Manic (Productive) Monday

Loooooooong time - no blog. Sorry. I been a bit down. Still am, but soooo much has gone on today I've gotta tell somebody about it. Catch you up first? Where'd I leave ya? Face down on the floor, . . . right? Awww, yes, it's coming back to me now.

The pool. The fall. The crawl. And more falls. Yay, me! Why weren't the steroids workin' their magic? They were makin' me hungry. They were makin' me thirsty. They were makin' me agitated. And swell, swell, swell, but still not well. I got one word for ya - b A s T a R d S ! ! !

Eventually I find myself in good 'ol Doc Lee's infamous waiting room. "What on Earth for?" I can almost hear you shouting. And I'm glad you asked. I may have mentioned in earlier posts that my feet were turning purple and that I had altogether misplaced my left ankle - well, "Dr. Lee," I explain, "I'm here 'cause I have no feeling in this here huge purple lump formerly known as my left leg."

And just to paint you a more vivid picture of the situation, the purple I speak of is more of a morbid bluish toned violet than a stunning royal plum color my dearly beloved Prince sported on his motorcycle. Still today the swelling has gone down a bit but the eery color remains. It is quite unsettling to look down and see a leg you cannot feel. A leg you do not recognize. Bizarro!

Back to the story. I went to see Lee for Jason. He's been worried about there being a blood clot. After researching clots on the internet, yippeee! I too began to worry. I've got a slew of the pre-cursors. Add that to my Ma and my Pa. Then throw in my being damn near completely sedentary and what do you have? A recipe for disaster, I tell ya. For real.

So we're hospital bound to get a doppler of my leg. I joke with Jason that we should write in that I need one of the neck too. He chuckles. He raises an eyebrow. Yeh, maybe I hadn't been joking. So what? Of all days to wind up getting an ultrasound, this was supposed to be the day I was to get one done in Atlanta. A real legit "we trained in Italy with Zamboni" scan. I wish I was there. We'd talked about taking the boys and going to the aquarium and . . .

So MS happened. Then roids. Then rescheduling. Then roids fail. I give up. Depression reigns. What good would a positive ultrasound do me anyways? Whoopity Dooooo!? Back on the table at the old local hospital, aka back to reality. The girls that took care of me were nice enuff, BUT the scan of my entire left leg took less than 5 minutes. From the groin to just behind the knee. And the discoloration and loss of feeling doesn't start until just below the knee. I'm not claiming to know more than these girls, BUT REALLY?! C'mon, really??

"You're fine. You can go home," they said. Well I was far from fine, but home sounded delightful. "Thanks," I replied. "I think I will." And that's just what we did. I hope at least Jason slept better that night. As for me - not so much. And hardly at all the next few nights. Anticipating Jason leaving for work is never fun. Really scary being damn near immobile. I considered sending the boys to Granny and Papaw's and going down to my Momma's, but alas decided to ruff it out with only a pitbull for protection. Ha! Pun intended.

I had a heart to heart with my 9 year old who promised he'd take care of me. And he did. Quite the man, I tell ya. I was sooooo proud of him. Still am. Thank you, Goose! So Daddy gets back. Steroids are done. And all is again right with the world, . . . NOT! I'm still noooo better. BUT, what's this? Football sign-up deadline is announced. Quite the wake-up smack in the face. Huh?

How many weeks had it been now that I've drug myself from bed each morning only to park my sad ass on the end of the couch downstairs? Once, maybe twice a day I risk venturing to the bathroom with the walker. The rest of the time unmoved. Attention bouncing from the lap top to Netflix and back again. Physically unmoved 'til bedtime. Then crawl and hobble and bed again. What the hell kinda existence is this? One word? p A t H e T i C ! ! !

Most important of allllll in my pea brain . . . HOW THE SAM HELL WAS I GONNA SEE ASA KICK FOOTBALL ASS??? And sports aside, school was approaching. My boys would need school supplies. Clothes. And shoes. Shoes have always been ooober important to me. Ever since my red and white Nike high-top tennis shoes I got for grade school basketball. A side note: I was gonna play for Bobby Knight in them shoes. No joke!

I needed action. Friday I called the neuro myself. I was fully prepared to dump his ass. I reported I was done with the meds, but still no better. The receptionist reported the doc was gone but that she was sure the meds hadn't been in my system long enuff. WTF? How long is long enuff? Grrrrrr. Lucky for me I didn't tell her off right then and there. Nope. I swallowed hard and thanked her for her advice about waiting 'til Monday to give the roids more time.

Then I called Jason, and I can't really remember, but I'm sure he got an ear full. During our convo I made the executive decision that come Monday all HELL was gonna break loose for somebody. I needed something done! And if he wasn't gonna be the one to do it, I'd be right back at Doc Lee's door beatin' it down for a neuro willing to treat my MS. And you know what else? One with a receptionist who doesn't act as a firewall. Good one, heh? Jason came up with that jewel!

Screw this couch trip. I needed a chair. And not just one that Jason or the boys has to push. I need an all-terrain motorized jobby. Like Coach Browning's. "They won't give you one of those," says the husband. Wellllll. The hell you say. If that's what I gotta have to see football, then that's what I gotta have. My upper arm strength is too weak for me to be expected to wheel myself. And our house has plush carpet, linoleum, tile, etc. And I'm a heavy girl . . . just sayin' . . . b A s T a R d S !!! Some body is damn sure gonna do somethin'. If this shit is gonna be permanent, whatever, but I can't spend the rest of my life on this couch. PERIOD.

Saturday. A little calmer thanks to a decent night's sleep having come to realize I needed off the couch - we set out to find a rollator walker. Probably a lofty goal the plan was to purchase said assistive device in order to accompany the kiddos to Shoe Carnival for a back to school shopping extravaganza. Still it would take me forever with a rollator, BUT for the time being it would let me get so far and sit to rest. And so on and so forth over and over again. Plus Jason found one in pink. I was sooo stoked. Strike one, two, three. You're out!

Oh well. We don't know how to bill your insurance. Closed and closed. No walker. No shoes. At least we'll get lunch. Look out, Wendy's. Here we come. What's that noise? SHIT! Flat tire. And get this . . . neither of us had our cell phones on us. Yikes! That'll never happen again. I can tell you that much. So the boys and I stay in the truck and finish our lunch as Jason changes the tire alongside the busy highway, where no one, not one in nearly an hours time stopped to help us.

As Jason was finishing up his Mom and Dad pulled over behind us. They had been headed to Evansville and saw us with our flashers flashing. And the kicker, Jason had left his phone at their house and was supposed to go get it that morning. And homeward bound again. Poor guy. I felt soooo helpless. And had it happened to just me . . ., guess I'd still be sittin' roadside.

Sunday. Calmer still. We slept in exhausted from the previous days outing. Jason worked on the lawn. And I worked on a game plan. What was it exactly that I wanted from my neurologist? What must he do in order to stay my neurologist? First, I want to walk damnit! I may have had this for 10 years now, but especially with the latest findings on a fix -- I was not ready to throw in the proverbial towel.

What then? Steroids via IV like I frickin'asked for in the first place. When I ask, I mean it. Damn! And I wanted to try LDN (low dose naltrexone). Been researching quite a bit of stuff and it sounds waaaaay better than the expensive ass shots that aren't doing a damn thing but bruising me. Just sayin'. Why suppress my immune system when clearly the problem has been proven to be venous in nature.

Wake up world! It's no coincidence I've been better overall since starting my high blood pressure meds and sleeping with my bed inclined. WAKE UP, I SAID! Damn! So my demands are roids and LDN. And should those fail I plan to crawl up his ass 'til I get a power chair 'cause I WILL NOT MISS FOOTBALL!!! Wish me luck, won't you? Alas, thanks, but I'm good -- for now.

Jason sets out early to work on this saultry Monday morning and . . . by lunch he had news. Good news. He says the receptionists were very nice and I'm all set for IV steroids at the hospital tomorrow. Well, that was easy for it not being their policy and all. And . . . my LDN has been called in and will be ready on Wednesday. No sweat. WHAT? Huh? That simple, heh? Maybe we should've went ahead and asked for the chair too? While we was on a roll, ya know?

Prayer works people! No joke. Now I sit here on the couch listening to my three men splash about the pool. And I'm not tearing up. I'm not angry. Not disappointed. 'Cause right now . . . there's hope I might join them again before summer's end.

Thank God for football! And answered prayers. Amen.