catstark

Abstract Thoughts

She sits in her car, waiting for the light to change, her depression all around her like a fog. It thickens as her thoughts become darker. She’s not really thinking suicide; it’s more an abstract thought. But, she still reaches across with her right hand, as if holding a sharp object, and runs her hand down the inside of her arm. Not across the wrist, but down her arm. She’s seen enough movies, heard enough about it to know that if you’re really going to take your life, you don’t slash cross the wrist, you run the knife down the arm, following your veins.

The light changes, and her car moves forward. Tears roll down her cheeks. Too often, she feels like this. Friends say she has the right to feel this way. Losing someone you’ve spent the last 19 years with is not an easy thing, by any stretch of the imagination. Even if she hated him, she didn’t, not even a little; it would probably be a hard thing. But she didn’t hate him. She loved him. He annoyed her, he loved her, he made her understand who she really was. And now he was gone.

Traffic flowed around her; she kept up with it, but tears still streamed. Suicide was not the answer. It wouldn’t solve anything.

Then she realized, that was bullshit. Suicide would solve all her problems. She would no longer feel. No pain, no love, no tears, nothing. No emotions, no thoughts. Nothing. Not even emptiness. Just nothing.

It was everyone else that would have to deal with it. Just like she had to deal with his death.

The thought was still abstract; she wasn’t going to take her own life. She was too young and there were too many things she had yet to do. She wasn’t done yet. But it was still bullshit that suicide would solve nothing.

She wiped away more tears, trying hard no to allow the pain to interfere with her driving. The box of tissues is, of course, in the back seat, nowhere close enough to grab. She still wipes her fingers across her eyes, catching the wetness, wanting to be able to wipe away her pain just as easily.

Suddenly, a question pops into her mind: Is this worth it? Was 19 years with him worth the past 6 months of pain? Yes.

The answer is immediate, but not a surprise. The pain is overwhelming sometimes, overbearing and feels never ending, but yes, it’s worth it.

Even the abstract thoughts of suicide are probably worth it. He was a wonderful person, and he was loved. As was she.

Nanowrimo

As some of you know, I suffered a huge loss this past year, with the passing of my husband of 19 years. My creativity has taking a hit due to that. But this is Nanowrimo. In the spirit of Nanowrimo, I have decided to do something that may end up being tough for me.

I am not starting a new project, I’m going to try and finish one. I have a book in mind I’ve been working on for a while, and I’m going to try and write a little each day to see if I can get it done. Though Nanowrimo is about starting and finishing a novel, at this point, I just want to finish something.

I’ve been in a fog for the past few months, a fog that has not allowed me to write of even think clearly. I’ve had a few moments of clarity, when things pop through, but it’s been tough. Between 2005 and April of this year, I’d written over 1 million words, which went to 17 finished novels, various short stories, and about 25 unfinished novels. Since April, I’ve barely written.

To some, the amount I write now probably seems like a lot, but for me, it’s not enough. I know I need time, but I want very badly to see if I can jump start the creative juices and get my head in the game again. I think this is the perfect month for that.

So here it goes. The novel, currently entitled Lost Sister, has 53481 words.

In the spirit of Nanowrimo, I’m going to work on adding a few words each day and hope to keep you updated on the amount of words I have. Since it is a project mostly done, I will not be using Nanowrimo and their web pages, but if you’re curious about it, I encourage you to search for their page and check it out. It’s an interesting project for writers.

I’ll keep you updated in the comments with word count and date. If I go a few days without posting, that does mean I haven’t written anything, but please be patient. Just deciding to do this was tough for me.

Thank you all, and have fun writing.

Liquid Warm

John leaned against the heavy wooden door, fighting the icy wind that threatened to push it back open. He gave a final shove and won the battle. He shivered as the warmth of the bar slowly eased its way under his clothing. He hugged his crusda cloak around him tighter, not wanting to relinquish the warm fur just yet.

“Can you believe the taste of this?”

“I think mine has fur in it. Give me another one, on the house.”

John heard a soft slow growl, which could almost have been the wind. He turned, not sure what to expect. Walter told him about this place; said it was a great bar: quiet, cozy, decent food. What he saw as he turned did not fit the harsh voices of the two trudan crystal encrusted drunk men at the bar.

Zithma’s Place, as Walter called it, was warm despite the wooden walls. There were paintings on one wall, all with the same green marking in the lower left hand corner. There were a few tables and some booths, enough for about thirty people. An old burgundy wood bar at the back gave off a strange reflection of the room. An antique from Earth, Jon guessed. There were ten seats at the bar and two were occupied. John ignored the men and took a seat at the opposite end. He felt their angry drunken gaze upon him and turned toward them when he was settled in his seat.

“Gentlemen.” He nodded hello and turned back to the menu written on the wall, cringing when he heard the unmistakable sounds of two men tripping over themselves trying to climb down from bar stools.

“You’re the new guy.”

“You reported us.”

“You must have me confused with someone else.” John thought of the balst in his inner coat pocket, hoping it would keep still.

“We lost our jobs because of you.”

“They’re sending us back to Earth. Earth! There are no jobs there.”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen you before in my life.” John silently repeated the Da’hiat Tla, the Prayer of Calming he had learned as a boy. As he finished the short prayer, he touched a stone hanging around his neck and released his will. The two men backed up a step or two then went back to badgering him.

John had not come in here looking for a fight. He had been on Terra Suul for four months now and made his peace with the ice planet. He worked in the trudan crystal mines and left most of the others alone. He considered himself a peaceful man and didn’t fight unless he had no other choice.

He softly recited the Da’hiat Tla again, touched the stone and released his will. This time, the spell took. The men stopped mid insult and went back to their seats. They were dazed for a few moments then slowly went back to drinking their local beers. John had no idea how the bartender convinced these two humans to buy the vile brown brew. Probably said it was the only thing in stock.

John looked forward when a shadow fell across him. A Suulian, presumably the bartender, stood across the bar from him. Like all Suulians, he was rather tall and very sleek. He had purple-stripped fur and a mad look in his eyes. The man leaned forward, his flat feline nose almost touching John’s longer human nose, and sniffed.

“You look like a human, are dressed as a native, and yet smell like a Mah’tia monk. Who are you?” He bared his sharp teeth, challenging John’s presence.

John pulled his right hand out of his cloak pocket, palming a small metal disk. He held the hand out to he bartender. “My name’s John. Walter told me about this place. Said it was where to go if I wanted real Suulian food.”

The bartender took the offered hand after a moment’s hesitation. He did not acknowledge the disk, but visibly relaxed. His voice became friendly. “I’m Zithma. Where’s Walter these days? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

John dropped his gaze. “He’s sick. Pneumonia. Doc Shandler isn’t sure Walter’ll get better. Said a man his age usually doesn’t last long on this planet.”

“Walter’ll surprise you. This isn’t the first time he’s had pneumonia. Before you leave, I’ll give you something to take back to him. Care for anything?”

“Crusda steak and plenty of targ.”

Zithma pulled back, a look of surprise on his face. “You drink targ?”

John shrugged. “One of the Suulians at the camp had some. He offered me a drink. It was good.”

“Humans often complain that the stench makes them sick.” He was preparing the brew now, carefully scooping delicate florescent blue petals out of a trudan crystal jar into a mug.

Targ was often the only color visible in the eternal snow that was Terra Suul. The native wild plant grew on top of the snow, and needed neither sun nor dirt to grow. Terra Suul only saw the sun five weeks out of the year, and was never above freezing. The ground, when it could be found, was frozen and not very fertile. Targ was a perfect example of Suulian adaptation and evolution.

Zithma was pouring hot water into a cup, stirring slowly. The smell hit John as soon as the steaming water touched the first petal. To John, it smelled of earth and decaying trees. It brought to mind the many long nights he had spent in the forests of Thand, listening to the night creatures as they scuttled around, and sometimes in, his tent. John breathed the scent deeply, wanting nothing more than to drink the smell and let his memories come forth.

“What is that stench?” To other humans, targ smelled of death and decay, not of green growing things.

Zithma and John both sighed as the two men started in on the stench of targ. Zithma gave John a small smile and a sly look. “Ten to one it drives them out.”

John smiled but shook his head. “Only one thing will drive them out.”

“Another Mah’tia spell?”

“Last call.”

Zithma grunted and gave the other humans a dirty look. He didn’t like uninvited guests. He gave the two another look and turned back to John. “How long have you been on Terra Suul?”

John took a long slow sip of targ tea before answering. He let the rich earthy aroma invade his nostrils and inhaled deeply as the cooling light liquid danced over his tastes buds. The tea’s flavor reminded him of breathing through his mouth on cold mornings: icy but not numbing. The taste and flavor mingled together to remind him even more of his stay on Thand.

He placed the mug on the bar top, giving Zithma a faraway smile. “I’ve been here four months.”

“No human becomes acclimated to Terra Suul that quickly.”

John shrugged. “Perhaps I’m not human.”

“As I said before: you look human, are dressed as a native and yet smell like a Mah’tia monk. Care to explain?”

“Perhaps over some steak?”

“My cook heard your order.”

John nodded, satisfied. “My father gave a year of his life so that I could learn from the Mah’tia monks.”

Zithma blinked, not really believing this human. When a person gave a year of their life to the Mah’tia monks, the person actually died a year sooner than they should have.

“Why did he do this?”

“That is the first question I plan on asking him if I ever see him again.”

Although Zithma had seen and felt the spell John let loose, he still had a hard time believing the man. Life with the monks meant hard work and hard discipline. Humans, although great workers, often lacked a certain spiritual quality that aided the monks in their lives and spells. Zithma didn’t think John was lying; it was just hard to believe. Other questions floated to Zithma’s lips, but just then Fen came out with John’s food.

The room became very quiet when Fen stepped out. It was rare to see a female Suulian. They were not sheltered, but for the most part, they kept to themselves, wherever it was that the Suulians lived. It was also sometimes hard to distinguish between a male and female Suulian. With Fen, it was obvious, and Zithma wished she had not come out. She usually stayed out of the main room, unless most of the customers were regulars. Zithma didn’t know what was going through his stubborn cousin’s head.

John was transfixed. The woman was beautiful. She was tall and sleek, covered in purple-stripped fur, much like Zithma’s. Unlike the bartender though, Fen’s fur was not as thick. Suulians had enough fur to keep relatively warm without clothing indoors. They usually only needed one fur coat to stay warm outdoors. John barely noticed her lack of fur though, as Fen’s yellow eyes held his green ones and seemed to look right through him, making his breath catch. Her look help him captive.

Fen walked around the end of the bar, behind the two drunken humans, her eyes still on John. As she walked by the men, one reached out to touch her. John was behind him and had him in a headlock before he even touched her. Zithma barely had time to move.

“Do not defile her with your filthy hands.” His voice was calm, low, and even.

“She’s a bar wench!” The man struggled futilely to get free.

John felt the balst stir in his pocket. Not wishing it to fully awaken, he picked up the drunk and carried him to the door. Zithma was already there, holding the door open. John threw the man into the snow. The other man followed them and was yelling obscenities and threatening revenge as he ran out the door to his friend. Zithma shut the door behind them and locked it. Regulars would know to knock.

John turned to find Fen giving him an odd look as she balanced his tray in her hands. “Thank you, but was it really necessary to throw them out?”

John regarded the two Suulians carefully, wondering how much he could tell them. “Yes, it was.”

Fen held his gaze, angry that this human had thrown out the other customers. “This is not your bar. It was not your place to do so.”

John bowed low to the woman, wondering how to appease her. “Your pardon, lady. Next time, should I let them assault and insult you?”

Fen, too angry to find words, hissed at him, slammed his food tray on the bar and stalked into the back room.

“That is the first time I’ve seen my cousin speechless. I didn’t thing it was possible.”

“I’m sorry if I offended her.”

“Why did you toss them out?”

“I have my reasons. Perhaps I will tell them to you one day.”

“Just not today?”

“I don’t know you.”

Zithma gave the human an odd look, trying to figure him out. Being closed mouth himself, he let the matter drop and walked back to John’s seat. As John came back to the bar, Zithma arranged the food for John, wiping up the spill his cousin created, then left John to his steak.

Once seated, John started in on the large steak. The crusda was the largest of the animals on Terra Suul. The animal had long thick, shaggy hair, and the snout was flat with broad nostrils. Otherwise, it reminded John and other humans of a polar bear. Its fur was great for cloaks, its meat was nutritious but only Suulians could hunt the creature.

Most of the time the crusda was very tame and would often wonder up to lost humans and Suulians and keep them warm until others arrived. There were stories that a few crusda’s had even led Suulians back to safety. Their tameness was the reason humans could not hunt the creature. The Suulians didn’t think it appropriate to kill a creature that walked right up to a hunter and sniffed their gun. The Suulians only hunted the animal during the warm season.

During the warm season the crusdas went into heat. The males became more aggressive and would often attack. This aggression grew as the days went by until the last week of the warm season. During this week, any male that had not found a mate would attack anything they saw, including the snow, and had to be killed.

The fur and meat stores were filled during this time, and rationed out in order to keep a nice supply in stock. This made it hard for new comers to buy the warm fur. John had traded a protective spell for his cloak.

After the first bite or two of steak, John realized it tasted familiar, but did not taste of any meat that he was used to. It was very tender and still pink in the center. The meat was not fatty, and tasted of the open flame it had been cooked on. He turned to Zithma as the Suulian emerged from the kitchen.

“You use targ wood for your oven.”

“Adds to the flavor. The meat itself doesn’t taste like much of anything.”

Zithma leaned against his side of the bar, and wondered at his instructions to Fen. He had asked her to prepare a drink for Walter, and told her to make one for John. Most humans did not get a taste until their third of forth visit, once Zithma decided if the person was to become a regular. Apparently some part of him had decided John was.

When Fen came out, John was once again transfixed. He watched as she gracefully glided behind the bar, carrying a tray with a glass mug and a canteen. Her long tail was swaying as she walked, almost hypnotizing John. The only difference was the look on her face. She looked angry. He half expected her to hiss at him again.

Fen set the mug and canteen down in front of him, being careful not to spill. She growled something to Zithma in Suulian then stalked out. John couldn’t help but watch as she left. He then turned his attention to the drink and watched as the liquid swirled in greens and blues. It continued to shimmer and shift even though nothing moved it. The steam rising from it in thin wisps caressed John’s face and tangled itself in his brown hair before fading to nothing. He could feel the heat radiating from it and moved to touch the glass.

Zithma placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. “Carefully.”

John had a hard time listening to the advice. He had yet to find anything on the planet that stayed warm very long. Even his tea and steak were lukewarm to cold. On a planet where almost everything was frozen and the wind usually blowing, even ovens needed constant care to stay warm. The trudan crystal mines where he worked were also rather cold, regardless of the heat the crystals generated.

John’s shaking hand reached for the mug. He wrapped his hands around it and let the heat burn his skin. He brought the mug close to his face and inhaled. The smell reminded him of the long days he had spent in his grandmother’s sunroom on Thand. The windows would often be left closed, making the room smell of heat and dust. The sun would shine through the tall windows, turning every dust mote visible.

He brought the mug to his lips, inhaling the liquid into his mouth. The odd brew spun over his tongue, teasing taste buds, warming them. It tasted of new spring days, endless and sunny. He swallowed and felt the heat travel down his throat into his stomach. John knew how to stay warm on this ice planet, with Mah’tia breathing techniques, but had not been comfortably warm in all his time on Terra Suul.

Now, he felt heat spreading throughout his abdomen, seeping into every corner of his digestive track. The more he drank, the more the heat spread. Soon, his skin was warming, and he actually felt as if he were sweating.

Halfway through the mug, he put the glass down. He removed his cloak and set it on the chair next to him. John, sweating just a little, his hands wrapped around the wonderful beverage. He smiled oddly, regarded Zithma calmly, then cocked his head slightly and glanced at his still steaming mug. He looked at Zithma, held the Suulian’s gaze for a long time.

“First timers are never served this.”

“No.” Zithma expected more questions, but John stayed silent, slowly sipping his drink. Zithma, unnerved by the unusual silence, started cleaning the glassed behind the bar. “You work for the mines, don’t you?”

John took his last sip of liquid warm and nodded.

“Why is it that you’re not covered in crystal shards?” Trudan crystals were attracted to warmth and attached themselves to anything that gave off even the tinniest bit of heat. Most of the mineworkers did not mind this, because the crystals gave off warmth as well as took it. Hard to get rid of, the miners soon stopped trying to brush the shards off. John had not a trace on him.

“I made my peace with this planet the first month I was there.”

“And that means-?”

“My first month on this planet was spent in a tent on the far side of the plateau.”

Again, Zithma had trouble believing him. Suulian’s could generally keep warm on their native planet. They were used to the climate and the fur help. A human out in the snowy wind, trying to stay warm? Not possible, unless…

“A crusda helped you.”

“I accepted the help of one toward the end of that month.” Revealing too much to anyone was never a good idea. John tried to distract Zithma. “What is that drink called?”

Zithma, more and more questions rising to his lips, bit them back. Fen was often like this about her stay on Mah’tia, although she had only been there for three years. Now, he had another enigma on his hands. However, being respectful of others wishes, Zithma let the subject drop and answered John’s question.

“Humans have given it two names. ‘Warm’ and ‘Curse’.”

“Appropriate.” John glanced down at the empty mug, still feeling the heat swimming through his veins. He was not a greedy man, but the warmth was intoxicating. “How many am I allowed?”

“You are allowed as many as any other human. One per day.”

John felt the heat within him, enjoying it, wondering how long it would last. “Why the limit?”

Zithma almost dropped the glass he was cleaning. He looked up at his new customer. “The first and last human who ever had two burned from the inside out.”

John considered those words. He held out his empty teacup. “I’ll just take more targ.”

Zithma smiled, liking the human more and more. He set about making more tea. “Wise choice, my friend. Welcome to Zithma’s.”

Time heals all wounds, but do we want it to?

Twenty years ago, I came to Rockford, IL from San Francisco, CA. I never thought I would be here this long. It was supposed to be a stop along the way.

Some stops are longer than others.

In my time here, I have met some great people, and spent most of those 20 years with jason ssg, my husband.

In those 20 years, I have also earned my B.A. in English, been diagnosed with MS and lost my husband of 19 years 2 months to kidney failure.

Either today or yesterday, I was thinking about the fact that I’d been here 20 years. I think, ‘Wow, it’s been 20 years’ and wonder not where the time went, but wonder when or if I will leave the area.

I lost my husband in May of this year, and often think, ‘Wow, it’s been 5 months’ and, ‘Wow, it’s only been 5 months’.

Time is odd.

It heals all wounds, but it heals all wounds. Sometimes, we don’t think we want our wounds healed.

20 years from now, I’ll still miss my husband, but I know, having already lost my dad, that sooner than I think, I won’t miss him everyday, and I won’t wish he were here everyday, sometimes every minute.

Time is a tricky little bitch, and I hate her.

Advice for the living

When my husband Jason died, there were many things I did not have to worry about. All our bills, our two vehicles, the apartment, were in my name. There were only a couple minor things I had to get changed into my name. This caused a very difficult situation to be not as difficult.

My husband’s death caused many of my married friends to talk about things they would not normally think about. Some have approached me for further advice. I willingly gave it. Another friend encouraged me to write things down so that maybe I can help others. Maybe even reach people I don’t know. So here it is. Advice on things you should talk to your spouse/significant other about in case something should happen to them.

1) Make sure your spouse knows all your passwords to your various social media, emails and other such things. I don’t and I am now afraid of what will happen to Jason’s Facebook page if I can’t get his password. I don’t want it deactivated due to inactivity. Such a small thing often feels huge during times like this.

2) If you pay all the bills, make sure your spouse knows how to access them and how/when to pay them. Are they emailed to you? Make sure your spouse sees them too. Also wouldn’t be a bad idea to talk to the companies that own your bills to see how difficult it would be to get everything switched into their name should the unthinkable happen.
That includes: car, loans, mortgage, utilities, EVERYTHING that has to be paid, or is in your name, make your spouse and you know the ins and outs of all the bills.

3) If something does happen, and you have to get the bills switched over, call the company at a time you’re feeling less terrible. Try not to cry. Have a friend there with you if that is needed. Do not tell them they have to help you. Say: My spouse died. The bill (mortgage, whatever) was in their name. What do I need to do to have it changed into my name?
I had to contact two places and they helped me over the phone. I assumed I would have to send something (death certificate) in. I did not. As I have worked customer care for years, I feel that my calm attitude, and the fact that I was asking for help, not demanding it, had a lot to do with the fact that we could take care of things over the phone.

4) Have extra death certificates. Hated having extra, still have a few too many, but you never know which companies will ask for one.

5) Jason and I did not have kids, so I can’t give any advice on that, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there was advice out there from a widow or widower that is also a parent.

6) Lastly. If you are a homosexual couple, I would imagine that there are far more things you have to worry about when your spouse dies, as the laws do not protect you yet. I have read a few heartbreaking articles on homosexual couples losing everything due to the fact that our laws in the States still suck for you guys. Find out how to protect yourselves legally to ensure that your things remain your things should your partner die. It is already a difficult thing when a spouse dies. Having the security of power of attorney may make things less horrid.

That’s all I have for the moment. If I have more, or if you have questions, I’ll add more. Peace and good health to all.

The Virus

The dinner party was going well. Everyone Joyce invited showed up and dressed formally, as the invitation suggested. Out of Joyce and Brad’s top floor apartment, the sunset could be seen over the lake. It was an incredible night, but it only depressed Molly. She sighed heavily as she felt a comforting arm slip around her shoulders.

“You’ve been quiet all night.” Wade said after he planted a small kiss on her cheek.

“I don’t get it, Wade. Why is this happening?”

“I don’t know. No one does, but it’s for the best.”

“Says who? The government? I don’t understand it.”

“The announcements said we would understand eventually.”

She turned on him and gave him an almost angry look. “How are we supposed to understand when we’ll all be dead by morning?”

He gave her an odd look, as if he didn’t understand her. “There’s no reason to be alarmed, Molly. They said so.”

She raised her eyebrows. She knew that people from small towns were normally a little more naive than those from a big city, but this was going too far.

“Wade? Who said so? The government? This is ridiculous. In about three hours, this town’s going to be overrun by the military who are going to release a virus into the air and kill us all. Not just the twenty of us in this apartment, but all of Lakeview. All 5,000 of us. And why? No reason. Or none that they’ll release on the news anyway.”

The faraway look he’d had on his face for the past week, since this all began, seemed to be fading. “But…”

“But what? I don’t want to die. Not without some sort of explanation, at least. Not without a medical reason. There’s been nothing, Wade. Nothing. And we’re just supposed to accept it and let it happen? I don’t think so.”

Joyce came over at that moment, holding a tray of hors d’oeuvres. “Crab cake?”

The look came back to Wade’s face as he turned languidly and started to reach for the tray. “Yes, thank you.”

“No!”

She answered louder than she meant, but she hated that look on his face. As Molly turned to Joyce to apologize, she realized that Joyce had the same expression. Molly looked around the room, at all the familiar faces, and realized that everyone had that same faraway, accepting look on their faces. This made her more worried than before.

“Joyce, do you really believe that we should just give up and die? Didn’t you and Brad purchase tickets for Europe for Christmas?”

“Sure we did! And we’ll be going…” The look slowly faded from blank acceptance to confusion. “Wait, the virus…”

When the tray fell to the ground it made a loud noise, and everyone turned to them. Brad came over, worried. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Brad, why are they releasing the virus? Why are we going to die tonight?”

Molly watched as his face went from faraway blank, to confident, to lost. “I…but…”

Brad turned and looked at the room of people, then beckoned to his older brother. After conferring with him, and getting the same type of response, Molly brought the rest of the people gathered up to date. After the initial confusion, Molly brought everyone’s attention back into focus.

“Listen! There has to be something we can do. We don’t need to die tonight.”

“But what can we do? All the news channels said this was going to happen, no matter what.” One voice offered.

“And the police are in on it.” another added.

Molly held up her hands. “We’re inside. Let’s focus on what we can do to keep the virus out. Is there any way we can do that? Think people!”

“OH! I bought a ton of that window sealer for the winter! You know, the plastic stuff? It was on sale three weeks ago. I bought way too much. It was such a good deal! We can put that on the windows. That’ll keep the air out.”

“And we don’t have central air, and the heat is a furnace. This is an old place. That means no vents.” Brad added.

“Ok, good. Let’s start with the windows in here and any others that face the streets. The military will be here soon. We don’t want them seeing what we’re doing.” Molly said with confidence.

“Why not?”

Molly looked to Joyce. “They’re the ones who are trying to kill us. We need to make sure they don’t know we’re resisting. If they find out, they may find another way to kill us.”

The others in the room all looked to Molly with wonder in their eyes. None had thought of that. Now that the thought was out, they all looked rather worried. Molly saw this and shook her head.

“Look, as long as we get this done before they get here, then we’ll be ok. Let’s get a move on.” She looked to Joyce. “How many hair dryers do you have?”

Joyce thought about it. “Two. One is brand new and the other doesn’t warm up all the way. Shouldn’t be a problem for sealing the plastic. You’re not supposed to use too much heat on that anyway.”

Molly clapped her hands once. “All right. Get those and the plastic. Let’s get started.”

Happily, her friends started moving, getting the place sealed up.

*****

An hour and a half later, they had all the windows done. They even managed to seal the front and back doors. They watched carefully from the front room as tanks and trucks filled with soldiers rolled through the small town, down Main St. They tried to look complacent. Tried not to seem too worried, but it was hard.

Molly suggested they move away from the windows and into another room. Out of habit, the women went to the kitchen, while the men strayed to the living room and turned on the TV. The news channels were encouraging the men and women watching to stay indoors and even go to bed. Molly, a drink for Wade in her hand, strolled in and frowned when she realized what the men were watching.

“What channel is this?”

He shrugged. “Not sure. One of the 24 hour cable news channels.”

“That’s the same news report I saw yesterday. I remember because of that spot on her shirt. No news anchor would be allowed to go on the air with a spot on their shirt.”

The men in the room stared at Molly in disbelief.

“It’s the same thing?”

“Yeah.” She held her hand out. “Give me the remote.”

Brad did so without a word. Molly flipped the channels around to different stations until she realized something scary: all the channels were showing the same news program. They didn’t even bother changing the ticker at the bottom or the station id. She stared at the screen for a moment longer, trying to find a station that didn’t show the same thing. When she didn’t find anything, she gasped.

“We need to stop this. There are 5,000 people in this town. We can’t let this happen.”

“But what can we do?” Came several cries.

Molly looked around the room until she found Joyce and Brad. “Call your friends and family in this town. Get them to do the same thing. If they can only seal up one room, tell them to do it.”

Everyone grabbed for their cell phones and tried to call out, but realized rather quickly that no one had signal. The panicky feeling in the room became palpable. Molly realized what was going on and whistled, loudly. People looked to her.

“All right. So we can’t do that and we can’t really leave, since the military will see us. What can we do?”

“What about the other people in this building? Should we get them?”

Molly checked her watch. People often made fun of her for still having a wide up watch, but at this point, she really appreciated having it. She didn’t trust anything electronic at this point. “We have a little over an hour. How many apartments in this place?”

Joyce answered. “Ten, but three of the couples are already here, leaving six. I’m not sure who’ll answer or even if we can convince anyone.”

“We can try. Those of you who live in this building, go try and convince your neighbors. One per apartment but take someone that doesn’t live here with you. We want them to understand that we’re not lying or trying to trick them.”

“Do you think that might happen?” Brad seemed confused.

“Think about how long it took all of us to come to our senses. And I hate to say this, but if you can’t convince them quickly, come back here. Since you have six apartments to cover and there are eight of you from this building in this apartment, we should be able to do this quickly.”

“What are the rest of us going to do?”

“Brad, you stay behind and help the rest of us find anything we can fill with water. We may be here a while. As long as they didn’t lie about when they’re releasing the virus, we should be able to get drinkable water from the tap.”

“You think we’ll be stuck here a while?”

“No idea, but I’d rather be prepared. Oh, and maybe whoever is willing to come here from the other apartments, get them to bring over any perishables. Be back in 40 minutes. That should give us enough time to seal the door again.”

That got everyone moving.

*****

“Sir? The reports you ordered.”

General Fisher looked up from the wall of monitors and nodded as he took the folder. “Thank you. Run down?”

“As you can see on the recordings, there were some that rebelled. The largest rebellion was located in 1313 Main St. Seems as if one of the people there figured out she didn’t want to die.”

“Any reason the serum didn’t work?”

“Molly Weber. Works in the city; long hours. She wasn’t as exposed as the rest, but once she decided not to listen, she was able to talk the others into rebelling as well. One of the tenets of 1313 Main is a good friend of hers. They were throwing a party to celebrate the end. There were a lot of people there and they all listened to her. They were able to convince most of the residence in that building to move into one apartment, which they were able to seal up.”

As the General continued to look at the screens and scan the report, he sighed. “What have we learned?”

“We may need to isolate the citizens next time, make sure no one leaves. Maybe tell them that they have to stay in their own homes and keep away from each other.”

“We’ll need a town that’s well away from any big cities. Maybe one we can quarantine completely.”

“We’re running those down now, sir. We should have a location within a week.”

“All right. Thank you soldier.”

The soldier saluted and left. General Fisher continued to stare at the screens. In a moment, he reached out and changed the feed, showing the aftermath of the experiment. The people of Lakeview were going about their business as if nothing has happened. Most of the citizens of the small Midwestern town would remember nothing.

Those that had rebelled were being detained and debriefed. Once they had all the information, those that rebelled would be given a shot to help them forget what happened. In a few days, Lakeview would go back to normal, and General Fisher would be able to go back to his plans with another town. Hopefully, the second town would not be as problematic.

Day 5 June 5, 2009

I’ve been so groggy; I didn’t even feel like writing until now. It’s 9:45am and I am hooked up to my last dose of Campath. Andy stuck me once and everything went fine.

I am exceedingly groggy due to the sleep meds from last night. Took it at 9pm. The nurses were adamant about making sure I did not take the meds until I was actually in bed, ready to sleep. So I got ready for bed, took the pill and got ready to sleep. Then my phone rings. Jason had a show last night, and was wondering if there was a speaker in the van, as he seemed to have lost one. Not sure if he found it, but I know it wasn’t in my van. Weird that a large speaker can disappear like that. Hopefully he found it.

After the phone call, I fell asleep, and didn’t wake until right before my alarm went off at 7am. Didn’t want to get up though. I felt like I could still sleep. Took a long time for me to get up. Went to breakfast, barely coherent, and noticed no yummy Indian food. L

I had scrambled eggs with Tabasco sauce (a little bit only) and potatoes. Nice and filling, but nothing spectacular. Still feeling half asleep, I wandered back to my room, slowly got ready and came here. I am still not sure I’m fully awake. Struggling a bit with mental facility. I will be napping.

I napped the whole time I was at the clinic. Andy stuck me once, they hooked me up to the IV, turned off the lights and I was out. The time went quick, due to sleeping, and before I knew it, I was done. Done, with my first year of meds.

It was anti-climactic.

Cathy came in around four and we talked about expectations and schedules. We will be talking every 2 weeks, and every four weeks I will be getting blood drawn. Luckily, there is a group that can come to Rockford and draw my blood from my home. Every three months, I’ll actually have to drive down to Northbrook for blood tests, but that’s not that bad.

Cathy gave me a list of my visits for the next five years. All listed out to the year 2013. When looking at the dates all written out, it makes me feel pretty good, because it shows that the drug company and the doctors and nurses in charge of this study want only to take care of the patients who have volunteered to test out this drug. I am very glad this is happening.

I’m in my motel room now, thinking on the past few days, wondering what the next few years are going to bring for me. I hope greatly that this treatment works for me as well as it has other MS patients.

And my cat

is on his back,

Under the table

sparring with Satan

Day 4 June 4, 2009

Four o’clock in the morning and I’m awake. Starting to believe that it’s not because of the sleep schedule I was on, and starting to wonder if the steroids gave me insomnia. No real clue. Will be talking to the nurses and doctor about it later.

On to more pleasant endeavors. Last night’s dinner. Jason and Mary arrived at around 7:30 pm. Driving here, Jason saw a Greek restaurant and was tempted to go there. I had no particular cravings and the small amount of Greek like food I’ve had, (Uncle Nick’s and Basil Café) were good. Mary just wanted food. Jason went online found a bunch of other restaurants and reviews on nearby restaurants, but was sold on Demetri’s Restaurant when he read a review that talked about the flaming cheese appetizer. For those of you who don’t know, Saganaki is one of Jason’s most favorite appetizers.

It was a nice place, good décor, looked like a Greek Restaurant, with fake ivy climbing the booths, low music, loud talk, everyone was really friendly. I was worried about walking into the place in jeans, but no one batted an eyelash. We sat down and started looking at the menu. It was a little higher in price then Rockford, but I was expecting that, so no big deal.

After much thinking, on Jason’s part, (I was sold on something right away and so was Mary. We may not be very good at deciding where to eat, but once we’re in a restaurant, we know what we want.) we finally ordered. Appetizers: Saganaki, and Greek sausage. Jason ordered the spinach and feta cheese stuffed filo dough with a lemon and herb chicken soup, Mary ordered the Greek Chicken with salad, and I ordered chicken and vegetable in cream sauce stuffed in filo dough with salad.

The saganaki was fun to watch. For those of you who have never had it, it’s a piece of Greek cheese; don’t remember what kind, that is flambéed with brandy. The real stuff is flambéed with Ouzo, which they don’t have in the US. Fun to watch. Good to eat. Jason ate half of it and Mary and I shared the other half. Jason’s favorite and both Mary and I wanted to leave room for the entrée. The sausage was interesting as it was flavored with orange peel. It had a milder flavor then most sausages and was pretty good, but once again, did not want to eat too much.

The salad was tasty: lettuce, onions, tomato, feta cheese and Greek dressing. Simple and yummy. I tasted Jason’s soup. It was very nice. Had a good flavor. I’m not big on cooked lemon, which is to bad as I love fresh lemons, but the soup did not have the metallic taste that cooked lemon usually has. It was really comfort food. Would be terrific for sick days.

We really didn’t have to wait too long between each course. Just long enough to digest a little to give more room for the next course.

The entrée was divine. The chicken was tender and juicy, the vegetables were perfectly tender and the sauce was so tasty, reminded me of some of the cream sauces my Maman used to make when I was a kid. All the flavors mixed so well with the filo dough, I just wanted to devour the whole thing. I didn’t, as there were also Greek fries: two thick cut potatoes that were cooked in herbs and lemon juice. I wanted to like it, I really did, but the metallic taste was too much for me. I gave the fries to Mary and Jason. There was also thin cut zucchini and yellow squash, which were tender and yummy, and had enough herbs to allow the vegetables own flavors to come through. The filo dough was the best though. I ate half of it and Jason took the rest home. He had too. I have too much food already here that I want to eat. Don’t want to waste it and do not want to try and take it back to Rockford on Saturday, as I do not have a cooler. Sigh.

The most fantastic part of the meal was desert. Left room for desert, just in case. They had Crème Caramel. I was torn between that and the rice pudding, asked the waiter (his name was Demetri as well; but it was not his place, we asked and joked about it) and he suggested the Crème Caramel. I was easily sold on it, as I have not had Crème Caramel in a long, long time. Maman used to make it. It was one of my favorite deserts.

It was so good. Creamy with just enough caramel to coat the custard without over powering it. Reminded me of home: comfort food all the way. Jason left the table before the deserts arrived to use the restroom. He ordered the Crème Caramel as well. I told him if he hadn’t come back before I was done with mine, I would have started in on his. I was done with mine by that time and he gave me a bite of his. Isn’t that sweet? J

Mary had a walnut cake, which was moist and tasty, but the Crème Caramel could not be topped. It was so good.

The best part of the meal, as if everything wasn’t fantastic, was that Mary brought me an awesome surprise: two pieces of Chocolat. A plain truffle (probably my favorite) and a lemon basil bonbon. I had the lemon basil, as it seemed to fit the dinner better, while Mary and Jason gave themselves cancer. Love them both; wish they’d stop smoking.

It was a wonderful evening and made me smile. I love good food.

Woke up bad this morning. Can’t shake it. Hopefully today goes well at the clinic. I’ll probably sleep all day; then probably won’t sleep tonight. Arg. Oh well. That’s the way things go sometimes. I’ll be all right though.

Breakfast was awesome. The motel has a large Indian clientele, as I may have mentioned yesterday, and therefore have a small amount of Indian food for breakfast. They had badly made nan, fried instead of baked, probably, but still good, and a large container of this yogurt vegetable stuff. Can’t remember the name, but I discovered it at India House in Rockford and LOVE it. Had a big bowl of that and some nan. Yum. Ate too much. Once again, oh well. Tasty food is worth it.

Here I am at the clinic. Didn’t have to do the steroids today, which will actually get me out of here by 2pm instead of 4pm. That is really nice and at the same time, kind of annoying, as I have nothing else to do. The nurses gave me a FREE prescription for a sleep aide; I will be using that tonight so I can actually sleep. Won’t that be nice?

Andy only had to stick me once, which was fantastic. Had a little bit of pain, but once again used the breathing technique and let my right arm relax and tensed the rest of my body. Thanks to Nicki for telling me that the breathing exercises work for her. Helped me to feel that I was doing right. So I’m hooked up to the IV, just waiting around for it to get done.

I’m in a new room today. It’s pretty, and bigger. The first room I had, the chair was against the window, so I could not look out of it. The window faced a little enclosed garden, and the office next door. Who wants to look at other people working?

This one is half again as big as the other, has two picture windows that face what I believe is a willow tree, (those trees that have the big long branches with all the leaves that hang down almost to the ground), and a slope that leads to a river. So basically, I’m looking at the four elements: earth, wind (blowing around the branches), water (river) and fire (in the form of the sunlight hitting the leaves and the grass and lighting up the far slope and the water). This is a good room. The windows have blinds on them and one is closed so I can sleep if I want, and the lights are out, so its all natural lighting and it is so quiet and peaceful. I’ll be in this room for the next two days. It makes me feel better to be in here. This room is calming me and helping my worries to drift…

Maybe it will inspire me to write…or sleep. We’ll find out…

That was awesome! I just talked to George and Francoise, my uncle and aunt from France. Well, one set of uncle and aunt anyway. I have a lot of family in France. I miss them all as I have not seen most of them in WAY TOO LONG. My own fault. I digress. So they called the clinic and I talked to them for about 10 minutes. It was really wonderful. I can apparently get calls while at the clinic. I have a prepaid cell, but well, it’s prepaid. Not a lot of minutes. Had I known I could get calls at the clinic, I would have told you all about it before.

For those of you who don’t know George and Francoise, that would be all my friends, they live in St Pierre/Quiberon, in a converted post office. They bought the place a long time ago and changed all the rooms to look like bedrooms, kitchen, living room, dining room and everything else. They have a very nice place. When I used to visit them, we would dress for the beach in their house, wrap towels around our waists and walk the 2-3 blocks to the beach. George taught us (me and my sis) to water ski one summer. That was awesome! I’ve also been on a catamaran in St. Pierre with my cousin Eric (not their kid) and did loads of other water activities with various other cousins. France is a cool place, even better when you get to spend time with family on the water.

Another good memory. George and Francoise have a boat, which they took us sailing on. One Bastille Day, July 14, (French Independence day) we went out onto the water to watch the fireworks from not one town, but many towns. Fireworks over the ocean are so beautiful: the darkness of the water did little to diminish the vibrant colors of the fire blossoms. The calm air on the Atlantic rocked the boat a little, as it will, and the sea added to the gentle rocking. There was probably wine and cheese and other food, but I can’t really remember. It’s been a long time. But oh, such lovely memories.

Merci beaucoup pour le coup de telephone, George et Francoise!

Well this has been a weird day. As I stated earlier, I woke up really early. I had a bad night’s sleep and I woke thinking about none too fun stuff. Doesn’t matter what it was, all that’s important is that I did not wake up with pleasant thoughts. Those thoughts stayed with me the whole day, due to my lack of sleep. Well, when Cathy unhooked me at 1:37 pm she stated she was not comfortable letting me leave the clinic yet, as I felt warm, but had no fever and I was having some issues with my breathing. The doctor listened to my lungs and it was not an asthma attack or anything like that, my lungs sounded good, I just didn’t drink enough water today.

So at 2pm, Cathy had me lay down on the bed that’s in here, and I tried to sleep. I tried breathing techniques to make sure that my mind did not wander to the unpleasant thoughts, but alas, it strayed. Well then something really weird happened. I could swear I was not sleeping, but I had a nightmare.

I was in the room I’m using today, talking with the lady I met yesterday, Pam, and she was hooked up to an IV. When I talked to her yesterday, she was still hooked up; I wasn’t. So dream was mirroring reality. Then someone came into the room to take Pam away, and I was suddenly hooked to the IV, but not through my arm. It was through my stomach: a wide piece of plastic that looked to be five or so hard plastic tubes were going into my gut. I looked down at myself and said, “Wait a minute. I’m not the one hooked up!” I then proceeded to rip the tubing out of my gut. There was no pain, as this was a dream, but then this man appeared who looked like Riff Raff from Rocky Horror Picture Show, but scarier and more zombie like. He opened his mouth while reaching for my gut wound and blood and gore and worms came out of his mouth.

That’s when I woke up with a clear mind. Nightmare broke my bad mood. Which was cool, but odd. Still don’t know how I feel about a nightmare making me feel better.

Bo came by today. It’s always nice spending time with Bo. If you don’t know him, you should. He came by after I left the clinic, we had dinner (stuff I’d made for the week) and ice cream! I had to stop at the pharmacy to pick up my sleep aide prescription (hope it works). When Bo called me to let me know he was on his way, he asked if I wanted anything and then stated he could bring me ice cream, to which I reminded him it was a 2 hour drive from Rockford to Northbrook. He decided not to bring ice cream, which is why I had to buy some. And he brought me truffles from Chocolat. Hee hee hee. Two days in a row my lovely friends come to visit and bring me wonderful treats from Chocolat by Daniel.

For those of you who don’t know about Daniel, he was trained in Paris, amongst other places in the world as a chocolatier (spelling is off, but I think you get my drift). The man knows what he is doing when it comes to chocolate. It is the most wonderful stuff I have tasted in quiet some time, and he is in Rockford. Jackpot.

So we sat and talked and it was a really nice way to spend the evening, as Bo is very adept at listening to people (he is a Pastor; it’s kind of his calling). Bo left just as Jason called and I got to talk to the hubby for about half an hour, always a nice thing. And now here I am, waiting for 9pm to roll around so that I can take my sleep aide and actually F***ing sleep. I hope.

My other hope is that tomorrow brings better spirits. It’s my last day hooked up to meds, for which I am very grateful. I keep seeing the bruises on my arms from the puncture holes that missed and worked and all I can think of is ugly. It looks terrible. Even the tape and bandages left red marks. I’m glad you can’t see me Maman, I think you would be very worried and very upset by the way my arms look. I don’t hurt; it just looks awful. But hey, after tomorrow, I don’t have to get any more medicine for a whole year, and really, that’s the best part of all this. I can concentrate on other things, like exercising, which I definitely need to do to help myself stay as healthy as possible, and hey who knows what else might happen if I don’t feel as sick anymore? I might actually socialize again.

Day 3 June 3, 2009

Kind of neat that the number of days I’ve been on this medicine coincides with the days of the month.

I was wrong on my shot count yesterday. I had a shot of insulin, two pricks from the diabetic tester and three pokes from the needle. Six shots yesterday. Let’s hope today proves better.

Woke up at four in the morning. 6 hours of sleep last night. Yay for me!

Started thinking about Neil Gaiman and the fact that the man will be in Chicago on Saturday for the free Lit Fest. I don’t have tickets, and could print them off my computer, if I had a printer. The Gaiman talks are “sold out”; weird thinking that a free talk is “sold out”, but whatever. Thinking about going, as I am basically in Chicago, but would prefer to go with someone as I don’t really like going someplace new alone. So there’s the invite. The only rub is that if someone did come with me, I would ask you to print up tickets for us. Then we would go to where he is speaking and pretty much pray that we can get into the talks without pre-tickets. Any one want to hang out at a lit fest and try and see the coolest writer ever?

Decided to get up near 5 am because I turned my thoughts to writing. Instead of writing, I decided to go on the net and found more responses to my emails, both on my yahoo account and on myspace. I want to thank all of you for writing to me and for all your well wishes. It makes me feel loved.

I wanted to take the opportunity to let you guys know that despite all the needles I have had to endure, this has been a rather nice experience. The nurses are pampering me on a daily basis. Since I’m hooked up to an IV, they bring me my food, get me water, make sure I’m all settled and comfortable. After Cathy helps me to the bathroom, I’m in the room by myself, she just pushes the IV poll around, she takes me back to the room, lets me sit, positions the IV, gets my blanket, lays it on my legs, give me the pillow to rest my IV arm on, then puts the tray on the comfy recliner. Then she puts my laptop on the desk, along with my book, my water bottle and my (big surprise I’m sure) chocolate. Had to get some when I arrived, as I did not realize that I would need some. To all of you how are laughing at me because you know I should have known better, I was waiting to get here to get myself some sherbet. I can eat sherbet but not ice cream, due to the salt content in ice cream. I didn’t find any good sherbet. I went shopping at the Jewel/Osco, and they had a bunch of ice cream and some sherbet, but nothing really fantastic. When it comes to the sweet stuff, I prefer quality to quantity. Actually, when it comes to food, I prefer quality. Which is why Brio, Octane and Irish Rose are my favorite restaurants in Rockford.

So anyway, sherbet. Jewel/Osco did not HAVE good ice cream. No Haagen Das, no Ben and Jerry’s, no Dove. I was so disappointed. So I passed on the sherbet and went to the candy aisle and bought myself 2 tablets of Hershey’s 60% Dark Chocolate reserves. I like 70 or 80% better, but that was the strongest I could get.

I am now officially, a chocolate snob, or perhaps a chocolate connoisseur. Yeah, that sounds better. While eating this good tasting tablet, I kept thinking about what Daniel says and about what the author of the Chocolate book Stephanie gave me states. Both say the same thing. Chocolate is the only substance on planet earth that melts at human body temperature, when made correctly. If you place a piece of chocolate on your tongue and it does not immediately start to melt, allowing the flavors to spread to your tastebuds it has too many fillers. The Hershey’s Reserve did not melt, does not melt in my mouth until it is practically gone. Disappointment. I suppose its safe to say that I did expect that, but still. If it’s supposed to be better then the regular stuff, it should melt in your mouth.

Still good with the strawberries, though.

Watching The West Wing on TV after breakfast before leaving for the clinic. I love that show: really intelligent conversation, well-written and good actors and actresses. Also, Martin Sheen who plays President Jed Bartlet, has MS. The episode and season that is on is the season where the Pres goes to China and has major MS issues while traveling. On the airplane, he orders food, then doesn’t eat. His Chief of Staff sends people out of the room and asks if anything is wrong; he says there’s nothing wrong. He asks for the Surgeon General, and tells her that he can’t move his hands to eat. Can’t feel anything in his hands either. Later in the episode, he can’t move at all.

I can’t remember when I started watching The West Wing, I believe it was before I found out that I had MS, but I didn’t start really watching all the episodes until after I found out. (Thank you Bravo reruns.)

The show scared me a little with MS. Of course the character is male, older and has a high stress job, but still. The show gave me a glimpse of what might come. My hope and yes, prayer, it that the Campath treatments will help to keep me healthy and avoid what I witnessed on The West Wing. Only time will tell.

If any of you are curious about another person’s experience with Campath, I found a diary of an English man online. It was really interesting, inspiring and informative. Here is the link: http://www.davidscampathstory.org/

Yesterday, Andy stuck me three times before she found a good vein. The one she finally got was the one that hurt worse then anything else. Here’s the thing. Once the initial pain faded, the IV was comfortable and I didn’t have to worry about how I positioned my arm. Knowing how comfortable it was and knowing full well that it would probably hurt like crazy going in, I nevertheless asked Andy to stick the IV in the same place on the other arm today. I’ll take a little pain if I can be comfortable typing.

Guess what? Didn’t hurt that much. Knowing that it was going to hurt helped me to relax my arm, breathe deep yoga style: in through the nose, out through the mouth, and I stayed calm. It hurt a little, not that much. And so I’m sitting here, feeling relatively ok with my IV. Awesome.

An hour and a half later and I’m singing a different tune, various swear words running through my head. As I am trying to bring the amount of curse words in my vocabulary down, I won’t use them in this letter. I get an IV infusion of steroids in the first hour-ish, then the nurses flush the IV then as long as everything is going ok, Cathy hooks me up to the Campath. Until today, the transition has gone without a hitch.

Today, (perhaps because it went so smoothly? Who knows.) when Cathy flushed my IV, the fluid went in no problem, there was no swelling in the skin, but when she pulled the syringe tip out, no blood flowed out. Let me repeat that: Cathy used a syringe to try and pull blood out of my vein and nothing happened. She called Andy in, who proceeded to remove all the tape and twist the syringe (that felt WEIRD) to try and figure out what happened. As the vein did not look like it was going to cooperate, they had to take the syringe out. Which means they had to place a new one in. Andy tried the vein by my wrist near my thumb. Hurt like hell and swelled immediately. Which meant she had to take it out and tried again in my vein in the crook of my elbow.

Though the vein there is fantastic and cooperative, Andy was hesitating to use it as that vein had an IV in it for my MRI last Wednesday. Usually with an MRI, you get scanned, they pull you out and they inject you with a contrast chemical that makes everything in your brain light up. As the techs needed me to keep as still as possible, they needed to put the IV in to minimize movement, so they wouldn’t have to pull me out. So had an IV in there on Wednesday, then on Monday, for my first day of treatment. Andy wanted to give the vein one more day of rest. No such luck. She had to stick me in the crook of my elbow, as there were no other options.

At this point, it’s looking like Andy may have to use one of the veins in my hands either Thursday or Friday. I am not looking forward to that. Twice I’ve had to endure being stuck in the hand. Once in 2003 after my car accident: I was on a very powerful painkiller. My first day after the accident, I was on Demerol. Second day: Morphine. Third day and for the rest of the time: Vicodin. The painkillers were so effective; I hardly remember the first three days in the hospital. What I do remember is two nurses coming into my room and trying to stick me in my hand. I came out of my drugged induced stupor and cried out from the pain. I repeat (I feel like I’m mimicking Lewis Black): on heavy painkillers strong enough to remove the pain of my broken foot and broken pelvic bone, I could feel the sharpness of the needle going into my hand.

The second time was when I had sinus surgery to remove the cyst in my sinus cavity. I was on a mild sedative and the anesthesiologist was trying to distract me by talking to me as he stuck me in the hand. Didn’t work. I yelled and jerked away and he had to stick me again. Since then, I have never once failed to tell someone taking my blood or trying in anyway to stick me with a needle that I need to be told when they are about to stick the needle into my skin. If I know it’s coming, I can prepare myself. If I don’t know its coming, well, I pull away, forcing the person to have to stick me again.

I hate getting stuck in the hands. I have awesome showy veins there, though, which means (sigh) I’ll probably get stuck there in the next two days.

Mmmm…strawberries. Hee hee hee…strawberries with chocolate.

Today after Cathy unhooked me, I had the opportunity to talk to Pam, another test subject. This is actually her second treatment. She had her first a year ago. I wanted to say hi and talk to her a little bit about her MS and her experience with Campath. I asked one question and she gave me a lengthy statement that answered all the other questions I was going to ask. I liked that a lot. She was really nice and very talkative and not bothered that I wanted to know more about her. Once she was finished telling me about her experiences, all positive by the way, her MS is not bothering her as much any more, I turned the talk to books. She’s into vampires and Buffy. We were able to talk a lot about stuff that had nothing to do with our illness. I really appreciated that. I learn a lot more about people when they are being positive. The whole experience made me happy. She’s a very nice person.

I talked to her for a good hour, then left the clinic and am now waiting for Jason and friends to show up to go to dinner. So this is where I am leaving off, for today. Hope you guys aren’t bored with my story yet.