Sunday Stroke Survival: Waiting and Combating Frustration

Better late than never.

I know I'm not the only one that combats frustration while in a holding pattern. I haven't written here or anywhere else in a couple of weeks because of it. For me, it's doctors, or should I say getting new doctors in my new locale. I mean all of my old docs treated me like I was going to die instantly if I didn't do this or that immediately. And yet, it's been three months since I've seen a doctor an I'm still here. So much for being a sick, dying, old woman. 🤣   Now, that's not necessarily true. I am a sick, dying, old woman who has a complicated medical history. I just haven't had some doctors tell me so in months.

The stress it could cause not only frustration, but anger, grief, depression and a whole lot of harmful baggage nobody needs. It is like a weighted blanket, not the good kind like PTSD patients use. These other issues can eat you alive, hamper recovery, and cause actual damage to your body.

So how do I beat it? Or, at least not let the frustration beat me up and consume me? I often say that it's all a matter of perception and mind over matter. Your brain is a powerful a part of your body. Even a damaged one like for us stroke survivors or should I say, dead gray matter. In a lot of ways, we're better than everyone else because we've beaten the odds and we survived the game of life's roulette table and we're on our way back or getting a do-over. Although, it doesn't feel like that sometimes. But, life is what it is and all you can do is make what you can of it. If you aren't happy about somethings in your life figure out what you can do to change.

Keeping mentally and physically active starve frustration. By being active, you don't dwell on the problem feeding the frustration. So what am I doing? 

For the mental half, I printed a list of all the cardiologists and PCPs in the area. I run the list by my daughter, she has lived in this town for 17 years, half of which working in the medical field.  At the very least, she knows who the real stinkers are. This information is worth its weight in gold and those names are stricken from the list. It narrows down the list considerably. Then, I'll let my fingers do the walking. I'll give each practice three working days to respond and then move to the next name. When I gave my daughter my list I had her rate the doctors by stars three stars meant the practice was the ultimate and no stars meant they were passable. If she knew nothing about them, they got a question mark. I have to say there weren't many of these. So far, I'm slowly making my way down each list. I'll play computer games to rebuild and strengthen weakened areas of my brain, or watch a movie on Netflix, Amazon Prime, Disney. or YouTube. But, I'm doing something with my mind other than feeding my frustration.

I'm in a Catch-22 situation as far as the physical side of the equation. To walk and do I need adjustments made to my AFO. To get an appointment to an orthotics place (Hanger or another of 4 options), I need a PCP because my podiatrist is just  a DO not a MD that insurances demand. I need dry needling or Botox to make the spasticity in my foot and ankle behave which would help in the meantime. That isn't possible until after the 24th when I see my new neurologist (another waiting game). 

My brace not fitting right allows me to stand and walk in twenty-minute increments. So I'll sweep my apartment and sit down with my foot elevates above my heart for an hour. Then, mop my wood floors and back down again. And, so goes my days. By 11 PM, I'm exhausted by the up and downs, and I'm ready for sleep. At 5 AM, I'm back at it again. By the time the sun is high enough in the sky, I'm puttering around pilling this or that weed, talking to the plants, and communing with God, I'm still keeping my twenty-minute on and off my AFO clad foot. During the lull, I've got my phone app tuned to His radio and I'm praising Him the whole time I'm off my foot sitting on my outside door steps. I tend to push my limits when cooking or preserving. Especially, with the final touches. I pay for it by having to prop my foot up for the next several hours.  The dishes don't get done nor food put away until I've gotten the swelling and pain down. I'll be good for twenty minutes or so before I'm back in the chair. I'm really missing my wheelchair or beloved's rollator because I could sit and do. They got left in the barn during the move and we haven't had a chance to go back and get them yet. Mel is still holding onto them for me. 

But for now, I'm doing without. I think Medicare part B would pay to replace the wheelchair. It was bought 9 years ago not under Medicare. The rollator was my husband's as the shower chair, and bed side commode was too. so my Medicare should pat to replace them, shouldn't they? That leaves me with the problem of who writes they prescription to order them? I'll see the neurologist later this month and I guess I could talk to them when I ask for a PT order. Or, does PT order them? Or, does my PCP, if and when I find one? It was so much easier when I was in the hospital before I was discharged home after my first stroke. Sigh! 

Breathe, Jo, breathe. This kind of thinking is a trap to fall back into frustration. Okay, it's time to get busy. I couldn't manage to do the dinner ,dishes last night. Everything was rinsed off and stacked so they are ready to be washed up and then there's a peach cobbler to make for dessert tonight. That will keep me busy until the rain stops. tuning in the app on my phone. Here we go, another day's work begins...

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Prepping the Harvest for Long Term Storage

I've posted about our homestead garden, gardening, and adaptive gardening quite a bit. I've even talked about preserving the harvest by canning, freezing, and dehydrating.  Today, I want to discuss how I prepare the harvest to do all of that living post stroke.

Picking the harvest is the easy part. Last week I harvested four pounds of oregano from my plants. That's a whole lot of oregano destined to be dehydrated. I lay each stem of the rinsed herb on a window screen. Add another window screen on top. I have raised them away from animals by placing the screens on top of four inverted trash cans. I'll let them dry out in the yard for a day or two. I mean I had four pounds. It was way too much for my two electric dehydrators. When one screen was full I grabbed another one and continued until all the oregano was accounted for. I criss- crossed the placement of the screens so there was good ventilation for the herbs. Now, I placed the herb stem and all on the screen. It took eight screens in all for four full screens of oregano.

Once dry, the real fun began. I had to remove the stems. I tend to leave my leaves whole and chop or grind them as needed. I sat at the breakfast room table with the table covered in parchment paper. I placed the thick end of the oregano stem between my teeth and pulled the leaves against their grain to remove them. After doing a few stems, I'd stop and gather the leaves and put them in several containers in succession. It took me the better part of the day to do this. Before I give the oregano a final "haircut" before the first freeze, I'll be doing this several times. This year I expect a six-eight pound harvest of oregano. Not to mention basil, sage, peppermint, spearmint, chamomile, tarragon, dill, thyme, rosemary, and thyme. For smaller batches, I can dehydrate them in my dehydrators.

Now, I've started harvesting my English peas. There is nothing better on hot afternoons than sitting on the porch swing shelling peas and beans, and watching the gardens grow. But, shelling peas one-handed took some thought on how to do it.

Luckily, Mother Nature put a zipper in them. I picked loose a string at the vine end of the pea pod. I picked it loose enough to be able to pinch it between my index finger and thumb to pull it. Holding it against the bowl with my little finger I pulled the string down as far as my reach would allow and reposition my little finger and continue until the "string" came loose off the end of the pea pod. Using my thumb, I ran down the inside of the pod dislodging the peas. I got quicker as time went on and the three pounds of peas I picked were done. They'll probably be another three pound harvest tomorrow again and again until the peas are done in about three weeks.

But that's not all that's being harvested. I've got to cut the kale, spinach, and lettuces before they bolt with

the heat. Carrots and potatoes will have to be dug up. I've got a discarded kiddie pool for washing the greens the first time outdoors before carrying them to the processing table. They'll get washed twice more at least to remove all the dirt from them.

For the carrots and potatoes, remember that glass washer I found at Goodwill way back when for $2? It works wonderfully for scrubbing long, rounded vegetables one-handed. It works great for my cucumbers, zucchini, yellow squash, peppers, and Japanese eggplants too. Thinking outside the box makes work smarter not harder. A mandolin and my Vidala Onion slap chopper always gets a huge workout at harvest time. They save so much time processing vegetables for the freezer or canner.

In the next couple weeks as the peas die out, they'll be green beans. I'm hoping for 120 lbs of them. I just pulled the last two jars of green beans out of the long term storage building canned two years ago. So I'm looking forward to these. The idea of going to the grocery store and buying green beans makes me cringe. By succession planting these over the course of the spring and summer, I should have plenty. I don't mind processing these at all. Snap the stem ends and snap them into pieces. I use my first three fingers to snap them. Of course, I could bring them inside to cut them too. But I miss my free ranging chicken TV viewing. They are much more fun to watch than regular television and n curse words needed.

There you go. That's my one-handed preparing vegetables for canning and freezing. Yes, it would be easier and faster with two hands, but I adapt to what I got. And, I get 'er done.

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Sanity Restored

After y'all endured last week's melt down, I'm relieved to report that this to passed. Thank you for all the advice and support. I needed to blow off steam and it helped. Through a lot of prayer and meditation, this week I'm back to my old self. Relieved? I know I am. There are still difficult choices to be made, but I'm now back on stable ground mentally, if not physically.

First, I actually got six hours of uninterrupted sleep. It was just one night, but it helped immensely. Sleep deprivation is a powerful ailment, and plays havoc on both the body and the mind.

While the nocturnal Charlie horses continue, I start searching for other possible causes besides heart, neuro, and diet. I took a good look at my shoes. I missed my appointment to get my new, insurance covered shoes. Life just got too hectic and it slipped my mind. The specialty insole in my left shoe has a worn spot at the heel. This could be a major factor. Given the Botox has been wearing lean and my stance has changed, it could make all the difference in the world in over stressed muscles and tendons. I had taken a look at my activities and realized that every time I filled the kindling buckets with small branches, I could count on the Charlie horses occurring during the night. Picking up sticks and branches on level ground not so much, but there's only about a ten-foot surrounding the house that's fairly level everything else slopes either up or down. Even a slight slope causes me to shift my body weight more on my unaffected side to maintain my balance as I bend and lift. Poor body alignment. I'm sure any PT would agree. It only makes sense. I now carry a Grab-It with me for this activity.

I've made an appointment with my PCP for a new prescription for the shoes to be followed closely by Hanger, my orthodics company. Sadly and happily, I'll meet my deducible and max out of pocket yearly expense between neurology and cardiology by February again this year. So my shoes will be covered 100% once again. My Medicare doesn't kick in until July.

My heart affecting my stamina and breathing is another issue. I find I'm easily winded. The alternative of a triple valve replacement. It's looming closer and closer as much as I hate to admit it. I also dislike having to admit that I'm fearful of undergoing anesthesia again. After my heart stopping twice the last time, can you blame me? Of course, they'll purposely be stopping my heart to do this, but it's the whole restarting of the heart that is my issue. I have restarted hearts in ditches of mud and muck in the past, but it wasn't my heart. Does that sound stupid?

Having blown a gasket last week was cathartic for me last week. Where I was lost in a fog of hurt (both emotional and physical) everything was blurred, this week I can see clearer to decisions I made under distress were the right ones so my internal compass was still intact. It carried me through just as it always has. The issues of selling my house, and making my child and grandchildren homeless are still here. My Botox wearing off leaving me spastic and in chronic and severe pain is still occurring and will be until next month. My injection series is on the 27th and a week until it kicks in enough to make a difference. Hopefully, my insurance approves the increase to stop the Botox wearing off before the next series. I'm still living post stroke waiting on recovery.  Because of the stress of the situation that is my fault, my Fibromyalgia is still in flare mode. I'm going to HAVE to go back on my Cymbalta again at least until the flare lightens up. It sure won't hurt the depression either. I still can;t sleep lying flat or on my side, but the bruising has lessened and the scabs are disappearing. The area is still very tender. Even the shower spray hitting it will take my breath, but not as bad as last week. This week my coping skills are not barely hanging on by slipping fingernails. They are actually working and I'm able to function. Two songs ran through my soul this week and I realized THIS was for me...

 

 and  

 

 Big difference from last week, huh? I'm not saying that I won't fall into despair or succumb to the pity pot again. Of course, I will. I'm human, but...

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival: Argh! Said The Pirate!

It's always been my way to make even the most tedious things fun or funny. I mean if you can't have fun it's just hard work or just down right b-o-r-i-n-g. At other times, it has staved off fear or discomfort like with my cancer treatments. I lost all my hair, so I wore absolutely wonderful silk scarves and humongous earrings. This was my gypsy fortune teller garb. Yes, I even drew on mysterious eyebrows with a pencil and supplemented my eyelashes with falsies. It kept everyone guessing plus it kept my exterior point of view active. At the time, I was foretelling my future. I was going to live and beat cancer.

I created rhymes for cadence for my #2 daughter's rehab stretches as a child. I've even done a few ditties for my own PT exercises. If not exactly fun, it gives my mind another focus. My physical therapist now knows when I hum or use a sing-songy voice, what he's doing is hurting me. It's the way I cope and get through what has to be done. When I can no longer do this when coping with the pain...it's way too much pain.

I was ever so thankful to get past the monotone speech phase of my relearning how to talk with aphasia as you can imagine. It was a double scoop of ice cream with sprinkles kind of days when little by little I got my intonations back. I still don't have all of them back, but I can get my point across. It's part of who I am and how I communicate. Whether I physically don exterior costumes or not, my attitude has always been a big part of my voice of who I am.  I can drip sarcasm with a roll of my eyes, cut someone to ribbons with insults and have them believe them as compliments until after I'm long gone, and I can give you a big part of me and you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that it's true. And, all it takes is the way I express myself with words and what you perceive on a nonverbal level. For someone with aphasia, this kind of "play acting" is important as communication skills also because the words are not always there. Anything that breaks you out of the rut and frustration of trying to communicate with others is a very useful tool.

 So is it any wonder that I would use a pirate garb complete with a parrot for speech therapy?  In the beginning, regaining my ability to speak was mostly repetition. It was seeing the word in my mind, moving my mouth into the correct positions to form the sounds, and putting enough breath behind it to actually have a sound form as I repeated what my speech therapist wanted me to. Granted, in the beginning, the words didn't come out as they should have. In fact, sometimes they still don't.

Can you guess why the pirate garb? What does a parrot do? They repeat what is heard. They have to hear it several times to get it right also. I guess, I could have taped a scratched, vinyl record to my chest, but that didn't seem as much fun. Besides, first I'd have to explain what a vinyl record was to some. Nope, no fun at all. But a pirate? "Argh! Matey, walk the plank!" That's fun. The parrot squawks, "Walk the plank. Walk the plank."

I had typed in that this was my second speech therapist, but I deleted that. My speech therapy team gets confusing when I try numbering them. My first speech therapist was just after my stroke and is again my speech therapist (so she's 1st and 4th), my second speech therapist was in the rehab hospital, and that makes the therapist I'm speaking of was my 3rd? Right? I dunno.

Priceless, was the look on my speech therapist's face when I showed up for one of my appointments with her. Silk scarf wrapped around my head, heavy hoop earrings, a patch over one eye, and a parrot pinned to my affected shoulder. The fact that she usual worked with children was beside the fact. 
I had just regained some of my shoulder movement back too. Heck, I was proud of it and milked it for all it was worth. I was even showing off. Of course, it wasn't a real parrot. It was one of my youngest daughter's TY beanie parrot. My husband had pinned the feet and tail to my vest. When I moved my shoulder up and down, the wings flapped out up and down. Yes, he (my hubby) was my greatest partner in fun, life, and my biggest cheerleader. If there was anything we could do to bring out a smile in others, he was for it.



Anyhow, the  therapist had that question if her eyes...WTH? You know the look I'm talking about. So I bounced my shoulder up and down saying "repeat, repeat." Although it came out more like "ripet, ripet" at the time. Finally, she got it. I tried the "Awck" sound for parrot speech, but it truly got garbled and lost in translation, and monotone. But hey, I should get brownie points for trying, right?

We had done the repetitive speech modules so many times I was looking for a fun way to breathe life into it. Actions and pictures speak much louder than words especially for the aphasic. You guessed it, I was bored repeating the list of words every week. I had to figure out a way to make it a fun thing to do. The shock value alone on my therapist's face helped bolster me for another couple of weeks of repetition work. After that, when I got bored and needed a jolt to continue all I had to say was "parrot" as a cue for her to change up my therapy. I wasn't really surprised to see that she found a parrot puppet to work with the kids. I'm happy to share. Especially when it helped me also.

Therefore, I can love others!

Woah! That sounded a bit self-serving, didn't it? Yeppers, it's true. I love myself. Therefore, I can love others. I help myself. Therefore, I can help others. But I do what is necessary to keep myself motivated. This is a in it for the long haul situation. That's what stroke recovery is for all but 10% of us survivors. We have to keep going if we want to get any measure of recovery. We have to depend on ourselves to keep egging us forward to achieve our success stories no matter how great or small.

Just to make myself clear. This is not to say that repetition speech training is bad. It's actually a good thing. I talk almost normal at times because of it. It may just be my Abby Normal side raising its head, but why not instill fun into the mundane. Yes, learning to speak again IS hard work, but nobody says it can't be fun also. But for me, if I can't bring therapists kicking and screaming to think outside the box, I'll do it with laughter. It does do me any harm either.

Nothing is impossible.

Sunday Stroke Survival ~ Sailing Through Life with Disabilities

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Sunday Stroke Survival ~ Grief- Depression

Welcome to stage three of my series on grief counseling. Today's topic is depression. Everyone gets depressed once in a while. If someone tells you they've never been depressed and they are over the age of ten...THEY ARE LYING.

That's like the couple that say they never argue. Someone is stuffing their feelings and they are not communicating to each other. They are in big trouble.

You've had a significant loss in your life and it has changed forever. If there is any more greater reason to be depressed, I can't think of one. Everyone gets blue when thinking of what they've lost.

Honestly, I still get in a blue mood on August 2nd and November 19th, the anniversaries of my mother's death and my son's. It's been 30 years for one and 27 for the other. These were traumatic losses for me and those dates will live forever in my brain until I die, maybe even after that. Like I've said, there is no cure for grief only coping mechanics.

You feel a lack of energy. You cry a lot. You get angered easily and inappropriately. Your blue. You may even think your life is over. You may even think of suicide to end this pain and you lack the will to go on. After all, everyone else would be better off without you putting yourself and them through this. Did I hit a raw nerve or strike a chord of truth with these statements?

First, realize that this is depression. It's a disease process. It's also a normal process when faced with a loss. It's part of the cycle of grief. What I mentioned earlier about getting blue is different than what I'm talking about here. That's old healing, but a remembrance honoring a past hurt and family in my life who have passed on. It doesn't fully impact my daily life to the exception of all else. That is the huge difference.

allposters.com

With the current loss, everything is fresh and in your face constantly. Every time you turn around you are repeatably confronted by the loss. Yes, I'm still there after a year since my stroke, but there is a new purpose in my life...moving past the loss. It went from constant to intermittent and I will always have bouts with it. There's not a day that goes by that I wished I had use of my arm and hand back (especially for typing), or could walk again, or speak normally, or return to my own, semi normal, old life. But it no longer consumes every waking minute or thought. I am stringing words that make sense and sentences. I am typing. Those are major milestones and should be looked at as such. They are proving to me that I am moving on with my life.

By moving on and getting on with your life depression lessens. At first you are going through the motions but with time, you are no longer an automaton. You find yourself taking an interest in the things that you are doing...you are healing. You are awaking after a deep slumber. You may do this with drug therapy and professional counseling or you may do it all on your own. Don't be ashamed of seeking help. You are taking steps to get better. Admitting you need help is a big step in the healing process. I, myself, am on an antidepressant. I originally, it was prescribed to deal with my fibromyalgia, but it has also helped with my depressive state after my stroke. No it doesn't account for my mostly cheery disposition that's natural.

• Get together with friends and family for an outing. You may have to force yourself. You may be surprised that you enjoyed yourself. Don't feel guilty about this.
• Go to church if this was your usual practice.
• Find a new interest or hobby that you didn't do before. Even stop and notice how the trees move in the wind.
• Fill your hours with busy work. Anything you can do without thinking. You are not suppressing your grief only sidelining it for a period of time. Be sure to set a time limit or you will be stuffing it.
• What a comedy and laugh. Laughter really is the best medicine. I remember when my mother died. All of were heart broken because we held hope so tightly until the end. My sister brought up the memory of Mom where she held out a finger shaking it when you were young saying, "You no cry." It became a symbol that carried us through the tough days ahead. It caused us all to chuckle at the memory. It still does.
• Baby steps. You won't heal over night. You will not heal tomorrow, but maybe in the months to come it will be there and take hold without you even noticing it.

Remember everything in life is about baby steps. You have to know how to balance the good and the bad. My children, now adults, say when I threaten them, "Yeah, but I can outrun you now." And I usually retort one of two things, "Yeah, but I can throw this cane like my old police baton and trip you." Or but when I do catch you, I'll be busier than a one legged woman in a butt kicking contest." I am a one functional leg woman after all.

I'll start you off. I dare you not to laugh or at least crack a smile at least one of these.

I saw that smile. Felt good didn't it? Right after my stroke I watched AFV for weeks on end to learn how to laugh again through my depression. Sometimes laughter is the only way to stop from crying.

Remember even your momma told you, "It's only a phase"? Depression is too. It's part of the grief cycle. If it gets too bad don't hesitate to get help. If you don't recognize it in yourself, listen to others around you. They see it. In the grand scheme of things this is a pit stop and it will get better although it might not seem like it.

Sunday Stroke Suvival ~ Coping with Crowds

Now I don't know about y'all, but I have difficulties with crowds of people even if it's only family. So you can imagine what my 4th of July family reunion was like with four generations of family...only 100+ made it this year.

Ever since my stroke, I get extremely uncomfortable in a group of four or more people. My brain goes into sensory overload. At my monthly stroke survivors meeting there might be forty or fifty of us in a room, but only one person speaks at a time. I can manage that but regular get-togethers like this past 4th of July family reunion, Christmas, or my recent deluge of family doing deconstruction on my house...my brain shuts down. It's just too much.

This is a far cry from my pre-stroke self where I taught in a classroom with fifty students or did round robin discussion groups with hundreds. I could listen and respond to ten different conversations at once. Now, my brain doesn't know where to focus on the multitude of conversations going on. They all begin with "Momma," "Jo," "Grandma," or "Honey" and they are coming from different directions. I get a tilt-a-whirl sensation where I have to shut my eyes and close off my hearing. It still does a year post stroke.

I know I'm not the only stroke survivor that feels this way because others have expressed the same thing. So it makes me ask when will it get better? I get the same answer I get when I ask how long does recovery take? It depends on how fast your brain rewires itself. If it manages to rewire. A lot of help that is if you are the impatient sort like me.

Those two words are as helpful as "IF." If I spend more time in groups will it get better faster or will I just be spinning my wheels? If I gradually build up to larger and larger groups will it help? Nobody has an answer. Weighing all my choices I chose the last one to try.

The Fix (for me)
I have found over the past year of testing this theory it works.

• Just after my stroke, one on one was comfortable. Constant eye contact was essential and one subject with constant reminding what the subject was. Any more than one was an overload situation.
• After six months after my stroke, I was managing a three-way conversation with three people so long as it was the same subject. I would need reminding what the subject was. Limited eye contact with speaker. Any more was an overload situation.
•  After ten months after my stroke, I was able to have a four-way conversation on the same subject. If a new subject was introduced, I'd have to be reminded what the original subject was. No eye contact is necessary.
• After a year, six people in conversation about a single subject. Overload occurs with the addition of a seventh person and multiple subjects at once. The brain goes tilt.

So there is improvement as my brain rewires. There is hope that I'll be able to write fiction again with multiple characters given time. Maybe by my fifth year post stroke if my improvement continues and I continue to push my limits. One day I may be able to say Dyslexic/ADD what's that. At least I have hope that I can overcome my deficit.

Nothing is impossible with determination.

Sunday Stroke Survival~ Not Coping

I cope better some days better than others. Some days are the pits and I don't mean cheery pits more like hairy, stinking arm pits. It's just gross.

This week I've been on crying jags, sneezing, coughing, and miserably not coping well. I've had a cold. My first since I've had my stroke. I said previously it was going to be like the grief process, a year of firsts.

This was one first that I wished I could forgo. A cold is bad enough when you are able, but recovering from paralysis... forget about it. I have gotten dressed only when I've HAD to go out like my husband's neurology/pain management appointment. I feel like even putting on regular clothes instead of my nightgown and robe is too much trouble.

Is it starve a cold and feed a fever or the other way around? Either way I've been swallowing Vitamin C and zinc by the handfuls trying to make this stuff pass quicker. The malaise and sheer exhaustion has swamped me up to my eyeballs. I hate being sick. With all the bone and muscle aches, teeth itch, and eyes growing fur. Tissues filling the waste can almost as fast as I empty it. It's not one of my best times. I don't imagine it is for anyone, but still I've got my handy box of tissues while I type my blog.

Who can write and edit when they feel this way? Uh, me that's who. Even though I've spent more hours sleeping than awake this week, I still managed to write another story for Don't Get Your Panties in a Wad. A heart attack didn't stop me. A stroke didn't stop me. By gawd, a little thing like a cold won't stop me either. I'm a writer. Whether it's any good or not that remains to be seen. With all this cotton fluff in my head, tears streaming down my cheeks, and nose running like a freight train, I'll be pleasantly be surprised if it makes the cut/edit.

Well, I'm off to make myself some hot tea, grab another box of tissues, and crawl back into bed.

How do you cope with a cold?

Keep writing and loving the Lord.