How the World Changed in a Month

Roughly a month ago I restarted my cleanse diet. I didn’t have the miraculous return to health like the first time I tried it, as I established in the last post. I did, however, have a few weird and disappointing discoveries.

After abstaining for a while, I decided to have a bit of coffee. I rely on caffeine to get through a day awake, and I don’t have a problem with the caffeine in tea, so I thought this would be no big deal. I had a cup of an unidentified flavored coffee in my fridge, and it gave me a stomach ache. I gave it a few days, then tried again with organic, plain coffee and seemed to not react. I added cocoa powder (soy and corn free) and had the stomach aches like I had with gluten. I tried chocolate almond milk (again, soy and corn free) and had the same bad reaction. A friend suggested I try raw cocoa nibs, and again, the same. So far, I know I have a problem with cocoa and possibly coffee (unlikely, but still possible. I should test more once I am completely healed). On the bright side, I told this to the acupuncturist, and she did a treatment that should correct that problem. I have to wait until my gut has completely healed to try again, so we’ll just see.

I added rice and potatoes back, too, and the jury’s out as to whether they are a problem. These, too, will be retested after abstaining for awhile. How does a person get so many devastating food allergies/intolerances?

Near the end of the cleanse, something even weirder happened. I woke up one morning and, while putting in my contacts, noticed that the whites of my eyes had turned yellow. I went to a doctor and she confirmed that my eyes were still yellow. She ran blood tests to check liver function, and since I hadn’t had a thyroid panel in a long time, ran that, too.

I was able to follow-up with my regular Nurse Practitioner, C, a week later. “Your tests are perfectly normal,” she tells me. “Every value you have is in the center of the range. Good job with the self-regulation of your thyroid hormone dosage, by the way – that’s perfectly in the center of the range, too.” I should point out, if I haven’t already, that C told me to dose my thyroid meds based on my heart symptoms rather than worrying about the lab values. Better to be hypothyroid than in heart failure as far as I’m concerned.

She then asked, “Were you vaccinated for Hepatitis B?” I told her I was, right before college. “Well, that’s odd – you have no antibodies, no immunity to Hepatitis B. I think you’re a non-responder as far as vaccines are concerned.” Makes sense – I’ve contracted diseases I’ve been vaccinated against (like pertussis) or already contracted and should have subsequent immunity to (like chicken pox – I got it twice). This explains a lot, though. My immune system is perfectly happy to attack tissues that belong in my body, but send in a foreign body and the immune system fails to respond. This, to me, is clear proof that something is wrong with my immune system. More confirmation for the ME/CFS diagnosis.

A few days later, I started to feel ill, My lymph nodes swelled up, I got a little congested… I (foolishly) thought I just caught a cold. Heh. I wish. It turned into the full-on flu. I suffered from that for most of a week, and have spent the last week recovering. The acupuncturist offered her theory about the situation. She said that maybe the jaundice was the first sign of the flu. Maybe it got stuck in the most vulnerable organ I had and then replicated there. I could buy that. Nothing about me is normal.

Luckily, I recovered in time to attend a conference on autoimmune disease at a local hospital today. I will devote a full post to that in the future (I’m no longer going to try to predict when, as my illnesses keep getting in the way). I am glad I made it to that conference – it seems that the research is going in the right direction.

In the midst of all this, I made a career move. Dr B has been telling me that I should get into patient advocacy. He thinks that I have some really good life experience, and I have a lot to add to that field. After dealing with a situation in which a friend was being bullied into seeing what other people thought was “the right doctor” for her condition, I realized Dr B was right. I have had to deal with so many health care choices, doctors who don’t listen (or are just plain wrong), other people who think they have THE answer, and other trials and tribulations of being chronically and mysteriously ill that I have a special insight into the whole process. An insight that I can use to help others get what they want and need out of health care.

I looked up information on how to become a patient advocate and learned that really, there is no process. You can just decide to do the job. There are no certifications or degree programs. There are classes and certificate programs, but they don’t actually certify you to do anything – they’re just educational. I might take some of those classes at some point (especially the HIPAA classes), but yeah, I’m ready now.

My plan is to make educational material and do talks about how to get what you want out of health care. Medicine is an uncertain science, and there is rarely only one right way to treat yourself, especially with a chronic condition. I want to point out that patients have rights to refuse treatment if they so choose. I want people to realize the doctor works for them, and that if he/she isn’t working out, they don’t have to stay with that particular practitioner. I want to teach people how to take control of the situation by doing their own research and getting a doctor to listen. I want people to understand that they, not the doctor, make the healing happen. I want them to really think about how they want to care for their health (i.e. natural vs. pharmaceutical, preventative vs. reactive) and go get that. So, I’ve started by attending the autoimmune diseases conference. I’ve also got a nebulous outline for my first talk.

I’ve already had to put my patient advocacy skills to work with our fluffy friend, Duck. For the last few years, Duck has been plagued with diarrhea. I could usually make it go away with lots of probiotics, but this time, it stopped working. I took Duck into the vet and learned he lost roughly half a pound (this is a lot for a twelve pound cat). The vet did an ultrasound, and showed me that Duck has inflammatory bowel disease. His intestinal walls had thickened in some areas, indicating that immune cells are coalescing. The doctor then informed me that Duck would need to be on corticosteroids and chemotherapy for the rest of his life.

I reminded the vet that I foster, and suppressing Duck’s immune system long-term seemed like a poor choice, given that I invite cat disease into my home with every litter I take. “You’ll just have to cross your fingers with that, I guess,” he told me. I asked what long-term effects the chemo might have, and he said that there was an office cat who had been on chemo for seven years and he was just fine. The vet then gave Duck a steroid shot and sent me home with the prednisone and chemo meds.

I left with the medication, and burst into tears on the way home. The vet nurses told me that I would have to give Duck the chemo meds while wearing gloves – that the medicine wasn’t safe for me to touch. I thought about the idea that, if the medicine isn’t safe for me to touch, how could it be safe for my two-year-old baby to take? I always knew he could die young, but to die of the effects of chemo? I then realized that the principles I wanted to convey in my patient advocacy practice apply here. I sought a second opinion with a holistic vet.

This vet, along with several of my cat harboring friends, thought the suggested protocol was extreme. The holistic vet offered me supplements, along with a vaccine detox (unlike in human medicine, veterinary medicine recognizes adverse reactions to vaccines) to try first. Luckily, Duck likes the supplements, and started eating as soon as the steroids wore off.

He hasn’t had any recurrence of the diarrhea yet. I’m not taking steroids off the table entirely, but I am never going to do the chemo. I decided (after reading about how the outcomes of most cancers do not improve despite treatment) that I wouldn’t treat cancer in myself or my cats (save for easily treated versions like early stage melanoma). No, I cannot justify the use of chemo in any circumstance.

In other news, I picked up a foster kitten about a week ago. Meet Mozzie:

When he sits, Mozzie has a heart on his left flank and a broken heart on his right flank. When he stands up, the markings are less obvious – they’re more roundish blobs.

Mozzie was shy and ill when I first got him. He hid behind the toilet and hissed when we went in to visit. It a matter of days, Mozzie cracked – he loves us now, and turns out to be the most affectionate kitten. Mozzie loves to be held, he loves to purr, and he loves to simply be near his people.

In addition to all the above events, this month I got wind that yet another of my friends is expecting. I’ll reveal who in a few months – she wasn’t telling anyone at first, but decided a few days later that maybe she did want to tell. I’ve informed a few close friends, but I somehow don’t feel right announcing it here just yet. I am knitting and crocheting baby stuff like crazy now. I am squeezing in a few other things, but not a whole lot. I fear Michael may never get his socks!

Well, maybe I’ll work on them when we go on the Caribbean cruise we also planned this month. More details about that in the future.

Told you the world changed this month!

The only thing that didn’t change is that I’ve kept knitting. I finished K’s winter garments:

But I forgot to photograph the mittens before I mailed them! Oops. I’m going to visit her and Dr B in May, so I’ll try to get a shot then. Maybe I can a picture of the socks I made her for Christmas as well.

I’m also almost done with Dr R’s giant socks. I’ll see if I can get a shot if him wearing them on Monday (because I should totally have them finished – they are worsted weight socks, after all…). I’m also making progress on Jen’s crayon blanket. Her little girl is due in June, so I don’t have a whole lot of time left.

Well, I have a lot of work to do. My next priority is talking about the autoimmune diseases conference, so be on the lookout!

Superstition

I once heard about a superstition which dictates that whatever you do on New Year’s Day, you’ll be doing for the rest of the year. I’m not generally one to buy into that sort of thought process, but I figured that maybe it couldn’t hurt to indulge the idea this time. It’s not like there are bad consequences for doing so. It was for this reason that I was pretty thrilled that I woke up just before 7:00 this morning. I felt somewhat clear-headed, and I even had a little ambition. I tried to get the house clean the day before, with the idea that if I had to do heavy housework on New Year’s Day, I would be doomed to live in a filthy house that needs that sort of work for the rest of the year. So, it was about silly little things like that.

Not long after I woke up, I took a little pseudoephedrine. I hate to do that, especially in light of my decision to indulge the above superstition, but I figured I could just keep in mind that I’ve been popping large numbers of pills every day for the last year and a half, and smaller numbers for the previous 11 years. This isn’t really anything new. It’s not just the pill popping that I was reluctant to do, though. It’s dangerous to use pseudoephedrine for the long-term, but it is used off-label to promote wakefulness. It was my backup plan for when I really wanted to participate in something, like a vacation or what have you. I made my peace with it, as long as I only use it as needed, for short periods of time only. Besides, I’m already taking medication to increase neurotransmitters in my body (pseudoephedrine increases norepinephrine concentrations by releasing what you have stored in your neurons). I went to see C a few days ago, and she said that neurotransmitters are the best way to treat the neurological pain I was having. She even used the dreaded f-word, “fibromyalgia” to describe what my pain sounded like. She hasn’t officially diagnosed me with that condition, but it often comes with CFS/ME. While I wasn’t surprised to hear her say it, I didn’t want to hear it. Treatment for fibromyalgia is palliative (meant to relieve suffering, but not cure the condition) at best.

Anyway, I decided to spend the day accomplishing things. The feeling of being able to just do what I need to do is the thing I miss the most since getting sick. When I have a good day, I tend to squeeze every bit of productivity out of myself I can. I was determined for this to be that sort of day. I first washed all of the wine glasses from our party the night before. I did a couple of loads of laundry. I fed all the animals. I took a hot bath. I caught up some of my newspaper comics. I should explain that last one – Michael and I are the last newspaper subscribers on the planet. We both love newspaper comics, and there’s nothing like sitting down with the newspaper and reading the good ol’ funny pages. Well, because some days my brain is so foggy, so scrambled that I can’t even read, Michael saves that comic pages for me so that I can get to them when my mind is clearer. As of this morning, I was backed up to the beginning of October. Today, I read the entire month and am now up to November. Still behind, but less so than before. I went through older blog posts today, and learned by this time in 2010, I was behind as far as August. Back then, I had a billion kittens to care for as well. I’m certain this is not coincidental.

By noon, I was tired. I thought about popping another pill, but decided that there was really no way I was going to sleep for more than an hour or two. I had Michael massage my neck and ridiculously painful shoulder, then settled in for the nap. Feeling slightly more refreshed, I rolled over and looked at my clock – it was nearly 10:00pm. My nap was 10 hours long. What a defeat.

I tried not to be too upset about this. I told myself this morning that I was going to focus on the things that I did manage to do, and try not to condemn myself for what I couldn’t do. You see, somehow I still haven’t accepted that I’m truly, honestly sick. I keep trying to convince myself that if I just talk myself into it, I can just magically overcome this whole thing. Maybe I am prone to superstition after all. I mean, this is the behavior that I hate most in others: the tendency to accuse the people who have a chronic disease of not wanting to get over the illness, thus implying the disease is in the sufferer’s head and it is her fault. I do not think this of others who have a chronic condition, but somehow I think it of myself.

I think it will help me to show you some of things I’ve accomplished in the last few months. Much of my knitting has been for Christmas presents, so I haven’t really been willing to post it on the internet. Now that the gifts have been given (mostly, at any rate), I’ll show them to you.

I made these for Dr B. He lives far away now, but since we still talk, I thought it was only a nice thing to do. These are the brioche hat and scarf from Weekend Knitting. The yarn is Berroco Vintage in Mocha and Mushroom (5103, 5104).

I also made the pair of socks I referred to in the previous post for Dr B’s wife, K. She promised me she would get a picture of her wearing them so I could post it online.

I finished a dress I was crocheting for my friend Julie’s baby. This has not been delivered yet because her family is spending Christmas in Denmark. Plus, it’s still missing buttons. The pattern is Dixie Belle, and I used Patons silk bamboo (ivory) and Artfibers Casanova (dark purple).

I made this sweater for my nephew, Blaine. His parents tell me he loves it. The pattern is Lion Brand’s “Knit Coastal Stripe Pullover” in Knit Picks Swish Worsted, colors Twilight. Doe, and Bark.

I sent the “yarn shirt” to Alexis as well. It is bigger on her than Blaine’s sweater is on him, but she’ll be able to wear it forever. She was ecstatic, if the pictures her parents sent me of her opening the present are telling me the truth.

I plan to knit one more small present for Julie, but I don’t want to mention what it is until she receives it. She knew about the dress for her baby. I also have the “puerperium cardigan” (Ravelry link) on the needles for my friend Vickie‘s new baby, and I’ve swatched for the “Color Me” afghan for my friend Jen’s new baby.

There is a catch to the projects on my hooks and needles. I mentioned ridiculous shoulder pain earlier. On New Year’s Eve, the pain in my right arm got really bad, to the point where I was having trouble lifting my arm to give my friend a high-five. I thought it would be just a one day thing, something brought on by the fact that I skipped a dose of the pain medication so I could stay awake (the medication wipes me out – if I take two pills in a day, I can sleep about 18 hours easily). I resumed taking my pain medication as soon as everyone went home, but the pain is still there. I think I’m on track to losing much of the use of my right arm. I’ll know Wednesday whether the decision regarding if and when I have to give up bowling has been made for me. My concern is that this might mean I lose knitting, too. Maybe I can outrun it, get my projects done before my arm gives out. I can do that, right?

A Tangled Skein

This skein of yarn will be a pair of socks. Soon. It started out as a reasonably well-behaved skein, waiting in my sock yarn cabinet. Yes, my sock yarn has its own space, separate from the regular yarn – I don’t want the other yarn to feel fat. The lace-weight is clearly anorexic and the rest of the yarn just feels sorry for it.

I got this brilliant idea to make a pair of socks for a friend, with the intention of giving one to her on her birthday and one on Christmas (these events are days apart). I have to make two, so they count as two separate presents. I thought the idea might be hilarious, but maybe you have to be a knitter to find humor in that.  She has identical taste to me, and she loves my knitting, but doesn’t knit herself. So, I have no qualms about using my precious Malabrigo yarn to make her a pair of socks. In fact,  I was thrilled to be making these for her so that she may all at once learn the wonder that is Malabrigo and the superiority of hand-knit socks. The plan was just so perfect. Who knows, maybe these socks will inspire her to ask for knitting lessons…

As soon as I had the information I needed to make the socks, I ran upstairs to search for this yarn. I put it on my swift so I could wind it into a ball, but then it started to misbehave. The end tied to my ball winder kept catching in odd ways on the rest of the skein, and at some point the yarn became wrapped around the swift itself. I had to disconnect the swift from my table to get the yarn off, and then I had to commence the task of untangling the skein and winding the ball by hand. This bit is significant because, if all goes well, it takes maybe two minutes to wind a perfectly behaved skein into a ball. The above mess took about twelve hours total of my and Julie L’s time. Despite the fact that it took a lot of my time and that of my friend, the end result will benefit someone else, and that gives me great pleasure.

As soon as this happened, I saw the metaphor of my current life situation in the whole thing. Some people would see this mess and decide it wasn’t worth their time. The yarn would be discarded or given away. Others, like me, see the value behind the surface mess and will patiently pick at the knots until it has all been straightened out again. Not unlike what I’ve been doing with the CFS/ME thing.

I found the website for Dr Cheney (who linked CFS/ME to diastolic cardiomyopathy). He listed some blood tests that he would want a patient coming to him to have completed ahead of time for the sake of speeding up the part where he starts treating her (I say her because CFS/ME predominantly strikes women). I showed this to Dr B, who enthusiastically went along with the idea of running these tests.

We only did a small subset of these tests so far, including the tests for CMV, VIP, MSH, and C4a. CMV is Cytomegalovirus, which is one of the herpes viruses implicated in triggering or occurring opportunistically in CFS/ME. VIP measures the status of part of the autonomic nervous system (specifically for me, it can explain why my circadian rhythms do not exist). MSH measures the status of the hypothalmus (and in my case, would explain my lack of appetite). The first three tests came back abnormal, even by the lab standards: CMV is high, and the others are low. This is good news, because we finally have something we can work on. The particular way these tests are abnormal pointed us toward mold illness. The idea is that for some reason, certain people are really sensitive to the toxins released by mold. I’ve lived in humid environments for most of my life, and I could always tell you if a building had mold in it as soon as I walked in because I would have trouble breathing (and a few other, less prominent symptoms). If mold spores got into my lungs or heart (moist, dark environments are great for fungal growth), well, it would make sense that I would continue to have exposure symptoms despite having being away from mold-infested buildings. So, according to these tests, I have an active CMV infection and mold toxicity – so we’ve found two contributing factors to my illness.

So, a couple of knots untied, right? Well, the C4a test was delayed. If it were high, it would indicate that I was having inflammation due to mold biotoxins. When the results finally came in, they were in the lower third of the normal range, the opposite of what we would have guessed given the previous results. We’ve encountered yet another knot in this tangled yarn.

It is very easy to get frustrated with all of this. When we finally seem to be getting somewhere, I get a test back that tells me I was barking up the wrong tree after all. I know my CFS/ME isn’t from a single cause, but rather the fact that just enough bad things came together at the same time. What gets me through is treating each aspect as we find it. I kind of don’t care that I am either not getting better or only getting marginally better, I just want to feel like I’m still working on it. I keep seeing people posting pictures of the path to success on Facebook, and they look just like the tangled skein of yarn at the top of this page. I guess I have to believe that if I keep untying one knot at a time, eventually I’ll achieve success and untangle the illness.

There has been one bright spot, though. Dr B told me that all the research I’ve done has helped him with some of his other, more difficult to diagnose patients. He wanted me to know that even if I haven’t had a whole lot of success, my work has taught him things that allowed him to better help other patients. Just like the socks, I put in a whole lot of work to benefit someone else. Maybe that’s not so bad.

A few endings

My life seems to be about endings right now. Some are good, some are bad, and some just are. I’m not sure if that’s contributing to the way I feel, but right now, I’m right back where I started over a year ago. I’ve had the slow onset of emotional instability, followed by crushing fatigue and depression. The physical pain is getting bad again, I want to be dead, my brain is only working at its slowest possible pace… it’s all just going down hill.

Like I said, there are some good endings. I finished Alexis’s sweater for when I see her at Christmas. Julie L helped me find the cutest buttons that I believe make the whole project.

Now I’m working on booties to add to the baby hat and mittens set I made for Vickie. I’m also working on a sweater for Blaine and a blanket for another friend who is expecting a baby in the summer.

My back yard has turned into a beautiful fall scene. I do adore summer, though, and it just signals the end of my favorite season.

(click to enlarge)

There is one ending, however, that is currently devastating me. I’m not sure if it’s contributing to my current state of decline, but I wouldn’t doubt it. On Monday, I have my last appointment with Dr B. Normally, this wouldn’t be such a big deal. I’ve had a lot of doctors come and go, and I’ve had a lot of friends move (and I’ve done so myself). But this time, it’s so very different.

When I got sick nearly a year and a half ago, Dr B was there to watch my decline and try to help me through it. Through the process he became like family. He didn’t try to treat me like a science experiment like the doctors I am seeing now are doing.  Unlike my other doctors, he worries about how side effects and risks of diagnostic procedures are going to impact my life. It genuinely upset him when he thought I might suicide. He was never content to just tell me that he had no idea what was going on and that I had to live with it. He kept trying. That persistence on his part helped me stay focused on my goal of getting better, helped me to believe that maybe I could get through this. And as insignificant as this might seem, he was simply there to hold my hand through the whole thing. It might seem odd, but I am not at all afraid of this illness, or the possibility it could kill me, or anything like that – I’m simply afraid of going through it alone. Afraid of going through it with doctors who are cold and uncaring, putting me through pointless procedure after pointless procedure, telling me maybe I have a psychiatric disease or that I need to exercise more despite that fact that it makes me worse (I do think that part of my current decline is the exercise program the cardiologist started me on). I’m afraid of never getting better and vanishing into obscurity. I’m afraid no one will notice my absence. I’m afraid no one notices now.

Dr B will still be with me, sort of. We’re going to keep in touch, on more of a peer-to-peer level. It’s fantastic, and he couldn’t have handled it any better, but the fact remains that even with all the technology we have, it won’t be the same. I talk to my friends on Facebook all the time, but it isn’t a substitute for seeing them in person. I feel pretty darned isolated in my current condition. I don’t know what it is about that person to person interaction, but it matters. Heck, I adore my brother and his family, but between visits, it seems as if they don’t exist. I don’t live near family, and save for my brother, I don’t seem anyone all that often. We just aren’t a connected bunch. That’s why losing Dr B is so devastating – I feel like another family member is just… leaving.

I’ll get through it, or I won’t. There is no point in worrying how it will turn out. It’s only the here and now that matters, and it sucks. <groan>

Knitting Break

I need a break from my life right now. My health is my life, and I just need some time to not think about it. Easier said than done, I’m aware, but I want more in my life than doctors appointments and disease/treatment research.

For several weeks now, I’ve had foster kittens. I haven’t had the energy to post about them, and Michael has been involved in most of their care, but they’ve been here. In order, we have Caylus, Collete, Demi, and Raven.

The kittens have been really healthy, and all of them are about as sweet and affectionate as you could want.

I’ve also done some knitting. I have several projects with deadlines, so I’ve been focused on them. First, I made a hat and mittens for my friend Vickie’s expected baby. I might make some booties to go with these – I haven’t decided yet. I want something the baby can wear right out of the hospital first, then I’ll see if I can make something that she can wear as she grows a bit.

I’m also working on a “yarn shirt” for my niece Alexis to wear at Christmas. A few years ago, when I was living in San Francisco, I taught Alexis to knit. We later went walking past a yarn store, and Alexis got incredibly excited when she saw a sweater in the window – “That’s a yarn shirt!” We managed to get together again later on, and Alexis informed me that I need to knit her a sweater. I love that she wanted something made by me, so I’ve finally gotten on it. I intend to give it to her as a Christmas present. I’m also going to make a sweater for her brother, but that hasn’t been started yet.

The pattern is a DROPS pattern, labeled s15-7. I’m knitting it in O-wool Balance, pink and green. I’ve made a few modifications, most notably that I am knitting it in stockinette rather than reverse stockinette. I’ve never really liked the reverse stockinette stitch as the public side of a garment, so there you have it. I’m hoping the sweater comes out a little big so she can wear it for a relatively long time, but we’ll just have to see.

I don’t have the focus to knit as much as I’d like, and I had to abandon a shawl I was designing, but I’ll get back to it. At least I hope.

A Little Faith

This week has been brutal, no doubt about it. I have a lot more going on than I normally do, and a little bit of Murphy’s law kicked in while I’ve been trying to juggle it all.

On Monday I went out to run errands, despite the fact that I had been up since 2:30 in the morning. I had appointments to make later in the week, and since I was traveling on Thursday, I needed to get out at the first opportunity.  The day went as well as could be expected, and when I got home around 3:00, I wanted to collapse. Of course, since I had babies at home, it wasn’t an option – I had to feed the babies first. Inky (the little black one), Misti (the grey one) and Muffin (the black and white one) all came out for their bottle. After feeding the first three kittens I found Bear (the bigger black one) sleeping in his carrier. That’s pretty common for a kitten to sleep so hard he misses the fact that everyone else is screaming for the bottle. I woke Bear up, and he nursed for a moment before giving up. I re-fed everyone else, then realized that Bear was sleeping in my lap. Concerned, I placed him on the floor and tried to get him to walk – he was ataxic (medical for “walking like he’s drunk”). I immediately put Bear in the car and rushed him to the shelter.

The shelter staff took Bear into the back to begin rescue procedures. As I was waiting for them to update me, my cell phone rang. Normally I don’t take phone calls from anyone other than Michael when I’m busy, but an instinct told me to pick up the phone this time. The caller was a casual friend of mine who happened to adopt Donald from the last litter of foster kittens. I didn’t blog about these kittens, I realized. It was in November or December, and mostly Michael was caring for them since I really couldn’t.

These are Donald, Goofy, Ariel, and Jasmine. Poor Donald was really sick, but he pulled through and became the sweetest little guy! Goofy died, though. He had a case of megacolon – his intestines stopped working and he got so constipated that he couldn’t be unblocked and they had to put him down. It was incredibly sad.

Back to the present: My friend had just moved into a new place over the weekend, so Donald was already a little scared. When the pizza guy came by to deliver dinner, Donald snuck out of the house. On Monday, a little girl brought Donald back to his home, but Donald was in bad shape. The little girl witnessed one of the neighborhood boys stomping on Donald. My friend was in a panic, not sure what to do. I instructed her to take him to the emergency vet. When a cat is injured like that, even if you can’t find broken bones, it’s important to make sure there’s no internal bleeding or something. I also advised her to call the police – that kind of animal abuse is a crime. Since I was at the shelter, I had an animal control officer set up a case for her. The bottom line is that Donald is ok now, but the little girl’s mother made her change her story to protect the boy who hurt the cat, so it appears there will be nothing done about the abuse. Great, that mother just taught her daughter several very bad lessons – it’s ok to hurt animals, don’t report crimes, and lie when questioned by the authorities. I hate people.

As for Bear: the shelter kept him overnight on IV fluids. They returned him to me the next day, telling me I just hadn’t fed him often enough. I try not to take comments like that personally. First of all, I’ve been doing this for a long time – I know how often to feed kittens. It was his regularly scheduled feeding time, and the other kittens were just fine. Second, when I told the vet how many kittens I’ve fostered (almost 250 now), she said I’d seen far more of them than she had. The vet was young, probably fresh from vet school. She really had no idea what she was talking about. I decided that I would just monitor him more closely for awhile. He’s been fine since the incident, so I just chalked it up to the fact that sometimes kittens crash and even die for completely unknown reasons.

As of right now, the kittens are great! They have started eating just a little bit of wet food mixed with milk. They are still eating the dry food as well. They use the litter box, and play just as I expect. Misti even made friends with Duck.

Duck was afraid of the kittens when they couldn’t really get around, but now that they are no longer infants, Duck thinks they make great playmates.

I’m plugging along on my knitting WIPs. I finished one of Robert’s boot socks with the intention of sending it off to him to be fitted. I later decided that I would like to have the socks together so I can just make them match, and if I have to rip them back and re-knit them I’ll count it as another project for my goal of finishing up the WIPs.

I’m pretty happy with the way the first one turned out.

I know a lot of people have been waiting for the health update, so here it is:

On Thursday, I got on a plane for Burbank to see a woman (we’ll call her H – she isn’t a doctor, but she has a bachelor’s degree in biology) who specializes in non-cognitive biofeedback. I’ll be the first to admit, this diagnostic method seems a little… exotic. In theory, this machine can read meridians in the body and tell where your body is stressed. I went into it with a healthy dose of skepticism, but I thought that since no other diagnostics were really telling me anything (the antibody tests Dr B ordered came back negative, but there were other things I’ll get to in a minute), well, I had nothing to lose.

One of the first things the machine told her was that I was severely hypoglycemic. I already knew that – the tests that Dr B ran showed that my hemoglobin A1c levels (a measure of your average blood sugar over the long-term) were too low. Also, when I got out of the car at the airport, I wasn’t feeling right. Although I didn’t have the right symptoms for hypoglycemia (sweating, dizziness, trembling – all adrenal responses), I immediately got out the blood glucose meter and checked my blood sugar. The meter read 45, and it reads 15-20% high, which means that my real blood sugar was between 36-39. That fits the clinical definition of hypoglycemia. This was the most severe hypoglycemic event I’ve ever had, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to correct it well enough to fly. Fortunately, I had the foresight to bring candy canes left over from Christmas with me, and they worked. Crisis averted. The scary part is, other than just a vague sense that something was wrong, I had no symptoms. If my blood sugar gets too low and I am unaware, I could have seizures or even go into shock or a coma. That’s just such bad news.

The question is not whether I am hypoglycemic or not, it’s why am I hypoglycemic? The first thing the machine told H is that I have a massive infection. I’ll go more into detail about it later this week, after I speak with Dr B about the results. Overwhelming infection can most definitely cause hypoglycemia – in fact, that’s the most common cause I’ve seen for the death in my foster kittens (infection culminating in irreversible hypoglycemia). The next thing that came up is that I’ve had a large pesticide exposure. That one baffles me – mostly, I eat organic food now, and I wash my fruits and veggies before eating. Maybe it’s the flea medication I’ve used on foster kittens when I lived in San Francisco? She also noted that I had a high insulin load, but she attributes it to insulin resistance (which I am still not sure about – I have been on a diet that should reduce the resistance, and a lot of the supplements I am on also have that effect). There were other things that came up, but we aren’t dealing with them right now. H says that if we change too many things at once, we could do more harm than good.

I’ve invested in books about treating hypoglycemia, and after reading them, I’m sure that this is the cause of my fatigue. I’m still not sure of all of the reasons for the hypoglycemia, and there may be many. Still, this is MAJOR progress, and I’m feeling optimistic that it can be sorted out now. There is a very real risk that I might not survive long enough to get better, but if I’ve lived this long with an infection of the magnitude H describes, well, I must be a sturdy sort.

I also learned from reading the books (Hypoglycemia for Dummies and a textbook written in the UK called Hypoglycaemia in Clinical Diabetes (Practical Diabetes)) that not all doctors believe that hypoglycemia can exist in patients who are not taking insulin. Really? The textbook repeatedly states that hypoglycemia in non-diabetics is rare and practically dismisses the possibility, but I attribute that to the fact that the book specifically explores the condition in diabetic patients (I got the book because I wanted to understand the mechanisms of hypoglycemia, and it does do that). According to Hypoglycemia for Dummies, even the doctors who believe hypoglycemia can exist in non-diabetic patients don’t believe that diet has an effect on the condition. Again, really? I guess it explains why no one ever talked to me about low blood sugar before. Every doctor I’ve ever seen has been focused on my family history of diabetes (both types) and has consequently been worried about high blood sugar (which I have never demonstrated, but I do have signs of high insulin). It’s the same as the blood pressure – they get all over my husband for being mildly hypertensive, but no one ever bats an eye at the fact that my blood pressure is too low. I’m just going to put this out there for medical professionals to ponder: “There is a functional range out there, people. With a high and a low. Both ends need to be attended to.”

This week, in addition to preparing to travel to San Francisco, I am going to read as much as I can about hypoglycemia and I’m going to discuss what I’ve learned from the books and from H with my doctors. By Wednesday I should have the information I need to discuss what I’ve learned with you in much better detail. No matter what, I’ll check in so those of you following the health crisis know what’s happening.

Unexpected Breakthroughs

I’ve had quite a few surprises since I last posted, most of them good, but a few not so much.

The kittens have gotten to the point where they can use a litter box, if they are so inclined. I planned to put them in their “crib” on Saturday (the crib is a large plastic bin with wheels – it’s bigger than the the cat carrier, but it still keeps the little dudes contained and out of trouble) and introduce a litter box. When I woke up, Michael had already moved the kittens to the crib. Good deal. The little girls have sprouted their milk teeth as well, and have shown an interest in eating softened Baby Cat kitten food. They are mostly on the bottle at this point, but it’s nice to see them try food without being forced. At the first feeding since the kittens were moved to the crib, I noticed one of the black boys (we’re calling the larger one Bear and the smaller one Inky) squatting in the litter box. “No way,” I thought, but when he moved, there was the clumped up cake of cat litter (corn based litter, for those who worry). The next morning I noticed a lot of little pee spots in the litter box, so it seems that they all know how to use it. What a great development! These are the easiest bottle-feeders I can recall having.

I’ve achieved my goal of finishing three WIPs to account for the sock I cast on. The good news is, I’m not feeling the itch to cast on a new project – in fact, I’ve been content to finish old ones. As part of my second wave of projects that must be completed before casting on a new one, I’ve made progress on Robert’s boot socks. I was planning to work on the hemp shopping bag as well, but I just wasn’t feeling the project, so I switched it out for the beach skirt that I am designing. The newly cast on socks are part of the three active projects as well. I am doing a lot of traveling, so it’s nice to have that small project to carry around.

I decided that the circle rug did indeed need a border after all. I figured that if I kept thinking about it and feeling guilty for not adding a border, then that meant it was needed. The border helped to soften the edge I left when joining the long strip.

I also finished the Everyday Tweed sweater. This is one of the less pleasant surprises of the week. I made a small size and I followed the pattern. I even made the slightly differing dye lots work with a bit of fancy color work. Still, the sweater didn’t come out right. Somehow, it’s too large around the neck and upper back – the fabric actually bunches up and folds over at the top. It looks nice, though, so maybe I’ll wear it around the house over another shirt on cold days. <sigh>

(the comic is “Rhymes with Orange”)

I also achieved another goal that wasn’t on my list, but it’s something I’ve been trying to achieve for about two years now. (click to enlarge)

I finally broke 200 in bowling! Sweet! My next bowling goal is to get a clean game.

I’ve saved the best for last – I think we’ve finally had a breakthrough in figuring out what is wrong with me. It’s kind of a long story, but I’ll tell it as concisely as possible.

Earlier this week I watched an old episode of Mystery Diagnosis that has been waiting around on my TiVo. Ever since the onset of my Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, I’ve tried to get as much information as possible about what could be wrong, both by actively researching my symptoms and by just putting myself in the way of information. The episode I watched was about a kid who kept having hypoglycemic episodes. His were far more severe than mine – he actually had to be hospitalized for his condition. It turned out that he has a genetic condition that causes his pancreas to produce a lot of insulin, regardless of how much he needed to deal with the sugar in his blood.

I thought about my symptoms, and after assembling the puzzle pieces, some things started to make sense. I had a strong reaction to the new supplement. My primary care physician thought it had to do with the ATP in the supplement (ATP is the currency your body uses to transfer energy). I guess that I had so very little ATP that the small amount in the supplement was overwhelming to my body. Well, then I had to wonder, why am I not making ATP? My chiropractic endocrinologist/nutritionist then began to suspect mitochondrial malfunction, and ordered tests for antibodies for that, and a few other things. Those have not come back yet, as far as I know. Working from his theory, I researched what else might cause mitochondrial malfunction. At some point it became obvious – how can the mitochondria produce energy if they aren’t getting the fuel needed to do their job?

I have three known conditions: Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (also known as PCOS, which is basically early type 2 diabetes: the patient is declared insulin resistant, but I am coming to suspect that insulin resistance may not be the only cause of the syndrome), Hashimoto’s disease (autoimmune low thyroid) and immune system malfunction (overactive, generally). Of these conditions, the one to look at is the PCOS. What if the syndrome is not caused by insulin resistance, but overproduction of insulin? What if I make too much insulin, just like the boy on Mystery Diagnosis, and when I eat, the blood sugar does not get into the cells like it should, and is instead whisked away into storage before I get the chance to use it. It would be like putting so much of your paycheck into savings that you have little to no spending money, to the point where you can’t even pay your bills. I’ve always had high triglycerides, which are your body’s way of storing excess blood sugar. It’s a form of bad cholesterol (sugar combined with some fatty acids).

I brought the idea to the chiropractic “endocrinologist” (I’m going to call him Dr. B), and he said that he had actually discussed that very same possibility with the chiropractic neurologist (Dr. A) the day before. There are several possible causes for the overproduction of insulin, but I only know of two: an insulin producing tumor (called an insulinoma) or a genetic predisposition to produce too much insulin.

Overproduction of insulin (also called hyperinsulinemia) would explain every single symptom I’ve had. The brain cannot store its own energy, so low blood sugar in the body means the brain isn’t getting enough fuel. A doctor on Mystery Diagnosis said that repeated and/or chronic hypoglycemia has the exact same effect on the brain as drowning and being revived repeatedly (because the brain doesn’t store oxygen either). That was the comment that led me to further explore the insulin problem.

I told Dr. B that I wanted to do an experiment. I said that I wanted to add complex carbohydrates to my diet (I’m supposed to be on a grain-free diet right now, per the neurologist, and this involves adding back grains) with protein to slow the absorption. The idea would be to monitor my blood sugar closely to ensure that I didn’t overdo it. I tried this experiment over the last four days (maybe three and a half – I didn’t wait for approval, I was really just telling him what I planned to do with the intention of stopping if he raised a compelling concern). On the first day, I started to sleep better (I now stay asleep rather than waking up repeatedly). On a later day, I started to feel actually refreshed after sleeping (for the longest time it was just like I lost consciousness for a few hours, and when I awoke I was just as tired as when I fell asleep). I’m still sleeping a lot, but I think that’s because I have an enormous energy debt to pay back to my body, and it will take time to do that.

The catch is, I don’t think I can keep this diet up forever. If I do, my triglycerides are likely to go back up, increasing my risk for heart disease. Dr. B is concerned that the carbohydrate load will stimulate even more insulin production, and if that happens, it will eventually become impossible to keep up with it. What I really need to do is find the cause of the high insulin load, and treat that. Depending on the cause, that can be tricky business, and it may mean surgery. But this is getting a little too far ahead – I haven’t confirmed that my (our?) suspicion about the insulin production is correct. It could just be really strong insulin resistance as well (the idea being that insulin tries to get the blood into the cells, but it can’t so it stores it instead. I’ll explain that further if it becomes the operating theory). I foresee a lot of testing in my future.

The Big Apple

I have started traveling again. Not that I am in top form for traveling, but I went to New York City this week because Michael went for business (click here to see him on CNBC), and I didn’t want to pass up to opportunity to go again. He went earlier this year when I first fell ill, and I was just so sad that I couldn’t be there. I was determined not to miss this chance, even if it meant paying a price.

It has occurred to me that I like traveling to big cities to eat. Yes, there are other things to do in these big cities, but in general a restaurant cannot survive in a big city if it is not good. It’s also relatively easy to find things that I can eat. I am supposed to be on a diet consisting of protein and veggies only, but I’ve had to add carbs in to deal with the repeated bouts of hypoglycemia. It’s also harder to eat out when you live in the suburbs because you mostly run into chain restaurants that feature carbs as their primary dishes, with limited selection of food that isn’t in that category. In the cities though, no problem.

The first night we went to a Brazilian restaurant called Ipanema. I was saving myself for dinner that day, eating only what I needed to control my blood sugar before my arrival in NYC. I had their chicken sautee (their spelling) with tropical fruits, french fries, and mashed potatoes. The latter two were not part of my list, but I had been walking a lot and the carbs were very helpful in my recovery. The food was just so good! I went to bed early and happy.

View from the hotel. It’s so high up that the scene looks unreal.

The next day I had trouble waking up at a decent hour. I woke up in the middle of the night, unable to return to sleep, and so the end result was about a 2:00pm wake-up time. Still, we managed to get a few things done. First, Michael and I went to the Carnegie Deli. The place has been there forever. We visited the deli on our last trip to New York, back when I lived in San Francisco. I remembered that they had ginormous sandwiches, stuffed with more meat than a reasonable person could handle. This time, I ordered just the contents of the sandwich, no bread. This fit perfectly in my diet:

(click to enlarge)

I had the meat and the pickles in the middle pictures. The Melo Sandwich (the really tall one) was ordered by someone else seated at our table. The deli is just so crowded all the time that customers are squeezed in at cafeteria style tables spaced no farther apart than airline seats. It made for the opportunity to meet some other tourists who came in from Los Angeles. They gave us recommendations about which plays were good to see right now. What luck!

After lunch, Michael and I headed to Times Square to buy theater tickets and just be tourists. The thing that struck me when we arrived in Times Square was the massive volume of advertising. I mean, look at this:

At night, there are so many lights in Times Square that it looks like daylight. It’s just incredible how much advertising surrounds you.

Michael and I chose to see “How to Succeed at Business Without Really Trying” starring Daniel Radcliffe. The play also featured John Laroquette and a voiceover by Anderson Cooper. It was nice not to have a preconceived notion of what we wanted to see when we went out, and I’m glad we saw this particular play – I’m not sure I would have chosen it on my own without knowing who was starring in it and without the recommendation from the other tourist at lunch. I will say that it took Daniel Radcliffe a while to warm up, but as the play went on he got a lot better. In the end, there was a large dance number, and I’ll tell you, the guy can dance! He’s a technically good singer as well, but there was something missing from his voice – perhaps some experience or maturity. He’ll get there, I think. All-in-all, I liked the play. Oh, and to the knitters: this play contains knitting!

Michael filmed the segment I linked to in the first paragraph on Wednesday. I thought I’d take some time to find a yarn shop, maybe visit a chocolate shop I had seen on a previous night, and take a gander at a store whose display window was filled with duckies (my new obsession, since I got my kitten) while he was working. Instead, I was startled when my cell phone rang at 3:30pm and Michael said he was coming back to the hotel. I had slept through the day. What’s more, when I woke up, I was sore everywhere. I think I managed to forget for a while that I am still sick.

I loaded up on caffeine and supplements while Michael made his way back to the hotel. Since I was feeling at least able to leave the room, we went to a Spanish restaurant and ate artichokes with garlic and tomatoes in a vinaigrette sauce, a potato casserole, and paella (not exactly good for my diet, but definitely good since we were doing all that walking). Our late arrival at the TKTS office made it impossible for us to see any of the other plays we had considered the day before, so Michael and I opted to go to a comedy club instead. I had a great time there. We were seated front and center, and most of the comedians made fun of my cloak. I was called a high priestess, a wizard, and a Jedi. One guy made reference to rolling dice… if only he knew. I liked one of the comedians – he asked if Michael and I were married. Yes. He then asked how long. Eight years. “How old are you?” he demanded of me. Thirty. “There is no way you’re thirty. I figured nineteen or twenty at the most.” Nice guy.

I had trouble sleeping for more than a few hours that night, even though I fell asleep at 11:30pm. I ended up waking up at 2:30 in the morning and staying awake until I got on the plane. I slept the entire flight home, at least. When we got home, I ate something and laid down on the sofa until about 6:00pm. I’ve been up since.

I’m tired, sore, sleepless, and I have a long day tomorrow. I have to pick up lab work requests from my doctors (there are new theories about autoimmune diseases given that my eyes have been burning for a month and I got a “sunburn” despite not seeing the sun), I’m getting an adjustment, and then I have an appointment for an MRI in the afternoon. I was hoping that I was getting better, but I think this trip just reminded me that I’m still not well. I sincerely hope to recover quickly because my friend Vickie is driving down from Wyoming to see “Avenue Q” with us, and she will be staying through the weekend. She knows what I’ve been through, though, and I know she will understand. Regardless, I want to be able to function.

I have more travel scheduled this month. In two weeks I am going to Los Angeles on a day trip so I can try a new diagnostic procedure. I can’t wait to share what I come out of that with – who knows, maybe it will be that missing answer. I’m also going to San Francisco about a week and a half, maybe two weeks after that. I really need to get better so that these trips don’t kill me. Wish me luck.

A Bump in the Road

I’m not sure if it’s just this way for me, or for everyone, but I can’t recall a single road I’ve traveled that didn’t have a few bumps along the way. Even when I was a kid and played on the Slip ‘N Slide (remember these?), I would manage to catch the only rock under the plastic. I’ve thought about this a lot lately, and even the things that I felt came easily to me were actually quite difficult roads. Yes, maybe I was an A-student in grade school, but I had to do that while changing schools multiple times, sometimes in the middle of the school year. Taking care of kittens comes naturally to me – I hand-raised my first one when I was thirteen years old – but there have been quite a few deaths along the way. We won’t even go into all the yarn craft mistakes I’ve made.

I have mixed feelings about this. Sometimes I have to wonder, “Why me?” just like anyone else might. What did I ever do to deserve that nothing should just simply work out, the way it does for my husband. On the other hand, I do rise to every challenge, and that is one quality that I actually like about myself. I never assume something is too hard until I try and fail. I don’t like the failing, but I’m not afraid for it to happen.

That said, I’ve been plugging away at my WIP list. It’s the only goal I’ve been managing lately, but I’ve also gotten into a spring cleaning phase that was never an explicit goal, but should have been. I guess it all evens out. As for the WIPs, I’ve finished two (I think) projects this week.

1. The Monkeys are finished! One of them has a tighter cuff than the other, but I can get it on my foot, and that’s all that matters. I now have three pairs of hand-knit socks in my drawer. Now that I live somewhere with snow, the wool socks just seem that much more valuable to me.
2. I finished the circular rug! Well, maybe. The pattern calls for a border, but I’m not sure I want to put one on. I can’t decide if it’s laziness or if I really think it looks good without one. The cats think it’s great the way it is, but I want to make sure that the friend for whom I made it will like it just as much.

The circle rug was surprisingly tough project to sew up. Setting aside the fact that I hate sewing in the first place, I just made so many mistakes.

As I was sewing the rug up, it seemed to go ok, until I looked at it from the side.

The center just rose right out of the rug, like a giant nipple.

I understand geometry, so I should have been able to head this off at the pass. In the beginning, I joined the garter ridges in a one-to-one ratio. The problem is that ratio makes a shape that resembles a cylinder more than a circle (think socks); hence, the bump. The solution is to join more garter ridges from the outer, un-joined part of the strip to a single ridge in the inner portion. It’s a bit of an art to figure out just how many to join, but it’s mostly just math. Pi is 3.14: therefore I should have started by joining three outside ridges to one inside. I didn’t think of that right away, and instead joined two to one. I got this:

It’s more like a zit than a nipple now. Not perfect, but much better.

The art of the joining lies in the fact that I’m making a spiral. Elizabeth Zimmerman designed a pi shawl that spaces increases regularly throughout the project, resulting in a circle. Unlike the shawl, there aren’t distinct rings in the circle rug, so I had to judge where and how I should increase largely by feel. When I crochet, this is simple: every row is increased by the same number of stitches. If I start out with six stitches, the next row should have twelve, then eighteen, then twenty-four, ad infinitum. I can mark each row, even if I do it in a spiral instead of distinct rings, and  make it work mathematically. Somehow, even though I know I should be able to solve this with math, I could not apply the same logic to sewing up a pre-made garter stitch strip. No matter, the rug is finished now and I declare it good enough. Moving on.

Although it’s not finished, I have made progress on the Everyday Tweed sweater. I managed to deal with the slightly different dye lots in the yarn by separating the differently colored sections with a band of color work. I’ll reveal it when I’ve finished.

Now, I know I made the rule about finishing three projects before I cast on a new one. There’s a little stumbling block in that plan, too. Michael and I are going to New York City next week for a business trip, and I’d like to have socks to knit on the plane. I’ll bring the sweater with me as well, but in coach class seats, it’s much easier to work on something small like socks. I’m a little ashamed of myself, but as long as the sweater is completed before the socks, I think I can justify the premature cast-on.

There has also been a bump in my road to recovery. For most of last month, I was doing comparatively well. Sure, I had to increase my dose of the new supplement by a little bit a few times during a week, but I could make it so I had the energy for just a few hours a day to focus and complete long-neglected tasks. My doctor noted a lot of changes in me as well – he said he could see the improved mental clarity, my posture and mannerisms changed to reflect a more serene mind, and he noticed I was more willing to stand up for myself. As of a week ago, I noticed I was feeling a little more run-down despite all my efforts: I figured it was just because I was acting on my new found energy and I just needed to build up endurance.  Alas, it is not so. Last week, the fevers started coming back with increasing duration and frequency. I had to lie down and rest more. This weekend a whole new symptom popped up. A friend pointed out on Friday that my face started to turn red at the same moment as I noticed my temperature rising. The next morning, I noticed that when my fever restarted I had what looks like a light version of the malar rash associated with lupus (an endocrinologist ruled out lupus a few years ago, so it’s not that).  By the end of the day, my chest and arms looked like I had gotten a sunburn, despite the fact that I hadn’t been outside all day. It had mostly subsided by the time I woke up today, but I am willing to bet the redness will come back as I get more tired.

This setback is the reason I was reluctant to share my good news a few weeks ago. I didn’t want to put it in writing because I thought it might generate a little false hope on my part – and it did. Not so much that I am totally crushed by the recurrence of new, unexplainable symptoms, but I am disappointed. I thought I was finally on to something. I guess we are getting more clues, but it’s just so sad that the improvements don’t last long. On the other hand, it was great to have the reprieve. It tells me that I can feel good, it’s just a question of finding the cause and addressing it.

Goal Progress

I’ve spent this week learning what my limitations are despite my improvement in health. I’ve determined that if I have a big thing I want to accomplish, it has to be first thing in the day – that’s when I have the most energy, my supplements have the greatest effect, and I’m not sore (well, more so than the persistent pain) from trying to do things I’m just not ready for. I can accomplish one “big” thing in a day, but my definition of big had to be altered. Now big means going grocery shopping or assembling the shelves I bought yesterday. It used to mean spending all day painting the house or getting to that tiling project I’ve been excited about. Those things now fall into the “too-big-to-do-right-now” category.

I’ve also made a concerted effort to work on the list of goals I outlined a few days ago. I’ll re-list them here for comment.

1. Write a book. I have written part of one chapter. It is by no means a complete chapter, but it has been helpful with ironing out all of my feelings about where I just was and where I am going. 
   
2. Finish all of my knitting and crochet WIPs. I am almost done with the monkey socks. I decided to focus on something that I could easily bring with me to my appointments so I would have more time to put into the task. When I’m home, I’m trying to focus on cleaning my house. The place can get gnarly when you’ve only really been able to make the most basic things happen for half a year.
3. Do a wardrobe purge. This one is done! Michael and I both cleaned out our closets this morning, in fact. I had a surprisingly large amount of clothing to donate and an equally shocking pile of things that were too worn to donate and thus had to be trashed. It feels good to be rid of those things.
4. Blog more often. Well, obviously I am accomplishing this one. I only committed myself to once a week, but I am managing twice. Good for me!
   
5. Spin a skein of yarn. I haven’t really put much consideration into this one yet. I have a partially spun bit of roving from a long time ago that I’m hoping to make into the aforementioned skein. I like that I have a head start on the project. The only catch is that I’m not sure that I will be spinning the same way as before. I feel different, and it may affect how the wheel works for me.
   
6. Sort out my digital pictures. Yeah, this hasn’t even been on my radar. It will happen, since I want to put pictures on my walls. I also want to upload things to Facebook. I think the limiting factor here is that I cannot stay at my desk for too long – it hurts my back.

Ok, so I’m not useless. Not totally, anyway.

In other news – Duck got a job. I adopted him almost two years ago for his unusual temperament – he’s ultra self-confident, cute as all get-out, and patient with people. I had no idea that he would actually be useful. Here’s what happened:

If you follow me on Facebook, you know that I bowl every week in a league. Michael and I didn’t have a pre-organized team, so we were randomly placed with a few guys whom we didn’t know, but who quickly became our friends. The team consisted of a father/son pair (I’ll refer to the father as C and the son as T) and the son’s friend from work, K. This year, K decided not to bowl again, but we gained another teammate, B, whom we also like a lot. The cool thing about the league we are in is that the people  range widely in age. T is in his late 50′s, C is 81, and B is in his 60s or 70s. Michael and I are in our 30s, and there are younger people than us who also bowl. Not unlike the yarn craft community when it comes down to it, except that there are far more men than women in the bowling leagues.

This year, C has been having trouble with his shoulder. After being in pain for months, he finally went to a doctor and got devastating news: he has stage four cancer in his lungs, a rib, his lymph nodes, and his shoulder bone. His wife had also been diagnosed with lung cancer and was given six to nine months to live – that was three years ago.

The last six weeks or so have been exceedingly rough for C. His wife succumbed to the cancer right around the same time he started radiation. His family has come from other parts of the country to take care of him, but it’s a big job. I asked his daughter if I might be able to visit C at home since I hadn’t seen him at bowling in a long time. I thought it might cheer him up to have guests. She thought that would be a nice idea, so I came by on Friday to see how he was doing. When I got in the door, C asked “Did you bring your cats with you?” Had I realized he wanted to see them, of course I would have done so.

I then had a brilliant plan. Duck is a terrible traveler – he actually rolls over on his back when he’s in his carrier and kicks the top of it like a toddler having a temper tantrum all the way to our destination. So I thought maybe Ducky can be an animal assisted therapy cat for a while. He gets the practice making car trips, and C gets the opportunity to snuggle a soft kitty without the responsibility of taking care of it. I might get Buttercup involved, too. She travels just fine, save for the car sickness. Fortunately, C lives only two minutes away (according to my Nav system). Ooh – and maybe I can get to fostering again when we get back from our next business trip, and I can take kittens to C as well! How fun!

It’s a good thing for me, too. I don’t have a lot of energy, but I can certainly knit and talk to C at his house. I understand what he’s going through better than most, given that I’ve been incapacitated for a long time, too. Maybe we can help each other out of our respective rough patches. I think this will be good.