The Best Batch Yet
I'd like to share some good news with you. Is that alright? As a matter of fact, this news is super good! That's several standard deviations above "normal" good news. So let's get to it, shall we?
Content Warning! - The following paragraphs utilize the word "commode" - so if you are commode averse, please feel free to skip on through… I won't be offended in the least.
Oh. And if you can literally skip (the physical action)... you may color me impressed. Yes. I would indeed be impressed by your ability to perform that specific activity. I could never for the life of me figure out how to skip.
Yes, it's true!
For any of the younger folk in the audience (or for those of you residing overseas), skipping used to be a real thing that real people did in the olden days (on command). At some point, inevitably, we were told (and sometimes ordered) to skip during physical education class. And then to further complicate matters, we were graded on our ability to do so (or not do so).
So now you know everything you'll ever need to know about skipping!
Content Warning! (part 2) - If you are in any way traumatized by your inability to skip, please unremember the initial Content Warning!
So here's the thing, I woke up yesterday morning (I know I know I know, everybody wakes up, this is starting off in a rather boring fashion, isn't it?) and I did my usual morning things before needing to utilize the bedside commode… which always proves difficult. Taxing. Physically draining. Which is something each of you already knows. It's the most difficult thing I do on any given day.
Anyway, I completed the task, and for some reason afterwards, did not suffer from P.E.M. - Yes, really.. none at all! So, that's a good thing. Possibly, that's a great thing. Sure, it's only a one-time thing, but this is the only time it's ever happened.
Then two hours later, I had to utilize the commode again!
Okay. Well, why the heck not? Not that I had a choice. We never do. It seems. And subsequent to this event, I did suffer from my regularly scheduled P.E.M., but within an hour I seemed to have recovered.
I won't read too much into this, but hey, this is really fantastic news from my end, right? And as I've been detailing now and again, I have been gradually improving over the past few months. So let's keep this up, shall we!
Anyway, I just wanted to share something positive. Now of course, I have no idea why I am improving. Is it being in a supportive environment? Is it the excess amounts of vitamin D I am accumulating / receiving?
And really, that's all I have going for me on that front; hours upon hours in the direct sunlight, plus the incessant socialization. So maybe, really, the only thing we (us ME/CFS folk) need to do in order to recover from this awful illness is to schedule daily Beach Blanket Bingo events - that's right! Constant people within constant proximity, and near constant sunshine saturation!
Let me know what you think about this.
Of course, Annette Funicello is probably rolling around in her grave right about now. Unless she's not dead. Then she's probably rolling around on the floor laughing her ass off!
The Day After (Wednesday)
The nurse never showed up last night to help me with my formula feeding and bandage replacing business. Am I shocked, am I surprised? Nope, not at all. But that's not the problem here. Somehow, I forgot to restart my formula (after I put in a new bottle around midnight), so I didn't have any formula or water all night long. Yes indeed, I am super brilliant. Sometimes.
Of course I woke up super early, because... I felt as though my head was stuck inside the engine of a fighter jet. Maybe an F-16.
And why did I feel that way?
Because the heat was on, rip-roaring through the vent directly over my bed.. Full Blast. Loud Loud Loud.
In addition, I woke up sweating.
As I was peeling off my thin green blanket, my eyes saw outside into a darkness that wasn't all that dark. You know why? A full moon, shining directly into my eyeballs. Well, it was shining into my eyeballs after I peeled off my dedicated sleep mask.
So, to compensate for the full glaring moon, and the full-throttled heat, and my own inglorious stupidity, I turned my music on as loud as it could go (makes sense, right?). And it didn't go very loud (not louder than my neighbors early morning televisions), but that's not the point. Angry music helps when laying out each of the options.
Option #1: turn on formula feed, go back to sleep, pretend nothing ever happened, deny being thirsty, sweaty, and tired
Option #2: complain vehemently to no one in particular, ask "them" to shut down the heat, and then stew in my own anger while listening to exceedingly loud music
I wound up doing both. Simultaneously.
I know, I always tell you I CANNOT multitask, but I sure as heck did this morning.
Lo and behold, dearest Betsy arrived and was able to shut down the heat within moments after my asking.
Here's hoping one of my neighbors did not require a serious thawing out… that I deprived him or her of needed warmth. You see, the thermostat controls four different rooms at one time. When the heat goes on for one room, and it also goes on for the other three. And vice versa. The thing is, I've gotten rather used to a room temperature hovering in the mid-60s in the early morning time frame, and then the mid-70s by the late afternoon.
Oh. Get this. My pre-dawn blood pressure came out to a more typical mid-afternoon reading of 113 over 69! Clearly, I need more agitation in my life to get things pumping and flowing.
Impending Pain Body
Fine. I'm finished sleeping. I've got the dreaded dentist visit coming up within several short hours. Additional fear, as my preferred dentist is not available, so I'll be tended to by the rookie dentist from Croatia.
She's intelligent. And I hope that's enough. I hope she's able to pull with all her might. I can't come back to the facility here with a half pulled out tooth. And so you know, that's a real possibility. I have the longest roots on this entire planet.
The Next Next Day
I survived the dentist. The details don't matter. And yes, it was difficult. But tooth extractions are always difficult for them, and especially for me. More important than all that, I received caring support when I came back to the facility, as Betsy was still on duty… and my favorite day shift nurse, the one who shares the same birthday as I, did her best to ease my suffering. Plus, Linda stopped by to check-in. So yeah, I cannot complain at all. Caring goes a long way with me.
Okay then.. take care,
H
This is what 73° looks like in February
I'd like to share some good news with you. Is that alright? As a matter of fact, this news is super good! That's several standard deviations above "normal" good news. So let's get to it, shall we?
Content Warning! - The following paragraphs utilize the word "commode" - so if you are commode averse, please feel free to skip on through… I won't be offended in the least.
Oh. And if you can literally skip (the physical action)... you may color me impressed. Yes. I would indeed be impressed by your ability to perform that specific activity. I could never for the life of me figure out how to skip.
Yes, it's true!
For any of the younger folk in the audience (or for those of you residing overseas), skipping used to be a real thing that real people did in the olden days (on command). At some point, inevitably, we were told (and sometimes ordered) to skip during physical education class. And then to further complicate matters, we were graded on our ability to do so (or not do so).
So now you know everything you'll ever need to know about skipping!
Content Warning! (part 2) - If you are in any way traumatized by your inability to skip, please unremember the initial Content Warning!
So here's the thing, I woke up yesterday morning (I know I know I know, everybody wakes up, this is starting off in a rather boring fashion, isn't it?) and I did my usual morning things before needing to utilize the bedside commode… which always proves difficult. Taxing. Physically draining. Which is something each of you already knows. It's the most difficult thing I do on any given day.
Anyway, I completed the task, and for some reason afterwards, did not suffer from P.E.M. - Yes, really.. none at all! So, that's a good thing. Possibly, that's a great thing. Sure, it's only a one-time thing, but this is the only time it's ever happened.
Then two hours later, I had to utilize the commode again!
Okay. Well, why the heck not? Not that I had a choice. We never do. It seems. And subsequent to this event, I did suffer from my regularly scheduled P.E.M., but within an hour I seemed to have recovered.
I won't read too much into this, but hey, this is really fantastic news from my end, right? And as I've been detailing now and again, I have been gradually improving over the past few months. So let's keep this up, shall we!
Anyway, I just wanted to share something positive. Now of course, I have no idea why I am improving. Is it being in a supportive environment? Is it the excess amounts of vitamin D I am accumulating / receiving?
And really, that's all I have going for me on that front; hours upon hours in the direct sunlight, plus the incessant socialization. So maybe, really, the only thing we (us ME/CFS folk) need to do in order to recover from this awful illness is to schedule daily Beach Blanket Bingo events - that's right! Constant people within constant proximity, and near constant sunshine saturation!
Let me know what you think about this.
Of course, Annette Funicello is probably rolling around in her grave right about now. Unless she's not dead. Then she's probably rolling around on the floor laughing her ass off!
The Day After (Wednesday)
The nurse never showed up last night to help me with my formula feeding and bandage replacing business. Am I shocked, am I surprised? Nope, not at all. But that's not the problem here. Somehow, I forgot to restart my formula (after I put in a new bottle around midnight), so I didn't have any formula or water all night long. Yes indeed, I am super brilliant. Sometimes.
Of course I woke up super early, because... I felt as though my head was stuck inside the engine of a fighter jet. Maybe an F-16.
And why did I feel that way?
Because the heat was on, rip-roaring through the vent directly over my bed.. Full Blast. Loud Loud Loud.
In addition, I woke up sweating.
As I was peeling off my thin green blanket, my eyes saw outside into a darkness that wasn't all that dark. You know why? A full moon, shining directly into my eyeballs. Well, it was shining into my eyeballs after I peeled off my dedicated sleep mask.
So, to compensate for the full glaring moon, and the full-throttled heat, and my own inglorious stupidity, I turned my music on as loud as it could go (makes sense, right?). And it didn't go very loud (not louder than my neighbors early morning televisions), but that's not the point. Angry music helps when laying out each of the options.
Option #1: turn on formula feed, go back to sleep, pretend nothing ever happened, deny being thirsty, sweaty, and tired
Option #2: complain vehemently to no one in particular, ask "them" to shut down the heat, and then stew in my own anger while listening to exceedingly loud music
I wound up doing both. Simultaneously.
I know, I always tell you I CANNOT multitask, but I sure as heck did this morning.
Lo and behold, dearest Betsy arrived and was able to shut down the heat within moments after my asking.
Here's hoping one of my neighbors did not require a serious thawing out… that I deprived him or her of needed warmth. You see, the thermostat controls four different rooms at one time. When the heat goes on for one room, and it also goes on for the other three. And vice versa. The thing is, I've gotten rather used to a room temperature hovering in the mid-60s in the early morning time frame, and then the mid-70s by the late afternoon.
Oh. Get this. My pre-dawn blood pressure came out to a more typical mid-afternoon reading of 113 over 69! Clearly, I need more agitation in my life to get things pumping and flowing.
Impending Pain Body
Fine. I'm finished sleeping. I've got the dreaded dentist visit coming up within several short hours. Additional fear, as my preferred dentist is not available, so I'll be tended to by the rookie dentist from Croatia.
She's intelligent. And I hope that's enough. I hope she's able to pull with all her might. I can't come back to the facility here with a half pulled out tooth. And so you know, that's a real possibility. I have the longest roots on this entire planet.
The Next Next Day
I survived the dentist. The details don't matter. And yes, it was difficult. But tooth extractions are always difficult for them, and especially for me. More important than all that, I received caring support when I came back to the facility, as Betsy was still on duty… and my favorite day shift nurse, the one who shares the same birthday as I, did her best to ease my suffering. Plus, Linda stopped by to check-in. So yeah, I cannot complain at all. Caring goes a long way with me.
Okay then.. take care,
H
This is what 73° looks like in February
