Small Parts, Choking Hazard

Some people resolve to write more. Not me. I know that I’m doing pretty well at this point (one way or another) if I manage to update this once a month.

So a lot of stray thoughts here. We had a yellowjacket in the house yesterday. Lola tipped me off to its presence with her satellite dish ears (fortunately, she didn’t try to catch him for me.) It is surprisingly difficult to kill a yellowjacket with a flyswatter. It’s pretty easy to piss one off with a flyswatter, however. I suspect I would have had an easier time of it if I wasn’t holding the shade off the window while swatting.

That can never happen again and I’ll be okay with it.

We have a friend who was diagnosed with MS last fall, which sucks on any number of levels. I can tell you I feel less alone now from the standpoint that she asked (rhetorically, I guess) if this meant she was going to feel like crap every time the temperature hits 70F. My money is on yeah, probably. Also, she’ll also have people tell her that it isn’t really hot (well, no, it isn’t really really hot, but it’s hot enough that a lot of people with neurological issues start feeling bleh) or that wondrous gem: “At least you have an air conditioner!”

When it’s cold and you have bad circulation (or hell, even the flu), why don’t people say crap like, “At least you have a furnace!”

I’ve found 73F is where it totally hits the fan for me, and it’s not like climate control is… well, it helps me feel more comfortable superficially. If I don’t move. So while I feel incredibly sorry that she has to experience that… It was really nice to feel like less of a freak when she asked that.

The insult with a lot of… well, anything chronic and poopy like this is that even when people empathize, you still kind of feel like a freak. It’s hard because even when people empathize, you wonder how anyone can understand really, since you’re there experiencing it and it doesn’t make any goddamn sense to you.

My sweet GP sent me to a rheumatologist. She said he was one who was a bit more likely to treat based on symptoms than blood tests. I saw him, liked him quite a bit. And um… Well, the good news is there is no question in his mind that despite my normal blood work that there is something completely whacked with my immune system, the problem is many of the options he’d be tempted to try tend to be associated with certain lymphomas. And given my thymoma and lovely ass cheek histiocytosis/indeterminate looking lymphoma history… right now, he’s not real sure that it would help enough to warrant the risk that we could just be running up and poking at what’s just under the surface and making it a lot worse than it would be on its own.

Okay. I mean, I appreciate the hell out of the fact that he said it and explained his reasoning… That there is something there, obviously, but right now the options on the table that he could offer — and he was tempted to — seem too risky. Will it be if things are like this a year from now? Maybe not. So I’ll be seeing him again in the fall.

I’m also seeing the (non-batshit crazy) gastroenterologist because my esophagus is dumb. Or slow. Or just angry. I don’t know. I also don’t know if this GI doctor is necessarily not crazy, but he isn’t the crazy one I saw before that I flat out refused to see again (my sweet GP won’t send anyone to her any more, actually). I predict more tests and probably not lovely options to deal with said issues, but hey.

Lola passed her obedience classes. The last class — the very last one — she sat on command. The trainer thought she might have pelvic or hip issues and that was why she wasn’t sitting, but apparently the only issue was that she’s kinda thick. She’s a good girl though. And she listens to Penny, who calls the shots (of course. For all of us.)

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