Sunday Stroke Survival: Baclofen Pump Update and More

Well, it's been three weeks since the baclofen pump was placed, but only two weeks since the pump was filled with the baclofen. The results on a whole was results thus far has been lackluster except for pain relief. I'm still on my oral baclofen while the 25CC of the saline works it's way out of my spinal fluid. I was forewarned about this. But I'm still chomping at the bit wanting to get on with it.

I have noticed that the rigidity in my elbow is less. I keep having to work at holding my bunny greens basket from sliding off my arm. This was the same arm that could carry 5-7 splits of firewood a couple of months ago without budging. So that's progress.

Another issue I had was with the elasticized binder placed around my midsection after surgery from bra line to mid hips. While it's not uncomfortable it does shift and bunch up as I move around. The added support is quite comforting while I'm moving if it didn't shift so much. The neurosurgeon's assistant did say I could take it off when sedentary. There is a major malfunction with this. While affixing the velcro with two hands is easy. But I only have ONE functioning hand. So I lay on my back tugging at the edges until it's halfway unbunched but I can't fasten it. Of course, I could always ask Mel to help, but the timing is always off when it's at it's worse.

Yes, I'm just in a griping mood, can't you tell?

I was told I could drive again. Considering I drove myself to three Atlanta doctor appointments not withstanding. (Grin) I wasn't on narcotics. I'd only taken 3 of the prescription of 12 morphine tablets, and had reduced my Valium intake from 4 to 1 a day, I thought I was safe enough to drive. Coughing, sneezing, and a good old belly laugh are PAINFUL. Off times they are without warning so I can't brace for it. Other than extreme fatigue from big city driving. No other ill effects. I got home and took a nap, but I did. The neurologist's assistant  gave me permission to drive. Doh! When I explained that it was planting season and we had 1/4 acre to plant, she grudgingly gave me permission to bend and lift ten pounds within reason. If I experienced pain, I was to stop and rest. You gotta love doctors that work with you.

I have to admit that I over did last Saturday and paid for it with extra pain. I did take an extra valium at bedtime to compensate for it. Ever since my drug addiction problem 30+ years ago, I'm strongly against any habit forming drugs. I have to be really bad pain before I take any form of these drugs. Drug withdrawal aside, it's just an aversion to all things habit forming.

 An exciting bit of news, I saw Dr Daly, the orthopedist. His plans for releasing the contractures to allow movement to the wrist and fingers is awesome! Of course, I'll need a higher dose of baclofen via the pump first. He was surprised at the lack of contractures in the elbow. He had high praise for my PT and their dry needling therapies. His hopes for recovery of strokes and spasticity was contagious.

After almost two years of going through the motions, I've finally hit the right combination of doctors. While I absolutely loved my previous rehab team, I'm hoping this new team will be just as fabulous.

Hope and possibilities abound once again. Stealing back increments of success from spasticity is worth it.  Recovery is worth it. Being on the forefront of new and innovated treatments for survivors living post can, with positive results, give another option to survivors world wide.

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Still Canning Post Stroke

The green bean harvest is finally done. The beans still left on half a dozen plants will be the seed stock for next year's garden. I've left the beans on the plant to die naturally. Then I'll pick the beans and shell them. I canned 100 new pint jars of green beans. Coupled with what's leftover from last year's harvest, we have enough jars to eat green beans twice a week until next year's harvest. We've been eating fresh green beans for the last two months too. It was a great year for green beans for us. All from the equivalent of two pack of seeds. I planted seeds from my 2017 seed saving efforts. So we are self sufficient in green beans. Yeah! Only about $0.30 a jar of homegrown, chemical free goodness.

 I've canned about three cases (36 pint jars) of large diced tomatoes, 2 cases each of stewed tomatoes, 2 cases of tomato salsa. I'm still picking tomatoes. I've also 12-gallon bags of tomatoes in the freezer for making sauce later on. We are almost at the end of our tomato harvest. All of this is from 14 Roma, 2 Cherokee Purple, and 2 beefsteak tomato plants. Plus we've been able to have sliced, fresh tomatoes at every meal for the past month. I'll let some of each go to seed production for the rest of the season until frost.We are now self sufficient in tomatoes too. Yeah! For diced tomatoes $0.30, stewed tomatoes $0.50, for the salsa $0.70 a jar because I purchased other tomatoes and peppers to go into it.

We grew a heirloom bi-colored corn in the orchard this year. I didn't expect much, but I harvested 34 salvageable  ears of plump corn. It was better than I expected. I've been shucking corn on the porch today and will be canning it up into pints jars. While a pint jar will hold two cups of corn and liquid, I normally will put only a cup of corn in each jar. That's about the most the two of us will eat in a serving.

I'll also be making 1/2 pint jars of my pickled corn relish about a case worth because Mel doesn't like it. Her loss is my gain. I have a few peppers leftover from putting up my tomato salsa that will go great in them. I ended up with 40 pint jars of corn. A little short for once a week eating. So almost self sufficient in corn. A Semi-Yeah! I'll buy half a case of corn this month to round out our needs, but that's better than buying two or three cases. A half case of corn is about $10 right now(about 15 ears). With the addition of the case of corn about $0.50 a jar.

The reason for bi-colored corn is Mel loves Silver Queen, a white corn. While I love yellow corn. What can I say, I hail from the plains of NE. I'm just a transplanted southerner. This compromise gives us both what we like to eat.

By gerry-rigging the corn cutter onto a bucket, I could easily take the kernels off the cob one-handed. The other side has slits in to to hold the sliding prongs. To substitute the hand pressure, I used rubber bands looped around the end of the cutter so all I had to do is push the cob through to take off the kernels. The hardest part was finding a bucket the cutter could stretch across. This 2-gallon bucket worked well. The next time I purchase a corn cutter, I'll get a longer one like the one pictured. They usually last about three seasons and become dull or break.

How do I figure our yearly intake? I calculate a meat and two vegetables for one meal a day. This is our big meal of the day. If I want to serve the vegetable once a week, then it's 52 jars. Twice a week is 104 jars needed. Leftover jarred vegetables go into a container and into the freezer. When the container is full, it's time to make a large batch of soup or Mulligan stew. I'll hold out enough for two meals and can the balance.

The idea of canning 52 jars of anything may seem pretty daunting. But I small batch can. One small canner load at a time (8 pint jars). It all adds up. Before my strokes, I thought it was nothing to can several cases of jarred produce in one day in my big pressure canner, 20 pints or 8 qts at a time. Now, all I can manage between prepping and canning is about 16 jars or one large canner load. A day's harvest equals a day or two days of canning and/or dehydrating. I don't have the energy to harvest and preserve that much a day. My foot sure won't let me especially this year with all the problems I've been having. So small batch canning it is. Perfect for harvest from a small garden.

It was far easier to do more before my stroke, but it's still doable even living post stroke. It takes more steps going to and from the breakfast nook table where I let my jars cool down and seal carrying one jar at a time. The same goes from cleaning the jars before they go into the food storage building. But I place all the cleaned jars back into the case the jars came in to carry case by case of filled jars into the store building. Little by little, it gets done.

I love going "shopping" into my storage building after the fresh eating season is done. I'll carry my market bag and pick the jars I need for the week. The same goes for my freezer. I'll "shop" and meal plan at the same time because I know what's available on the shelves. I stocked it, after all. Remember, I upcycled all my plastic bags into plarn and knitted or Mel crocheted the market bags. When I actually do go to the grocery store, I also love looking at the items and saying, "I don't need that." I'd bypass the vegetable aisle totally if the spices weren't on the same aisle. If it weren't for our dairy, cola addiction, and paper needs I could by pass the grocery store all together for the most part. I love the  wide, long handle on this pattern. I can wear it across my body to distribute the weight better, and it doesn't cut into my hand.

Isn't that grand. I used to not mind shopping too much. But now, it's a chore. Stores are too large to navigate now, especially with a bum foot. I spend more time waiting on a parking spot or motorized cart than I do shopping. It seems that everything I need to purchase is in the back of the store or some distant corner. So I'd rather not shop and instead do my version of shopping. Yes, being a one-handed canner ain't easy, but it sure beats going to the regular grocery store.

Speaking of going out and about, last weekend was the Cornelia's Big Red Apple Festival. A street fair is big goings on for this small town. This was my second year attending, but Mel had not been in the five years she's been here. I love looking at all the crafty vendor's wares. For the past two years I've had foot issues while attending. Last year was a ruptured pressure sore and this year, y'all know the story.  This year's event was marred by a additional event. One that brought home how much I've lost with my strokes.

We had just arrived. The whole downtown was full of people. We were walking down one side road full of vendors and a corn hole tournament was going on. In case you don't know, Corn hole is a game that you toss small bags of corn into  a hole in a board. The boards themselves are elaborately painted with all sorts of designs and logos. Some boards are pieces of art. Believe it or not, it takes quite a bit of skill to get a bag into the hole and the surface is heavily varnished. I was admiring the skill of the contestants and the boards.

A young woman was standing across from me. I saw her look up at the sky and go tense. When I saw her eyes roll back in head, my brain immediately registered that she was having a seizure. I was close enough to grab her, but didn't. Between my foot and balance issues, we'd both end up on the pavement. I yelled at Mel behind me, but it was too late. The woman fell straight back to the ground.

Mel had turned to see her fall. She was at her side faster than anyone else. The woman was bleeding profusely from the gash on the back of head as Mel tried to roll her onto her side. Another man tried to help, but he was rolling her onto her back. I tried to yell at him, "No, on her side!" But all that came out was gibberish. The stress of the situation kicked in my aphasia. Anyhow, Mel said it and he understood. I could see the head wound quite clearly. An artery was spurting blood. Mel put direct pressure on it while someone in the gathering crowd dialed 911. I heard the woman explain to the operator the events. She said she fell and seized. I looked at her and shook my head no. I managed to stuttered falteringly, "Seized then fell." I knew the mechanism and chain of events was important.

All this happened in a matter of seconds. I stood by helpless, frustrated, and angry in those seconds. I
knew what to do. I wanted to act and/or direct the flow of action. I had the training. I'd spent 20 years as a first responder and RN/Paramedic on ambulances and a life flight chopper. And yet, I stood on the side lines unable to help because of the aftermath of my strokes. I couldn't talk or do what needed doing.

Soon other first responders and the police came. I saw the woman was well taken care of and breathed a sigh of relief. The woman stopped seizing and she opened her eyes. As with a post seizure events, she was confused and scared. Then, she closed her eyes again. Everyone thought she had lost conscientiousness. I responded, "No, postictal," quite clearly.

It's strange the way aphasia works on the brain. I can forget how to say simple words and phrases, but medical terms I can say and write correctly. They checked her pulse and breathing. They were fine and I was right. Mel having been relieved of her duties by others stood up. Her hand were covered in blood and dirt up to her elbows. Her shirt wore the stains of her battle of moments. She was shaking from the adrenaline release.

Finally, there was something I could do. I grabbed a towel and led her to a bench. She kept saying, "I gotta..." I simply uttered soothing sounds as I cleaned up the worse of the gore. She was shell shocked. She wasn't a professional, she was a bystander doing what needed to be done. Then she jumped up and ran to a water spigot. She was scrubbing at the stains on her shirt by the time I got to her. A vendor nearby came over with two cups of ice cold apple cider.

After downing the welcomed cold juice, we continued on to enjoy the festival. I got some great ideas for a booth when we got ready to be a vendor. Mel picked up some contacts also for her dog training business from the VFW and some veterinarian clinics in the surrounding area. We even found a vet that can treat rabbits. No free t-shirts nor candied apples this year, but a wealth of contacts and information.

As a result of the orthopedist's visit, I now have another appointment with my neurosurgeon for the rhizotomy of my arm. I'll schedule an appointment with another orthopedist closer to home following the healing of the rhizotomy.

Nothing is impossible.

A Rant and I'm Pissed!

Be warned. This is far from my usual type blog. I'm so angry that I could chew nails and spit them out like a machine gun at a certain medical specialist!

I just got back from Atlanta's Emory Orthopedist.  I spent two hours driving to this appointment. Going 10 MPH on I-85 once in Atlanta on the six lane roadway. The office was in mid-town, of course. I spent a total of an hour and a half in the doctor's office and got an X-ray of my foot and ankle I didn't need. I went to the orthopedist for a lengthen of my Achilles tendon that had contracted. Tendons do not show up on x-rays. Doh!

I met with the doctor's resident first. Pretty well standard for university hospitals. No biggie. Then, the doctor came in and we chatted a bit. He asked how I came to his service. I explain my journey of months to him through this and that specialist. This doctor just shook his head and said I should ghve seen him in the first place to get my foot and and ankle fixed.

He talked about lengthening this lateral tendon and shortening that one, releasing the Achilles, and rebuilding my foot and ankle to get me out of the AFO permanently and walking normally again. Finally, something we could agree on! I asked him when and he flat told me he refused to do the surgery! Nothing like giving someone a lollipop and snatching it away!

I checked my temper and asked him why. He said he won't operate on anyone who smokes any substance.

Yes, I smoke tobacco cigarettes. I smoke around 5 a day (1/4 a pack) for a very good reason. Thirteen years ago my family practice doctor told me to. At the time, I had gone through my fourth bout of cancer. He knows all the times I've quit smoking for more than a year, I've developed some form of cancer. He actually begged me not to stop smoking again and he set the limit. Call it a cop out, or not believe it. For thirteen years I've been cancer free by following his sage advice. It's the longest period of time that I've been cancer free. Now this doctor wants me to quit smoking for six months before he'll operate?

That's not all that upsets me about this. Couldn't someone have told me his position. I dunno like when the appointment was made? A simple question like do you smoke? When I first talked to them would have let both of us know this was a waste of energy. I mean I haven't lied about my smoking with any of the doctors. It's been on my paperwork for the last four I've seen at Emory since May. I could have not wasted five and a half hours (my total time), half a tank of gas (round trip 220 miles), and the aggravation of driving in the rain in big city and interstate traffic! Oh, and fifteen minutes of HIS valuable time.

I spent the hour and a half driving home (wohoo! still raining but less traffic) fuming. Why tell me that they could fix me only to say they won't? Even if I put the cigarettes down today, it will be six months before I'd get this surgery. Oh, he added a barb to the end of our visit. He told me that the neurosurgeon probably wouldn't do my rhizotomy because of the tobacco use also. If he did, he was nuts. GRRRR!

I mean, wouldn't the neurosurgeon told me he wouldn't operate when I saw him in May? Self doubt is creeping in. This orthopedist has planted his seed of doubt. I'll have to call his team to be sure tomorrow. I can stop smoking. Putting them down and not lighting up has never been a problem for me. I went a whole month without cigarettes while hospitalized after my stroke with no ill effects.

So since May, I've been spinning my wheels on an action plan that didn't work! It's wasted my time and energy with no results. I've exhausted every avenue of hope and still in pain with no relief in sight. This doctor was cruel in his matter of fact, smug way. He dangled the lollipop and then snatched it away. It's now been six hours since I left his office and I'm still discombobulated! I really dislike people who make me feel like this. Now, I have to pray it away to get my peace back. Tomorrow is a new day. Thank God!

Nothing may be impossible but jumping through all these hoops can be exhausting.

AFO Update

As y'all well know, I've been having issues with my new and old AFO. It's been a maddening adventure trying to get the new one to fit without causing pain when I wear it longer than three hours.

I just have too active of a lifestyle even living post stroke. I suppose it would be different if I was the type of person that didn't strive to be active and push for recovery of what I lost. But, that's just not me. If nothing else, I'm true and totally honest with and about myself.

The main problem is two fold. The new AFO straightens my foot and ankle the way it should be, aka normal, and my old AFO doesn't do this, but causes stress fractures. It's a no win situation. I strongly dislike those types of situations. It feels like losing, but really it's not because I walk better with the new AFO.

I had another appointment with my orthotic specialist. This is going to be an ongoing thing until the Baclofen pump can be installed and adjusted. Every month, I'll be making my way into the "big" city for consults and adjustments until then. After much discussion, we decided to keep doing minor adjustments to the AFO over time because it is actually doing what it is suppose to do. This new AFO will look like it's been through a war just like my other ones by the time they are finished. It's a good thing they are not charging me for these appointments, but I still have to pay for the gas for the 60+- mile round trip.

I'm still waiting on a date for the Baclofen trial. So I'm stuck trading out AFOs when I can't tolerate one or the other to get the things done that need to be done. I'm still doing more sitting than I need to be doing. I guess we all do what we have to do even when it involves stopping in the middle of doing something to change out braces.

It looked similar to this shutterstock pic

I'm glad I bought two pairs of shoes last year too. I had a major blow out of the sole of my affected side's shoe. The entire tip to the mid sole non slip cover came loose. It flapped with every step. Talk about a fall waiting to happen. While I was in Gainesville visiting my orthotic specialist, I dropped off the shoe at the shoe repair shop. They were the ones that did all the adjustments to my shoes. Because it was one of these adjustments that blew out, there was no charge. Of the six years I've had to have specialty shoes, I've been extremely blessed not to have an issue like this before. I'm also thankful that the sale of my lower Georgia property allowed me to buy an extra pair of shoes so I wasn't having to try and walk with my shoe like this.

The news about the new AFO is not all bad. The new AFO is easier to put on and the hard plastic shell is narrower than my old one. This is a major plus in the summer. It slides in and out of my shoe easier instead of having to use a shoe horn like the old one which is also an advantage. But most of all, it's holding my foot in the proper alignment. My back is ever so grateful.

I have developed arthritis in the first MP joint of my affected pinky toe. The numerous x-rays I had on this foot during the fractures healing confirmed this. The pain and swelling isn't  helping matters in pain threshold department. In case you didn't know, the pinky toe is in constant use keeping your balance with each step. Having sustained several crushing injuries and fractures to the foot in the past, and now the AFO, I'm not surprised. Even with the strap across my foot on the new AFO, the toes move and are pulled out of alignment with the spasticity. The new AFO straightens my foot for a more evenly distributed weight across my foot so this joint is now getting an even greater workout. This relatively new diagnosis is a kick in the pants.

It's s-o-o much fun getting older.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Spasticity Update #1

When I saw Dr. Fox. He was my physical therapy doctor at Emory. All I can say positive about the appointment is two things... He never said, "It's the disease process," nor "It's the best it's ever going to be." In due course, I thanked him for this.




He agreed that all the PT in the world wasn't going to fix the spasticity. It would keep the permanent contratures of the tendons and muscles from happening. There is no simple fix for this. I really didn't expect one. Thanks to Dean at Dean's Stroke Musing and a couple other sites, I'm pretty well self educated on this side effect of my strokes. In fact, I've been told as much by several doctors. They simply do not have the time to stay current. I, on the other hand, have nothing but time to spend on research.

He did suggest continuing with the therapy and dry needling. I need the stretching. If it wasn't so awkward, I could do it myself. Alas, as much as I tried over the years, I just can't manipulate my body to get  a good, full extension stretch. These days I can carry about thirty pounds of grocery bags on my affected arm and not have it budge. That's how bad the constant spasticity in my arm has gotten. Even the therapist has got to do dry needling and stripping the muscles down before it will budge. But after all of that, my arm will move like pictured. It only lasts for the extent of the therapy and it's right back into the 45 degree angle. But the pain relief lasts for about 4 or 5 days which is heavenly. The charlie horse spasms which brings me to tears are reduced in frequency also. Should I be happy and grateful with only this?

So what's the next step?

I'm waiting once again for a functional neurosurgeon appointment. I'm back where I was in October. Maddening, isn't it? One step forward and two back. I should be used to this by now, but I'm not. After the appointment, I sat in my car on the verge of tears. It's so frustrating! My appointment time was 4PM in mid town Atlanta so not only did I do battle with the early rush hour traffic getting to my appointment, but now, after an hour with the doctor, it was the mass exodus of workers between their job and home. If you've never driven in a big city at rush hour, picture this. This is interstate driving with a 70mph speed limit. You are in stop and go traffic, and my best speed is 15mph. The sun is setting and all I can see in my rear view mirror is bumper to bumper traffic behind me for miles. In front of me is miles of tail lights. Six to seven lanes of traffic going one-way. It took an hour and a half to go 22 miles! The only good thing about it was I could take my eyes off the road and sip on my diet cola whenever I wanted. My cup holder is down between the front seats of my minivan. My right arm doesn't function to even hold the steering wheel while driving.

But I made it home safely. I guess I should've thanked God for that, but I was too upset to even think about it. The tears of frustration rolled down my cheek as I told Mel about the appointment. I'm back in hurry-up-and-wait mode again. Meanwhile, I still haven't heard a peep from  Shepherd's Center about an open spot for me to get in there. It's hard not to be angry or feeling like I'm being jerked around. It's hard not to feel like I'm being dumped on, or others just don't care. I've met a lot of caring folks along this journey. They all want to truly help, they just can't. They don't have the God given wisdom to help me. I know I'm not the only one faced with this dilemma. So should I be satisfied? Is it just my stubbornness? Lord knows, I've prayed long and hard about this. Should I just give up even though that's not my nature. You know, what the old Serenity prayer says...

I have a problem with the first line. No problem with the second line. The key is the third line that's a 50-50 shot with me. Hey, I'm being honest here. I think most of us fall in the same boat. At times the Wisdom is written in black and white. You've had a stroke and you are paralyzed. You work hard to recover what you can, and make adaptions to your lifestyle. Or, like me now, when I recovered so much only to lose it again to spasticity. So Courage isn't an issue in that respect. I'll try to do something half a dozen times before looking for an easier way or calling for help. In my mind, there's got to be a solution until God gives the notion that there isn't a way to do it. That's the kicker for me with the third line.  The wisdom is not always forth coming in a timely manner. At least to me. Remember me, I gotta have it now to be happy. I've gotten better about patience since my strokes, but I still have a long way to go. That's why I am in the questioning mode. Sometimes, God has to literally knock me in the head, "Hey child, I'm talking to you!" But that isn't always the case.

Everything I've read about spasticity says there is no cure. They also use the quantifiers like this may be helpful, moderately successful treatments, and research is ongoing. So the situation is not exactly hopeless, BUT there is no cure right now. And, I want it right now! I want it now before I regress to no recovery at all like I was just after my stroke. I want it before I'm back in a wheelchair. I want it now so the cycle of pain stops. It's a cruel punishment to give you back use, and then take it away due to a side effects of a stroke.

Do I sound whinny here? I'm in that cycle of grief again, where I'm angry most of the time. As I said before, grief never truly goes away. I realize the cause is just frustration. It will drive me nuts if I let it. Okay, then I have a choice to make. Do I want to drive myself nuts? No, not really. The people in my head know my quirks, but most other real people don't. I really don't want to step off that ledge. Okay then, what can I do about the problem? Well, the first thing is to step away from the ledge and decide to live beyond the frustrating bits. Sure they'll be back in the forefront again, but for right now, step away from the ledge. Whew! That was a close one. 

Now, take one step in the opposite direction. It doesn't have to be a huge one. Baby steps faltering as they may be. I've decided not to live in frustration. I'm going to take another step from the ledge. How do I do that? Distraction works. Firewood needs to come onto the porch. Now, it needs to be stacked. A load of wood needs to come in by the stove carrying two pieces at a time. Wow, two hours has passed since I took that baby step from the ledge. I sure don't want to freeze to death while walking away from the ledge into nutsville. Oh, there's that sweater I started knitting for Mel's birthday. The chickens and rabbits need to be fed. There's a new movie on Netflixs I wanted to see. Before you know it, the day has passed. I've been so busy living my life the frustration wasn't given a second thought. It doesn't mean that a new or continuing frustration point won't hit me square in the face tomorrow. It probably will. Remember, Murphy's Law is always waiting around the corner. But I survived the day and more than that, I was productive. 

Tomorrow will never come because tomorrow will become today when you wake. All's you have to do is survive the day. One day at a time. Each day, you make a conscience choice to step away from the ledge until you don't have to. With all frustration and grief, it begins to resolve with a conscience choice.

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Spasticity Treatments and Results

Well, I had my latest round of Botox this week. This time with my new neurologist. He had mentioned in our initial meeting that he may try something different than my old neurologist. After a little discussion, he decided not to be adventurous because my maximum dosage was only 400 mg. Better to hit the spots that work.

I must admit I was a little bit disappointed, but he explained that even though he was basically hitting the same spots, he wasn't my previous neurologist. His technique and depths may be different. You can read what others have done (general areas) and still perform it differently. He did add that he was going to request/argue to get a higher dose of Botox out of my insurance carrier. He'll have a fight on his hands, but as my momma used to say, "never say never." After all, my insurance company also had a steadfast policy against another AFO within three years, and we know how that turned out from my previous blogs.

Although personally, the idea of putting even more of this toxic chemical in my body is not my first choice. But with the relaxation of the spasticity, I improve in function and ability. If another 50 or 100 mg. of Botox will reduce my spasticity enough to improve my elbow flexion, my index finger and thumbs mobility, or even straightens the inversion of my foot where I'm able to take even five steps without my AFO, it's worth it.

I've been doing dry needling for over a year now. In the beginning I was having treatments three times a week (upwards of 100 needle sticks between my arm and leg a session). The effects last 25 minutes to a couple of hours. Speed forward a year and a half, I have needling done once every two months on my leg (often only 3-5 needle sticks) and lasts for almost two months depending on where I'm at between Botox sessions. It's lasting that long and my foot is flat on the floor each step instead of the increased pressure and weighted step towards the outside edge of my foot. (This is what caused all my pressure sores the first two years after my stroke) 

A year and a half ago, my arm was clenched into my chest, the wrist was greater than 90 degrees, and the fingers didn't move. Again, fast forward to present time. Right before my Botox session, My arm rested at 45 to 60 degree angle. A far cry from at almost 180 degree angle it had before a Botox session. Even better, I was 5 degrees off from full extension at the elbow the day before the Botox. The wrist is still stubborn, but mostly because of the wrist contractures. The same goes for my ring and bird fingers, but my thumb, index and pinky fingers can be straightened into a sign language "I love you." I can even hold that position now for about 5 seconds after a good stretching session. I can move my thumb and index fingers together in a pincer form although it takes me a few minutes to do and a whole lot of concentration. I'm pretty well exhausted after doing it twice. The spots that get dry needling now, my steel traps (trapezius) once a month, my bicep twice a month, my pectoral and shoulder blade every four months, my triceps about every three months. My lower bicep, my elbow extenders, lower arm, wrist, and hand now only require WEEKLY visits. (Less than 25 sticks) How's that for progress?

My drugs have been a consistent juggle. Between 40-60 mg of Baclofen a day instead of the 80 mg I was up to. It depends on when my Botox wears off. Most days, it's 40 mg. I tried to drop the dose down to 20mg a day because I felt so good, but my body let me know the extra 20 mg per day. The Zannaflex is down to 8-12 mg per day instead of 16 mg. Again, it depends on how my Botox levels are. Most nights, it's 8 mg because it helps me sleep more comfortably. I eliminate the daytime dose. The Valium, I was on 5-10 mg. I can't even remember when the last time I took it. The really good thing, I was on Cymbalta and Lyrica for my fibromyalgia. Now, it's just Cymbalta. So less drugs and less pain is always a great thing. Better for my body and my pocketbook.

Yeah, it's been a while to reach this point. But like everything about recovering from stroke loss... it takes time. How much time? Who knows, but what else have I got to do? Anyhow...

Nothing is impossible.

Stuff and More Stuff

Well, yesterday was Valentine's Day. My first without my beloved. I'm a little over half the year through my year of firsts since his death. My neighbor knowing this sent her her young son over to visit me. He told me that he felt bad for me being alone. Then he brought forward the arm he had behind his back. He had  a small bud vase with three, red silk roses in it and a small bag of chocolate truffles. Such as simple gesture from this little boy brought tears to my eyes as I thanked him. He hugged me back hard and said, "Don't be sad, Mrs. Jo."

I told him that they were happy tears. He turned and went home.

I really hadn't remembered that it was Valentine's Day. I've just been too sick. It's been a heck of a tough month for me and my body. First the episode of breathing difficulties, my heart acted up starting to throw me into congestive heart failure, and now a cold complete with a touchy stomach and the creeping crud. I'm feeling so miserable that unless I have to be somewhere, I stay in my pajamas and robe. Of course spending three days last week at my cardiologist's office on top of my dry needling sessions hasn't exactly left me bursting with energy. My body is just too run down. If it wasn't for my body dying in slow increments, I'd live forever.

I had a visit from my Air Force bound grandson Saturday night. He brought his girlfriend with him. I was the distraction while others prepared her sweet 16 surprise birthday party. If I had my choice of young ladies I'd choose for my oldest grandson...she'd be my pick. They compliment each other perfectly.

As I watch their young love blossom, I can't help but be thankful. Thankful for their mutual respect for each other. Thankful that love still exists and can be shared. And yes, thankful this grandson is taking this relationship slowly. He told me that he knew if he ever messed up with a girl that I'd be seriously disappointed in him so he can wait for the relationship to grow before taking it to the next level. "Grandma, you told me to respect women always and I plan to do just that." Now that statement not only made me thankful but very proud of him. I've always had a very open and honest relationship with my grands.

Every day that passes brings me closer to my moving date. I look around at this town that only had 15K people in it when I first moved here to the now 100K and moving away is bittersweet. But then again, I look forward to fulfilling a long sought after dream/goal. It's tough.

For my New Year's resolution I once again put down losing weight. Isn't that on everybody's list? It's just getting too hard to move this 180 lbs of bulk around. But feeling ill like I had been I really didn't feel like eating much anyhow. According to my cardiologist's scale, I've lost seven pounds this week. That's not counting the 15 lbs of fluid that I gained and lost in my CHF phase. I had made a huge pot of vegetable soup last weekend. It filled almost three, gallon zip lock bags. I just kept adding vegetables that I wanted to eat before I knew it, I had enough to feed an army. I was also trying to clean out my freezer too.

But then I got nostalgic for the Japanese foods I'd had growing up I knew my local Asian food store

Inarizushu

did not have the shaved bonito flakes and the inarizushi (fried bean curds pockets) I was craving. Shaved bonito is a staple of Japanese cooking. I had asked if my local store could order it, but was told that I would have to order them by the case to the tune of $300. That seemed a little expensive for a craving. I went on Amazon and found canned inarizushi for $14 a can of fourteen. The bonito flakes were just as high and I thought it was outrageous! I knew there had to be a better price out there. I hit the jackpot. Inarizushi for $3.50 and a full pound of bonito flakes for $10. I jumped on it buying several of each. I even found the dried green peas my #2 grandson LOVES. These are not the wasabi peas that can be found in most grocery stores, but roasted and dried green peas just rolled in sweet rice and soy flour. I added several 1/2 lb bags to the order. My total plus shipping was less than $50!

So what does this have to do with what I was talking about...cravings, diets, and nostalgia? I'm moving and was afraid that I wouldn't find these pleasure again. If a town the size of this one didn't carry them then I knew where I was moving to wouldn't. It was a panic move on my part. So took about a week to have it arrive at my doorstep. I immediately made a small pot of short grained rice. The fact that white rice is a no-no carb flew out the window as I devoured the first one in a couple bites and then savored the next four. Yes, I made a pig out of myself. But I also was saying good bye to a large part of my life too. I still have a gallon and a half of vegetable soup in my freezer to enjoy too.

I guess the point of this rambling blog is don't be afraid when venturing forth. When feeling peaky and just totally yuck, it's okay to cave, pamper, and spoil yourself. Life's too short to not live it to its fullest.

Some Days I Think I'm Fine...

I haven't talked much about my grieving widow side. That's about to change. Some days I think I'm fine and handling my grief okay, and then something happens that makes me fall apart like my beloved's death was yesterday. Yes the first year is toughest and a huge transition! It's hard. The least little thing will upset my calm. It's always unexpected.

For instance...
Hospice called and asked if I could come and hangs my husband's angel on their remembrance Christmas tree. At first I said yes. Then as I was showering, I realized that I hadn't even been to his graveside since the funeral. I started crying and couldn't do it. It sounds like such a little thing to do, but for me it was impossible right now.

I was driving to physical therapy and a Christmas song came on the Christian radio station I listen to while driving. "A Different Kind of Christmas" by Mark Schultz.

It was the first time I've heard it. The tears started rolling down my cheeks so bad that I had to pull over.

The fact that it's the Christmas season doesn't help. It will be totally different than any I've had in all my years. I will be totally alone. All my children (sisters, brothers & my father too) will be in their own homes with their own families and in laws. My father will be in North Carolina with my stepmother's children. So instead of there being 50-75 head of people, there will be just me. Now I've had my share of invitations to join this or that family or friend, but I've declined. I just don't feel joyous.

Another part of me, I finished a mental competency test where I was drawing blanks for about half the tasks or couldn't verbalize the snswer. It didn't exactly bolster my feeling of well being. It will be a month before I know the results. Having a spouse die isn't enough to have to go through. I have the possibility of my independence taken away hanging over my head too. While I'm muddling through, I am not good company. Waiting has never been a strong virtue of mine.

Lastly, I received a package in the mail yesterday. It wasn't something I ordered. Inside I found two notes. The first one was an apology from the company for the long back order status. The second was a hand written note from my beloved to accompany the gift. I don't know if he meant it as an anniversary or Christmas present, but it was totally unexpected!

Some days I think I'm fine, but other days I'm a total mess! So now you know. May each of you have a blessed Christmas with you and yours.

Dry Needling and Updates

So starting last week I began going to my dry needling sessions again. It's two weeks until my next Botox series of injections. I took approximately a month off from dry needling because of my husband's impending death. So this past Monday I went in for my second dry needling session. Between the Botox wearing thin ( the spasticity is back), my fibromyalgia flaring up, the anniversary of my mother dying, and just general stress of my husband dying, the funeral and just living post stroke has really taken a toll on my body. I'm hurting everywhere. I imagine stress has been a major contributing factor.

The down side of dry needling is that when you take a month off, as for me, the positive effects wear off. The deadened trigger points come alive again. But you have to remember that I have severe spasticity too. I'm not blessed with episodes that only last an evening, but the kind that lasts for days unless something intervenes to stop the process like dry needling. I don't even want to imagine what it would be like without the three muscle relaxers I'm on.

With all the events happening in the past couple of weeks, I was back to taking my full doses of muscle relaxers again until I was free to do the dry needling again. I was even taking pain medicine over the last week just to manage four hours of sleep.

Anyhow, back to Monday's session. Like most stroke survivors, I'm on a blood thinner. It's been downgraded from Coumadin to Plavix. Yeah, that's progress for me and my high platelet count. I'm just warning you because the picture I'm going to show you of my lower bicep, inner elbow, and inner forearm looks bad. It actually doesn't hurt much at all.

6 hrs after needling

All those red dots and bruises are needle insertion spots. Yes, my arm was so tight it took over thirty insertions with the needles in this area to stop the cramping, restore full extension of my arm, and stop the associated pain. That's not including the insertions into my upper bicep, deltoids, trapezius, or lower down my forearm and thumb, or my leg. I had over two hours of fun just to stop the pain and restore some movement. It was well over 100 spots by the time my therapist was through. But I finally got some needed relief. Each insertion gave me a little bit more relief each time. So it was well worth it.

I'm still a firm believer of this type of therapy.Dry needling has brought me relief when I should be in agony right now. Now for a shocker...I moved my thumb and index finger on command yesterday. It wasn't much but it's a start.

This week I spent two hours on the phone with Social Security this week trying to reapply for disability. The major change is that I'm now attempting to get spousal benefits. The interviewer said that I should get an accept/deny/ or request for more information letter about it in THREE months. I'd like them to try and live like I will have to for three months without income. He then followed up with it could possibly take A YEAR or so to be decided. Ya gotta love the bureaucracy at work.

It's a good thing the life insurance and our pre-planning will kick in within 45 days or I'd really be in trouble. With my book sales in a steady decline and no new titles to offer, I'd really be stuck. I believe in being prepared as much as possible.I just have to be patient. Ugh! There's that word again...patient.

As far as my grief process goes, it's been strange. I'm actually more relieved by my husband's death than miserable. But maybe it's the lull before the storm. I'm not in denial because I know the love of my life is beyond my reach. I miss him. There's moments in my day when it will hit me that I can't get a arm rub of encouragement from him and it hurts. But it's not as devastating as I thought it would be. I doubt my love for him because of the lack of this, but then I'll shove that aside because he was my soul mate. Maybe because I saw him in so much pain and wasted before he died that I'm thankful he isn't here like that. He was so sick for over a decade. Now if he had been the man he'd been the man I'd married, I would be honestly grieving. Without a shadow of doubt in my mind. Maybe this is God's Grace to me.

I had my son in law rip out the wood wheelchair ramp this week. It was a hazard with me hanging ten on it every time it rained. We've had almost daily thunderstorms since Spring. I had been avoiding the ramp like the plague since the last time I fell. As he pulled up on the edge where it was attached to the cement, out poured a sea of red and black carpenter ants. It was even worse when he finally

pulled the ramp all the way off and exposed the nest full of eggs. All the ants were scurrying around. Each one grabbing an egg to carry. I spent the next three hours with a can of ant spray and doing the one legged squash-the-ant dance. I still didn't kill them all. This would not have been possible if my beloved was still alive. The chemicals in the spray would have irritated his breathing. It probably didn't do me any good either. I had a nagging headache for two days afterwards. Yeah Jo, poison the ants and poison yourself too.

That leads me to question, why is it that an amputee can hop one one leg, but me as a stroke survivor can't? Try as I might, I can't hop on one leg without losing my balance. How about it other strokees, can you or am I just Abby Normal again? Maybe I'm just to old to do it. Nah, that can't be it.

How has your week been?

Quick update

Thanks all! 

My DH seems to be rallying this week her managed to fill a whole urinal yesterday, but that's what four kidneys will get you. Yes he has 4 kidneys. It is thought he absorb his twin en utero. His pain levels have dropped to five out of ten with the pump.so he feels more human. I bought a goat bell so I can hear him if he needs me. All he has to do is push it across the bed table and I'll hear it even when I'm outside. Yes, it's that loud. Scares the cats and dogs. Each day we take the time to live, laugh, and love every moment we can.

Our youngest is in labor with her son, Connor. In fact she's been in labor with contractions five minutes apart for over a week now. The doctor is waiting until her water breaks before doing a c-section. He giving Connor every moment he can to give the baby time to strengthen and age before delivering him. Our daughter isn't due until June 16th.

Me, I'm hanging in there. I'm still doing my dry needling with Botox injections on the 4th. Yes, I'm going to do another series of shots. There's just too much going on to even try to do without. My forward progress has stopped and am now on maintenance to stop the pain so I'm pain free. A huge blessing especially now.

Take care all.

Thursday's Tumbles and Stumbles: Abscence

You may have noticed that my Thursday's postings have been missing. That's not because nothing has been happening at the Murphey Saga household. Just the opposite has been happening.

There has been tumbles and stumbles galore. I just haven't had time to write about it.

My darling hubby being the biggest stumble and tumble this month. His weight loss continues. In fact, his body is cannibalizing his organs now to gain the energy to keep breathing. His kidneys are failing. His heart beat is erratic. It won't be long until his liver starts to shut down too. His O2 sats average at 73 % out of 100% on 4 liters of continuous flow oxygen. He's passed the point of no return for oxygen levels and is on the downhill slide.He's also below 90 lbs. On the BMI scale his BMI is 19.5!

He has fallen out of bed a couple of times. I can't put the bed rail up because it takes two hands to operate. He is still trying to help me pick him back up into bed which throws me off balance. One such fall cracked two of his upper ribs. It makes repositioning him a nightmare pain wise. He is surrounded by pillows.

We've had the discussion about PEG tube or nasal-gastric tube for hydration and nutrition because he is choking more on swallowing. He now wants none. This is contrary to his living will signed six years ago. It's my job to make sure his wants are obeyed so we have many such conversations during his lucid moments.

I've started grinding his meds and putting them in chocolate pudding for him to take. It also meant discontinuing some of his meds like his potassium and Lasix. He understands that he will probably go into Congestive Heart Failure. He is also discontinuing his anti-depressant in lieu of Hadol (yes, the hallucinations continue). I'm repeating and reminding him of conversations constantly. His mind and reasoning is deteriorating because of lack of oxygen to the brain. I'm basically discontinuing all his pill meds so we (the hospice nurse and I) can put him on a pump. Yes, we've finally reached that stage.

I again stress that if you have not picked your Durable Power of Attorney for Healthcare, do so today. No matter what your age is, do it! You never know what tomorrow will bring. Have the important conversation about your wishes now while your are able.

Now about me...
The spasticity is coming back now that the Botox is wearing off but the dry needling is working so well that I will forgo my next Botox series of  injections. My foot is able to evert on command and dorsiflex for 2 - 20 reps now. I actually stood with full weight on it and took one step WITHOUT WEARING MY AFO.  I've only been able to do it once so far but its a start. 

The residual effects of one treatment is lasting about two weeks in my leg. My therapist started working on my quads to improve my hip movement. He hit too many spots on my thigh during one session and I was tripping over invisible lint on the floor again For a few days. He's backed off now because it seems that I have to have a little bit of spasticity to do what I need to do. But then again, my right side is where I have my hip and knee replacements too.

Our baby girl decide to go into premature labor. The hospital stopped it. Little Connor isn't due to make his official appearance until June 16th. He's a healthy 3 lbs right now while momma has been put on bed rest. Bed rest is so much fun with an active three-year old running around. She's in Tx so this momma has been stressing out because I can't be there.

The thing about being stressed is the spasticity kicks in so bad. The good Lord knows, I am definitely loaded with stress, but this too shall pass.

Well that's about all my news. How have y'all been?

Thursday's Tumbles and Stumbles: News!

Unlike my usual post on Thursdays this is not a tumble or a stumble, but good, awaited news.

The dry needling modality I've been waiting for is covered by my insurance! Hooray! Yippee!

I spoke at length about it to the nurse practitioner when she visited our home last week to do my hubby's recertification for hospice. She is also a nurse practitioner for my neurologist. Neat, huh? It sure makes my life easier. She can check on both of us every six weeks and I don't have to drive to my neurologist's office.

She, of course, had never heard of it so I filled her in on it from my research. She was the one who had mentioned massage therapy to me during one of these home visits. More on this in a minute. She told me that when I found out about the insurance to give her a call and she'd order it.

Well, that's exactly what I did on Monday. The office faxed the order over by the
afternoon. It has been like most things you pray about and want. There is a delay that seems interminably, and then a whirlwind of things happening. This week has been like that. Numerous conversations between the neurology office, the rehab center, the therapist certified to do it, and the transfer of services from the hospital based therapy center and the new one. It's a good thing this new therapist is the husband of my speech therapist (the one that speaks aphasia), my regular OT knows the new one, and they all are part of my stroke support group.

Yes, I live in a small town, but it's not that small. We have a population of almost 100K. But right now, it feels like when I first moved here back in the 70s and the population was only 20K and I'm thankful for it.

When I spoke to my new therapist about the cost of treatments, He said not to worry about it. Something could be worked out. Thanks to Obamacare, my insurance only covers 40 hours a calendar year versus the 75 hours previously. All therapies- OT, PT, and Speech are all rolled into that one package. At least that's how my plan works. Massage therapy is limited to 40 hours per year under Chiropractic care for muscular reeducation. I love how doctors word things to get paid.

I'd hate to start this and it works because my hourly limit expires so I wanted to know what my cost would be without insurance. So far the people I have talked to who have undergone this treatment are pleased with their results. A couple have seen a reduction of their spasticity even after two treatments. They used the word "miracle" several times so I'm hoping for the same results.

One is even doing what I hoped to do, Botox and dry needling so I won't be the first. I can say I'm greatly relieved not to be the first. Although I've pioneered many things in the past, I was really unsure about this in this instance. When I spoke to the therapist, he mentioned the results I already knew about. He said hopefully he could get me the same results. I told him I expected better. We both had a good chuckle with that one. I told him that I also understood the odds of making it worse, no change, or improvement. He said that was good. He asked me how I felt about needles and I told him I'd rather be one on the giving end rather than the receiving end of the point, but I could handle it. Now I'm waiting on an appointment time next week to start.

Yes, I'm excited. Can't you tell? I'm a realist but remain hopeful. Is that a contradiction? Well, no matter. It's how I am. I'll keep y'all posted.

Another Milestone Downward and Venting

It seems all I'm writing about these days are doom and gloom reports. Sigh!

That isn't why I started this blog. It's really hard to find hope in hopelessness. No I'm not depressed, just battle weary just like my hubby. A tiny pin light shines in the distance of life ever after while maintaining a toe hold to our current life. But daily life goes on. The beds still need changing. The clothes still need to be folded. Dishes done. Animals cared for. Cooking of meals must be prepared for.  Etc, etc, etc.

It started this afternoon just before the hospice nurse visited. The nagging cough that my hubby has been experiencing changed. He's on Tussin to help him bring up the junk in his lungs. He can no longer cough hard enough to bring it up on his own.

His sputum went from milky to green and I knew he was in pneumonia again instead of just congestion. Then he brought up blood. Just a little from a broken vessel in his throat. No, I didn't panic but he did. I know the difference in the blood brought up. Calming him down and fixing him a warm drink, we sat and waited for the "official" word. We've been here too many times before.

The nurse came and ordered an antibiotic for him. There just isn't anything else to do. He already has oxygen, inhalants, and breathing treatments that he does several times a day. So now we sit and wait through another crisis. What a difference twelve hours makes. Last night he was congested with wheezing in the upper left quadrant of his lung to today with crackling and gurgling in the base. Definitely more fluid there.

It gets very frustrating at times. It's at times like this my GITG (Give It To God) box reaches the overflow point. Others ask me how I can remain so calm and matter of fact about it all. That's how. I do what is necessary but don't buy into the worry about it category. The fact is I don't want to have to deal with it. Worry doesn't change facts and rarely change outcomes. I realize this and accept it. It's not that I don't care because believe me, I do.

Of course, I did take my frustrations out on a poor can of vegetarian baked beans tonight. I tried to open it with my electric can opener and it refused to balance against the blade. Instead of cutting a nice clean cut it gapped and pulled away from the blade. I snatched it from the can opener and threw it across the kitchen. I walked across the kitchen and threw it back the other way. Of course the gapped cut lid spewed tomato sauce across the floor as it flew. I looked at my handiwork and realized how stupid I was. Now I had to clean it up. Believe me, I'm not immuned to good, ol' temper tantrums.

After the clean up, I got another can of beans and fixed the hot dog my husband wanted. Three bites and he was done. It took almost an hour for him to eat those three bites. He cracked a tooth over the weekend which adds to my stress. I can't take him to the dentist. So he is eating ever more slower. While I make a point of eating meals with him, it takes him forever. It also takes me an hour to was what few dishes I use for a meal.

Thanks for reading.

Tick, Tock Time Runs a Marathon

Ever notice when you walk away from something for a bit and the time flies by without a second glance? It runs by like some super fast marathon.

What did I actually accomplish this month. I mean tomorrow is Christmas Eve already and I haven't posted since the 4th. Now looking back absolutely nothing! Well almost nothing. No it doesn't seem like Christmas either. The 70+ temperatures do nothing to enhance it. Even with the lights and decorations up, the Grim Reaper is overshadowing all the merriment sucking it dry.

Have I done anything towards my stroke recovery. Nope just trying to do too many things at once. It's become a dull routine now. I haven't recovered a lick. In fact, I've regressed back into diapers and barely able to walk...more on that in a bit.  It's more to do with having so much to do than actual regression. I've had my own version of locked in syndrome with my husband so ill.  I have no desire or money to go or do anything except play games on the computer. Yes that does help build my mind up some but not the rest of me.

At this point I'm not achieving much in a recovery sense, but just am. The things I'm trying, I'm failing miserably at...like spinning all this nice wool from Buddy. I just can't hold the tension right one handed on the wheel. I tried using the hand held spindle and wound up with a tangled mess. I did achieve some measure of success with knitting one handed. It is s-o-o-o slow tucking one needle up under my bum arm but at least I've got that and I am knitting just what...I dunno. I'm still practicing stitches. Casting on is a real headache.

The spasticity is back in the arm again so it is frozen in a 90 degree angle but it makes a good prop for carrying things since it doesn't relax now, but I can straighten out my fingers but not my thumb. The wrist is a lost cause.  It won't budge to even allow any kind of bracing. You ever feel like the more you try to get ahead the farther you fall behind? Yep, you got it. I'm there. Botox again in January. But at this point I'm wondering whether I can justify the expense. It's $6,500 (before insurance) per cycle 3 to 4 times a year. I'm just not seeing the improvement I expected after 18 months almost of injections, but there is the pain relief factor too.

Bad news on the ankle inversion/drop foot front. After an additional three months, a new orthodic, debreidments and doctor appointments, the pressure sore has come back in full force rupturing from the inside out this weekend.Talk about a painful event. All that new skin and callous just blew outwards leaving the biggest cavity to date. Just what I needed to usher in the holiday. I snapped a rivet holding one of my straps this weekend so I'm hobbling around for two reasons. Come my husband's death, I'll have to have a full ankle fusion and the tendons cut. There is now no other option.

Meanwhile the reasons to be upright on my feet grow exponentially as my husband's health slowly declines. I'm administering meds every four hours, changing diapers about that often, and bedding twice a day. The good news is that there is now a hospital bed in my living room. It definitely makes things easier just in smaller size alone and having the ability of raising, rolling it around, etc. It's a good thing I was formerly a nurse. The only fifference is that hospice can spell me. It makes for long weekends though when mostly it is just the two of us. I refuse to ruin everyone else's weekend. My hubby is no longer allowed to be up on his feet unsupported. He has taken some really bad falls in the past couple weeks and I'm surprised he didn't break something.

The good news is every morning he opens his eyes and smiles at me. Then he breaks into his version of the old Rare Earth song, "I Just Want to Celebrate." He bobs his head, bounces in the bed, and sings about every third word.

I know this post is sort of down in the dumps, but I felt I needed to answer all the emails concerning us this way.

I also wanted to wish each of you a Merry Christmas. Here's to a better 2014 because 2013 was a roller coaster. Thanks for all your support.