Yvonne deSousa's Blog, page 6

The Weird Wonders of Virtual Exercise Groups for the Chronically Ill

Every so often I get asked to sponsor a paid post on my blog.  When I receive these requests I usually take the high road and decline.  Not because I don’t like or don’t need money, but because the content is usually so far out there, that I can’t justify putting it in here and bombarding you, my readers, with paid stuff. 

(Anyone remember when the Brady’s struggled to do the soap commercial on The Brady Bunch because they really didn’t like the soap?  Yes, it’s like that.) 

But this content seemed relevant and right up my alley, as well as compelling.  So compelling that I might even exercise after I publish this. 

Oh wait, we are expecting a Nor’easter.  I will exercise tomorrow. 

Enjoy. 

(And if you miss my regular posts, check back on Saturday where I will be following a Halloween tradition and re-posting one of my most requested blogs.)

One irony of being chronically ill is that every solution seems to directly contradict your problems. Medical News Today says that physical activity, of all things, helps to manage multiple sclerosis (MS) symptoms. Okay, that’s completely believable. But how are we supposed to beat fatigue with exercise when some of us are too fatigued to move?

Fortunately, the fitness world is getting more accessible. Nowadays, most people can workout with a fitness trainer without needing to go to the gym. Fitness research firm ClubIntel reports that 72% of gyms now offer livestream group workouts. Though that won’t make push-ups and burpees any easier, it’s still a huge deal for people who have trouble leaving the house.
Virtual Workout Classes

Before Zoom became the norm, people had to rely on pre-recorded YouTube classes run by young and overly peppy lady instructors who’d shout “Yay, we did it!” in-between exercises — oblivious to whether or not us unmotivated folk were actually doing anything. Now, with livestreaming options, our overly peppy instructors can sit with us on a Zoom call to correct our form, answer our questions, and most importantly, confirm whether or not we actually, in fact, “did it!”

Virtual workout groups help you access professional workout guidance from the comfort of your own home, saving you effort, time, and best of all, gas expenses. Virtual workouts also offer more flexibility with scheduling, allowing you to start a session any time that’s comfortable for you. With an instructor around, you have someone to hold you accountable, which — especially if you’re one of those people that lies about being a “self-starter” on your resume — can make for a great motivator.

In a group exercise, classmates may even join you. Don’t worry; having other people around won’t make it embarrassing. In a virtual workout class, you’re just a dot inside a box on someone’s tiny screen. Plus, everybody’s too busy correcting their own form to notice that your elbow plank lasted for a record-breaking 3 seconds.

Getting Started

Virtual fitness classes are easy to find and also affordable, especially if you have health insurance. If you’re over 65, check whether your Medicare plan offers fitness benefits. KelseyCare Advantage shows that Medicare Part C benefits will often include SilverSneakers, which is a senior-focused fitness program that gives members access to both in-person and virtual classes. SilverSneakers instructors are trained to accommodate the needs of older adults, including those with chronic conditions.

Not me but I wish!

There are also many virtual workout groups designed specifically for MS. For example, telefitness service MS Workouts provides low-impact, high-intensity exercise that can help people with MS safely build muscle and improve body functionality. On top of getting live feedback from instructors, users can record their progress on the MS Workouts page to better keep track of how they’re doing.

As long as you pace yourself and set realistic goals, exercise can be an effective way to manage symptoms of chronic illness. And with virtual exercise groups, you can remove the hurdle of having to travel all the way to the gym. So if you want to shape up, sign up for an online workout class now.

Thanks for reading, and please consider exploring more of our mission toward ‘Finding Humor in a Multiple Sclerosis Life’ here at Yvonne De Sousa USA

 

FYI  So as not to be misleading, MS Workouts a monthly fee membership program.  But it if it sounds worth it to you, give it a look!

What It Is and What It’s Not

The confusing new role of an MS flare

Headache?  Check.

Pins and needles feeling wicked bad?  Check.

Exhaustion? Fatigue?  Weakness?  Lethargy?  Whatever the hell you want to call it?  Check.

Gastrointestinal- don’t even make me say the gross D word? Check.

Temperature? No.

Came on suddenly? Check.

Cough? No.

Sore throat? No.

Weird kind of scratchy but not scratchy and definitely not sore feeling in the way, way back of my throat? Check.

Nausea? No.

Vomiting? No.

Congestion? No.

Muscles aches? Always.

Fever? No.

Random 200 degree hot flashes? Check.

Shortness of breath? No.

I once wrote on this blog that I worried if I was indecisive, but I couldn’t really decide.  One of the effects of the pandemic is that it has increased my indecisiveness, indecisively.   I could give you a percentage but that’s another thing I’m just not sure about.

So here is my question- are the above symptoms signs of an MS exacerbation or Covid 19?  I’m asking all of you because, though you, my MS friends and blog friends, are often indecisive yourselves,  you have experience to draw on and thus, usually have specific information which is what I crave.

Sure, I can get a Covid test, and I will, before I am anywhere near anyone ever again.  But with all the false positives out there, how is that really going to help?  I guess I will have to get a couple of them and hope that they all indicate the same thing.

The internet is only a little bit helpful.  According to the great wide web, I either have Covid, multiple sclerosis, mono, malaria or hypochondria.

Or, right before I started to feel sick, I drank milk from a carton that smelled and tasted fine but was past the expiration date.  Could that be the problem?

Forget about doctors.  With the persistence of Covid and the great need to protect society, if I listened to anyone in the medical field, I would never leave the house!  Just tell a medical person that you have a runny nose these days and they are ordering you home while they put on a hazmat suit.

It’s not a bad thing, just confusing. Especially since I have obligations and will need to leave the house eventually.

I’ve been vaccinated.  I walked around all lofty and cool because I was one of those folks who were lucky enough to get the J and J, one and done vaccine.  But now, not so much…..

When I was getting my flu shot, combined with my second shingles shot, which, coincidentally I received both only hours before I started feeling yucky, I asked the nurse what the deal was with a J and J booster shot.  She started a long explanation before finally saying, “the bottom line- we have no idea if you need one and if you do, when we’ll be able to give you one.”

And now that I’ve shared that I did my second shingles vaccine at the same appointment where I received my flu shot you are likely thinking- “that’s it!  That’s what you’re having.  A reaction to both of those. Why on Earth did you do both together??”

To which I would respond, “why on Earth didn’t the medical office where I did both together tell me that I shouldn’t do both together?”

Sigh…..

It’s a confusing medical world we were living in my friends.  And now, with Covid here, it’s made navigating that confusing medical world that much harder.  Throw multiple sclerosis into the mix, a definable illness which can’t be defined, and even just taking out your trash seems risky.  Especially for someone with a guilty conscious who is terrified of being the one to give a loved one Covid.

But how can you do the right thing if no one knows what the right thing is????

The bottom line- I need to once again return to the internet to find out the closest spot to take a covid test, just to be sure. But I’m so tired I just want to crawl into bed and bury my head under the covers.  Except I’ve been in bed for the last 6 hours, only 2 hours after I got up for the day!

What is one to do?

I will get tested, but until I do, what would you do?

 

 

Summer of 21 and the Dreaded Covid 7

A different Covid inspection

Reminder- My blog is not meant to diminish the severity of serious circumstances.  It IS meant to help me deal with that seriousness by offering a giggle and hopefully a smile to all of you.

No, the above is not a misprint.  I’m well aware that the horrible virus that has drastically changed all of our lives is actually, Covid 19. But this post is about something completely different.

I’m not talking about quarantine 15, the average amount of weight many people gained during the months we all hunkered down at home with a Netflix binge list and our favorite DoorDash dude on speed dial.  You know the one, the guy with the crappy green Civic who waves through the window before dropping your burrito bowl on your doorstep.

No, for me Covid 7 refers to the problem I discovered after the quarantine.  The problem that arose in the warmer months of 2021 when we all thought it was safe to go back into the proverbial public waters.

I did better than most when the pandemic hit.  Not a lot changed in my world compared to others.  I’d never been one to go out to eat a lot except during social occasions and with those not possible, I cooked at home. And by cook, I mean I mostly stuck my favorite Lean Cuisine in the microwave.  I don’t have a lot of extra funds and take out for one seemed silly.  Since grocery stores were one of the few places where it was politically correct to go, I double masked, went out and bought supplies to keep me at home.

Not my hands or my writing group

Since my writing/eating group started meeting on Zoom, and since cheese and crackers and pastries aren’t the same if you get them yourself, I consumed less during our meetings. (That and have you heard how annoying chewing crackers sounds on Zoom?

Zoom definitely helped writing group be about writing.

Sure, I worried about the pandemic.  And thus, I had my snacks.

(Nothing relieves anxiety better than a bag of chips and some M&M’s.)

But I balanced them out and my weight stayed relatively stable.  Then the first summer came and we ventured out a bit and I did better about exercise.  I employed exercise I’d perfected in my younger years.  Working in a tourist town, I was a master walker.

Here is a secret about the tourist industry no-one tells you- all those workers must get to work somehow, even with no parking to be had.  I wasn’t only a master walker; I was a master dodger too.  You had a 20-minute lunch break for your poor, hurried self- no time or money to wait in fast food lines.  You got your half a mile walk home for lunch down to 3 minutes, gobbled up a quick sandwich, made your evening party plans and booked it back to work in 4 minutes, all while dodging tourists, bikes, cars, baby strollers and horse and buggies on the main throughfare.

(Quick Yonne DeSousa.com tip-if you want to work in a resort town, forget about managerial and typing skills.  Fast walker, safe dodger, and multi-tasker- as in can eat and move and dodge at the same time- is what you want to list on your resume.)

In college I avoided the freshman fifteen but not from depriving myself.  7 different types of sugary cereal to choose from at breakfast in the cafeteria.  Carb overload at night. Pizza on the weekends and beer always, when we were officially 21 of course.

(Insert wink emoji here.  My mom reads this, and she hasn’t figured out emojis yet.)

Luckily, I was at a college that had buildings scattered about.  It liked to say that the city of Boston was its campus.  My parents sent me to school hoping I would fall in love with a future doctor or lawyer.  Instead, I developed a crush on the shuttle bus driver.  When he was fired for dropping students off at a party instead of their dorm- a party he is rumored to have joined for a bit, I staged my own protest by walking everywhere!  Freshman 15 be damned.

So, in that same spirit, I approached weight management during the pandemic.  I exercised as safely and as often as possible.  I even climbed a mountain!

True, there was a walking trail that helped.  And it took hours as I had to stop every 4 steps to catch my breath.  Never mind I sort of slid down the mountain on my butt after falling on the way back.  The lovely labrador retriever with me waited patiently while I was down but flashed me her “I can’t take you anywhere look” before eyeing nearby sticks.  No reason I couldn’t get in a few good fetches from the ground.

Bella and I on Mt. Talcott

But the point being, I climbed the damn thing!

Then came the summer of 2021 and all has not remained the same.  Suddenly, fully vaccinated and naively convinced of safety, everyone wanted out!  And they kindly took me with them.

I had more social engagements than I’d ever had before which meant more, well socializing, which meant more dangerously bad but good food choices.

A lot of those visits included kids and how can I visit with kids without taking them to the candy store or the hot dog stand or the bakery that makes fried dough?

My local ice cream shop was in a contest where it was neck in neck for the top spot in the state with only the votes of good citizens like me to get it over the edge.  I am nothing if not a conscientious voter.  How could I honestly vote if I hadn’t explored its entire platform, viewpoints, and character?

I tried to be good.  When meeting some friends, I ordered something called White Claw watermelon seltzer thinking I was refreshingly contributing to both my water requirement and a dose of my fruit servings.  How was I supposed to know I was getting more than I bargained for?

(Another bit of advice- if you’re in a bar and the menu says “hard seltzer” it might be a tiny bit different from regular seltzer.)

I attended a Zoom baby shower; that should be safe right?  It’s Zoom.

But the hostess mailed cupcakes with pink buttercream frosting to celebrate the impending birth of a sweet little girl.  Pink buttercream frosting!!!  What’s one to do???

I figured I could circumvent these dangerous calories by getting in even more exercise.  But it was a miserable, humid summer!  Who feels like exercising in blah, gray, humidity?

Even if you do have an air conditioner.

Even if there are free workout videos on YouTube.

Even if you did spend over $200 of money you don’t have on a home dance program your friend told you would never use? (Thank you Mastercard. Damn you plastic.)

Not my butt

It’s ridiculously hard to adopt good working out/eating right/healthy socializing habits in a humid, post not at all post Covid 19 world.  And so, I’m stuck with the dreaded Covid 7.  The more or less 7 (more or less part referring to anything between 1 and 50) lbs that have attached itself to me like glue this summer of 2021.

I managed my healthy habits during the quarantine.  What’s got me is this period after.  This period of free for all and where all possibilities remain and I’m sick of being cautious and balancing.

Plus, it’s autumn which is pumpkin spice season which is the bestest.

But it is also the season of cooler temps and perhaps a bit less humidity.  And I’ve discovered that the opposite of balance is instability and think we’ve all had enough of THAT for a while.

Maybe balance isn’t so horrible after all.  Maybe it would be cool to climb that mountain again, breathing better on ascent and staying upright on the descent.

Maybe it’s time to keep our eyes open, make smart choices and remember that good health can be fun too.  I could lose the summer lbs one small step at a time.  I can sneak exercise in a bit more.  I need to go to the library in a bit.  The walk there has the teeniest, tiniest hill.  Maybe if I walk it today, I can walk it a bit faster tomorrow?

If I keep doing this, maybe I’ll be better prepared for the mountain, whichever, whatever that mountain will be.

If we can eventually say goodbye to that dreaded Covid 7, who knows what other things we can do???

Maybe a Bit of Lovin

Back to the summer post drawing board

I know in my July post I said that I hoped to have new material for you this month.  But hope is a relative term.  I hope to be a rock star one day but I can’t sing or play an instrument so that hope my never come to fruition. 

I can hope to have new writing to you soon and I will continue to hope for exactly that.  That is a more likely hope than my rock star dreams and will aim for new blogs in the Fall. 

Unless Pink needs a back up singer, then you all may be out of luck. 

I’ve dived into to archives for this oldie.  Proud to say that I’ve made a bit more peace with summer.  It helps that I have a better air conditioner and a new MS medication. 

But sometimes the heat and humidity still beat me up and so I offer this, my No Summer Lovin blog from June 2016.

No Summer Loving

An MS dirge

Summer lovin, had me a blast

(NOT!  Unless it was a nice big blast of cool air from my A/C)

Summer lovin, happened so fast

(Don’t I wish!   These days are dragging already and July’s not even here yet)

….Tell me more, tell me more

Well, since you asked….

(Italicized words are lyrics from “Summer Nights” from the musical Grease.)

Vitamin D sparkling directly from the sun is supposed to do wonders for people living with MS.

(There’s a reason orange is the official MS color.  Well, that reason and the fact that all the other cool colors were taken by other important causes.)

Despite this, summer and I are not friends.

The fact that I don’t like summer (and really, really don’t like spring because it’s a long drawn out time where the rest of the world is getting ready for summer,) is unpopular.  For most people, July and August are their favorite months of the year.

Please allow me to state my case on why I disagree.

First of all, summer is hot. Only in the insanity that is life with a chronic illness would something that is ultimately good for you, (ie natural vitamin D,) also make you feel miserable.  And heat does make me miserable my friends, trust me.

If you don’t believe me, ask the cute UPS driver who remarked what a nice day it was when he dropped off my monthly meds.  My vicious reply so frightened him he hasn’t been back in days!

Of course, he’s not due back until next week but still, I was pretty scary that 78 degree day when he stopped by.

Then there are the bugs.  I try to stay out of their way, “you stay out of my house and I’ll stay inside and let you wreak havoc on my yard.”

But they refuse to cooperate and it’s hideous.

Earlier this month I went to a graduation party where everything was covered by these furry, disgusting caterpillars. I guess this is a prevalent year for them and we only have to wait for a bit and then these horrifically gross creatures will turn into gypsy moths- oh the joy.

Not long after that I went to remove the change in my pocket and I felt something squishy.  I pulled my hand out and saw that the fingernail of my middle fingers had impaled a small green bug that had managed to squeeze his way into my pocket.  The head part of it’s body was on one side of my fingernail and the rest of him on the other.  I’m still cringing about that little foray into the blissful days of summer.

And then there are the mornings where we should delight in waking up to cool breezes from windows left open all night.  That MIGHT be lovely except that this is also the time of year that people get yard work done. But, they also want to enjoy the beach and so the yard work must be done super early.

Hence it was that the lovely sunny morning turned into a headache and then a body ache of ultimate proportions.  It was 6:45AM when my neighbors landscaping crew arrived.  Right outside my window one guy started the mower and the other guy started the weed wacker.

(Weed wacker would be a funny name if it’s screeching noise wasn’t so dreadfully painful to my super sensitive ears.)

Both guys had headphones.  I did not and the motor sounds pierced directly to my brain.

When the landscapers woke me up it was the middle of the night still. Sort of. Due to my bladder issues I had only gotten five of my needed 10-12 hours of sleep and the day was expected to be a busy one.

I closed the window and covered my head with a pillow.  Right away it got hot and added additional misery.

I thought of calling the police as there must be an ordinance against this type of work this early but I worried about being THAT neighbor.  You know the one-Mrs. Kravitz from Bewitched or Mr. Roper from Three’s Company.  Or even Mille from my own childhood neighborhood; the cranky lady who kept all of our balls and Frisbees if they landed in her yard.

Of course I keep ear plugs for times of travel as airplane noise is also painful.  And of course I was out of them.  I tried cotton balls but they didn’t work.

The best solution was a brilliant one.  Turn on my A/C and that steady sound will help drown out the horrific racket outside as well as cool me off.  But since my head had already been affected so badly, I didn’t think up that idea until twenty minutes after the landscapers had finally stopped, over an hour later.

And just like that, my summer day sucked and was complete with pain in the brain, no thinking skills to speak of and just over all extreme fatigue-riddled, summer induced grouchiness.

All of the above just reinforces my dislike of the season. And it bothers me as I remember how much I enjoyed summers past.  It used to be that I could function on only a few hours of sleep, hit the beach, work at night, go out drinking with my friends and repeat it all the next day.

I miss that.

I miss the days when I wouldn’t dream of missing fireworks- bright colors in the sky with explosive sounds, cool!  Now I could care less.   And that just doesn’t feel so good.

Yes my friends, only a condition like multiple sclerosis can turn a fun song from a popular, campy musical into a ditty of misery.

Sure I could could continue to lament how the bad things of summer have started to beat me up in recent years and it’s all accurate.   But what I’m really struggling with is the mourning of fabulous summers past.

Even while I want to skip the fun invites I don’t want to skip them.  I feel guilty for skipping them, and get mad at myself over and over again.

It’s a vicious cycle.

And so, with all things MS, I try to balance.

Maybe I’ll skip some invites but take part in others.

Maybe I’ll get extra strength bug spray and venture out once in a while.

I do live near lots of beaches- maybe I’ll go to one and cool off by jumping into the ocean, even if it means that is all I do that day.

I’ll weather (get it, weather,) these months as best as I can even if I do enjoy changing the lyrics to songs about summer and get irritable every once in a while.

Seems like that’s what MS is for….

But I’m definitely getting noise reduction headphones!

 

 

More Plovers, Rolling Over

A scary, beachy, MS repost

Lately I seem to be re-posting old blogs about marine animals.  As such, I couldn’t let this one get away as it includes sharks AND piping plovers.  Plus, it’s one of my favorites!!!!   I hope to have a new blog to you in August.

Happy July my friends!!

Just months after my MS diagnosis I went swimming in the Atlantic Ocean.

That’s not as big a deal as it sounds.

This beach was a beach of my childhood.  At least it was when the piping plovers weren’t hatching.  When they were, the beach was closed which drew the ire of the locals and brought out our local attitude.

Trust me, piping plovers DO taste like chicken.  I know because about 100,000 vehicle bumper stickers have told me so.

Back then, it was common to swim in the Atlantic.  Now the Atlantic Ocean at this beach is filled with seals which means it is also filled with seal poop and Jaws.

I’m not sure which is worse.

For the record, I’m the only one who is concerned with seal poop.  That’s either because I’m a germ-a-phobe who is particularly concerned with waste products, or because the rest of the world can’t do basic math- seal=seal poop, multiply by hundreds gives you 100’s of seals= lots of seal poop.

As for worrying about Jaws when swimming, we locals were tough.  And by tough, I mean we were more afraid of our parents than we were sharks.  As soon as one of our obnoxious older siblings started humming the Jaws theme music (you’re humming in now, aren’t you?) we would run to our parents only to be severely scolded.

“Shark. What shark?  Movie?  Don’t talk to me about any movie, that fish wasn’t even real!  I didn’t grab some sodas and drive a whole five minutes to come out here just so you can sit on a towel.  Go swim!”

It’s no wonder they never let us watch the Exorcist.

Swimming wasn’t their only beach rule- they also made us ride in the bed of pick up trucks and never heard of bug spray.  How did we manage to avoid being eaten by vicious sea creatures, cracking our heads open after falling out of a truck and West Nile Virus?

I think we did have sunscreen; all the adults thought the Coppertone ad was cute.

Anyway, before the seals took over the ocean beaches, just after my diagnosis I went swimming in the ocean and had a blast.  But that night my arms roared with an incredible pain.  Now I say incredible pain knowing full well that pain is relative.  I have no idea if I have a high tolerance or low tolerance for pain.

How do you judge?

I guess you can’t. I just knew my arms hurt like hell and as I laid there the only reason I could come up with was that whilst in the Atlantic- though lovely- the currents were harsh.

I spent a lot of time flopping around like a seal and battling to keep from being pulled out to sea.  It was less frolicking and more “hey, start swimming seriously or you’ll drift to Portugal before you know it.”

The other weird (bizarre, strange, crazy) thing about that pain was that it went away during the day but came back again the next night and the next after that.

It diminished slightly with each evening but still.  Why did it only come at night?  It’s like that age-old question our parents ignored when we asked, “when the tide goes out, where does the tide go?”

When the pain goes away during the day where does the pain go?

Fast forward to this summer where I swore I would make the best of the heat/humidity nightmare that is July and August.

And I really have been.

I’ve read 2 good books so far.

But that wasn’t enough.

With my pale skin still causing great embarrassment to my Portuguese ancestors and a need to get as much Vitamin D as possible, I wanted to get to the beach.

(Just so you’re not concerned my MS friends, I do take a high, RX Vitamin D supplement and take great caution to eat Vitamin D rich foods.  There is a ton of ice cream in my freezer and a Dairy Queen frequent eater pass to prove it.)

First, I had to figure out the best beach to go to.  The ocean beaches are a no as already discussed with the seal/shark situation.

Luckily, we have bay beaches.  Yes, I know.  Sharks and seals can swim but for some obscure scientific reason they can’t swim from the ocean to the bay.

The closest bay beach to me has real restrooms but tons of sand bars making high tide not really high at all.

The next bay beach has more depth but only porta-potties.

The beaches along Nantucket sound cost too much since I’m not a resident of that neighborhood.

I know, I know.

Cape Cod girl problems that are making my mid-western friends want to beat me up.

Eventually I picked a beach and have gotten some sun and some swimming in.  Or, what kind of looks like swimming.  You might call it splashing around.

Turns out the swimming skills I mastered as a kid have not held up well.

Where’s the Jaws theme when you need it?  Nothing improves your breast stroke quite like that.

Anyway, after a couple of forays to the beach one night my left arm suddenly hurt- a lot.  It started from my elbow down my arm to my hand and fingers.  What is that??

Because it felt worse in my hand and fingers I wasn’t too concerned that it was a warning sign for cardiovascular trouble.

Plus, it was worse when I moved a certain way.

I know you wise guys are thinking “WELL DON’T MOVE THAT WAY!”

But where the pain is keeps changing.

Is this the beach again?

This beach had no current or rip tides.  The most I moved in the water was really just propelling my body to the surface to float around.

 

(Floating, I still remember.  Leave it to a lazy girl with MS fatigue to manage to lay down in the water.)

Another way this pain is different from the ocean swim pain is, while decreasing, it does stick around during the day.  Does that have something to do with the tides?

One might suggest that I should see my doctor.  But with MS all kinds of obscure sensations develop, wane, come back, explode, fizzle and generally make the MS’er question what to do when.  Going to the doctor with a new something I can barely describe is starting to get old.

How do you decide what is doctor worthy when MS has turned you into a medical mystery?

I decided to handle this the Cape Cod way.  If it gets worse then I’ll make an appointment.  Until then, locals believe salt water is the cure for everything.  The best thing to do is get back to the beach, stick my whole body in the bay and see what happens.

At least I’ll be getting some Vitamin D.

Disclaimer

It’s important to keep your doctor posted on everything and the salt water cure may just be an old wives tale.  If you have a concern it’s best to call your doctor’s office, even if I don’t.

Also, the Vitamin D from the sun can penetrate through sunscreen.  What has a harder time are the UV rays.  If you are beaching it, please wear sun protection.

Finally, this is a total tongue in cheek post. There MAY actually be sharks in the bay.  But there’s no seal poop there.

Trust me, I’ve checked.

A safe and lovely summer to you all!!

A Bit About Sea Creatures

A repost of Sealed with a Kiss

Ahhh my friends…. Timing is everything.  Last month I re-posted a prior blog about whale watching.  And then, only two weeks later, my community hit the National news with some great whale excitement.  A fellow Cape Codder, who made his living as a lobster diver, was gulped by a whale, hung out in his mouth for a bit before the whale decided he wasn’t that tasty, (lobster divers being a delicacy their taste buds and esophagus’ don’t appreciate,) and spit back out into the water. 

Yep, a true story from my neck of the woods- such being the magical place I’m delighted to call home.  I could have really tied last month’s blog into that story for sure.  But alas, while we’re on the topic, I decided I would share an old post about another connection with a smaller sea creature.  And who knows, maybe in July I will re-post my blog about sharks.  It’s one of my favorites.

And to read an ACTUAL whale tale, google ‘lobster diver swallowed by a whale.”

In last week’s blog, I talked about whales.  Today’s blog is about seals.  Well, a seal, one seal in particular.  Who knows, maybe next week I will blog about sharks.

Or dolphins.

Or maybe crabs.

Let’s hope that if I ever feel the need to blog about crabs is will be of the marine kind, not the cooties kind.

But before I blog about a seal, (a gray seal to be exact like the guy above and not a singer like the guy below,) I must first digress just a bit.

I wouldn’t be much of an MS blogger if I didn’t enjoy MS blogs.  In the links section of my website I list some of the ones I regularly follow.  I highly recommend you check them out as long as you promise not to like any of them more than you like mine!

LOL!

(Not really LOL but I didn’t want to come off as too possessive so I hope the LOL tames that vicious side.)

On a couple of occasions I have had the chance to meet Rick Conti, a fellow blogger who blogs about MS and his faith.

His blog is called Limping in the Light

It was his blog of last week however, that lead me to flop on my bed and hide my head under the pillows in deep shame.  His blog and the fact that I was really, really tired.

He blogged about the importance of exercise.

While I rested his blog stayed in my head, maybe because he was right.

Technically, I know about the importance of exercise.

I know that supposedly it will help me have more energy, (maybe if I exercised more often I could confirm that.)  When I started my own blog I talked a lot about my own ‘get fit’ plan that involved veggies, more water and exercise.

I have made more progress on the first two tasks than the last.

The thing is, there are exercises I enjoy, specifically beach walks and using my Wii Fit.

But in addition to the ‘being tired’ excuse there is the old and tired excuse of no time.

Which is exacerbated by MS robbing MS’er’s of precious time in the day.

See what I did there-using the word exacerbated?

Rick’s post continued to haunt me and began to destroy my excuses.

It was my favorite time of year.

It was a beautiful day.

I live only minutes away from one of the ten best beaches in the country.

(I’m not making that up- I’ve read it in travel magazines and on Dr. Beach’s website.)

It was time to get my butt and legs moving again and get back on the exercise bandwagon.

I headed to the beach, parked and used the stairway to walk down the sandy cliff.  That was a ton of exercise right there and I wasn’t even on the beach yet!

As I got down to the shore a seal popped up in front of me, very close-maybe only in water waist deep.

The surf was rocky and there are sharks in them waters so I wasn’t going in to splash around with the little guy. But I started walking to the left along the shore and the seal swam alongside me.

He was doing most of his swimming beneath the surface but at least 5 different times he popped his head up, looked directly at me and then dived again.  Was it my imagination or was he following me?

It was definitely the same seal as he had distinct markings on his back. Maybe he was checking me out because he thought I was following him?  But since I’m drastically out of shape I was not keeping a steady pace and was stopping to rest a time or two (or three or four.)   

Yet each time he popped up, he was right beside me.

Since I was enjoying this I walked pretty far.  (I always forget about the walk back.)   When I realized my seal friend wasn’t about to give me a ride to my car, I knew I had to turn back.  But I didn’t want to lose him either.

As I was trying to decide what to do, my friend popped up again, looked right at me and turned himself around.

Still, I hesitated.  It was just such a pleasant day.

As if he knew what I was thinking, my seal dived and again, surfaced facing the direction back.

And so we started heading back together.

As I walked I realized we had gotten pretty far from any other beach goers.  It was then that I saw a guy heading in the opposite direction, walking towards the isolated part of the beach. Was my seal friend trying to warn me to not be alone in that area with this strange guy or have I just watched too many tv crime shows?

Luckily, I may never know.

I got to the end of my walk, the area where there were lots of people and the stairs back to the parking lot.  Right before I turned to walk off the beach, my seal popped up once more!!!! He looked at me, seemed to nod his approval and then started swimming off into deeper water, as if saying he would be on his way now.

It was an awesome experience.  So much so that I came home, sat my butt down and wrote about it on Facebook.  Many people commented, calling my friend things like a guardian seal, a gift from the universe, an angel, a muse, a visit from beyond and lots of other cool things.

Perhaps my seal was none of those things.  Perhaps he was all of them.  Perhaps he was just a cool fluke-not the flounder fluke, I think my seal friend would eat that fluke, but fluke as in a chance occurrence.

I guess I can’t really be sure what the seal’s true intent was in keeping me company in my attempt to exercise and ‘get fit.’

But I know I enjoyed him.

And, if I’m being honest, no matter what, I need to look at his visit as something even bigger than me.  Something, besides Rick, saying “Get some damn exercise girl!”

And, unfortunately for my tired, busy self, there probably aren’t many excuses to get around that…

Happy Start of Summer to you all!!

 

 

Thar She Goes…….The Return Trip

Revisiting an aquatic, super fun despite multiple sclerosis, kind of day

I just came across this blog I wrote in 2014 and I’m surprised that I forgot about it.  I like it a lot and can’t believe I haven’t reposted it since then.  And so, as the whale watch boats begin to line up at our local pier, and my calendar fills with things that don’t allow me leisure time to write away, here is a blast from the past.

Forgive me please if this blog post gets a little off the multiple sclerosis topic.  There will be a connection, I promise.

(Aren’t we with MS always connected to MS in some way?  The harder we try to disconnect to it the more connected we seem to be.)

The above is a picture of a whale. No matter how fogged your brain fog may be today you probably didn’t need me to tell you that.  You probably opened my blog and said “what does a badly drawn picture of a whale have to do with multiple sclerosis?”

This image is the only thing I have ever been able to draw my whole life and thus was the consistent subject of all of my art projects in school.  Make something out of clay- here’s a whale.  Carve something out of a bar of soap?  Here’s a whale.  Paint a picture on a plate to give your mom for mother’s day, here’s a whale.

What is ironic is that I was blessed to grow up in a beautiful place right by the sea and have seen many a whale or two.  Sometimes we were able to see them right off the beach.

So you would think that I would know that the above picture looks nothing like a whale.  Not even a little bit.  Unless there’s a yet unidentified whale species, whales do not look like this.

Yet everyone recognizes my picture.

Just like MS, it makes no sense.

Last week my mom, sis and I decided to go whale watching, an activity we try to do every few years.  I was excited to go but also very nervous.  I didn’t share my concern with them as it was too humiliating and horrible to speak out loud.

See, the last time I was on a boat, I got a tiny bit sea-sick and I’ve been traumatized ever since.

I know for most people that’s not a big deal, but for me it was horrific.  I come from a long line of Portuguese fishermen.  My grandfathers, my great grandfathers, their grandfathers and great grandfathers before that even, were all fishermen.  My father and uncle greatly disrupted the family legacy when they decided to become police officers.

By the time I was old enough to pick a career, the fishing industry had started to decline locally.  Plus, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be around smelly fish all day and so, I too, took a different path.

But sea water runs through my veins, mixed with Portuguese red wine to get the blood pumping.

Thus, there was absolutely no excuse for getting a little sea sick.  When it happened I could see my ancestors looking down on me with shame and I couldn’t take it.  What if I got sea sick again?

And to make matters worse, this stupid MS has caused me to start having bouts of vertigo.  Physically I would survive if I got sick on this trip but emotionally, I just couldn’t imagine.  And to add to the stressful mix, it was a choppy day with one hurricane or another somewhere off in the Atlantic churning up some extreme wave action.

I couldn’t speak my concerns for if I did, they would be real.  Yes, I survive multiple sclerosis but to not survive the motion of choppy waves on a big boat, it was too horrible to think about.

On deck the crew was warning people about the severity of the waves and was offering motion sickness pills.

I had a decision to make.  If I took a pill and was fine I wouldn’t know if it was the sea faring me who didn’t get sick or the result of the pill.  If I didn’t take one and got sick I would be forced to crawl under an embarrassing but steady rock.

I decided to take the freaking pill, mostly because I was impressed that the crew was offering them to people for free.  Nothing is ever free in the tourist industry but these little motion sickness pills were, probably because the crew didn’t want to have to clean up after the people who didn’t take them.

After digesting the pill I sat on the bow- the front of the boat for you landlubbers and the place that takes the waves the hardest- and just enjoyed the sun.  And choppy was right.  The boat sped over the waves with a very rocky gait.

And I was fine!!!

I was so pleased by this that I decided to stand up.  The crew kept telling the passengers to hang on as the boat sped along and so I did.  Standing at the bow, with refreshing salty spray blasting at me-circa Leonardo and the ‘King of the World’ bit in Titanic- I hung on for dear life and enjoyed the ride.

Behind me, also clinging on to dear life was a little boy about five, who kept shouting “this is awesome!” with every crest we jumped.  And it was awesome.

Pill or no, there was something freeing about this wild ride.  I had to brace both of my legs and my arms held the rail in a death grip to keep from falling but it was fun.

I knew that MS would cause me to be in great pain the next day; that the nerves in my arms and legs would pay me back for this fun but those aches were tomorrow’s problem.

We did get in some great whale watching, hanging out with a mom and her calf who, like a human child, was enjoying showing off and playing.  They even treated us to a double breach.

I only got to see the mom breach though. By the time I found out where I was supposed to look the calf’s breach was done but I did get to see humpback momma do her thing.

That night, still on a high from my wild Atlantic ride, I took two Aleve before I went to bed, anticipating a very bad morning.

But when I woke up, I was fine again!!!

I think people who don’t have our chronic symptoms take feeling good for granted and I don’t blame them.  I used to do that too.

MS is constantly surprising me.  Just when I think there couldn’t possibly be any MS surprises left, it surprises me again.

But what an incredible experience to have MS surprise me in a good way with no pain where there should have been lots of pain.

I guess it just goes to show another reason why we can’t let MS hold us back.  With Its unpredictable nature, we just might get some good surprises mixed in with the bad.

And did I avoid the seasickness because of the free pill and avoid the pain because of two Aleve tablets?

Maybe, maybe not.

But I am happily considering myself cured- at least of any possible traits that could disappoint my ancestors…

Maybe next week, I’ll go fishing…

*********Photo of the SS Yvonne by Nicole**********

Unhealthy Behavior

Of multiple sclerosis and turtles…

Sometimes the universe conspires for good.

The planets align.

The stars shine brightly.

The Earth revolves around the sun while the moon revolves around the Earth.

All things line up just so and come together to accomplish a monumental task.

Recently, all things came together to give me a new blog topic.

The Monday morning after Easter combined me sobbing in a doctor’s office, not because I was scared, confused or in pain, but because two jerks were mean to me, with me watching something emotional on TV and reading one particular email that sparked a key understanding in my world.  An understanding that I somehow missed in my 11 plus years of living with multiple sclerosis.

Here’s what went went down-

It was time for my minor surgical procedure.  The one that the doctor said we needed to do “just in case” my abnormal body was being scary in it’s abnormality.

(To read more about abnormal me see my last blog post, Me, An Absolute Abnormality.)

Because of the word “surgical” meaning, anesthesia, I needed a ride.  I highlighted the word “minor” in my mind and stayed focused on that.  Then the office told me a I needed to be at the surgical center in the middle of the night, ie, 7 AM.

Since it was 30 mins away, that is the middle of the night to me.  I had many caring folks who offered to give me a ride, including many friends who are never up that early.  Back in the day, we would still be out partying at 7 AM and trying our best to get it together so we would look somewhat presentable for work.  Thus, the middle of the night.

My life no longer finds me partying to all hours, but it certainly finds me sleeping to all hours.  I didn’t want to get up and be anywhere that early and so I really didn’t want to make people in my life get up that early either, especially for something “minor.”

Plus, I had to fast.  How could I get together with my friends that early without desperate caffeine meant to sober me up quickly?  I just couldn’t do it.

My secondary insurance comes with a ride for medical procedures if needed.  I decided to go with that option, which meant, my insurance would send a cab for me, nice and simple.

Until the cab showed up and it was driven by a rather unfriendly young gentleman.  I have no idea what he was so unfriendly about?  Afterall, he was allowed a coffee for the ride.

Had he just stopped partying and was trying to get himself together?  If so, I could relate.

But no chatting was to be had which was fine with me.  In the area he asked me where the place was.  I had no idea as this was the first time I was told to be there and gave him the address.

“I HAVE the address,” he snapped.  “None of the buildings are marked!”

He said it like it was my fault.

Still, it was 6:45. How could I expect him to be cheery when even the sun was barely awake?  And it WAS the day after Easter.  Maybe all the bunny brought him were some awful peeps and black jelly beans?

Did I mention it was also rainy and dreary?

At the center I called in as directed and was told to wait in my car due to covid; they would instruct me when to come in.  Once again, cab driver snapped. “I can’t just sit here!  I have other fares.  Can’t you wait outside or something?”

The cold rain was more pleasant than the driver and so I called the office again, still from the cab so as to not get my phone wet, and told them I would be waiting on the bench somewhat covered by the overhang of the roof.  Then the receptionist snapped, “you took a cab here????  We really don’t like patients to do that!”

This was information that would have been nice to know right around the time that they kept saying “minor” to me.

She continued, “I’m assuming you have someone at home who who can monitor you today and make sure you’re alright???  You need to have someone with you later, which is why, you’re not supposed to take a cab!”

Turtles.

I was surrounded by snapping turtles.

I replied, “I was not told that, I’m here and we were doing this thing.  I’ll be waiting on the wet bench,” and then I jumped out of the cab so I could be done with mean turtle #1.

The office did let me inside the building, despite covid procedure.  BUT, they made me wait in a locked alcove directly outside the bathrooms.  Turtle 2 brought me paperwork to sign and one of the forms was to confirm I’d been given the patient bill of rights.  I hadn’t and said so.

“Well, you should have!”

Snap, snap, and more snapping.

I waited as someone came by to use the restroom and looked uncomfortable seeing me sitting right outside of the men’s room door.  I waited until he came back 10 minutes later, still disappointed to see me and clearly in some type of gastrointestinal distress.

I decide to circle the alcove and get my steps in so as to avoid embarrassment for us both.  It was then that another male knocked on the door and asked me to let him in.  I said I didn’t know if that was ok.  He told me it was, he was a doctor.  I let him. I looked at my watch and it was after 7:30. I called and got turtle 2 again.  I asked what was taking so long and told her I’d let someone into the building, apparently earning my waiting time as a doorman.

“We don’t want you to do that!”

Snap!

“We need you to sit in your seat until the nurse gets you.”

Now I was mad but what could I do?  I sat back down and waited for the poor gentlemen in the men’s room, trying to look casual as he finished up his lengthy business.  Just as he did, a nice nurse called my name and took me back.

Maybe it was because she was so nice that I burst into tears!!!

 

I tried to explain why I was so upset, and she did the exact wrong thing; she tried to make me feel better.

“That’s ok.” “Everyone back here is nice.” “You don’t have to worry; this will be fine.”

I wasn’t worried.  I was mad!!!  Why did I have to deal with 2 people snapping away at me when I thought I was doing what was asked of me.  The tears continued as I was was hooked up to anesthesia, fell asleep, and was woken up after the procedure and sent home, pain free.

Just before I got into a new cab with a different driver who didn’t snap at me once, I was handed discharge paperwork and the patient bill of rights, which read, “you need to have a driver who will WAIT for you and someone with you at home to make sure you don’t have a reaction to anesthesia.”

The timing of this information made me even madder.  I got home, made some tea, curled up on the sofa, and stewed.

I wasn’t in pain. I wasn’t worried about the test results.  But I was still angry.

When did this happen?  When did something as silly as two jerks being mean to me get me so upset?  It’s not the first time someone has been mean to me.  Mean is a word I learned early.  Like as early as age 4.

 

I distinctly remembering yelling at my big sister, “Laurie, you big meanie!”

To take my mind off my emotions, I put on the trial of Dereck Chauvin where I watched expert witnesses detail the proper police procedural holds, what is safe and appropriate and what is not.   Not the best viewing for someone already upset and who had several other emotions careening in my brain and heart about the death of George Floyd.

The expert started talking about tactics used when someone is having a “behavioral episode.”

Huh.

I listened more as the same expert described ways to de-escalate someone in an emotional crisis.  Was that it?  Was my tantrum some sort of behavioral health crisis?  Perhaps behavioral health crisis was a little extreme, but it did get me thinking.

When the trial took the morning recess, yes, it was now approximately 11 AM, a much better hour to call morning, I grabbed my laptop and checked my email.  There, in my inbox, was a new blog by my friends Dan and Jennifer Digman, discussing Anger and MS.

Wow!

Timing.

I dived in and learned that my angry crying jag might be due to MS.

I had known this.  I actually wrote a blog about it years ago that I had completely forgotten, Call Me Oscar.

Still, it was nice to have the reminder and the links to help me deal.  Because, I know, there will always be snapping turtles in my life, even if I’m not hanging out by any lakes or ponds. But I have to better handle how they affect me.

What a relief, something I forgot I could blame on MS and I will.

After I blame the turtles….

 

 

Me, an Absolute Abnormality

The medical spawn of unknown weirdness

I was not an attractive baby.

I’m not stating this for sympathy; it’s a known fact.

I was born with a goofy looking face, dark hair all over, including on my back, and my feet smelled no matter how often my parents bathed me.

You know how older siblings tell their younger siblings they were adopted?

My older siblings told me I was adopted from a gorilla family and since they had the pictures to prove it, I believed them.  If YOU don’t believe them, believe my beloved grandmother, now deceased.  When I came to her and told her what my sister’s said about my infant unattractiveness, her response was, “well Yvonne, pretty babies aren’t everything…”

What has me thinking about this is that now, more than ever, I’ve got some unexplainable, bizarre medical stuff going on in my body.  Yes, that is usually the nature of multiple sclerosis.  But I don’t think that I, someone who blames MS for everything, can even label it MS weirdness.

So perhaps my sisters’ were right and there really is something to that ape thing??

It started small and early in life.   At some point I realized that the first joint of both of my ring fingers didn’t have full range of motion.  I can’t bend them backwards and can only bend them forward half the distance of my regular fingers.

I’ve never seen or heard of this.

Though odd, it’s not a difficulty in my life.  Turns out, you don’t really need to bend that part of your ring fingers too much and I’ve gotten by.

(All you poor, regular folks carrying around complete joints on that finger? Suckers.)

Lately though, these abnormalities have increased and it’s just too much.

Let’s start with sleep. If, for some reason, such as stress or too much caffeine or a Dateline marathon on the Oxygen, channel, I don’t get my usual 10-12 hours of sleep, I get a 36 hour, full-on cold the next day.

Yes, it’s exactly 36 hours, to the minute. It will start with sneezing, usually in the middle of the night, and I know, for the next day and a half I will be a sneezing, sniffling, body aching, congested, germy mess.  I’ve literally gone through two boxes of Kleenex during this time.

(If you want to get rich my friends, put a ton of chocolate and a DVD of Law and Order reruns in front of me and then invest in Kleenex.  That stock will soar in no time.)

Has anyone ever heard of a lack of sleep leading to an instantaneous cold?

When I do get enough sleep, I have incredibly involved dreams.  I can dream about going to the movies and the dream will create a whole movie script within the ongoing dream, complete with plot twists, compelling story lines and a cliffhanger in case my brain wants to create a sequel.  My dreams are multi-layered and whenever I share them with someone, they always shake their head at the details.

But, according to the medical field, dreams only happen in the REM state of sleep and according to my Fitbit, I only get 1 hour of REM sleep.  It’s impossible that all of my dreams fit into that lone little hour.  It takes me three hours just to describe them!  And I know the Fitbit can’t be wrong as it employs the latest in technology and magic.

Some helpful folks have suggested that if I’m dreaming that intensely, I can’t be getting restful sleep and perhaps should try a sleep study.  I’ve taken pretty much every medical study available, and I think insurance would definitely put their foot down on that one.  Plus, even if I brought my most comfy pillow and my favorite teddy bear to a sleep study, I can’t imagine I’d actually fall asleep with all of those doctors watching me.

Unless they had a true crime channel on the sleep monitor.

And then, three weeks ago the hospital called to tell me that Dr. Marcial Silva wanted me to have an infusion.  What’s the problem?  I don’t see a Dr. Marcial Silva.

To make sure, I pulled out my doctor rolodex, flipped through all 430 cards and not one was named Dr. Marcial Silva.  Marcial Silva is a Portuguese name and I’m Portuguese; could his nurse just have randomly picked a Portuguese person to fulfill his infusion request?  Could I be the only Portuguese person who visits the hospital?

What was even more confusing is that I did recently visit the infusion center, six times to be exact.  But the mysterious Dr. Silva seemed to want me back.  Perhaps the nurses missed me?

Lately, I’ve was having random chest pains.  Well, hardly pains, more like random chest aches.

Yes, I know that is bad.

Yes, I know that should be looked at.

Thing is, I’ve had them before.  And while I don’t remember what I was told about them, I’m still kicking around so I didn’t think about it too much.  But during a follow up to one specialist, #317 in my doctor rolodex if you need to know, he specifically asked about chest pains.  I told the truth.  Then they asked a bunch of other questions and insisted I see my primary doctor right away.

Sigh.

My primary was able to see me directly after a visit to another specialist, #389 to be exact.  That specialist had ordered some tests that came out fine but the minor female symptom she was checking (sparing the details, men read my blog too-don’t want to scare them too much,) isn’t normal, so she wants to do a quick surgical procedure, just to be sure.

Before she can do that, I need an EKG.

At my primary doctor’s, with an EKG request and now a report of random chest aches, an EKG was done immediately.  They stuck me all over with stickers and then put these electrodes all over me.  Then they threw the stickers away before I even got to see them!!

Were they unicorns?  Superheroes? Flowers? Stars? Stripes?

What’s the point of getting stickers at the doctors office if you don’t get to stick them yourself?

Anyway, the EKG came out, according to that doctor, “not perfect but no one’s EKG ever comes out perfect.”

Phew, finally something normal with my body.

“Ok,” I thought, “EKG says I’m good.  Catch you later!”

But no, chest pains are still abnormal so, just to be sure, the doctor ordered a stress test.

Why do I need a stress test?  I know I’m stressed.  I’m stressed with all of these appointments and tests.    I take stress tests all the time.  I call them life.  Can’t we just put an A on the test, note my abnormalities and be done with it?

Even when I’m normal, I’m abnormal.  A doctor asked me once if I’d ever had an abnormal pap smear. When I said I hadn’t, she said that’s good, women often get them from time to time.  Apparently, it’s normal to have an abnormal pap smear but since I never have what does that make me?

As far as I can see, an absolute abnormality.

And of course, there’s all that MS weirdness that continues daily but, in my mind, has actually become somewhat normal.  The one thing that is normal about MS is how abnormal it remains.

So, again, thinking of all this abnormal stuff has to make one wonder where it comes from.

If anyone sees an ape family looking for their long lost chimp, can you please give them my number????

 

March is National MS Awareness Month my friends! 

And while my blog here at Yvonnedesousa.com doesn’t focus on specific, factual information about MS, there are some excellent resources available.  Also, when I became an MS blogger, I joined a group of special people who have lots to share about their own MS journey.  For a list of websites and blogs that will definitely help you with multiple sclerosis awareness, please check out my links page!

If the Machine is Out of Order, Your Life Might Be Too

Laundry day, laundry week and multiple sclerosis

Quite a while ago I wrote a blog titled Laundry Day.  I’m quite proud of it and it remains one of my favorites.  Basically, it described how if you have multiple sclerosis and need to do laundry, that’s likely all you’re going to do that day.

Today’s post stomps all over Laundry Day and it only has a little to do with MS.  File it under “too bizarro to believe so you just know it has to be real.”

I can’t really blame this particular incident on MS, though I’ve tried.

And tried again.

Thursday was to be laundry day for me.  I had three loads which was fine as there are 2 common rooms with laundry in my complex, and each has 3 front loading washers and 3 dryers.

I put my loads in, added the additives and the quarters.

I watched each machine start up and then went to do an errand.

When I got back, 2 of the machines were on their final rinse cycle.  But the first machine was flashing the words “out of order” at me and making this hideous beeping sound that went right through me, piercing the lone parts of my brain that are lesion free.

No biggie I thought, I’ll just wash them again.  Annoying but so what if it takes a little longer and an extra five quarters?  There are worse things in the world than just having to rewash one load of laundry.

I got my other clothes into the available dryers and went to take my laundry from the broken machine.  But the door was locked.

Seriously.

 

Somehow the machine had malfunctioned and decided it wanted my wet clothes to keep it company during the malfunctioning stress.

Did I mention that this load contained my unmentionables?  Underwear, socks, and some towels made up the pile.

Bob from maintenance came in and I told him my predicament.  He tried the door and confirmed that yes, I was right.  The door was locked.

Bob is great and so is the management of my complex.  They, however, do not maintain the washers or even the dryers and thus I needed to call the washing machine company.

I dialed the number and waited.

I waited through the hideous beeping and the sounds of the two dryers, hoping the whole time that I wouldn’t get disconnected as the building didn’t have the best cell service.  I was a little tired but hey, it was laundry day and so I needed to get this done.

After 20 minutes a woman answered and told me a trick.  I should press my knee against the door handle and hold for 15 seconds, as sometimes that releases the lock.

It did not.

I kept HER on hold while I tried again.  I tried pressing for 15 seconds, 18 seconds, 20 seconds, and even 30 seconds.  The door remained locked.

“Okay,” the woman said, “we’ll send a repairman out and put an emergency tag on it.”

“What does emergency mean?” I asked.  “A couple of minutes? A couple of hours? Longer?”

She had no idea.

I looked up the company on my phone and was relieved to see that they operated 24/7.  It may be late and that sucks but I would hear from them soon.  I went home and waited into the wee hours of the night and heard nothing.  I did finish some of my washing but alas, laundry day would have to be continued.

The next morning, I checked and there was the “out of order” sign still flashing, the beep still beeping and the door still locking.

I whined to management and they said they would call too.  They don’t usually get involved but since my wet clothes were still stuck in the machine, they would give it a shot.  Bob said he would try to unplug and then plug the machine back in.  After a few hours, the office called and said that unplugging the machine didn’t work, they had called and were given a trick to try to open the machine, but it didn’t work either.

“Did you hold your knee against the lock for 15 or 20 seconds?”

The office assured me that they were promised the situation was tagged as an emergency.  I went home and filed a work order online.

And then it was the weekend.

I headed to the laundry room once again, eager to rescue my clothes but nothing had changed.  A neighbor who lived near the building happened by, expressed her horror at the situation and promised to be on the lookout for the repairman.

On Sunday I, now very worried about my likely moldy underwear, ran over to check on it.  Or, at least, I tried to tell my Fitbit I ran over.  It was too smart for me.

“You run?  I’m not dumb ya know. Whaddya think I am, a WiiFit? Where is your Wii anyway?”

While my WiiFit is no longer in my life, my Fitbit seems to have adopted it’s snarky attitude.

Ran, walk, meandered, it didn’t matter.  My undies and such were still being held captive by a wicked electronic entity that couldn’t even bother to send a ransom note.

On Monday, the office was shocked by my laundry predicament.  “How could this be?” they marveled.  “How could they still not have sent someone to release your undergarments?”

We had a long conversation in the other laundry room while I washed the few remaining under garments I owned, so as not to be spending the cold winter days going commando.  Luckily for me, just the past week I had finally checked “sort through sock drawer” off my “to do list,” weaning everything but the best of the best of socks which were now being ripened in an evil machine.

This time, Carol from the office said she would call in a service request as well.  Another neighbor happened by and said she had called too.

Later, a friend mentioned I should contact the washer people on social media.  I did but was bummed that my message only posted privately.  Seems the company had the wherewithal to hire social media experts but not emergency repairmen.

 

I also posted the predicament on Facebook where I received over 30 emojis and almost as many comments such as “have crowbar, will travel,” “have you called the police?  Isn’t this petty theft?” “kick it” “call the local news” “I have a sledgehammer and get off at 3” and several “unplug it and plug it back in” responses.  A couple of FB friends took to social media to complain as well.

I was really inclined towards the breaking the washer comments but was too worried that I may then have to pay for the machine.

Tuesday came and went and all I had to show for it was a message from Carol at the office telling me that she had downloaded the company’s cell phone app, filed a complaint there and they promised they had an emergency work order in place.

That was the end for me.  I was beyond exhausted and over the whole ordeal. I vowed that the next day, Wednesday, would be a much needed day of rest only.  A day for healing and a day for recouping.  I would spend it not thinking and not doing.  I wouldn’t answer the phone and wouldn’t care about the world or washing machines or clean laundry or dirty laundry.  I went to bed finally feeling calm.

At 8 AM Wednesday my phone pinged with a text from my neighbor, “they’re here!! The laundry people are here!!”

I didn’t care.

I’d moved on from laundry woes and was just going to rest.

Then my phone pinged with a voice mail, “hi, this Al, from the laundry company.  I fixed the machine and left a wash cycle for you as you might want to rewash your clothes.  They smell really bad.”

So what?  I don’t care!!  Screw my clothes and screw you Al!

Then the office called.  The clothes reeked, the building smelled like a sewer and if I left some detergent out, Bob would come get it and wash my clothes for me.

I really didn’t want Bob washing even my clean underwear and socks, never mind my moldy, mildewy, sewer smelling ones.  But what could I do?

Still in my pj’s, I put some bleach, Oxi-Clean, laundry sanitizer, white vinegar, baking soda, hydrogen peroxide, Tide, alcohol, lye, and ammonia outside my door.

I wanted Bob to have all the options he needed.

About ½ an hour later, Suzy called.  Susy had an office in the building where my clothes were. She wanted me to know that she had used the free wash cycle to wash the machine itself and had scrounged up just enough quarters to run an actual wash that might potentially return my clothes to some semblance of normal.

I felt a little like the scene in The Perfect Storm when Captain George Clooney looks at the big wave and says to fishermen Mark Wahlberg “it’s not going to let us out.”

This laundry predicament wasn’t going to go away and allow me to have the much needed rest and relief I sought.  No, I was not facing a colossal life taking clusterf**K of a storm.  What I was facing was a colossal fatigue inducing clusterf**k of a malfunctioning washing machine predicament.

I dressed and headed over to the laundry room once again.  I definitely did not run this time. I barely shuffled.

But, surprisingly, the building didn’t stink as badly as I was told it did.  Seems one load of wash did help the smell.  But I didn’t trust anything.

I DID NOT use the same washer and though I was beyond thinking and moving, managed to somehow rewash my clothes twice more- once with Oxi-clean and bleach and once with Oxi-clean and laundry sanitizer.

And the funny thing is, when I took them out of the dryer, they did seem clean.  They didn’t smell fresh, but they didn’t smell awful either. Perhaps there was a slight whiff of mildew but not bad at all.

Still, I couldn’t deal.  Many people said I should toss them and demand the company reimburse me. Other people said they were fine, and I should put them away and move on.  Would I ever trust them again?  Could my germaphobia ever forget that this laundry was once stitched with the threads of foulness?

I didn’t know and so I put them in a garbage bag while I tried to decide and wrote to the company for reimbursement.

That was 2 weeks ago.  The clothes remain in the bag and I still don’t know if I should throw them out or wear them.  In the meantime, I have heard from the washing machine people that they will give me the money to replace them but while I wait for a check that doesn’t bounce away, I now go to the laundry room several times a week to wash the few clothes that weren’t in that load.  My whole MS concept of doing laundry has now shifted and become completely “out of order.”  So hmmmm….. maybe this post has something to with MS after all…

Update- I have been informed by the company that they will compensate me for the clothes.  But until then, what would you do my friends?  Would you-

Take them out of the bag and wear themTake them out of the bag and throw them awayHide the bags somewhere in your tiny apartment and never think about them again

 

Hi friends!

Big day coming up.  Huge, even.  A day when three important things come together.

February 15th is President’s Day.  Shout out to our deceased Commanders in Chief, President Biden, and the members of the President’s Club!

And for many, February 15th is the start of February school vacation which is great for students and teachers.  Parents stuck in a Covid world?  Not so much.

And if all of that isn’t a reason to observe, it happens to be one of my favorite holidays- Half Off Chocolate Hearts Day!!!

Whatever you celebrate, be safe and have fun!