Of course, when I remember the unused moisture-wicking flat sheet in the front closet and order the cooling azure blue moisture-wicking nightie, the nightly dreams, sweat and poor sleep cease. Whatever. They now join my “natural remedies” arsenal for the next battle. What about the RA flare, 43YOV? Flare Schmare. I can’t remember living without pain. And as far as flares go this one ranks a 2 on the old “0-10” pain scale, whereas that torturous chest tube merited an off the charts 20 on several occasions.

The only glitch–the always faithful fatigue that piggybacks on flares, along with catching up on all the lost slumber from sweats, means I’m in the midst of a sleep-a-thon. One longer than the longest ultra marathon out there. That’s pure assumption based on the fact that I lack the energy to research the claim, but it feels true. Self-care, I’m on it. Rebounding, dancing, meditation and yoga (though not enough; don’t know why) continue, as does eating oodles of greens, fruits (Golden Kiwi–the pic and the reality differed–for dessert, they’re so blasted good) and gluten free grains. Breenie’s “week o’puking” is in full swing too; cleaning her messes is a part-time job, at least.

Then there’s writing, reading, making to-do lists, philosophical and political pseudo-debates with the cats, cleaning litter boxes, looking presentable before leaving the building, deleting most incoming email, retweeting the latest ridiculous Republican goings on, paying or paying off on hospital bills, buying and preparing above food, watering St. John, Maxene, Marsha II (our new basil plant), Jan and Cindy, typing notes to accompany the animal rights books I’m giving the good Reverend at the church I’m peacefully infiltrating (turns out a friend’s working her vegan magic on the Catholics!), and pondering whether a hunger strike will get Johns Hopkins and The University of Tennessee medical schools to finally stop using live animals for medical school training then killing them (when both own a far superior simulator training system that’s gathering dust, by the way). What do you think?

While you mull that last one over, I’m just going to rest my eyes for a few minutes…

P.S. Fooled ya! I practiced yoga and will now sing along with my musically-inclined neighbor.

Lack of communication is unhealthy.

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