July 26, 2016

July Blows.

I've decided that I hate July.

I, of course, am having a little relapse. Which, naturally, is making me want to chop my head off and just be done with it all.

I've been doing inpatient therapy at the hospital here in town, but it's not helping quite as much as I would like. And I'm waiting for insurance approval to get an MRI of my brain and cervical spine. Except that I can tell you what you're going to find. You're going to see my brain stem LIT UP like the fourth of July on account of all the swelling. And yes, I CAN feel it. It's rather unpleasant as far as sensations go.

And oh my gosh, THE ITCHING. It's like having hundreds and thousands of fire ants marching up and down my veins. And I really don't want to sit here and complain about things, but oh my life, you guys. It hurts so bad. My whole body is swollen, especially my extremities. I can barely bend my ankles, and forget about trying to open anything. And thanks to my wonderful IV steroids, I have bulked up another few pounds. This is my body on steroids:

Steroids Day One: "Yay! Five pounds!"
Steroids Day Two: "Five more pounds... yay?"
Steroids Day Three: "Shit. Let's do 10 more pounds and pure, unadulterated rage."

Meanwhile, I'm on the hunt for my actual discs of my last couple of MRI's. My neuro has the reports, but he wants to view the actual images and compare them to the new ones. That I haven't gotten yet. Because insurance is dumb, and pre-authorizations are even dumber.

Also: Football season has begun. Daniel has his first practice today, and he has already earned the nickname "Big D", on account of his being tall and strong. (Last week, he accompanied me to a few doctor appointments, and my endocrinologist thought he was THIRTEEN. Seriously.) Cheer and tumbling begin next week for Miss Taylor, and I'm just trying to figure out the whole "eating dinner together every night" thing on this dumb schedule.

There is one good thing that I'm enjoying: my garden. It is growing so, so good, despite the sabotage attempts made by the local rabbit population. (I still theoretically like rabbits. I just like them much more stuffed. Or in dinner.)

At any rate, I am going to crawl bad in my hidey hole and pretend I didn't just get up here to complain. Then again, since I do use this here blog as a medical records sort of thing, IT COULDN'T BE MORE APPROPRIATE.