Sunday.

Today is skttting along. I was up at 6, made the coffee, fed the dog, had a banana, wandered back upstairs, put on my new episodes of Doctor Who , and passed out, until 1:30. The day looks quite nice,  and my ankle is  a bit better, i don't really want to do anything, though I know the good weather is on its way out. Now listening to Mark Kermode's film podcast. And that's it.
 I'm sure something will come up, it usually does.

Injury Negotiation.

Today I got up late for me, 8am. My ankle decided to remind me that I needed to ice it again, which I just did. Its now aching less, a distant but persistent murmur, 

"I'm not gone yet you know…" A terrible date mistake, that keeps turning up at events you were looking forward to. Bugger.

"I need to catch up on the rest I've been ignoring for weeks anyway, so nah!"

"Ok. See you around…"

I know its odd personifying injuries, but I've been doing it for years. Ever since my MS ignored the deal I tried to cut with it at the start. I had what felt like a snake swimming in my left foot, still one of the freakiest things thats ever happened to me. I couldn't really walk, but i figured,

"Just leave my left hand out of it, so I can still write, ok?"

"No."

The snake in my foot went on its way, and I then lost my left hand for 2 months. I could not feel anything, you could put a coin in my hand, and I wouldn't know it was there. I did physiotherapy for weeks trying to get it back. The first time my physiotherapist had me sign my name? Could have been anything, it looked like hieroglyphics.

She then had me taking pieces out of a board and  then putting them back in.  The first time idid it I took over 10 minutes. By the end, I could do it in less than 15 seconds. 

It was a pain in the arse, but I saved a ton of money, as I couldn't sign any cheques, and the internet wasn't in full bloom yet.

So…the ankles going be fine,

"I've beaten far bigger problems than you."

"Oh….'

Still a bit limpy though.

Family.

Beth and I just spent Friday to Tuesday in Illinois. This trip we saw a lot of family, and I got to be around them a lot more then usual.We would often all meet at a parties full of people This time we got to relax, and be around each other for a while. I'm really glad we did, I like all of them, a lot. They are all very different, save one thing, they are all resolutely themselves. It was a pleasure to spend time with them.

Morning.

I'm in Illinois. Very nice chinese last night, which caused an immediate happy food coma. Sleep was interrupted  by Abbey, nudging me awake at 6am. Nice breakfast with plenty of fruit and a lovely melting cinnamon roll. Ankle improving,  its now more like a sulky teen, being dragged to a family event it has no interest in.
"God! Do I have to? Really?!"
"Yes you do. Quit bitching and get hitching."

United by Toff dislike.

Ankle improving. Last night I lay with my leg up, ankle iced, listening to Radio 4, as the results of the Scottish referendum came in. I listened for hours, as I realized I didn't want Scotland to go, but I didn't want the smug toffs to win either. Conundrum.
The result came in 45% Yes 55% No. You stay, brilliant, but that should send a clear message, right? You would think so, though Cameron's smug, this is settled, no re-runs, and my pants have stopped filling face, doesn't fill me with hope . Hope for him that is, we are going to be just fine. Nice to still  have you with us Scotland, now stitch them up on the deals they threw out, whilst they were panicking.

Bad date

My sprained ankle is hanging about like a brutally slow moving dinner, with someone you have just realized you don't actually like.
It all seemed like it was going to be great, but as the conversation died into dust, and every subject hit ignorance roadblocks at every turn, you know you can't leave as quickly as you would like.
 Go to the bathroom. A respite, but don't take too long. They already hate the restaurant, don't give them room to denounce the food as poison.The walk back from the bathroom is heavy and sad. Hours seem like days. When will this be over? That's a sprained ankle.

Ah...

Yesterday, all sorts happened. The infusion went well, and my left foot was so bad I could barely walk on it. Everyone who saw it said the same thing,
"You have had that checked out, right?"
"Its just a sprain."
"Go and get that checked out, now."
It hurt like fuck, so I decided to take the advice of everyone who'd seen me hobbling about.
"Nothing's broken, right?"
"Go and get that checked out."
Beth came to get me from the infusion suite and we set out to find an urgent care. We ended up at Martha Morehouse, where I'd spent a lot of last year doing physiotherapy. We had to wait quite a while, hearing the run on bronchitis echoing around us. The doctor walked in.
"X-rays."
"Oh."
I then found myself on a table holding the lead genital shield, popping different moves whilst the X-rays were taken. Back to the room, coughing playing out in the distance. The doctor came in..
"Nothing's broken, its all tissue damage." This is the do some exercise you tubby twat diagnosis.
He then told us he'd be working out in the gym until the day he died. Right.
Came home. Beth gave me back the iPod classic she'd taken to the apple store. I presumed it was dead, and she could get a discount on something. They took it out the back, it works! the light on the screen doesn't, but all the music I thought I'd lost, is still there. I'm listening to it now. None of the crap I get from my iPhone. It doesn't tell me about emails or Facebook bollocks. It just plays music. Ah….glorious.

Reality nibbles.

I have, having yelped like a small girl most of last night, a support sock on my left foot. Guess what? Its way better, my legs and feet aren't tip top, but they are no longer a dip into some hellish crevasse that I can't even see. Coffee and a few chocolate cookies are in. I feel a banana would probably help, though I keep hearing,
"Bananas? Awful! Sent by the devil. A curvy, yellow liar."
What? Who didn't get their payoff? Somebody lobbied very hard for that, and is now sitting on a comfy self entitled chair, with a smile you could punch, humming a tune that nobody knows. Cock.
I've been keeping an eye on the Scottish referrendum. What do I think? It would be nice to keep the union, but unfortunately we have toffs fighting our corner. And nobody likes toffs. Except them, and they love themselves enough, until reality descends in a dark room. Then its over.
Either way will be a mess, but sometimes thats needed, to clear the air.
Having had the appointment cocked up last week, today is infusion day. Up until the support sock, I couldn't see how I was going to leave my house. I now can. Goody. Chocks away for the dangerous, yet very effective blood barrier. Odds, still not awful, have at it.

A couple of days of the long knives.

I sprained my left ankle. I don't know how, or when, but come Thursday, I couldn't walk on it. Then the night set in. As it got darker my right leg packed up. It stiffened, and I couldn't band it  at the knee. at all. I struggled upstairs to go to sleep. I then began to shake with cold, though my forehead was hot, Beth told me. Bugger. I went through what this could mean over and over. The sprained ankle was a pain, the worrying part was the loss of the right leg. The fever didn't help.

Friday.  The sprained ankle was still pain on a stick,the right leg still sulking, fever had given up for a while. The ankle and the leg suddenly seemed to come around. I know I'll get the rubbish out, take it down the garden. They were lying. As I lay on the ground, having just tanked it, with two newly bruised fingers, and a brocade of thrown rubbish bags. I figured I should just let everything heal. Fever made a reappearance in the evening.

Saturday. The sprain is beginning to heal, I put my leg up all of yesterday, following the fall. Cheers beth, who made me do it. Right leg? A lot better, now bends at the knee, and is sort of usable. Fever? Who knows.

The days were frightening, as they were following the course of a massive MS attack. I was figuring out how we could use a wheelchair in the house. and how fast we could move somewhere else. How glad I was to have made my last trip to England, as I wouldn't be able to go back for a very long time. But everything settled. So, as you were.

Cold? Get off.

Its a bit cold. I was just getting used to it being a lot hot. Bugger. Its going to stay a bit cold? I can deal with that. Just make your mind up. That's hopeful as I know its going to be all over the place for months, until it settles into savagely awful cold until next April. Bollocks.
I got to see a lot more of the summer this year, having had last year wiped out by the tri-geminal neuralgia thingy, which meant most of last year was spent in a drugged out fugue, trying to back it off. I'm owed extra summer! Have at it.

Reality check.

I've been up a while, having fallen asleep/passed out early last night. The fuck up with the infusion, I'll be getting it next Tuesday, hit me harder than I expected. I think it's because I spent the last few weeks in England hitting it with a shovel, my devil may care attitude dependent  on the drug repair I thought was coming. Which is why I can't be too sore about it.
I'm usually quite sensible. Fuck it, no I am not. I look to do what I want, and pay as I go. I was counting on the pain discount, which just got delayed. It's a bit annoying, but doable. Have I learned a valuable lesson? To be honest, I knew what was coming. I did it anyway.

Cluster Drop.

I was having my infusion today. Was. Breakfast with Lusher was interrupted by a phone call, informing me that there were billing problems and todays drug hadn't even been sent. Oh. Beth got on the case, and found out that the problems were way more involved than that, but they could have been solved last week.
"Somebody dropped the ball", was the phrase used. Everything got sorted out very quickly, the infusion is now set for next week. Am I pissed off? Not really, though any plans I had to see anyone this week, just got shelved until next Wednesday. As cluster fucks go, this one was quite manageable. I didn't even have to employ my maximum Hugh Grant to get something done. Gosh!

Rip Van Sunday.

Sunday? Yeah, its still Sunday. Beth told me earlier today that I needed to stay up and sort out my sleeping patterns. She is  right, though MS, a dying infusion, jazz weather, and a comfortable bed seem to have other ideas. This American Life pootling along in the background, well worth getting up for.
I know I ate well today, and this evenings dinner is looking good. What else I can manage today? Up for debate.

What to do?

I'm up really early again, the result of sleeping in a different time zone for the last few weeks, and passing out at will, whatever time of the day it is here. I've caught up on the new doctor Who episodes, Capaldi is excellent, and bottled out of watching Salems Lot on my own, in the dark, at 3am. Its the figure hovering at the window. I just spent the last week at my Dad's with a window looking out over the dark countryside, no curtain.
What to do? I'm still two days away from repair, my infusion is Tuesday, and I haven't left the house since I got back last week. Beth has been bringing in ever healthier, and delicious food, keeping me in one piece. I know I want to find my next thing to do, but I have no idea what it is. I'm sure it will strike me as obvious, when it comes up.

Hmm...

I woke up as I was hot. I'm still a little uncomfortable, but not the mess that emerged a couple of hours ago. Is it another drastic weather change? Down into the 70's from a high of 92 yesterday? Is it that my monthly infusion is pretty much done? My new one is on Tuesday. Or, is it the half mini keg of heineken that I drank last night, coupled with a late night pizza? Hmm….

Heat

The last two mornings, the first one was dust, I've settled back in to playing in the garden with Abbey for an hour or so, to start by day. It gives me time to try and sort out my walking, always rubbish first thing, and gives Abbey the opportunity to run around before it gets too hot. Its supposed to get to 92F today. She gives me the opportunity to assess my problems daily, and I really appreciate it. Even if she doesn't appreciate my adherence to the 6am is breakfast rule.

Memory.

I'm awake. Coffee, banana,  and a couple of biscuits. Its 4:56. Bugger. I woke up out of a dreadful dream, which ended with me in my nan and granddad's bathroom, as I really needed a poo. Glad I woke up, poo was indeed needed.
Emptied and refilled the dishwasher. World service on the radio, with a firm yet reasonable take on why the world is going to shit, which appears to be this morning's theme. Its now transferred to NPR, where the awful is a little more shrill.
 I'm waking up, thank you very much coffee. Always there doing a job everyone needs, then bitches about the effect as they've drunk too much, for the rest of the day. Now they are talking about the importance of the study of the coffee genome on NPR. Well, respect was due.
The day has started. I'm still a little shaky on where I am exactly. I do know, but I spent the last few weeks in the comfortable nest of the past, where the sights and the sounds were full of  good memories, and rules that I understood.
Do I want to leave? No I don't. As I said, great memories, where I got to ignore how difficult my health got by the time I left. A place that I love visiting, but I live here now, doing an awful lot better, and I'm building new great memories as I go.

Where am I?

I am up, having spent most of yesterday asleep. I was woken up by a phone call at one point. The conversation went like this,
"Mr Dowd, I'm phoning to confirm the delivery of your order."
I took a second, to remember who Mr Dowd was.
"Oh, thank you. Can you send it to America, I'm in England at the moment, but I live there."
Cue some consternation at the end of the line. I looked around the room and realized where I was.
"Ah, my mistake, I'm in America."
"Yes Mr Dowd."
"And you're sending me the stuff here?"
"Yes."
"Of course you are. I thought I was still in England. I'm awake now, thanks for the call."
"Have a nice day Mr Dowd."
"Thanks. sorry about that."
This happens to me every time I've been back to England. Every time.

Weather???

I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up to the climax of Dodgeball. Its going to be really hot, right? Philly was 92F better get my shorts out. 67F what the fuck? I've been telling everyone in England how I was coming back to a furnace. Its warmer over there! Of course this is Columbus, the weather can do anything between now and lunchtime...

Trip.

8:30 this morning, got into my cab for Heathrow. a lot easier trip than I thought, got there by 10. Flight was at 12:15. Having admitted the tMS and airports do not mix, got wheelchair assistance to get me through security. I had reached the point where I dreaded going to an airport, I couldn't see how I could do it.
 With the wheelchair assist, and the jolly bus to the gate, I defy anyone to make it through the airport quicker. Start to gate? 15 minutes. Got on the plane to Philly. I knew I had an aisle seat, but it was on the edge of a four. The plane was kind of empty, 4 seats for me! Watched a fantastic film, ate great food and spent a  lovely 7 hours crossing the atlantic.
Philly, fantastic help, immigration to gate 20 minutes, maybe. The plane was then delayed, due to severe weather. Got on it, blagged two seats for myself, and watched out the window as the sky was ripped part. We'll just wait then. And wait we did, about an hour and a half on the runway. No one fancied challenging the lightning, so we settled in. Got to Columbus, and home. in about 30 minutes. For a crip, I have an amazing turn of speed.
Nice to be home.

Out

I'm ready, sort of. There's a couple of bits still  to do, but over all, on the case. I think my case is underweight this time, which will mean I don't have to stand at the desk shuttling shoes and clothes into an ever more uncomfortable carry on.
This has been a trip that I made for the saddest reason, but I get to leave knowing that I got to see the amazing life that I had here,  all the family and friends that I love, that I keep close, and will be with me, always.
Now, where did I put that passport……..?

Travel Awakening.

Today, we went to Sainsburys. I picked up all sorts of odd flavours of crisps for people to ooh and ah over. We then went to a greasy spoon in Markyate, where I ordered the full English. Lovely…back to the house, where the packing waits. I'll just have a quick nap….6:21. Ah!! Its Tuesday! I'm not ready!

Still Monday? Whew…! Dinner? Nap? No! Get packing, immediately! Well, soon-ish….

Packing…..

I need to pack. I'm leaving early tomorrow, so my usual chuck everything I can find, five minutes before the taxi turns up, isn't going to work.  Its a lot more fun sitting writing about what I need to do, rather  than actually doing it. That won't work, right? Bugger.

Morning Last.

Today is my last day in England for a while. The reason for coming back, my nan's funeral, was very sad, though it has been great to catch up with friends I hadn't seen for over a year and a half, and family at the wake, I hadn't seen for years.  I didn't get to do everything I wanted to do on this trip, things were a lot more complicated than I thought they would be. What I did realise, is that I love knocking around England, and I'll be back a lot sooner next time.
If I missed you, I'm sorry about that, a lot had changed while I wasn't looking. Mum and Cat on the coast, England v MS a little worse than I remembered. But, England is gorgeous, and I have the best family and friends anyone could dream of. I've had a great time, I'm already looking forward to my next visit.