Here we go

So I am a slacker blogger as of late…I am sorry!  I got back from Cali and got super sick- a cold turned sinus infection turned bronchitis.  Two rounds of antibiotics later and I’m slowly on the mend.

Isn’t being sick on immuno-suppressant medication SO. MUCH. FUN?  Not only can my body turn a piddly little cold into not one BUT TWO other illnesses but then the cold and two other illnesses decide to grab beers, play trivia, get more beers, play some darts, do some shots, hit the dance floor and just in general take their sweet time in leaving me.

Geez,  Walk of shame it away already!

Anyways, I’m in the midst of regrouping, refocusing on the diet and starting in on the next plan.

Funny story before I tell you the plan.  I was cleaning and organizing my hall closet the other night.  I went to get something out of the other closet and when my socked feet hit the hardwood floors, I fell hard.  I was not close enough to grab on to anything except that I was close enough to the ottoman that I drug my nose down the side of it the whole way down.

Excellent.

After assessing that my nose was NOT bleeding and  that I did not have visible ottoman burn, I slowly sat up and examined my hip, knees, and hands.  I was sore, yes, but nothing seemed wrong beyond that.

Falling with RA is always an issue.  Falling for me, since I’ve been flaring constantly since April, has been a fear for months.  A major fear.  I just don’t feel as physically strong as I was a year ago.  In fact, I haven’t felt this weak since I was initially diagnosed.  I know I’ll get the strength back but until then, it’s just kinda scary.

So it happened and I did not die.  Good to know!

So, back to the plan.  I found out that I was NOT on the placebo in my study but was actually on Enbrel.  A surprise, yes, because it did nothing for me.  So I am now going to be starting Remicade which I’m terrified of.  I will start most likely next Wednesday since I have most of the week off.  I don’t really care if it makes me nauseous because I despise turkey so it will have no bearing on my Thursday plans.  I know, I’m a sucky American.

Why am I terrified?  I’m not afraid of needles.  I think it’s just the thought of it.  People only get infusions if they’re really sick. And I just don’t want to classify myself that way because when it’s under control, I’m fine.

So if I can fall which is something that can really seriously injure me and be fine, then certainly infusions can’t be that bad, right?

Hiking and Horses

One of two lengthier updates so bear with me!  Lots going on! Let’s start with the Labor Day update which was supposed to accompany the pictures I posted closer to actual Labor Day.

It was a great mountain vacation- great friends, great food, great hot tub that got completely overloaded with too many people, and overcoming some fears to do some activities that I used to do quite a lot.

Exhibit A: Hiking

Ok, ok, ok…so I don’t really CARE for hiking too much.  Growing up, my dad’s idea of hiking was ‘let’s carry all sorts of crap in heavy backpacks and spend a week living like our ancestors did off of the land.’  He’d always try to con me into it by mentioning how much I loved the computer game Oregon Trail.  But no matter how cool it would be to walk into a store and say ‘I’d like to buy $1400 worth of bullets…and an axle,” I can’t forget that all my Oregon Trail people always died of dysentary.

Anyways.

So I’d compromise with him for this trail near our house. Not too hilly, not too flat, not many roots,we’d catch up, he’d get to be outside, I’d get to not die of dysentary, and an hour later, on the way home we’d sometimes get ice cream.

And then RA happened and I haven’t done it since.

I was nervous on Saturday when my friends announced that the plans for the day included an almost 2 mile hike.  For the record, I’ve done multiple 5K’s since this happened.  Would I give a 2 mile walk in my neighborhood a second thought? No. I’d be confident at this  distance on any flat terrain without roots to watch for.  But this particular trail is very uphill, very uneven ground, and lots of roots. I had visions of tripping on a root and falling forward to catch myself with my worthless hands, and really getting hurt.  The area is also a tad bit isolated and I didn’t feel like it had a good ‘escape route.’  Donner Pass much?

You don’t know you can’t do this until you try it and can’t do it. You have no basis for this whole root anxiety especially because your biggest guy friend is on the trip and you can make him walk with you and catch you if you need it. You probably won’t need it. If something happens you know your friends won’t have to kill you and use you for food because it’s not even winter yet. If you successfully complete it, you can buy those black and pink plaid rain boots you’re having hard time finding a reason to justify buying.

I am proud new owner of black and pink rain boots. And for the record,  nothing hurt afterward except my butt = not a joint.

Exhibit B:  Horseback Riding

I grew up riding horses.  LOVE it.  One of my favorite family vacations growing up was a horseback trip around the Grand Tetons.  If you’ve ever even seen pictures of how beautiful it is out there, just imagine how beautiful riding through them on the back of a horse is.  Surreal.

I quit riding when I hit high school for dancing.  I continued dancing in college- with boys at parties. The closest I came to horseback riding in college was this one time I contemplated riding a mechanical bull in a country line dance bar outside of Knoxville.  For the record, I did not.

So when I found out that a couple of the girls on the trip wanted to go riding, I was PUMPED.  I had visions of myself yet again flying through the mountains on this beautiful horse in beautiful crisp early fall weather.  I was GIDDY.  I googled several places, narrowed down the list, and called the final contenders.  I emailed the information to the interested parties.

And then I remembered the closest I ever came to getting hurt on a horse.  I was really little and I somehow cued my horse to canter (similar to a gallop).  I wasn’t expecting it and I almost fell off.  And then I remembered how my friend Lisa fell off her horse when we were 12- she hurt her back and broke her nose.

I went ahead and paid my deposit to reserve the horse but didn’t commit to doing it until I got there and saw that it was a slow, guided ride on a very broken in trail.  I was a tad disappointed in that- I wanted to RUN- but even with the slow pace, I was really nervous the first few times the horse lurched.

Exhibit C:  Getting Tricked Into Hiking A Longer and Hillier Distance

With two successes under my belt, I felt more confidant.  So when we were on our way back and a friend asked if I was ok with stopping to do a hike along the Blue Ridge Parkway, I was immediately game. (Graveyard Fields for those who may be interested.)  I was even more game when I inquired as to the distance and was told less than a mile.

Yes!  I LOVE hiking!

We headed down the paved walkway to the Falls which were indeed less than a mile from the car.  They were beautiful- really cool looking rocks- and we all took our shoes off and soaked our feet in the freezing cold water.

I walked back up the rock face to the path when I noticed the group heading off in another direction.  I followed suit without question but realized quickly that a) the paved path turns to rocks and roots very quickly and b) this is all uphill. When I saw this, I again directed the distance question to my friend leading the pack.  He responded with “4 miles” and apparently I made a face.  And then he said it:

“I mean, just how bad are your feet flaring right now?  You did yesterday’s hike fine. So do they hurt or don’t they?”

OH NO YOU DIDN’T.

Now keep in mind that this is someone that I hang out with a lot and for the most part really enjoy hanging out with. He obviously knows about the RA but obviously doesn’t understand much about how symptoms can change.  In that moment, I really really really disliked him. But I get it- he wanted to do the hike and knew that if I said I couldn’t do it, most of the people we were with would probably join me back at the car. And that is how I decided that come hell or high water, I was going to finish the damn hike.

I disliked him even more as he began showboating for the group.  He called it stunt hiking- running up the trail and jumping over roots ninja style.  It was really annoying when all I’m trying to do is not fall on really steep and really uneven terrain.

I felt much better when he face planted while showing off his ‘root double axel.’

The whole ordeal very clearly illustrated the principle that one of friends (who is a personal trainer) believes: men are overly confident in their athletic ability while women doubt their athletic ability. Especially women with RA. 🙂

Coming up next: white water rafting, Lady Gaga concert, and the ACR Advocates for Arthritis in Washington DC.

Seven pounds

A picture speaks a thousand words, right?

Meet my little bundle of claws, Molly.

She’s seven years old and weighs fourteen pounds.  She’s my feisty baby. 🙂 This picture shows her in one of her favorite places giving me the old ‘turn the water on and I’ll hairball all over the clean laundry next time you leave it piled on the guest bed’ look.

Does it help conceptualize how big she is by seeing her in the sink?

Good.

Now chop her in half and attach one of the halves to my butt.  Because that is how much weight I’ve gained on Prednisone since June.

I know that sounds horrible in several ways. I realize I need to not be so vain. I realize that I’m lucky to have access to healthcare and medications.  I realize I need to be happy that I guess I’m feeling a little better (although I now think I’m getting the placebo rather than Enbrel because I’ve dialed the Prednisone back to less than 10mg and I’m not feeling as good) but I’m really upset about the weight gain.

I weighed 113 when I went to college.  I admit that was too skinny- I’m 5’6. At my heaviest, after long term Prednisone use, I wore a size 12 and was teetering on having to go up a size.  I have a hard time looking at pictures from that time. But I started to feel better, got off Prednisone, and took back control of my diet and exercise. In May/June, I was a size 4.

I worked my butt off.  Literally.  You know how on all the weight loss shows they have super scheduled workouts, controlled meals, top notch trainers, supportive friends and family, and then they all somehow get fabulous makeovers for the finale show?  Um, yes….that doesn’t really happen.  I did splurge on a trainer who was enormously helpful for the diet and exercise part and am considering doing this again.  But scheduled workouts?  No, anything beyond our weekly appointments was up to me to make sure happened.  Controlled meals?  Again, all on me.  Supportive friends and family?  They tried. “I’m so proud of how hard you’re working, Amanda.  Now let’s go get Mexican and drink lots of beer.”

I am still waiting for my makeover.

So to gain 7 pounds so quickly after it took AGES+ literal blood, sweat, and tears to get it off….I’m having hard time not completely freaking out about it plus I feel gross and bloated and uncomfortable.   But I’m also really weak from this dang flare so really getting in a workout right now is tough.

I started easing myself back into the gym this week.  On Monday, I did 12 minutes on the elliptical- there was much hacking and wheezing and general feeling like I was dying!  I had intended to do 15 minutes and then some light weight training but my legs felt like jello.  I took yesterday off mainly for the courtesy of the other people using the gym.  Today was better. I did 20 minutes on the elliptical. Then I did 3 reps of 10 on the leg press at 40 pounds and 2 reps of 7 of walking lunges with 8 pound free weights.  (Point of reference: I used to do 3 reps of 15 on the leg press at 75 pounds and 3 reps of 25-30 walking lunges.)

Then I sat down on the bench and did a mental checklist of weight exercises I used to do: nope, can’t do that one yet and that other one would be a lot of force on my knees which isn’t a good idea yet.  And oh heck no, I am NOT doing that one because it completely sucks. So then I went home.

But it’s a start and I’m happy with what I did tonight.  My goal is to work up to 30 min/3 times a week for both weights and cardio.

I have a fun fall coming up: heading back to DC for the American College of Rheumatology’s Advocates for Arthritis where I’m ESPECIALLY excited to see some of you there, two trips to California, a Lady Gaga concert, tickets to see the Carolina Panthers, hopefully another trip back to SC, and a birthday a month from tomorrow. Ok, I’m not really excited about that last thing.

I would really like my present to myself to be the absence of those freaking seven pounds.

Note: no cats were chopped in half for the writing of this post.

Crazy Prednisone Dreams

I have weird dreams when I’m on Prednisone.

Granted, I’m in the process of tapering it off because my face looks like a damn jackolantern…but the dreams still continue and probably will for a little while longer.

A couple days ago I woke up in panic complete with flailing arms because I very vividly dreamed that there was a strange man standing over me.  Awhile back, I dreamed that Oprah was the mother of Michael Jackson’s children.

Um.  Okay.

I can’t figure out where the Prednisone dreams come from- normally I can trace my dreams to events of the day or tv shows I watch before bed.  But Prednisone dreams are just all over the place as far as rhyme or reason is concerned.

Last night, I dreamt that I was on an episode of ER.  And a specific episode to boot.

Strange…I haven’t watched ER since probably high school.  I used to watch Grey’s Anatomy but am more inclined to watch House now because the doctors on Grey’s seem to always kill their patients whereas patients on House tend to survive the episode.   It’s just a quirky personal preference stemming from the fact that I have health problems and don’t want to give myself a complex about having to go to the doctor.  But I’d still love to know why I dreamt about a very specific episode of a show I haven’t seen since probably 1998!

The plot is this: a patient comes in requesting an amputation of a leg (I think) and they put him on a psych hold.  Another patient is brought in by ambulance after having an accident with a chainsaw and, of course, brings said chainsaw.  One thing leads to another and the psych hold/would be amputee commandeers the chain saw and becomes an actual amputee.  Everyone bemoans the whole tragedy but the new amputee is fine and there is some discourse about how the patient felt a disconnect with the leg he so unceremoniously lopped off.

So I woke up and thought…well, that was random.  And my next thought was…I totally get it though.

I sure as hell feel a disconnect from some of my joints.  Especially when I’m flaring like I have been.  I think it makes it feel like less of a betrayal to me although I do still feel that.  A lot. And what if the patient had some excruciating condition on that leg that was completely unresponsive to medication and removing the leg would end the pain?  I realize that it was a psychological thing in the actual episode but taken from a pain perspective, boy do I understand.

Seriously, if someone told me that I could stop my RA pain forever by just removing said joint, I know I would seriously consider.

I also know that, in my case, I would have to lop off joint after joint and would end up resembling the Black Knight from Monty Python with WAY MORE than ‘just a scratch.’  And that even then, I would still have the fatigue and everything else to contend with.  Also, I would probably end up with vicious phantom RA pain because that is how my luck tends to run.

That would really suck!

Wow.  This has ended up a little more ‘dark’ than I intended.  I’m fine- I’ve actually had a very good weekend.  I just thought it was an interesting scenario.  Thoughts?

Here’s to hoping tonight’s dreams feature subject matter that is a little bit more warm and fuzzy!

Busy!

I meant to do another update on here on Monday night.

But I was feeling spectacularly horrible from having to leave 10 (yes, you read that correctly) vials of blood at the rheumatologist’s office earlier in the day as well as getting my first shot of Enbrel (I think) too.  I say I think because I am getting either  Enbrel or Humira- the study examines patients who succeeded and then failed on one and then watching the development of antibodies after starting on the other.  (Please note the absence of a phd at the end of my name- it is entirely possible that I stated that completely incorrectly.) Anyway, I’m pretty sure I am getting Enbrel for several reasons.  First, Humira has a distinct injection site sting.  There was no injection site sting but there was an intramuscular sting.  Second, the actual vaccine felt much thicker.  Third, I had a crazy headache the rest of the day and some problems sleeping that night, which I never had with Humira and which are listed as side effects for Enbrel.  Oh yes, I am so that patient who is awake googling side effects of things at 4 am!  Fourth….knock on wood while you’re reading this because I sure am…but it seems to actually be doing something! And, well, Humira wasn’t exactly doing that anymore.

So then I was going to update on Tuesday.

But I felt lousy.  I don’t know if it was from the lack of sleep, the new meds, completely unrelated stress, or what.  It felt like I do every once in awhile on ‘the morning after methotrexate.’  Just shaky and so so tired.  So I came home and got in bed with a movie.

I totally meant to update on Wednesday.

But I was swamped with finishing both a huge presentation for work for Friday and prepping for a regional meeting on Thursday.  Which meant that I stayed late.  But I actually had energy. And I was able to dial back the Prednisone.

I’d lie and tell you I meant to update on Thursday.

But I left my house at 7 am that morning and didn’t get home until after 9pm that night.

And Friday…

I again left the house at 7am, had my boss, her boss, and several additional people with us all day at a huge presentation for a client.  I came home from work and walked up with friends to watch a bike race that takes places in my neighborhood every year.  I ended the night on my back stairs around 2 am, eating pistachios and doing some…..um…..scientific research.

I  didn’t update Saturday because I was still…um…..deciphering the….results of said research.

I think I made a dosing error.

Must. Do. More. Research. SOON.

But not too much research.

And today, right before I wrote this update, I went on a walk AND THEN did a workout tape.  It wasn’t pretty.  I was really winded really quickly. I had to shut the front door AND make sure the blinds were drawn. NOBODY wants to see that. But I did it.  I haven’t done that since Christmas.

But all in all, not a bad week!  I just need to continue on this path and to hold myself back from doing too much too quickly.

I need to feel my age again!

There are so many things I’d rather be doing this summer.  SO MANY.  Like traveling, drinking and chatting it up with hot guys while scantily clad on boats, briefly wearing killer heels outside a club before I switch them for the flip flops in my purse, and that whole acting like I’m 30 instead of 90 kind of thing.

But no.  Nope.  Instead I’m recovering from the flare I am now calling How To Spend A Ridiculous Amount Of Money Very Quickly And Have Absolutely Nothing Whatsoever Tangible To Show For It At All To Include Incriminating Pictures Or Embarrassing Stories: Part III.

NO BOAT DANCING HERE.

Sigh.

Ok, so maybe I’m a little bitter.  I’ve been really tired the past few days.  And then last night, my friend and I went to get yogurt at a place up the street from me.  And we saw these three girls walk by, dressed to impress, and one of them dared to give both of us a judgemental look.

OH HECK NO.

Sure, it was a Saturday night and sure, we were out in public with both of us wearing gym shorts and tank tops but you know what?  WE DIDN’T LOOK LIKE B LIST STRIPPERS.  (If you’re interested in a concise definition of a B-List Stripper, it is a stripper who is scheduled to work daytime hours.  Just sayin.)

But after I got over how angry it made me and after I successfully used Austin Powers moves to navigate my car out of the itsy bitsy parking space that was made more complicated thanks to the brand new Mercedes on the right that only gave me 7 inches for margin of error, I realized that part of the reason I was so angry was because I miss being that girl who gets dressed up every Saturday night.

I hate resting.  I hate taking medication.  I hate that my friends invite me to things and then react with complete and utter shock when I actually show up.

I don’t necessarily want to be wild and crazy.  For the record, I got the bulk of my demons out in early college.  But you know what…I would just like the OPTION of being wild and crazy if I felt like it.  Hey Amanda, want to conduct some extensive experimentation with illicit drugs?  Why yes, I’d love to. Not really.  Not ever actually.  But you know what?  If someone were to ask me that, I’d like to at least feel that I had the choice to say YES. Maybe I’m weird. 🙂 But feeling like I don’t even have the option…sucks.

I feel like I’m missing out on so much. I moved here a year ago and while I have wonderful friends here so far, there are big chunks of time where I don’t do anything with them.  I’m terrified: out of sight, out of mind, right? And I don’t even add those periods of time to the period of time I spent when I was newly diagnosed- isolating myself from everyone and just being pissed off at the world.  It was QUITE healthy.

I miss being myself.  I miss feeling like myself.  I miss looking like myself.

Except I never looked like a stripper. Thank you very much.

Blah…

You know the drill…

You’re starting to feel better.  You sleep in gloriously late on a Saturday morning and wake up to think about a date you had the night before. No, he’s not Mr. Right.  Hell, he’s not even a contender for Mr. Right Now.  But it was nice to have a good looking guy WANT to buy you a glass of wine and listen to you prattle on about mundane details of your life.  Except he’s really really boring.  So you sigh, mentally file him back in the Rolodex, roll over, and sleep for another half an hour.

You get up and you feel no better but also no worse than usual.  You’re okay with that.  You proceed to spend the next 3 hours laying on the couch watching movies and playing online.  You finally get off your butt to go do one of your most favorite things in the world: MASSAGE!!!!

You spend an hour getting pampered and relaxed.  An added bonus is that thunderstorm that comes along in the middle of it- thunder and the sound of rain always relaxes you so this just makes awesome more awesome.  It even makes you forget that, as always, you really need to shave your legs.

You leave the massage and hit up two more favorites: PEDICURE!  SHOPPING!  Afterwards, you pick up some junk food in preparation for movie night at your place with friends.  You’re actually having a really good day.

And then something (usually stupid and usually trivial) happens that reminds you about your RA and it completely ruins the rest of your day.

On Friday, it was the receptionist at my rheumatologist’s office who pissed me off so much that I found myself mad at my rheumatologist, which then made me mad at my old rheumatologist in SC, which then made me hate rheumatology in general.  At that point in time, I was suddenly morally obligated to ABANDON THE PATRONAGE OF ALL RHEUMATOLOGISTS EVERYWHERE so I called a naturopathic doctor I’m trying to get in with only to realize it was completely out of my budget so I then hated all naturopathic doctors too, and then I started thinking about insurance companies…

It is a vicious cycle that only makes me feel like I’ve lost something all over again.

Oh yes, and psycho.

On Saturday, it was seeing people running in my neighborhood.  I know that most people see people running and think “oh, they’re being so healthy.”  But I sometimes look at them and think they’re taunting me.  Stupid runners with your stupid healthy joints and your annoying ipods. And you- YOU- in the pink shorts with the blond ponytail and the HOT shirtless guy…I despise you.  I bet you have those fabulous heels I drooled over today.  You know, the ones that I am physically incapable of wearing.  IT IS SO NOT FAIR- THOSE SHOULD BE MY SHOES.

Like I said, psycho.  P-S-Y-C-H-O.

For the record, I did not verbalize these thoughts.

I continually come back to this overwhelming feeling about just how unfair this whole disease is for me.  For all of us.  Even when I’m feeling better, even when I have a million things going on that are positive, I just can’t shake it.

Returning to the land of the living

I’m slowly starting to feel better.  Slowly.

I credit Prednisone with that for now- I start my new meds this week.  I think.  Can I get a very sarcastic THANKS FOR NOTHING sent out to BC/BS for dragging their feet so long on approving Remicade that I was able to fully enroll in a study at my rheumatologist’s office instead?  So instead of dealing with their craptastic coverage and customer service as well as paying co-pays for all sorts of things, I’m going to get a little bit of extra cash, free meds, free labs, free x-rays, and weekly appointments with my doctor for….free.  SUCK ON THAT, BLUE CROSS BLUE SHIELD.  I really appreciate it.

Anyway.

This past weekend was the first weekend since probably April where I really felt that I was present and engaged in my life at a level resembling normal.  I’m trying to slowly increase my activity levels both physically and socially. I went on several short walks around the park.  I went to the Farmers Market and got a ton of fresh fruits and veggies for $15.  Then I came home and I marinated chicken in tequila, lime juice, onions, and garlic.  Then I popped it on the grill with fresh farm grown squash and corn on the cob.  I served all of the above with fresh home made salsa.

I have to say that even for someone who hates cooking, there is something satisfying about your whole house smelling like cilantro.

The whole preparing of the meal, the actual cooking, and even the cleaning was easy activity level but busy enough activity wise to keep me from being bored.

And I didn’t burn the condo down.  SCORE.

I didn’t realize until Saturday night just how “not there” I’ve been.

I met a group of people out for drinks at one of our usual haunts.  I walked in, sat down at the bar, and ordered a glass of wine.  At a lull in the conversation, another friend came up to me and said that a bunch of people were going outside to play bocci ball and did I want to come.

“OH!  YEAH!”  I slid off my chair and started following her outside.  I LOVE bar games. I didn’t intend to play myself because my wrists are still sore but when there are drinks, balls/darts/other things that must be thrown/rolled/hit/flung and then you add in my friends…something funny always happens.  Particularly at this bar where the nimrod who installed the bocci ball court made it face a busy street with a low wall.

Nope, I’m not missing this for anything.

Before I could even walk 10 feet, my friend stopped and turned around smiling.

“Wow.  That was actually sincere!”

I just smiled.

For sure.  But ouch. That clearly implies that she knows that most recently I’ve only been going through the motions of things and maybe not terribly enthusiastic to hang out with her and the others even when I thought I was putting up a good front and that…sincerely hurts.  On the flip side, the fact that she/they continue to include me when I’m sure that some nights I’m about as much fun as a root canal…means the world.

I really do have awesome friends.

My friends didn’t disappoint- neither cars nor pedestrians were injured in our game but one of my friends hit the back wall with such force that it split the ball in half.

And, as yet another sign that I’m still not back to 100%, I woke up Sunday morning feeling that groggy, super tired slight hangover feeling.

Really? 2 glasses of wine?  And lots of water?

What the heck?!?

That’s just wrong.

HTNWBBKQ8XV5

On the wrong side of the karma stick

I may have purposely forgotten to mention that I may have been a little rough on one of the nurses at my rheumatologist’s office last week.

I may have been a little frustrated that it took them 2 days to return an urgent call.  I may have been more frustrated because it takes at least 2 days to get a response on anything from them.  A two day turn around on a random question is gray area (in my opinion); a two day turn around on an urgent question is never acceptable (in my opinion).

I may have spoken a little harshly with the nurse who had the misfortune of calling me back after I left a second message asking for a response.  Perhaps a little more harshly than was warranted for said situation and definitely too harsh based on  the fact that she really was taking the time to try to understand what I was asking and trying to help me.

I may have been a complete brat and she definitely didn’t deserve that. As soon as I hung up the phone, I felt awful.

Enter karma.

At my appointment yesterday, I may have had my labs drawn by….you guessed it…the nurse who I was not terribly nice to on the phone.

I was immediately embarrassed and told her I was sorry for how I spoke to her on Friday.  That I was really frustrated but it was no excuse for me to talk to anyone that way, let alone someone who was trying to help me.

She was super nice about it, said she understood why I was frustrated and not to worry about it.

And then…don’t you see this coming…she got to go fishing in my arms.

No, I know she didn’t do it on purpose.  My veins just like to roll.  This is not the first time this has happened and I’m sure it won’t be the last.

Complete suckage yet simultaneously totally hysterical.

Moral of the story: Don’t yell at people who may have to stick needles in you.

Duh.

Whining Moratorium

I looked back at the past few posts and got a little mad at myself.  So I’m making a rule for my posts for the next few weeks: PUT ON YOUR BIG GIRL PANTIES, AJ, AND STOP WHINING.

Yes, I don’t feel wonderful but no, life doesn’t suck completely.  Or at all, for that matter. I’m getting on my own nerves so I would gander it’s fair to say that you don’t want to hear it either.  And it’s definitely not productive. So to commemorate the beginning of my blog attitude adjustment, I will tell you some good things that have happened the past few days and not dwell on how bad I may or may not be feeling.

I got to spend a lot of quality time with my favorite “caretaker.”

People who don’t know me well don’t know that she is MUCH more than ‘just a cat’ to me.  If I’m sad or upset or just not feeling great, she’s right there by me as pictured above.  She’s also right there by me if there is anything fleece involved. LOL.

I figured out how to connect my laptop with my TV and then how to stream Netflix on my laptop.  So I’ll hook it up, lay down with my favorite fleece blanket, cuddle up with my favorite cat and relax the day away.

Things at work are going really well.  I hit the highest I’ve ever produced (at this job) this last month (which I hope is indicative of the economy trending in general but we’ll see) and got a nice bonus check.  I’ve been obsessing over getting a grill and found one on clearance for $70.

Once I had it home, I realized I had to put it together.

Estimated time to assemble: 1.5 hours.

Time it took me to assemble: Let’s just round it out to 7 hours.

I suck at following directions.  You know how the joke is that men don’t read maps?  Well, Amanda don’t read directions.  At least when it comes to assembly.  It should be, afterall,  easy because you know what the final product is supposed to look like, right?

The actual screwing itself was slow going. (THAT’S WHAT SHE SAID. Sorry, cabin fever has turned me into part adolescent boy.) I had to take breaks because my wrist was sore and had to use a wrench to hold pieces together because my fingers couldn’t. Then I realized I had put several pieces on backwards and had to backtrack.  Somehow, during the disassembly and reassembly process, the whole box of screws and flanges oddly managed to fly across the room.

I have no absolutely no clue how that happened.  A ghost?  The cat? A Hogwarts spell gone bad?

In all honesty, it kinda became one of those ‘for the principle of it’ things.  By God I’m putting this damn grill together, I don’t care how long it takes me, I don’t care how bad it hurts, it’s just got to happen.

And well….

It’s a grill!

And have I mentioned that the tomatoes I’ve been growing out here are also looking good?

I went today to watch one of my friends compete in her first kayaking competition.  It was ridiculously hot and I was wiped out by the time I got to the section where they were play-boating at.  I have good friends who try to take care of me without outright saying that they’re trying to take care of me: there was an extra chair, sunscreen and an unlimited supply of Gatorades waiting on me.  Very fun and very sweet!

So all in all, a good weekend even though I’m not at 100%.  I go back to the rheumatologist tomorrow and then am heading to the lake with some friends for a long relaxing holiday weekend.