Sunday, September 07, 2014


Wonky heart rate, wonky heart beat, wonky blood pressure, wonky blood sugar, wonky consciousness, and wonky vision.  Waves of nausea.  Painful abdomen.  Unending pain in my head.  An embattled day with my body.  SIGH.

With the dog days of summer now behind us, I bathed Amos tonight ... after procrastinating for two days.  I changed all the bedding and went ahead and started two loads, one mostly comprised of the quilt I use in the GREEN chair.  After changing the bedding and showering, I thought I would reward myself with a dish of grapes, hoping they would pick me up a bit.

But they tasted bad.  For a while, I couldn't figure out what was wrong.  After eating more than I care to admit, I finally realized I was eating grape seeds.  Much to my frustration, though the bag was marked seedless, the grapes clearly are not.  SIGH.  I fetched the receipt and taped it to the window of the back door to remind me to get a refund.  I very much do not care for eating grape seeds.

I poured a rather large glass of milk to assuage my disappointment.

These days where remaining upright means paying the piper rather huge sums are a discouraging reminder of the toll dysautonomia takes ... what an idiosyncratic, relentless assault it is on the body.

Only 13 more days until I fall off the financial cliff due to having to switch to erythromycin pills.  But that also means only 13 more days of having a constant foul taste in my mouth from the liquid erythromycin.  I think ... I think the closer I get to no longer taking the liquid form, the more I cannot bear the taste.

I have been too disheartened to mention this, but the office of the only neurologist in Fort Wayne on my Medicare plan called to say that he is leaving the practice.  I do not yet know if I can get my evaluation in before he leaves.  Because of his transition, my appointment on the 24th was canceled and I have a tentative one for October 3rd.

Wonkiness is very, very, very wearying to the body.
And the mind.
And the spirit.

I set out another jar of pulled pork for the morrow.

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