Last Night’s Bladder Fight


“To me, boxing is like a ballet, except there’s no music, no choreography, and the dancers hit each other.” -Jack Handy

I am awake and trying to reorient myself to daylight; last night was choosy with the sleep:

Sleep: 2.5h / Awake: 3.5h / Sleep: 1h / Awake .5h / Sleep: 3h.

In the grand scheme of things that’s a 6.5h night of sleep. I should be grateful, no? During the awake portions, I was in and out of bed then into the bathroom about twenty times. I am exhausted.

Thankfully there’s a ready crock pot of chili sitting on the kitchen counter, and some happy leftovers in the fridge. Downstairs is at least an accepting “Meh” on the “OMG what if people happen to show up unexpectedly!?” scale. My head swims through a particularly wet fog.


Cowboy, is there no adorable task you cannot undertake?

I could ask that somebody call me a Waaaahmbulance, but today will be one of our last cool. Cowboy gladly spent almost all of the night beside my chest. I got to be beside the most wonderful asleep person in the world. I had TV to keep me company. I “final woke” this morning to a txt from my dad saying I love you and am thinking of you. I have espresso and homemade sweet potato bread beside me. My nightstand is clean (the drawer falling off is another story — I have been unintentionally breaking stuff again). I am still at my lowest-ever-er weight. I see a new PCP on Monday for urologist and gastroenterologist  referrals. I will lift weights again today — my arms will be readier than they’ve ever been for tank top season this year (there is a lot of extra skin to contend with). Gilenya’s side effects are fading into normalcy. I love my family and they love me. I love my wife and she loves me. I get to say all of these things and know they are true.

I am a lucky, if not a little sleepy, woman who needs to get up on her haunches and do something. What makes you a happy, lucky or happy-go-lucky person?

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