Audrie wondered aloud to me today if we would ever catch up—the days are so full of caring for the baby that our lists grow stale and ever longer. I imagine that, if Leif moves out at age 18 or so, it should take no more than another 18 years to catch up after that, so we're sure to caught up by the time I'm 71. Glad that's settled.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
This blog is about my adventures with MS, not about my many other thrilling escapades, so I shan't excite you with much else tonight. But there is still plenty to tell. Actually, I'm pleased to report that there's little enough about MS proper; it's more about coping with the interferon therapy (Avonex). I'll see the neurologist sometime in the next couple of months and maybe have more news then.
We traveled to Utah in December, where my in-laws celebrate Christmas, and to Idaho, where Leif's great-grandparents live. The most humorous thing about Idaho, which is where one of my shot days fell, had to do with the cold. In Tucson, if it's not Too Hot, it's generally Pretty Nice. You don't worry about leaving stuff in your car for the mild months of winter. In Idaho, there is a third season of Too Cold. When I found that the Tempurpedic brand sleep masks and slippers, which I splurged on back when "disposable income" was not a clever way of spelling "diaper", had frozen while sitting out in suitcase in the car, I worried that my Avonex had also gotten too cold and been ruined. It likes to be kept between 36 and 46 degrees Fahrenheit, according to the informational insert, and Too Cold is markedly below 36. But as it turned out, the Avonex had been in a different car and there was no worry after all. It is a little surprising to put on your slippers and find them, not warm and soft, but chilly and as solid as Tamilee Webb's remarkable abs.
The instructions for Avonex have changed with the new luer-lock attachment, and I did not have to keep the package carefully refrigerated on the plane etc. That was nice. I got into trouble on the way back, but it was because I had forgotten to take my cell phone out of my pocket at the security checkpoint. And my wallet. And my Palm Pilot. And my Space Pen. Anyway…
Audrie also pointed out that I can take Advil every 4 hours if I want, rather than waiting 6, and so shot nights have been much less achy lately. I still find that I'm weak the next day—not feeble, but not able to hold the baby for long or to wrestle giant squids with as much vigor as usual. (Okay, it's awesome what you can get if you type random phrases into Google. Just make sure you have SafeSearch turned on to avoid the dross.)
I could ramble for hours, but then I'd be grumpy tomorrow from lack of sleep. So I merely wish you the best of all possible days, and promise that I will check in again as soon as I am able.