Visual Updates and a Ramble

Here we have the new orthotic. Our knife model being unavailable, I had to step in. This splint, in a subtle shade of gunmetal, is the perfect complement to my race tshirt and sweats. I am the beauty queen of Paul Lane.

The claw is looking fabulous these days, too.





My apologies to the faint of heart. C Claire, who helped me, has been apologized to in spades. Her description of the above: Disgusting, gross, scary.

My hands have never been pretty, but the left (not shown) is a Dove Girl's hand compared to this mess. The ravages of age are bad enough, throw in a muscle witherer and you've got a real winner.

Pity party over. Time to report on the .47 reading in the Lithium blood level!! Shooting for between .3 and .6, so Dr Bayat doesn't feel any need to adjust the dosage. More blood work in two weeks.

If the slow progression can slow to a crawl, if I can exist like this for another 30 years (asking too much? Hell no!), I'd be happy. After all, having full use of one's right hand and arm is SO overrated, don't you think? No, it's not overrated. I will never take for granted ever again the movements our bodies make.

Have I told you this story? When I first started running, and discovered how much I loved the trails in the Fredericksburg Battlefield, I went out one cold winter morning, all alone. I ran and ran until it occurred to me I must be some sort of fool, running in the woods when no one was chasing me, not chasing anything. I continued and was laughing to and at myself when all of a sudden I felt like--don't laugh--a deer. Yeah, I must have zoned, but it was the most wonderful sensation. I felt every muscle in my body propelling me forward, each step, each turn, each hill. I marveled at the machine that was my own body and was transported. After years of inactivity, smoking, SLOTH; here I was running, running, running, breathing the cold air, being a deer. Sounds idiotic, but that's how it was. And still is, sometimes.

I'm thankful these days for every step I take, running, walking, doing the Happy Mommy dance with Cal's kids, all of these little gifts in the form of a footstep.

Allison, did Beck used to do Happy Feet? Well, that's how it should be always.

Sweet dreams, my loved ones.