Tuesday, July 28, 2009

Yet Another Reason Not to Smoke

I quit smoking about 12 years ago. I have not had a single puff of a single cigarette during that time but that does not mean I have not wanted to. Many times, I've walked by someone smoking, inhaled the smoke and thought, "Mmmmmm." To a non smoker that may sound strange but nicotine is the most addictive substance I've every used. (And I've used plenty, believe you me.)

My father quit smoking at the same time as I did but the damage had already been done. Watching him die from emphysema and struggling for each breath definitely removed any residual cravings for cigarettes.

Just in case that craving returns, I now have another reason not to smoke. According to this article, smoking can quicken the progression of MS.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Post Solumedtrol Rant

I slept 8 hours Friday night and 12 hours Saturday night and I think I'm sane again....well, relatively. My thoughts are a LITTLE more organized and I'm no longer in danger of buying an exercise stripper pole I saw advertised on an infomercial at 3am or dying my hair purple. Now if only I could stay focused on editing my book and writing the proposal.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Random Thoughts from Solumedtrol Insomnia

  • I almost said something when a woman ahead of me at the store purchased cigarettes for more than $8 a pack with a credit card. I am SO lucky I do not smoke anymore. If I did smoke, I would probably be sitting in the dark.
  • On my train ride home from the MS clinic, there was a woman dressed sort of like wonder woman but she was not in costume. She had red cowboy boots on, a royal blue, flouncy mini skirt, and a tight white tank top. She was probably at least 5' 11". As I heard Roseanne say once, "She was so sexy that I got a boner." The guys around us on the train had trouble pretending to keep reading their Metros.
  • Why do I like to cook but hate to clean?
  • Why did my town DPW department take the garbage from my 40-gallon barrel for a solid year but today they left my two measly garbage bags behind with a sticker saying that I had an "improper trash container?"
  • If I plant a tree in a memory ceremony for my dad, would it be inappropriate to sing Jim Croce's "Bad, Bad Leroy Brown?"
  • To paraphrase Paula Poundstone from the This American Life podcast I listened to on the train, "Why was no one suspicious about Bernie Madoff. With that name, no wonder he made off with everyone's money? Would you go to a counselor named Dr. Cantkeepasecret?"
  • I think I've already asked this elsewhere in this blog, but I do have a brain disease, after all: Why do people who could possibly have trouble speaking have a disease that is as difficult to pronounce as Multiple Sclerosis? It's just mean. If it was just called Many Scars, that would be much easier to say.
  • You know the voluptuous young, barely legal women on the late night sex chat commercials? Do the men who call REALLY think they are talking to those women? And what about the women that call? Do women call?
  • How can I be tired and wired at the same time with absolutely no desire to clean the house or do work writing?
  • Do Swedes furnish their homes with Ikea decor more often than Americans?
  • Will I get tired soon?

Thursday, July 16, 2009

I'm Being Infused with Energy...and Solumedrol

I'm at the MS Center for my monthly infusion of Solumedrol. I am actually a week late and I can really feel the difference with my fatigue. I have been literally falling asleep at my computer the last several days after inadvertently blowing off my appointment last week. More incentive to remember appointments. I'm thinking I need to win the lottery so I can hire a professional organizer to help me remember appointments...and pay bills.

The MS Center understands when you forget an appointment--after all, MS is a disease of the BRAIN. The gas company, however, is not quite so understanding. Although I had plenty of money in my bank account, apparently I am long overdue on paying my bill and received a shut-off notice today. I called up to pay the bill over the phone and learned that I had lost this privilege because it was SO overdue. Then, when I tried to pay online, I was told that I would have to wait 7-10 days until my checking account was validated. The customer service person I spoke with was no help whatsoever and could not guarantee that it would not be shut off this evening. My only option is to go to one of the in-person payment sites, which I guess I will have to do. I'm not sure when, though, and I'm thinking I can get by without natural gas coming into my house for a few days.

Uh-oh. I just remembered that I invited a friend over for dinner tonight and, you guessed it, I have a gas stove. Hmmmm. Maybe I can make chicken on the George Forman Grill and pay the bill tomorrow? I'm not TRYING to be a scofflaw but I will be hooked up to the IV until 4:30 and then I have to take the train home which takes about an hour.

When these kinds of things happen, I feel like a total LOSER. I am 45 years old, work a full-time job that pays a living wage, and my gas may be shut off.

I need a professional organizer to help me figure out how to do this stuff regularly, consistently, and on time. Maybe I can barter my marketing/PR writing skills in exchange for some sessions. Hmmmm. Ok. This is one of those "this is not the least bit inspirational it's just me bitching and moaning and updating my status" kind of posts. Forgive me.

Sunday, July 05, 2009

Rebif Rebellion

I haven't given myself my Rebif injection in about two weeks. I'm not quite sure why. Perhaps, since I'm consciously trying NOT to engage in my typical rebellious activities while I'm working on my Fourth Step, I've decided that medical rebellion is the way to go. I'm not escaping with dating, sex, or relationships; not completely out of control with food; no recreational drugs, alcohol, or cigarettes; not spending excessively; so why not neglect my MS drugs. Hmmmm.

Apparently, I'm done with this latest demonstration of my rebellious nature since I'm telling on myself in my blog. When I start confessing, it means I'm getting ready to cut the shit.