No fire

Bubble wrap was invented, according to Google, in 1960. This is good for Dad, his parents or both.

The story goes that when he was little he hid  (I believe in the tub), crinkled something like cellophane and yelled fire. His parents were none too thrilled.

If he had bubble wrap available, they might have killed him, assuming they didn't die from heart attacks.

I was thinking of this story the other day when I got a package wrapped in bubble wrap. I opened it and accidentally dropped the bubble wrap on the floor. Then I accidentally ran over it.

BAM

I almost gave myself a heart attack. I'm glad I was alone.

The tea gods are angry

Earl Gray or perhaps one of the tea animals from Red Rose Tea is gonna get me.

I like drinking tea. but. because I cough when looking up, I tend to gulp it down.

Surely, this defeats the purpose of tea and is going to get Earl after me.

Tired

I was getting ready to transfer back to my chair this morning when I realized I just didn't want to.

Both my braces had stayed on my feet, so that wasn't it.

Because my braces were on, I wasn't apprehensive about transferring (anymore than usual).

I was just tired.

My disability has been pretty prominent in my life for more than 25 years, and that is assuming that we do not think much of my early life was affected.

I eventually did because I had to. But I'm so tired.

ER, it's been too long

It had been months since I had been to the ER -- they could have painted, gotten a whole new crowd of folks that didn't know me or worse the folks could have started to forget  me -- so Monday afternoon saw me back at the ER.

Quick side note: Of all the trips to the ER, Monday afternoon was hands down the busiest. I stayed in the waiting room an hour.

I had gotten a great report Friday from my cardiologist, but Monday morning I had some spells of being out of breath. I took my pulse after the second one and it was a bit high -- 100 bpm.

I called Mom. She called the cardio and came to get me. Then we went in to see them.

They would have sent me home after a fine EKG, but I mentioned that I was feeling a weightiness on my chest. WhOOPS. ER-bound.

Everything was fine there. The worst part was the nurse who didn't remember me.

My cardiologist has me on a heart monitor for two weeks.

My primary care doctor, who has known me about 20 years, prescribed Xanax.

Quick PS: I almost made back-to-back visits because I took a header into some gravel. Fame MuSt have undone my seatbelt when she was on my lap.

Face to face

Whenever this co-worker comes over to talk to me, I think we are in a huddle. She puts her hands on her quads and leans toward me.

I learned why today and knew she is totally the kind of person I want on my team, football or otherwise.

She told me she remembered an article about me where I said how cool it was that former Interior Secretary Sally Jewell had knelt down to talk to me face to face.  So that's what she was doing: talking face to face.

My head hurts

The University of Virginia, my alma mater, won an exiting game last night to claim the college basketball championship. I spent most of morning wanting to cry.

I tentatively decided that it was because college would have been so much better without Friedreich's ataxia or even if I knew what was wrong.

But I didn't have time to solidify that hypothesis because I went to the bathroom, stopped in front of the door to tell Fame to push the button to open the door, but instead coughed.

My trunk lurched forward, and my head whacked the door. My arm hit the joystick, which drove my head farther into the door.

I recovered in time for someone to ask if I was OK.

Then on the way out of the stall, I banged my head into the lock on the side of the door.

I was then fine until lunch when all of a sudden a sneeze came on. I didn't have time to do the chest strap, but I did have time to get clear of my desk ... I thought.

The mark on my forehead suggested I needed together farther back.

I want to believe

“Good for you,” my head-shrinker said when I told her I sometimes see a holistic doctor. "I thought you'd be a skeptic."

I am, I told her, but this guy seems to know his stuff.

That is why I have had Mom spraying magnesium oil on my feet for the past month, a holistic answer to restless legs.

Results are not as awesome as I hoped, Last night, for instance, I was up till after 1 because my left leg would seem to get settles only to jump and disrupt everything, I tried advil, stretching, sitting, exercising, even  standing. nothing worked. I did watch John Oliver, but it wasn't worth it.

I want to be fixed, not like a dog but to have my ills corrected.

Bad words

For Mom's 80th birthday, we made a list of 80 things we love about Mom. One of mine was that when she curses, I know it is bad enough that I can curse, too.

That is where I found myself the other day, and the object of Mom's ire was the braces (of course). She was helping me transfer when I didn't have the braces on, and she preached to the choir of me that I am so much better with the braces that it made her want to say bad words that they still didn't stay on/fit without hurting.

I guess  technically she didn't curse, but close enough.