I slept for a good portion of the day. I expected it to happen after spending the past two days at shearings, and I wasn't disappointed. It was not a restful sleep, though, so that could have gone better. You know the type of sleep that usually happens either during the day or around the time you need to wake up? You're struggling to awaken and you can't, and the panic starts to set in. For me it's very similar to trying to come out of anesthesia, a feeling I particularly hate. At one point I was trying to call out for help, for Dar to come wake me. She said later that she did hear me saying something, but she thought I was talking to the cats. I'm obviously going to have to work on my summoning-aid-in-my-sleep calls :)

I slept through the birth of the latest cria on the farm. No name yet, but he's a big boy who weighed in at 23.5 pounds. Mom is an experienced birther, but even so Dar had to intervene and reach in to turn the baby around a bit so his shoulders could pass through. She said that mom would have pushed him out eventually, but I don't know - he's a pretty big boy. We have one more cria to go, probably next week. The barn is looking like a proper nursery, with five little alpacas bouncing off the walls and their moms trying to keep them in line.

They're in close quarters tonight, because we have a line of strong thunderstorms threatening our area. We had very high winds earlier, and thunder rumbling in the distance, so Dar and I went out and closed the alpacas in the barn for the night. The babies are prone to running out in the rain (because they're born with no sense of preservation at all, apparently), and we didn't want them to be injured by the strong winds or end up spending the whole night out in the storms. I'll take some pictures tomorrow.

I took some pictures yesterday, but not on my camera. Joellen, if you're reading this, could you email me copies of the pictures I took of Saffron? Thanks.

Pixel's having a nightmare, I think. She's sleeping next to me, and her paws are twitching, her mouth is moving, and her tail is swishing. I think I should wake her. Nope, she quieted down again.

I forgot that it's Memorial Day for you all in the States. I hope you're having a wonderful, summery day wherever you are.
[livejournal.com profile] travestine had asked about the results of the neuropsych tests that I took last month. I met with the psychologist (at least I think she's a psychologist) yesterday, and I was mostly pleased with the results. The best news is that there doesn't seem to be any neurological damage at the root of my problems. The memory problems and lack of concentration would appear to be offshoots of the effects of having lupus: pain, fatigue, stress, and mild depression. And it's certainly true that the more exacerbated those things are, the worse my memory and concentration become.

Probably the most surprising thing was my score on the spatial/geometric puzzle portion of the test. I ranked as average or somewhat above average. Bwah! All I could think is that there are a lot of stupid people out there if those results are average :)

And speaking of average, she said that the test was scored against my demographic: 60+, grad degree, and mostly female. (Not that I'm just "mostly" female. Heh.) I only scored below average (or "below expectation" as she put it) on three unrelated subsections, and in one of those I went on to score above average on a more complicated form of that same test. Go figure. I scored several "superlatives" on the verbal portions, including one test where I had the highest score that they've recorded. I didn't tell her that I'm the nerd who reads the dictionary for fun.

She reiterated what my neurologist had said over a year ago when this was first in the process of being scheduled: we don't have a baseline for what was normal for me say 8 years ago before lupus hit. It could be that these test results do show some marked declines. And here is where I sound conceited, because yes . . . I was dismayed by some of those average results. Putting aside all humility and blushing furiously, I have to say that I was never average even among my peers at Wesleyan and Harvard. I just assumed that everyone at those universities was getting all As, because how could you even get into those schools if you were going to get Cs? It turns out that wasn't the case. So I believe that several years ago, I would have been above average on almost all of those tests - except for those spatial/geometric sections which I still can't believe that I didn't miserably fail. (I kept saying, "Get out of here!" Because that's just how eloquent I can be.)

The good news, then, is that this doesn't seem to be on a downward trajectory, and if I can get a handle on the causes, it shouldn't be that great a problem or at least just remain a problem for which I can find some coping strategies and work-arounds. I was and am very relieved.
I spent several hours in the car this afternoon driving to and from Toronto to pick up Maddie and Dar from their trip to Cape Breton. I was happy to do it; I missed them, and their trip was just . . . surreal. (Not my story to tell yet.) The day was very warm and very sunny. I slathered on the SPF 60 sunscreen and off I went.

Fast-forward to this evening. I managed to get about an hour's sleep before the flare hit. I felt suddenly as if I had a badly sprained ankle. Then both feet, ankles, and lower legs started throbbing; I couldn't take the pressure of the sheet and blanket on them, so I sat up on the side of the bed. My feet and ankles were inflamed and swollen. OK then. I took some meds to try to calm the ache and tried to go back to sleep. That's when the itching started. First on my legs, and then it spread up my torso and into my arms. I figured I'd rather read than scratch, so I turned on the laptop and started browsing. That went well until my vision suddenly blurred so badly that I could no longer read. Very well, if my body is going to be that way, then I'll just try to get to sleep again. And I almost made it! I was just drifting off when I was awakened by a loud conversation going on a few feet from the bed. Of course there was no one there - hello, aural hallucinations! Haven't heard from you in a while. Pull up a chair and let's chat. No? It's no fun when I'm actually awake? Screw you then. Besides, by this time my nervous system was sending out little jolts of electricity along my arms and neck. At that point, for some reason, a flax cracker with peanut butter seemed to be the answer, so off into the kitchen I went. Fended off Holmes, who wanted me to turn the faucet on so he could drink from it. Chomped on the cracker. And here I am. The itching is dying down. The sprain isn't as achy as it was. I'm still getting the occasional electrical ping. I think I'm going to try to sleep again.

Ah, Lupus. Every flare is a new adventure. You just don't know what it's going to bring. I like the sun, you know? I sometimes crave to be able to stand in the sunlight and let it wash over me, feel it on my face and arms. Instead I wrap myself up in long sleeves and garden gloves and hats and scarves. And even then . . .
Today is World Lupus Day. In honor of the day, I'm feeling rather crappy, because far be it from me not to celebrate when the occasion calls. I'm also supposed to be wearing purple or orange - which for some reason are the colors associated with Lupus - but it turns out that I own nothing purple and my only piece of orange clothing is a lovely Indian cotton scarf that I drape across my eyes at night and wind under my face so I can drool into it while I sleep. Probably not a good idea for use as out-and-about wear. Still, it is quite lovely.

So. Lupus. You've heard me talk about it. There's nothing much to add, except that I was pinning my hopes on a new drug that was making its way through the FDA trials. Benlysta, at 52 weeks into the trial, was shown to reduce substantially the pain and overwhelming fatigue of Lupus. Huzzah! Then they continued the trial and found that its effectiveness decreased over time, and by 72 weeks it was no more effective than the placebo. Well damn. It may still be approved, and to be honest, I'd take it for a year and be grateful. (Assuming it would be offered in Canada.) I can't remember what it's like not to feel as if I'm pushing through deep water. Every. Day. It's been getting worse, but there's really nothing out there that manages fatigue. By early evening I'm shuffling like a old school zombie, barely managing to lift my feet off the ground. But you know, at least I haven't been hospitalized as so many with Lupus are, so that's a plus.

In non-Lupus goings on, the pregnant alpacas are huge - so huge that they're shambling when they walk. And still none of them will drop a little cria for us like they really, really, really need to do rather quickly, please.

Still no word from Immigration. It's been 17 months since my visa expired; it's been a year since they said everything was OK, and then it all went to hell. I feel trapped and often hopeless. These have not been my best few years here. But everything changes, right? I mean for better or for worse, it's not always going to be the way it is now; I just have to keep breathing and do whatever the hell it is that needs to be done in this ridiculous life of mine. No retreat, baby, no surrender.

Besides, if you don't count the chronic, disabling illness and the non-personhood, things are pretty good. Ha!

So in closing: Lupus sucks but please support increasing research, Immigration can bite me, and please alpacas - have those crias tomorrow!
1. There are some mad bacon lovers out there, and for them I provide this link to the bacon explosion. I wouldn't touch it with a 10 foot pig snout, but I can think of several people who would just squeee over this. So here you go.

2. This afternoon is the antithesis of yesterday afternoon, all because I spent an hour and change shoveling out the composted layers on top of the barn floor. Intense fatigue, intense burning, numbness, and tingling in my hands and feet, and strong joint pain. Plus a flaming malar rash. It's a flare, and I can't begin to tell you how much I hate it - not for the symptoms it brings but because of the reality behind it. I'll always have to pay if I do anything more than lay around. I don't care. I'm finishing that section of the barn tomorrow.
Well, the wait is over. That "buffalo hump" side effect of prednisone that I've been worrying about acquiring has shown up. I just noticed it this afternoon, but it's probably been evident for a little while now. Damn. It's just vanity, really. And I've never really had anything to be vain about as far as my appearance goes, so this isn't that big a deal, but honestly . . . weight gain, thinning receding hair, and now a lovely little hunch back. At least if it were a hatch back I could find a use for it, you know?

Blergh. I'm seeing the rheumatologist again this Wednesday, and I'm hoping that this time I'll get to talk to her about the lupus -o r whatever the hell this is - and how to get the damn thing under control so I can get off the drugs. (Words I'm sure you'd never hear me say *g*)

I'm a bit concerned because the symptoms are getting worse. I was hoping that between the prednisone and the plaquinel that there'd be a marked improvement. Instead my muscles are getting weaker, my loss of balance more frequent, the fatigue more persistent, and the nerve pain and burning more disruptive. This is not what I signed up for. At. All.

See this is where I wish I had a secret ninja army - or pirates, I have no favorites - so I could kidnap my rheumatologist and get her to focus on my case until I was able to go into remission. In other words, I think I really want to be Ben Linus on Lost. It worked for him, why not for me? OK, he's not a real person - but aside from that? I have great hopes for this plan. Now I just need to dig up some ninja pirates. Or a good script writer and a buttload of hallucinegenics to guide me through a directed subconscious war against this stupid autoimmune disease. (If anyone out there has read the scifi short story The Carcinoma Angels, you'll get what I'm talking about.)

But in the meantime, me and my hump should try to get some sleep tonight anyway. (Note to self: buy more Bailey's.)
I've been waiting to post until I had something definitive from my rheumatologist, but that doesn't look to be happening this week after all, so this is just an update. It's a long one, so I'll cut tag it. BTW, the icon for this isn't meant to be taken literally; I just don't have anything else that screams major *head desk* :)
It's a movie of the week. Or maybe an ep from Arrested Development. )
1. I discovered where the nearest laundromat is to us. Birdland Plaza in Elmira, about 15 minutes away. This is a very good thing because . . .

2. We discovered that our dryer has gone all Maytagzilla, Destroyer of Fabrics on us. Not only does it leave black streaks on the articles being dried, it also gnaws little holes out of the material here and there. Lovely. It's like living in the middle of a Steven King short story.

3. I discovered today that among the lists of Ontario's major doctor shortages, ophthalmologist loom large. I've been waiting to hear about a referral for several weeks now because I'm starting to see some definite side effects of the plaquenil, and it just came through today. My appointment is for August 21. I'll probably be blind by then, but hey, at least I'll get to have a guide dog. Doggie!

4. I discovered that wearing my Canada baseball cap out into the paddock to Cria sit Satine is an absolute guarantee that the temperatures will tumble and a stiff wind will come swooping down out of the northern ice fields. And freeze my ears right off my head. Even though a few hours earlier when I went out there dressed for winter is damn near balmy. I don't get it, but I'm learning to respect it.

5. I discovered that if you have a soda bottle that's been filled with water and then frozen, and you put that frozen bottle up against the butt of a cat in heat, the cat will do a crazy little Butt Dance of Temporary Release. It's cute and pathetic at the same time.

6. I discovered that Earth Hour really only requires turning off lights for an hour tomorrow night at 8PM your local time. I thought it was supposed to require a shutdown of all electric usage in the home {probably barring fridges and water pumps). I was kind of surprised at the simplicity of it, but it's a good way to increase individual participation. Live in a multi-person household and not everyone agrees to the lights out? Then turn off your lights - you'll still be participating and still making a statement. Win-win.

7. I discovered that I can never get too co,mfortable with lupus. The past week has been mostly OK, but today was horrid. I had some errands to run (bringing a cat-pee-soaked comforter to the laundromat), and I was barely able to get it done. Then there was the debacle at TSC while trying to buy some textured ration for the alpacas. That included doing wheelies with the shopping cart because I couldn't center the heavy bag of feed so the cart was tipped over on two wheels. It looked like it should be sporting racing decals of flames as I manhandled it on two wheels around the corners of the aisles. Then I had a nearly incomprehensible conversation with the clerk about Jester. Not only did I pause, sputter, make up words, and ignore most rules of English syntax in trying to explain Jester's breed and history, when I got home I found I'd had it all wrong so the gibberish I was poorly spouting at the increasingly weirded-out clerk turned out to be all lies anyway. And then when I went to put the feed bag in the trunk I wrestled with it so badly - still off balance and the cart still mostly on two wheels - an elderly farm man asked if I needed help. "Oh, no," I cheerily replied. "I just have to slip the bag off the carriage and into the trunk." At which point the carriage fell over and the sack of feed started to do a slow slide out of the trunk and down my bumper. I managed to manhandle it back in the trunk, then I uprighted the cart and dragged it back into the store. To the barely contained giggles of an open carriage over brimming with young Mennonite girls.

8. And lastly I discovered that hoping to go to sleep at a reasonable hour isn't the same as actually being able to accomplish that. Wicked nausea, bloating, pounding headache. It's mostly gone now. Maybe I can sleep now. Hope so.
No sun today on this Sunday, but it was relatively livable outside nevertheless. Mark and I grabbed a couple of shovels and took out the drifting snow that had held my car hostage, then we proceeded to attack the rest of the driveway. Man, I really, really hope that that is the last of the shoveling we'll be doing this year.

I'm still wobbling all over the place, but today was better than yesterday. I was extremely proud of myself for getting that shoveling done (along with some household chores), but I ended up sleeping a lot this afternoon to make up for it. Eh, not a bad trade-off, really. I've missed the physical activity, and it felt great to be actually doing something outside.

Tomorrow I'm going to try to get an appointment to get my hair cut. I have problem hair to begin with - fine texture, thin individual strands - but where previously I had a lot of fine, thin hair with a natural wave, I know have noticeably less and it's limp and dull. I don't have bald spots (that I've noticed), but there's significantly more space between the strands, and that really shows along the part line. Which is now resembling a landing strip along the top of my skull. So, as the walrus said, the time has come. I was going to just go to the local version of SuperCuts, but I thought better of it. I need a good cut, especially since I'm going for short layers. "Wispy," said Dar. "You want wispy." That I'll probably try to spike just so [livejournal.com profile] sparky77 will stop harassing me, but I will not be dying it electric blue. Or purple. Although if anyone can point me to a silver dye, I'd be all over it. What is this huge prejudice against gray in the hair dye industry?

On a completely different subject, The Wire is going out with style. I don't want it to end! I can't believe that next week is the last episode, that they'll be shuffling off into the dark in just another 90 minutes. (The last ep is extended length.) There will be no neat endings, because the world is a messy place. The story lines keep evolving, and they leave me despairing of ever finding out where they'll lead. God, it is such a well-written show. I've got Q convinced to watch it, so I just need to track down the season DVDs, and then find the block of time to actually watch them all.

Hope all is well with you, my dears. Me for sleep.
It's easier to post pictures, eh. Stringing words together requires effort, and by the end of the day effort and I are barely speaking. Because that would require . . . effort. You see my quandary.

I went to see my old rheumatologist yesterday. Note icon. Oh, yeah. )
1. Predicted? One inch of snow. Actually fell? A foot of snow - not counting the height of the drifts. My car is buried. Dar had a tough time slogging out to the barn. Damn winter.

2. I got the call for my Urgent Neuro appointment. Forget next week - it's this Thursday. The day after tomorrow. Wow.

Oh what the hell. Three things.

3. I've been reading up and cerebellar involvement with lupus is rare. Teaching hospitals like rare. Therefore teaching hospitals like me. Or as Dar put it: "Your doctor pulled some strings because you're a freak." Yes. Yes, I am.
This is gonna be very jumbled because it's late and my brain is conjumbled and stuff.

1. New rheumatologist, Dr. Pope. But first . . . young resident Dr. Ty Verylongarmenianname. "Just call me Ty. It's easier." I like him. He took a loooooong history, and he was both engaged and engaging. Because of the neurological issues going on with me, he found my case kind of exciting.

2. Not as exciting, though, as the fact that we raise alpacas. He had no idea what they are, so for a while he kept stopping the interview/history/wev to ask questions about the alpacas. Except he kept calling them alpackies. Hee.

3. I'm a pushover. No, really - he pushed me and I went over. It was all part of the exam, no worries. Again, my neuro issues took center stage, so Ty did some elementary neuro tests on me, including the one where you stand with your eyes closed, and your arms out in front of you, and then someone pushes your shoulder. Normally, you should be able to compensate. Of course, I didn't. You would have thought the guy just got the coolest toy in the store :) "That's a positive Bwlejroudgh!" (I can't remember the name of the test, sorry.) Then he ran next door to get his friend, Dr. Nema the Nuerology Resident. Back they come. "She had a positive Bwlerhjoro!" Uh-huh. Some more tests with "touch your nose and then my index finger" thingie and "follow my moving finger with your eyes" thingie. Ty wanted to push me again, but Nema said it was OK, thanks.

4. Dr. Pope shows up about an hour later. I'm not upset, because she was stuck draining some guy's knee and ewwwwww. Sucks to be that guy. Besides she's a hot shot and very busy. She's also trailing two interns (with my permission), and the guy intern looks to be all of 17. No. Lie. Anyway Ty is bubbling again about the positive Bw;lekjro. He should maybe think about switching his specialty, because . . . very excited!

5. Pope is smart, patient-oriented, and a very fast talker. I really like her. She did some more neuro tests, but vetoed Ty when he wanted to push me again. He's a crazy man! (Actually, it was all pretty funny. He was so excited.) She looked at the MRIs of my brain, but she didn't see anything too out of the ordinary, and nothing that would explain my neuro symptoms.

6. From what I can gather - and I was pretty tired by this point - she thinks I have lupus, but she isn't convinced that it's lupus CNS. The CNS (brain and central nervous system) could be something else. So . . . she's sending me to the Urgent Neuro Clinic.

7. As she explained it, the "urgent" in Urgent Neuro Clinic just means that you wait months to get in instead of a full year. Except - for me they made an exception, apparently, because I have an appointment for next week. Yay! And . . . yikes.

8. The deal is two-fold: the problem is in my cerebellum, and it's on my right side. The MRIs show nothing wrong with my cerebellum and the only visible flare is on my left side. Hmmmmmm. She said that getting a good cerebellar view is difficult, though. Other problem (3) is that it's progressing. Whatever "it" is.

9. I'll have to get a lumbar puncture. Ye olde spinal tap. And in no way will they be pushing my dial to eleven. Over my dead body.

10. She ordered a bunch of blood work for me. How many vials of blood did they take. Why, that would be eleven. Plus another damn urine sample. Honestly, I'd rather they just take the blood. Hate trying to pee into a little cup.

11. No gall bladder surgery for me. Or that colonoscopy, either, until this gets sorted out. Because of the meds, I'm a slow healer now, and she thought it was too risky. OK by me.

12. I think that's it. Long day. We were there from 12:45 to 5:30. Plus it was a 90 minute drive each way. In the snow. And the dark. (And it was all uphill coming and going. And we had to drag the car. With our teeth.)

13. Dar was very good. There was only one moment when I thought she was going to rip the doctor's head off, and she restrained herself before I had to throw myself between them. No, seriously, I couldn't get through these exams without her. For all my bitching, I'm a lucky woman, and I know it.

14. Alpackies.
I have no idea why I'm not asleep since I've been up since early o'clock, been relatively busy, and had no nap or lie down.

I had fall down, though. Twice! Mays fall down go boom. Except that both times I managed to clutch onto something before I actually hit the floor. "You know what this means?" I mourned bitterly to Dar. "It means I can never go into a Crate&Barrel again!" Waaaaaaah! Hahahahaha. I was saying I need to wear a kind of a reverse deep sea fishing harness, except Dar coud keep me hooked up to it and reel me upright when I start to flop around. Hee! We can get her a fishing hat that has the two beer holders on it, except for her it would soda cans. Oooh, oooh! I can train a couple of the alpacas to be my guidepacas. One on each side to hold me up, and i'll fashion a cunning little harness that fits over all three of us. Sort of a cross between suspenders and webbing. With embroidery. Lots of royal blues, deep reds, and purples. Maybe some gold color. And bells so people will know we're coming. Like the sight of a "moderately obese" (it said so on one of my doctor's reports. My gastric bypass surgeon will be so proud.) middle-aged wobbly woman tied to two anxious yet nosey alpacas are going to slip their notice. Better safe than sorry, sez I. Just wait 'til I demand to bring them on public transportation as my mobility aids.

I'll tell you one thing - I damn well want my own disability parking sticker out of this. Dar's is expired, so we do some creative display when we use it, which actually isn't all that often: bad weather and a serious lack of parking spaces, or one of us is really under the weather.

I got into a verbal fight with a cranky old lady during Christmas shopping. She looked like the old lady that Hallmark draws for their cranky old lady line of cards. Normally I love her, but not when she's coming after me, by gum. You drew down on the wrong bitchy broad, cranky Canadian crone! I'd parked in one of those absofreainlutely stupid "reserved" spaces for pregnant women with children. Pregnancy is not an illness (except mentally), it's a choice. You choose to have a gazillion kids and drive thos fucking obnoxious large van/suv/tundra vehicles that no else has a chance in hell of seeing around thereby putting ourself in jeopardy because of your fucking hubris and fecundity and I'm supposed to drag my lupus butt from a half-mile away to placate you? Guess again, Hormone Hannah. So it was a very bad lupus day, and I think it was wicked cold, too. Anyway, I pulled into the Stork Spot because all of the handicapped spaces were taken. Dar and Marie were with me, so I had a "legitimate" reason to park in a handicapped space if one were open, too. Just to keep that in mind.

We pull in. Start to get out of the car. This Hummer-size vehicle pulls in right next to us, and out climb to tiny old people. (Compensating much, Estelle?) She looks at me and says, "How pregnanat are you, Miss? [Nice on so many levels.) Me: Excuse me? Her: "That spot is reserved for pregnant women. You don't look pregnant to me." Me: You wanna know something? Her:What? (Half belligerent, half wary.) Me: Not everyone who has an illness looks like they do. I have lupus, and I'm having a really bad day. I'm gonna have trouble just walking to the store, let alone shopping and then schlepping [yes, I said schlepping] everything back out there. All the handicapped places were full, so I'm using this one. Deal with it.

She grumbled some more and then teetered off to follow her husband who's probably gone through a zillion times. She probably makes him cruise the parking lots looking for Stork Spot Scoffers so she can shake her bony finger and bitch at them. Met the wrong damn woman this time. I told Dar she was probably pissed because I took the spot before she could get to it. Bwah!

OK, I took a lorazepam at 12:30 and 1/2 Imovand at 2:15 and I should really be under by now. WTF? This calls for drastic measures. This calls for . . . boooooooooze. Gimme a break - I'm talking a conservative sip out of the bottle. (How couth am I?) Or a booze ball. (It's what we call those Irish Moonshine candy/cookie things that Dar made. Mmmmmm.) All I know is that I have to go to sleep. Satine might have her cria tomorrow, and I wan't to be unzombified for it. Gah, just hit me over the head, OK?

Off to add to the chemical cocktail in my bloodstream. Anyone got a straw? How about one of those tiny umbrellas? Ciao.

Oooh, before I go. My lovely Q is here! She made it. With Pico (who is Pixel to a T if Pixel went through the enlarger at Kinko's) and our Skrippy is here and I'm looking forward to renewing her acquaintance and just hanging out. Southern Belle in the house! Bless her heart :)

Sleep enhancement. Must find sleep enhancement.
I've been worried about Dar because she's just been working herself to the bone. Today because of the weather - the wind, the rapid drop in barometric pressure - her shunt started to act up, too. She took a nap this afternoon, and I thought I'd go out and feed the alpacas and Jester their dinners and put them in their barns for the night, and that way she could get some more rest.

It really shouldn't have been that big a deal, but I didn't know that one of the side effects of prednisone is that it plays havoc with a person's blood sugar levels. Mine are wonky to begin with due to the gastric bypass surgery I had, and then this stuff kicked in. I fed Jester first, and cleaned out his little barn a bit. He spent most of the day in there out of the wind, so it had to be cleaned out, eh. That started to tire me out, and I also started feeling hungry.

Off to the alpacas. By the time I finished filling their dishes, I was toast. It just really hit. Extreme fatigue, weakness, chills, overheated, shallow breathing. It didn't help that I was seriously overdressed, because the temps had risen a little and the winds had dropped off since I went out that morning.

I trudged back to the house, whereupon I actually tried to wrestle the snow fencing into submission before heading inside, because that's how bizarre my brain can get these days. Fortunately I quickly had a "I'm being crazy" realization and gave it up. I was sweating so profusely that my clothing was soaked. (That's also a prednisone side effect. Joy!) Made it inside and up the verdammte stairs (I hate stairs these days), then just about crawled down the hallway to my bedroom. Managed to put on some dry clothes and then grabbed the ventilin and gave my lungs a couple shots of that.

Dar woke up shortly after, immediately saw what was going on and got me back on the right track. I thought it was an asthma attack and the effects of overdoing it, but she explained about the prednisone and it all started to make more sense. And seem less scary. Some yogurt helped to get my blood sugar back on track, and I've been steadily improving all night. I felt like such an idiot for getting myself into trouble like that. And I hated worrying Dar when what I wanted to do was try to help her. It's a life lesson, eh. Now I know that I need to always carry some type of food with me and to take those first "uh-oh" twinges seriously. Absolutely none of the literature I'd read about prednisone mentioned these side effects for non-diabetics. Big oversight on their part, I'm thinking.

I've also started adding weight and inches thanks to the new meds, which have also been making me very hungry. I'd been trying to ignore the hunger, thinking that it was just the meds, especially again because I had that gastric bypass surgery, and I really don't get hungry anymore. Not eating added to the blood sugar problems, of course, which I understand now but didn't then. Dar says it's just chemistry, really. I say I flunked chemistry. Really. Oops :) And it's still coming back to bite me in the ass.

All right, enough with the pissy PSA. I really wish I could take a shower, but as Dar pointed out I'm still shaky and haven't I had enough adventure for one day? Heh. A wash-up and bed then. And hopefully a tomorrow that's a lot less full of stupid moves by me. A girl can dream :)

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