Micro...

I told myself that once I got up the courage to come back I would stay.  And that I would because I would start microblogging.  I am most certain that is actually a thing out there in the world, but for me it means that I will just splash upon the page something short, if not sweet, even though I prefer to wander about my thoughts upon the page. Though brief is not a word anyone would think to use about my posts.

I had a terrible stomach flare, such as I get ever since I had this too-strong-for-me antibiotic early this year, last night and did not sleep much.  So I was under slept and grumpy this morning, reluctant to get up for my appointment.  Amos, my nursemaid at home, was also under slept and grumpy this morning, even more reluctant to get up for my appointment.  I had to DRAG him off the sofa, after two unsuccessful tries and a colossal amount of snipping, which made me even more grumpy and which made me forget the most important task of leaving with him in the morning.

I remembered that task too late whilst waiting for the nurse to come fetch me from the waiting room.

There I was, weary, seated with Amos at my back, scanning the room.  To my horror, I saw a pile of brown plops where I had been waiting on a patient who had gotten up from his seat to tell a story before I could move forward to check in for my appointment.  Amos had made not a sound.  Nor had he asked to go out before we left.  Once in the car.  After the half-hour drive to the appointment.  Or before we headed into the building (we always make a pit stop before and after appointments, something he now does without being prompted).  

I was so embarrassed.
The receptionist was not pleased with me.
I asked for supplies, which I got, to clean it up.

My appointment was dimmed by that, but the sincere care of my pulmonologist for my whole being soon brought me out of my funk.  She asked about my surgery and wanted to see my scars and to see where my pain is worst.  She wanted to hear about my stomach and had two ideas for me.  And then she listened to my pulmonary review, with my one bad spell whilst Becky was here and the ongoing pain in my lower throat.  She had an idea for that.

She spent a very, very long time with me working on helping me.  The medicine she chose, the immunosuppressant, wasn't the only option for lungs.  She worked on choosing the best option for Sjögren's presentation in my whole body, not just my lungs, even though that is not her job. And she worked with and desires to continue to work with rheumatology and neurology when it comes to treatment where the medications can complement or work against each other, willing to take suggestions from them for changes if need be.  So, I have a drug that is helping my teeth and my eyes, as well as my lungs.  It took much, much longer than she thought it would to start working and she was ready to give up on it, but the medication started working and has show evidence of helping more and more, most clearly with my eyes as a bellwether for how it is affecting me elsewhere.

I realized today that she likes to solve problems for patients, even those not her own.  So many specialists will not stray one iota outside their lane.  She drives in all lanes, going in both directions, and doesn't mind straying onto the shoulders if need be.

I like that.
I like people like that.

So, my thought about microblogging was to just write. Even if crazy brief (which this wasn't). Even if I cannot remember what I am trying to say and cannot finish.  Even if I cannot make it make sense and am too tried to keep trying.  Just try to capture at least something of the day.

Did I miss yesterday?  PT is going to stink.  Breaking up scar tissue beneath my incisions is called "scraping."  Did you just have the same reaction I had hearing that word when you read it?  That sounds insanely painful.  I do get some pain therapy, which will include ultrasound and, hopefully, at least one other soothing processes.

It was mostly assessment, which was painful.  Then I was given homework.  The truth about PT is that you will only get out of it what you put into it.  In sum, you have to the homework if you want to get better.  The homework stinks.

I started slathering Voltaren gel on my hands.  I am hoping it will make a difference.  Part of me wonders if this will be the pain that breaks the camel's back.