My Mea Culpa

I have to offer a mea culpa. I had no idea the over powering response I'd receive from my april fool's joke. I apologize for the hurt feelings. When I first started receiving responses, I thought the threats to stop reading were counter jokes! I do have a morbid sense of humor, but I'll be sure not to "go there" again.   .    On the flip side, thank you all for caring so much. I have been to the point where I was considering stopping treatment. I was at this point in december. I never announced how seriously I thought about the possibility of a world without me. At some point, that event, those feelings, need to be processed. It's easiest for me to make it into a joke, especially knowing how close I've been, and how close I could come again, to making the decision to limit treatment.       This has brought light to an important issue that I've avoided speaking publicly about, and that's where to draw the line in treatment.   Overwhelmingly society supports the fight the disease full throttle to the end mentality. Anything other than taking this route is considered "giving up.". I'm happy I consider this point "acceptance," and at that point, what else can you do but joke about the situation. Feeling obligated to accept harsh treatments knowing it will cause suffering and may have no results is becoming too much for my body and my psyche. It's become too much for my family to handle. When the stress and suffering of treatment outweighs the benefit and joy it can bring to my life and those I encounter, then I believe the treatment is extraneous, even if it's life saving. I don't think about the possibility of ending up where I was: where not a single organ system works without medication, where I can not complete the simplest task, like showering, without assistance, where every action is so taxing on my body I feel like I could die with any movement.  It's too much to think about and would infringe my enjoyment now.  . But I have had time to decide where I will draw some lines in my treatment and what I will and will not do.   . For example,  I do not ever intend on undergoing a lung transplant. I don't even know if I'd accept another wedge biopsy. I probably won't travel to germany or run all over kingdom come, bankrupting my family, and spending my time and energy focusing on the disease. . I like where I am now. My treatment takes into consideration the life I want to be living and enjoying while still receiving life extending treatment. It minimally disrupts x's schedule and I can still enjoy my family and friends.     The joke was a nasty social experiment but for a moment you all felt how we have dealing with the issue of what is giving up and what is receiving treatment while living what life I have. Anticipatory grieving is a huge part of chronic life threatening diseases, and everyone who has encountered me and enjoyed my company has probably grieved in anticipation of my possible loss.  . As of now, I have plans to continue with photopheresis and active intervention. I have no idea what my prognosis is but I'm happy taking it day by day.

Andy Update

I have aged 10 years in the past four months.

My hair is growing in gray.

My skin in my neck is soft and has developed lines, matching the jowls from my steroid swollen moon face.

I've gained thirty or forty lbs. When you gain that much that quickly, who really keeps count anyway?

I definitely feel like I've aged.

I haven't been carded since the weight and the grays appeared.

I'm easily mistaken for Lexi's mom (my ten year old niece), which in all our years together, I never have been.

I guess I couldn't look like a teenager forever, but did it really have to happen so quickly.

Four months is literally over night.

I've had so much happen recently, these morning quick dates just can't keep you updated.

Let's start with an Andy update.

For those of you who may not know, Andy is X's 6 year old best friend who was diagnosed with Leukemia (AML) about a month ago.

He's been undergoing chemotherapy at CHaD, but was able to come home for a while.

The first month of chemo put andy's leukemia into remission!

Don't get too excited, he still has a long path of treatment to go

It looks like the prep for the bone marrow transplant is going well.

During this period, he traveled to Boston for an assessment and his family signed his transplant consent sheets.

He is now back in the hospital receiving chemotherapy to keep him in remission.

The best chance for a cure happens when the patient receives the transplant while their disease is gone.

Luckily, the chemo to keep him in remission can be given at Dartmouth, close to home. He'll be in the hospital another 4 or 5 days then come home if everything goes well.

Please, everybody keep little Andy in your prayers and hearts.

I'm officially in the throws of treatment again. I'll post more on me later.

Prescription for Powerlessness

I had forgotten how empowering advocating for or speaking on behalf of something I really believe in is.

 If there was a medication specifically for me to treat powerlessness, the doctor would have prescribed speaking at the legislative session. 

Actually, the nurse practitioner probably would have written the script for that one. 

Powerlessness falls into the holistic realm, generally the NP's territory. 

It has been a long time since I was well enough to present myself alongside testimony. 

Usually the lack of breath or my treatment schedule force me into sending only written statements, but I love being present.

It's an experience unlike any other I've had before. 

The statehouse and legislative offices are gorgeous with intricate stone work and mementos from through out our states history. 

I feel regal just entering. I feel like the kids from chronicles of narnia when they crawl through the warddrobe and discover a whole different world when I open the doors and cross the threshold into the stately atrium with its flags and high ceilings. 

I feel like I have entered somewhere where my opinion counts and my disease is not just the cause of suffering, but a platform or sounding board to facilitate change.

I'd forgotten that feeling. 

It reminds me of me. 

I was excited waking up and having to get dressed in a classy business outfit with make-up with the intent of doing something meaningful and important.

Sweats are okay for most days.

Of course, the 30lbs I've gained from the steroids in the past couple months did cloud the experience a little. I certainly don't have business attire to fit this new body. 

When we finally found the exact room where the hearings were being held it was all ready filled with advocates: all sorts of people with opinions representing different organizations. The American Heart Association was present, as was The American Cancer Society, and NH's Citizen Alliance. Some groups had pins identifying themselves.

I have the option of meeting up with the group I'm speaking with before hearings. They have an office down the street from the Statehouse that reminds me of the advocacy agencies seen in Forest Gump. 

It's a great office space. It's meeting room is wood paneled with all sorts of posters plastered on the walls with different empowerment slogans.

I decided to brave the hearing and meet the other advocates there. I always write I'm representing myself as a patient other than an agency anyway.

I haven't done this much, but I was at least clever enough to sneak in and claim a seat quickly.

I would have liked to hear other people's testimony, but my appointment with my eye guru in Boston forced me to leave early.

Getting up to speak was more difficult than before. 

Last year, I could step up, remain standing, and project my statement head held high, shoulders broad projecting my voice in an attempt to convey that "I-am-a-wronged- patient-hear-me-roar."

 Now, I feel week. 

I need to focus on keeping my breath while I speak. I can feel my oxygen saturation dropping while I talk which brings on shakes and sweats. 

Maintaining eye contact and engaging the representatives was harder than before. I spent a lot of time reading right off the paper.

But I did it. I still did it. And it felt great.

Maybe next time, I will wear my oxygen. . . . or at least bring it.

Afterwards we jetted off to see Dr. Dana, the graft vs. host eye guru at Mass. Eye and Ear.

GVHD attacks my eyes so I experience extreme burning from lack of moisture, which he fixed by plugging my tear duct, again, and changes in vision from inflammation. My eyes get so inflamed and irritated the white cells start sloughing off and form a film layer over my eyeballs.

I, literally, see the world through a film. It's not rose colored.

Good news and bad news is, Dr. Dana has found the cure for graft vs. host eye problems.

I told you he was a genius.

It's a customized eye drop made specifically for each patient at Mass Eye and Ear.

The problem is it's expensive. I think about $300 monthly.

It's so expensive that we didn't even discuss the option at this appointment since the steroids have fended off the worst of the pain and I haven't been experiencing debilitating changes in my vision.

He recommended I start back on restasis, which is still expensive, but not unaffordable.

It's difficult hearing that I have the options to go blind or broke. I equate it to making the decision between food or heat. I need to choose between bad or worse, both options are needs. 

I'm saying this, but yesterday I was so excited after my talk that I broke the spending freeze I've held since Christmas (well, minus needs like food and clothes) and bought myself a folding camping hammock at Job Lots.

It comes with a convenient carrier case and folds up for easy transport, just like camping chairs.

Now I have the option to lie down and fall asleep where ever I go: X's games, friend's BBQs, outdoor concerts, the beach. All for the discount price of $40!

What more could a cancer patient want?

It was the perfect splurge for yesterday since somehow Boston reached 87 degrees!

That is just not natural, and nobody informed me of the apocalypse-type heat wave. I looked a little crazy stomping around in my boots. Luckily, I had a tunic to keep me cool. 

That all just goes with being a New England girl. Today, it's more pheresis. 

Damsel in Distress

I've been sleeping like a damsel in distress.

I sigh. I moan.

I roll over and raise the backside of my hand to my forehead in a sleepy swoon, like a fairy tale princess awaiting rescue by her prince.

Then I lie there in peaceful wait....... Or so it looks like I'm doing from the outside.

In reality, I am waking, slowly, and my worried have come flooding back before I've even opened my eyes, probably before I'm even completely out of the realm of sleep.

If anybody has ever wondered how I can remain happy-go-lucky, it's because I stress in my sleep.

Late at night, I'm too exhausted to concern myself with any of the problems that plague me, my family, or the world.

I don't toss and turn and worry like normal people.

Even if I did, I could medicate those problems away for a deep slumber.

But no, that's not what happens. Again, I'm backwards.

When I start to wake up, my problems enter my dreams. I get agitated. I start to toss and turn. Whatever subject bothers me the most enters my dream in some form or the other and continues until I'm awake enough to process the information on a conscious level.

Then I start worrying. I start getting anxious.

At this point it's time to get out of bed. There is no more sleeping.

If I'm lucky, this time is 6am.

I need to wake to confront my proverbial dragons.

What kind of fairy tale sleeping beauty would I be if I didn't have dragons?

It is definitely not time to get coffee or add any further stimulants.

I'm feeling the stress.

Thankfully, I have now tapered to 20mg daily of prednisone.

I no longer have 50 mg of that medication stimulating my adrenals making me feel like every second, at every turn, there is something that needs to be done immediately or the world will crumble beneath my feet.

I finally identified the overwhelming feeling causing this.

It's powerlessness.

I feel completely powerless, completely out of control of everything.

In times past, I would remedy this by searching for control, something, anything, to control.

That hasn't worked in the past for years.

I keep the serenity prayer in the back of my mind (have the courage to accept the things I can not change, etc.,etc.), and even farther in the back of my mind, I contend that I really have control over NOTHING and should just accept it.

I don't control my body. I don't control my emotions.

It is a scary feeling wanting to send a signal for your body to comply with every neuron, with every once of your psyche focusing, only to have your body continue to do what it wants.

This has all been made more difficult with my extreme bodily changes and the coup my treatment has staged on my life.

So what am I doing about it?

I'm adding more to the agenda.

Well, just for today I'm going to swing by the NH State House to advocate on behalf of two Senate Bills I personally believe strongly in Senate Bill 392 and 505.

Both, of course, deal with ironing out health care reform issues and have the goal of making the health care system more transparent in hopes of lowering costs while still providing efficient, quality care.

Senate Bill 392 (http://www.gencourt.state.nh.us/legislation/2010/SB0392.html) proposes, "The commissioner shall hold an annual public hearing concerning private and public health care payer costs and cost trends and health care provider costs and cost trends for the purpose of identifying and quantifying the factors that contribute to cost increases in health insurance premiums and health care services in New Hampshire."

It also states, "The commissioner shall prepare an annual report concerning health care cost drivers and cost trends."

The bill is meant to educate NH on factors driving health care costs so these factors can be addressed.

Knowledge is power people.

Believe it or not, previously, what each individual hospital paid to each individual insurance company was determined in closed door meetings between administrators. These negotiations were private knowledge allowing for a chest x-ray at two otherwise equal hospitals to range in price by hundreds of dollars.

It also allowed the uninsured to be charged higher rates than those with insurance as a sort of penalty for not being able to pay promptly.

Senate Bill 505 would establish a health care cost commission on health care cost containment and appropriating a special fund.

Wish me luck with this endeavor. I firmly believe that knowledge is power and through transparency in the system costs can be contained.

Check out my statement below for more details.

And no worries, i'm still going to sneak in some enjoyment.

J and I may stop to shop on our way to my appointment with graft vs. host eye guru Dr. Dana at Mass Eye and Ear.

You didn't really think I had a day just to galavant to the State House did you?

Senate Testimony

First things first, please take some time to view a newbie to the blogosphere: http://www.x-raytechnicianschools.org

Suzanne has posted a piece entitled 12 Diseases you may not know you have (http://www.x-raytechnicianschools.org/12-diseases-you-may-not-even-know-you-have/), outlining some insidious diseases with obscure symptoms that may go unrecognized.

More importantly, she's bringing attention to the need for more x-ray technicians and where anybody inspired can go to become educated in

this growing health care field.

Like nursing, x-ray techs enjoy a plethora of benefits, and who doesn't want to work with fabulous patients like me?

Below is my testimony for today. It's been a while, and I had to concentrate more on writing this piece than I have in the past, but hopefully it drives the point home.

Thank you for allowing me to offer testimony in support of Senate Bills 392 and 505. As a young wife, mother, Registered Nurse, and cancer patient I am very excited about the possible passage of the proposed bills.

In 2006, at the age of twenty-three, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. I felt reassured that my treatment would go smoothly since I had graduated number one in my class with a bachelor’s degree in nursing. I was employed as a critical care and emergency department registered nurse, and I had every insurance available to a young, nonsmoking health care profe

ssional with no pre-existing conditions. These insurances included a health care plan through my spouse, short term and long term disability insurance, and life insurance.

I was as educated and prepared for a health care catastrophe as any person could possibly be, especially at 23 years old. Even with me out of work, I was confidant my husband, an aerospace engineer could sustain the household.

In the past four years, I have had to wage a ba

ttle for my life, undergoing multiple rounds of chemotherapy, radiation, and two bone marrow transplants.

I have fought my cancer alongside another strenuous, uphill battle: a battle to sustain my livelihood due to astronomical healthcare costs.

Upon Diagnosis, I was making $65,000 yearly as an RN with shift differentials, over time, and bonuses. My base pay, however, was $36,900. When I became sick, short-term disability insurance covered 60% of my base pay.

My new, sick, yearly income equaled $22,140.

Immediately upon diagnosis, I took a $42,860 pay cut.

My very first procedure, the biopsy to confirm my diagnosis, reached my 2006 insurance deductable of $2500. We paid $250 monthly for coverage at that time or $5500 total yearly cost, excluding co-payments, co-deductable and other expenses.

My first year treatment costs were more than the entirety of my income.

Four years later, my insurance deductable is $4,000 with a monthly payment to maintain insurance at $400 for our family of three. Our family of three pays a minimum of $8800 yearly for healthcare.

This is a base health insurance increase of 65.2% in four years. This does not include co-payments, co-insurance, traveling, lodging, and other expenses.

During the same period, my income has not increased. Health care costs are driving us farther into debt.

Our yearly healthcare expenses average $20,000. My income for 2009 from Social Security Disability was $20, 562.

Statistically, when debt exceeds a person’s annual income, they are bankrupt and will never have the ability to repay debt. My health care costs alone almost exceed my total income from social security and could bankrupt my family.

This is for a family that is education in the health care system, has been employed in the health care system, and has complete insurance coverage.

It is imperative to patients like me that New Hampshire begins addressing health coverage costs and how these costs contribute to increased coverage premiums so we can fight our diseases with the safety net of fair, reasonable, and affordable insurance rates that allow us access to quality care.

SB 392 and SB 505 are important steps toward helping patients like me. Both bills move New Hampshire towards a transparent system where all parties have an avenue to understand and address system flaws and remedy them through open communication.

Transparency is a proven method of health care cost reduction. In the late 1990s Life Insurance Rates dropped drastically. Suddenly, American consumers were paying 1 billion less yearly for life insurance premiums.

A 1999 a study in “Political Economy” magazine researched the sudden drastic reduction in life insurance costs to consumers and concluded the cause was on-line comparison sites.

Suddenly, what was once a difficult task of comparing rates and benefits was easy.

Consumers could pick the best option for the best prices in under and hour.

Consumers were now informed and companies could no longer leverage their knowledge against the consumer’s fear of being unprotected.

The same similar phenomenon has been seen in the automobile insurance industry.

Senate Bill 392, through making repayment negotiations and reimbursement practices between different hospitals and insurance companies public knowledge, would provide policy makers, hospitals, insurers, patients, and all citizens with the information we need to understand the full range of factors causing the rise in health care costs and premiums.

Having this information hidden has allowed costs to fluctuate dramatically between otherwise equally qualified medical facilities to the detriment of the consumer, and at a price much higher than money, at the cost of our health, and at the costs of peoples’ lives.

Until we understand the full range of contributors to health coverage costs, we cannot determine how to address them. I support Senate Bill 392 in hopes of securing fair, equitable health care costs for all patients across all facilities.

I support SB 392 alongside SB 505.

The presentation of Senate Bill 505 and the proposed commission offers hope that patients like me will be given a public voice where we currently have none by creating an avenue that holds all parties within health care accountable for their practices.

Currently, any complaint that is filed with the insurer or hospital allows for possible, repercussions, such as the companies’ refusal to pay for or provide further needed medical treatment.

The commission could hold public hearings to allow citizens to state the reasonableness of rates and provide a safety net where there currently is none.

It would also ensure that rates are equitable for all insurers and that charges or actions are not discriminatory.

We patients would finally have a committee to advocate on behalf of us.

The Health Care Cost Commission in SB 505 would also establish and enforce a currently used, successful model of cost regulation from other states, such as Maryland’s commission that is estimated to have saved the state health care costs by as much as 40 billion, which is successful by making costs transparent among insurers and hospitals.

This action in Maryland has encouraged all parties to set prices based on cost of care vs. market rates.

A NH Health Commission could put theories into action to provide efficient, quality care at reasonable rates.

NH has the opportunity to protect our sick and make our state one of the best places to access healthcare in the country, and approving Senate Bill 392 and 505 would be a step in the right direction.

I, personally, thank you and appreciate the legislature’s efforts to make the health care system as efficient and effective as possible for patients/consumers like my family.

My Life has been hijacked

Treatment has hijacked my life!

The start was insidious like standing having the peaceful oceam waves wash rhythmically over your feet until after you've reached a point where you're comfortable relaxed, stable, and confidant in the pattern, confidant that the same lulling waves will come, then when you try to move, you realize underneath the peacefulness the undertow came in!

 You try to move and stumble from the current sweeping your feet away. 

You try to lift your foot and you can't because the water is sucking you down, trying to suck you under. 

Soon what was an relaxing routine turns into possibly fatal chaos. 

Right now, I feel like I'm stumbling around trying to gain my footing in the undertow. I haven't been sucked down.      

But I may be starting the long grudging walk towards a slight decline.

Only time will tell but I recognize this. I've seen it before. Been there. Done that. Maybe Doing it again. 

 I've been running myself ragged though trying to maintain my life, trying to juggle what I did a few weeks ago so effortlessly, trying to prioritize, trying to keep my life with the peace and happiness.  

I again have to reprioritize my life since my body is telling me, clearly, I can not do it all. 
If I want to maintain my social life, the house is going to suffer. If I want a happy spouse the house has to be kept tidy.
Of course, everything takes a back seat to my treatment schedule, which is all day weds, thurs, friday this week.
 Now, my body is  requiring naps again.
I was so tired sunday I slept through the playdate we were supposed to have with Andy and his mom. 
Then when Andy called, I picked up in my sleep and hung up on him.
 There is another quirky secret about me, I sleep talk, or so I'm told.
 I open my eyes. I look at you. I hold a conversation never to recall any of it.
Apparently, I answer phones too.
I feel terrible. Who wants to disappoint a sick kid? 
The exhaustion started friday. I had my central line readjusted, which required versed, a sedative for "conscious sedation".
This always knocks me out for the day. To wake up, I require active management. Someone needs to sit beside me, talk to me, feed me, shake me, whatever. But I was determined to enjoy the first BBQ of the season at Brynn and Jake's house.
I did my procedure, I did my pheresis, and I went out to the BBQ.
Did I stop the weekend there though? No, there were Easter egg hunts to conquer.
We were out the door the next day by 8:30 am for Charlestown's yearly hunt.
 Afterward Heather and I escaped quickly for some girl time and then I went home for a quick nap before going to set up for my friend's bridal shower.
Some things are worth sacrificing for and I knew I was going to kill myself getting this party ready.
But it was so worth it.
My friend and I started decorating at 3pm and the party lasted until 10pm.
WHOA, I've gotten to be a wild one, but X has decided to extend my curfew until 9pm now.
If you look at the time, I blew curfew again this past weekend by showing up at home after 10pm. He was concerned the Easter Bunny wouldn't find him and wouldn't  have time to set up the hunt, which amazingly, with some teamwork, he did.
Sunday was off to the races again since Easter has turned into another Christmas and X was up at 6:30 ready to tear apart his basket and the house looking for eggs.
I managed to make it through church, get a morning nap, and participate in Easter dinner with activities for a great weekend.
I'm just going to need some time to recover.

Call it Karma

Ugh, call it karma, my mean april fool's day joke has come back all ready to bite me in the arse.   

I got a peak into the alternate universe that could have been my life  had I received photopharesis on an older machine, which takes 3-4 hours per treatment.

If I wanted to take a step deeper into the realm of what could have been my personal hell, I'd imagine traveling 6 hours round trip to Boston to receive the procedure.      

But I won't. 

My mind won't go there.

 If it did the gray matter cushioning my think tank might start leaking out my ears causing random synapse firings until my brain electrified to mush. 

That's just a possibility though, not that I've thought about it. 

So thank goodness

photopheresis at dhmc can be done using a new machine that re-fuses my blood as it is removed, cutting the time in half! Hooray.  

But as punishment for my misbehaviors, my central line refused to work adding two+ hours of prep to the 3 hour procedure then I had to trek to interventional radiology only to be told to come back at 6:45 am yesterday morning!

  Yes, I spent from 8am to 4:30 at the hospital Thursday and will spend a good amount of time there Friday undergoing another procedure.

Luckily, this gave my dad plenty of time to donate platelets, which he is scheduled to do every two weeks while I'm in treatment.

What a good man. Anybody who accompanies me to treatment does have the option of donating blood while I undergo my procedure, just a thought.

It appears one of the wires in my catheter, or line, is kinked at the end. There could be a fibrogen clot flapping back and forth intermittently occluding the line. 

The end of the line is currently sitting in the superior vena cava but can be moved into the right atrium.

 For this reason, the wire must be removed and replaced. 

Not such a big deal except I have to receive conscious sedation.

 I used to love the stuff. It made me high as a kite. I'd even send "eprazolam emails" much like normal twentysomethings' embarrassing drunken dials, but now I just sleep and sleep and sleep.

 And I have plans dammit!  

Lots of plans that include fun with my friends, family and a bbq, which I need to be awake for. 

I'm warning the staff that if I ask for more versed I don't really need it, no matter how much I insist. It's just me mumbling in my drugged haze, and absolutely under no circumstances are they to give me benadryl or they can kiss me goodnight until saturday. 

To tip off my evening, while watching Bones, one of my favorite shows, in the opening scene the psychiatrist is sitting next to a person who just received the news he had beat lymphoma. The guy announces all the things he's going to do with his newfound life before a water main breaks thrusts him from his chair, he hits his head and dies.

 On that note, I'm going to bed. I think tomorrow will be better.

As of recently I have done some soul searching, and in light of my past years of suffering, I have decided to cease any current therapies.

I've met with my providers this past week to discuss what process my body will take once I stop the photopheresis, prophylactic antibiotics, and steroids and the outlook is grim.

I will decline rapidly, probably within a month.

During this period I would like to invite you all to visit for a living funeral. . . . . .

Or instead, you could wipe away your shock and know, you've been fooled! April fools.

I think this introduction could win the prize for the sickest joke ever, and I know my sick jokes. Take a deep breath and laugh now. Your day is going to get better.

I am doing fine. I'm doing well even.

As with my normal pattern of recovery, yesterday I decided I had been feeling sick for too long. I decided I was going to resume my normal routine and I was going to enjoy it.

First things first, I had to sleep through the night.

When I'm sick, my circadian rhythms are the first to go. I have no idea what time is day or night, upside down, or in between. I sleep when my body says sleep.

My body said sleep for the majority of last week.

Unfortunately, for every reaction there is an equal or opposite reaction. After the period of random sleep comes the period of random wake.

All night long I'm waking up and puttering around.

Good thing I have hobbies, quiet ones.

I should have known my plan to push myself was a little premature when I made my cup of coffee but couldn't stomach it.

My normal, healthy, day starts with coffee.

I made it to pottery class, my Weds. ritual, and started on my very first project on the potters wheel: a set of bowls!

Did you know there are 4000 nerve endings in your hands? I've found pottery relaxing and therapeutic. Playing with clay is like meditation, and I always was a girl that liked to get down

and dirty.

Classes are offered at The League of NH Craftsman in Hanover, NH and the new session is starting soon!

I left the class feeling cleansed like I normally do only to arrive home restless.

I made myself a serious lunch: spinach artichoke tortellini with tabouli.

This is more of a lunch than I've had in a week. I've been subsisting on crackers, toast, and yogurt.

Apparently, I should have continued to subsist on this because by the time I'd picked up X and headed for Andy's house (Yes, he is home!!!!) my stomach was churning.

We went inside where I tried to tough out the pain.

I was so excited to see Andy's fam back in their environment and Andy running around having fun with Xander.

There was so much I wanted to talk to K about, to help her prepare and relax, but then the sweats kicked in.

I made sure to stay far away from Andy, but the sensations kept getting worse until all I wanted to do was curl up in the fetal position on the toilet.

Our visit turned into X staying to play at Andy's house and me going home to recover!

What a turn of events.

Today, I did get my cup of coffee and I did sleep through the night. The rest of this week is looking promising for full recovery, especially the 60 degree weather were supposed to be having today through the weekend, and that's no joke.