked back. My charming car-watcher was there, and pleased at the R4 I gave him for five minutes work. Then he helped me ‘unpark’ myself and gave me a very cheerful wave goodbye. I wanted to give that old black guy a kiss for doing my faith in human nature such good. As I was driving off, I spotted a guy with a mean look on his face. He might have been the mugger, good job I missed him.
I had still wanted to go to Woolworths, but I had already been to the gym prior to my adventure, so I thought I wouldn’t push it. Good thing I didn’t because when I got back home the exacerbation arrived, good and solid. I battled into the flat and just about collapsed on the couch, where I stayed for a good half an hour to regroup.
But I feel very proud of myself that I have reached my ‘driving in the centre of the city’ milestone. It wasn’t as bad as I made it out in my mind to be.
I feel very tired now, but it is taking more to get me to the point of exhaustion now. Gym and a trip out in the car, including a walk around the block. Woo-hoo. Now excuse me while I go veg out for the rest of the day, as I have used up my entire quota of energy for today. But it was worth it. I feel so normal. Another milestone to cross off my list.
Edited to add: After an hour of vegging out in front of the tv, I did a smart recovery and was good to go again. Alas with no car at my disposal, ha ha. Michael and Etta had gone off to work again together. But it’s great that my recovery time has become so much less than it used to be. I have to say, seeing the tangible effects of my recovery is very exciting and motivating.
I can actually log onto wordpress today.
So many people are complaining about their blog servers. It’s probably due to sheer numbers. Everyone and their granny has a blog these days. It’s very en vogue.
I’ve been blogging since 2005, on and off. First on Modblog, then on Blogspot and for the past year and a bit on wordpress. Sometimes I think I’ve had enough and decide to quit. But it always lures me back. There’s just something very intoxicating about sharing with such a potentially vast audience. (Even though I only have about 20 or 30 readers on any given day. That’s not the point. Theoretically, there could be millions). I think it fulfils a need in people. Not voyeuristic per se. But for those of us who will never have our fifteen minutes, it is nice to know that someone, somewhere finds us interesting enough to go to the trouble of typing in our URL, visiting our little chink of cyberspace and reading what we have to say.
Enough about such musings, however. Let me not waste this opportunity, for who knows what tomorrow will bring. Electricity is not a given these days. Neither is a successful log-on to wordpress. On that note, let me just apologise to anyone with a wordpress address. I read you on google-reader, but I can’t comment from there and the site itself won’t open. Weird.
Quick (and last, promise) update on Stix. The lady from the SPCA phoned my mom this morning to find out if Stix has been spayed. (She has). She then told my mom that Stix’s new home is with a couple staying on a local farm. Apparently the husband is away from home a lot at night, and the wife is feeling unsafe. Not anymore, however. Stix is sleeping with her in the house. Ha ha, I had to laugh when I heard that. All Stixie’s dreams have come true and then some. I bet she’s being spoilt rotten and that her and the lady will form a great bond. Stix has always wanted to be a house-dog, but with the size of her, it wasn’t encouraged. Now she’s firmly ensconced, it seems, in the boudoir. One thing about her, she really is a good watch dog. There are no kids there and no other dogs, so all the attention is on her. What a success story. And like my mom says, maybe after three weeks in the cooler, she’s calmed down a bit.
You know what happens when you make a promise to yourself to stop eating (so much) chocolate and then don’t keep it? A little bad karma comes your way, that’s what. Yesterday, after pledging yet again to go easy on the chocs, I ended up eating half the slab that M brought home. That wasn’t the bad bit. Afterwards, when I was tidying up, I came across the wrapper and en-route to the dustbin to throw it away, I absently licked it, lest there be a few crumbs of chocolate left in it. There were, but what a strange texture! I looked down at the wrapper, and it was crawling with ants. Oh crap! I immediately starting spitting ants out of my mouth, but not before a couple of them bit me. Ow. My tongue was tingling for ages afterwards. Let that be a lesson, Maggie!
It was been relentlessly hot this week. Really bad. Nasty heat-wave in February, no less. When I was a kid, I was obsessed with swimming. And doing outdoorsy stuff. I loved Summer and would brook no discussion on any other season as candidate for favourite. When it got to end of February, I started dreading the approach of Winter, and short days, long, cold nights.
How things have changed. Winter is kind to me now. I can wear my jeans and long pants without being reduced to leglessness. A strange word, but very apt. If you have MS, no explanation is necessary – we all know the feeling.
I find myself looking forward to Autumn. Actually, and this is new to me, Autumn may well be the loveliest season of all. The days are cooler, but still mild. Moderate – now there’s a word I love. Especially while sitting here sweating, enduring temperatures of 32 degrees Celsius after eight pm. No man!
I haven’t been having a great week, physically. For once, I’ll postpone labelling it a relapse and concede that I will have my bad days, as well as the good ones that I have been blessed with recently. And given how hot it’s been, it’s really no surprise. In six more days, I will have been three months relapse-free. This is a bit of a danger zone, they do tend to be three months apart. So hold thumbs for me that it’s just the heat.
I must say though, my bad days, lately, have been the equivalent of my extremely good days from a time not so long ago.
On Monday, I actually took the car and drove myself to my brother’s house (in the next town) to visit my niece for her birthday. Aiden is all of 3 years old, and is just as cute as pie. I’ve never seen a kid that young with such an expressive face. Too adorable.
Then on Tuesday, I washed and hung up the curtains in our sitting-room. They are big curtains, as they cover the french doors, which are the back entrance to our flat. Anyway, it’s quite a job. This may sound like a very silly milestone, but it is something that I haven’t been able to do in the longest time. I now have the balance again to stand on a chair to reach the pelmets, and the stamina to stay there until I’ve finished hanging the curtains up. I felt such a sense of achievement. I’ve been meaning to do it for ages as they were very dusty, but I kept putting it off. Now it’s done and they look so pretty and clean. And I don’t sneeze every-time I draw them, lol.
But from Wednesday, I’ve felt pretty knackered. I don’t know if it’s because I overdid it a bit, or perhaps it’s the heat. I just hope it’s not option three – encroaching relapse. I don’t think so though. My guess is the heat. Everyone seems to be a bit out of sorts. Oh, and it’s a full moon, too. Ever noticed how that seems to aggravate people? Seriously.
Think I’ll go to bed now, I’ve waffled on for way too long.
Firstly, some of my readers may be delighted to know that Stixie seems to have gotten a new home. On a farm. And no, not the euphemistically used version of “farm” that has placated many a child about a departing pet. No, Stix is going to a genuine farm. I think that might just be the very best outcome possible. That dog needs very large open spaces to run around in and tire herself out.
So that’s the Stix chapter closed. I hope she’ll be happy.
As for myself, I’ve had quite the day. I had to go and have my driver’s licence renewed. The licence that I’ve barely used in the past five years? Yes, that one.
To the tune of R150. Still, it was worth paying. I have this fear that my licence will lapse and I’ll have to go for the test again. I don’t know why the thought rattles me so. I passed my driver’s first time. But that was then and this is now.
Anywaaay, I left the flat at 5:30am with Michael. (Because that is the ridiculous hour the poor man leaves for work in the mornings). Then sat in the car for an hour and a half at his work, and then went to the licensing department where I was to renew the licence card. I drove myself!! And I must say, I am becoming much more relaxed behind the wheel. Some of my self-confidence is returning and I’m even tentatively starting to enjoy it, although I am still on my nerves a bit lest I miss the brakes or something silly like that (due to lack of sensation in my feet). I don’t think this is likely, anymore, although I worry about the speed of my reflexes in an emergency situation. Mind you, I guess that’s one of the hazards of driving, isn’t it. Luckily, because I’m half nervy behind the wheel, it does mean that I’m super-alert and aware of what the other cars are doing. I keep a ridiculously safe following distance and of course keep to the speed limit. While I was on the road this morning, on my way back, I came to a bit, just as the road is coming in to town, where the speed limit drops from 100kph to 60. I immediatley complied. Not so the car on my tail. The driver roared past me, on a solid white line and blind bend. Ar*ehole. It is people like that that make accidents.
Ever since my neuro appointment the beginning of the month, that showed that some sensation has returned to my left foot, I have been noticing that the sensation in general in both feet has improved. Nowhere near what it should be, but better.
In general, I am feeling so much better. I am so thrilled about it that I can’t convey it in mere words. This medicine is going to be so big, I just know it.
I have come so far in this journey already. I wish I could go back in time to the past version of myself, bedridden and hopeless, give myself a hug and whisper in my ear, “It’s gonna be all right.”
I had to wait for nearly two hours for my application for my new licence-card to be processed. Eye-test (which I passed), thumb prints etc. I met a really nice elderly gentleman while we waited, and him and I had a good chat. After that I had to stand in the queue again to pay, and here’s the thing – I could stand in the queue. I didn’t get tired at all. I fantasized about being able to do normal things like this, and now I can.
Back in the car for the trip home, which went marvelously too. The physical mechanics of driving a car are so much easier than they’ve been for me in a very long time.
I feel so productive now. I haven’t been looking forward to my licence expiring because in SA it usually means that you’ll have to spend a whole morning or afternoon (even both) standing in a queue to get it sorted out. So I don’t feel too badly about my 2 hours. And now I’m good to go till 2013. Yippee!
I am enjoying driving around again. It’s doing wonders for my self-confidence, just that little bit of independence. It’s also one of my NY resolutions that is going particularly well. I said that this was the year I wanted to start driving around again, and so far, so good.
I have to be honest, otherwise what is the point of keeping a blog?
Here goes… I tumbled off the (no) chocolate bandwagon. (Mmmm, just got distracted imagining a wagon made of chocolate…) *drool*
I lasted for a good ten days, maybe longer, I wasn’t exactly keeping track. Until. I went to visit my sister the weekend before last and she gave me my belated birthday present. A novel entitled: The Chocolate Lovers’ Club, by Carole Matthews.
Back in the day, (before all this healthy-eating nonsense) my two favourite indulgences were, in no particular order, reading a good novel, and consuming good chocolate. Preferably at the same time for maximum impact. I wasn’t particular about the chocolate. I’m actually a bit of a pleb, preferring good old Cadbury’s or Beacon, (Nestlé will do too), to the more luxurious, expensive chocolates. Not that I’d turn down the latter, understand, but my point is that my tastes run cheap, I’m not exactly a connoisseur, I just need to feed my habit. Just don’t give me dark chocolate, okay? I’d rather have no chocolate than dark chocolate. That is how much I hate it.
So I reasoned that even though chocolate was off limits, I could still indulge in reading a good book. Not quite as good on its own, but if I had a choice, I’d rather give up chocolates than give up books, and that is saying a lot.
So I immersed myself in the book. Very, very enjoyable, and up to Ms Matthews usual inimitable standard. Only problemo was the subject matter. I guess I should have sussed out as much from the title. Call me naive. Or just forgetful of the power of the written word.
The novel goes about four friends, who just happen to be complete and utter chocoholics. They have regular meetings (whenever one of them has a crisis, in fact) at the club headquarters, aka Chocolate Heaven, chocolate delicatessen of note. Now, Carole Matthews (who must be a ‘user’ herself) paints a very evocative and clear picture. She goes to enormous trouble to describe the exact sensations aroused when the chocolate hits one’s tongue. No detail is spared, lol. My taste-buds were all a-prickle every time one of the characters indulged, which was just about every other page. Very Pavlovian of me. Except, instead of a bell, my trigger was the word ‘chocolate’ in the text.
I lasted about three days into the book, which I think was a superhuman feat of resistance, but, and I guess this was inevitable – I succumbed spectacularly. Today I actually ate a whole 100g bar of superfine luxury milk chocolate with caramel specks wrapped up in the sublime smoothness. But don’t tell Michael – it’s my guilty little secret. One of the benefits of being able to drive myself around again, even if only to the mini-supermarket down the road. More about that in a separate post because that will be a long one. Huge thing in my life – huge.
At least I finished the book today. I suppose that means that I can reign in the monster again. I must stop this all resistance crumbles mentality. How pathetic.
Remind me again why I want to give up chocolate, because I really can’t recall.
Oh yes, and I do most thoroughly recommend the book and also issue out a challenge to anyone to read it without imbibing a single molecule of chocolate which I think might be impossible.
As for myself, I will step up to the challenge of following the path not previously taken i.e. not the ‘all roads lead to chocolate’ one. At least until the sequel hits shelves in late March. It’s name? The Choclate Lovers’ Diet. How appropriate.
Am I terribly predictable? I think I must be because when I spoke to my 11 year old niece last night, and mentioned that my 1-month-of-no-chocolate project had come a cropper, she deadpanned, “I thought you were going to make it one year without chocolate?
Oh yes. That.
So maybe not all my NY resolutions are going according to plan. What can I say? I am a slave to chocolate. And so I start again at day one…
Let me start off with a quick update on the dog status.
Stix got posted. She is just too unstable. She has already bitten people lightly if they don’t pay her attention. She was nearly gotten rid of on a previous occasion for biting my mom’s hand. It didn’t break the skin, but there was bruising. I don’t know, maybe with some proper training, and as Katie said, if she was the onlydog, then it might work out. Anyway, my mom took her to the SPCA and answered their questions very honestly. They seem to think they can find her a new owner without a problem. Boerboels are a very popular breed ’round here, plus she’s a young dog, has had all her shots and has been spayed. She is a good watchdog too, so for that purpose she’d be ideal. My mom gave them R100 for food for Stix so that she can stay there longer and have a better chance of being adopted. It is a bit sad, I know. But it had to be done. Everyone is traumatized about the awful dogfight and it can’t happen again. My mom did say she was very impressed with the SPCA. Spotlessly clean, and with very reasonably sized cages. I really hope for the best for Stixie. Maybe she will fit in better with another family. Maybe with a (very) rough little boy or something. Go well, Stixie dog.
As for Sandy, she seems to doing better. For a couple of days she just lay with her muzzle between her paws, in a state of shock. Apparently, she really had to fight for her life. I guess she had the canine version of post-traumatic-stress syndrome. She wouldn’t even wag her tail. My mom said that she’s sure Sandy was dreaming of the fight because she was whimpering in her sleep. Still, she’s nearly back to normal now, thankfully.
On Tuesday, M and I went to Jo’burg for a big check-up for me. Once a year, I have to undergo a whole rigmarole of tests, mainly safety check-ups for the trials. It was a hectic day. We left home at 7am and only staggered in the door again well after 8pm. We were lucky with the traffic, although we did hit rush-hour on the home stretch and it took 3 hours for trip that normally takes 2. Still, by Jo’ies’ standards that is nothing.
We went from appointment to appoitment (there were five in all) so it was quite exhausting. Especially as some of the doctors kept us waiting and I had no idea if we’d be able to fit them all in.
First stop was my neurologist, the trial co-ordinator. Everything went well there. They were visibly impressed when I walked in there and remarked on it. Big change since last time. Then I had to run the gauntlet of the EDSS tests. I’m still a 4 on the scale, as it is not sensitive to small changes. And by small, I mean the difference between walking in a straight line and being able to do cartwheels along the carpet. Ha ha, not really, but I’m sure you get my point.
I was honest with the neuro, and told him I’d been ‘practising’ and he wasn’t fazed at all, except to say, “good”.
Toe-heel went really well. He only needed me to take about four steps and they went fine. Much better than last time. Then I actually managed to hop 10 times! on my left foot, and 4 on the right – huge improvement from when I started on the trials last year and couldn’t even do one on either side.
The best bit of all, though, was when he brought out the tuning-fork-thingie. I felt the vibrations on both hands, but on neither foot. Then I said, “Wait a minute! Try the left foot again.”
He did and I was ecstatic to feel a distinct buzz on my left big toe. This is really exciting for me, because if the feeling can return there, it can return completely in both feet. What a great day that will be. And it probably means the lesion on my brain is shrinking! Yay!!!!!
It was a really nice appointment. I like the doctors and receptionist there immensely. They are so friendly to me, and make me feel special. I really am getting 5-star treatment on these trials.
After that, it was the MRI scan. Not my favourite pastime, it must be said, and they hurt me with the drip for the contrast dye. I told them the neuro had just drawn 4 vials of blood outta that arm, but they insisted on putting the drip in the same arm and it was a bit of a stuff-up. A painful one. Not too bad, though and at least I don’t have to go for another year.
Then on to the pulmonary lung puction tests. They held us up a bit, so I popped on upstairs to see the dermatologist, who (thank heaven) was in the same building and not at a complete different location, as I’d feared.
The dermatologist is a complete sweetie-pie. I like him a lot. Especially after he told me that I’m a ‘good skin specimen’. I appreciated that, lol. He says everything looks good and I don’t have to worry on that score. It was very interesting, actually. I got to see my skin magnified on the computer screen. And I had all my moles checked out. One that I had thought was a bit suspect, but he said not to be concerned, unless it starts changing. Very nice bloke.
They were ready for me at the lung functions test then and that also went well. My ‘scores’ are roughly the same as last time. Which is good news, as the trial medication can influence breathing capacity.
Lastly, the eye doc, and all is looking well, ophthalmologically. No macular oedema, or any other unpronouncable ailment of the eye. I hate that part though, because I have to take those nasty drops that dilate one’s pupils. Apart from the unpleasant light sensitivity, I look like a vampire on the loose till the next morning. It freaks M out, ha ha. I asked him if it’s true that dilated pupils are sexy and he said that he definitely didn’t find it attractive. Mind you, they were dilated to the extreme. My eyes looked like twin black-holes.
All in all, a good day. I am thrilled with the recovery that I’ve experienced since the last time I was there. The doctors were quite obviously impressed, as well. The neuro told me it is likely that I will be invited on the extension phase of the trials. That is good news.
He also said that they can pick out already who is on the actual medicine, and who is on placebo. Quite a difference.
I feel very priviledged to be on these trials. Small step nothing. Huge step for both myself and medical science. Yay!