So I thought I had over two weeks break did I? I had not taken my mother and the weather into account!
I did, however, have a break over Xmas but not the New Year. My mother decided to fall and break her arm on New Year's Eve, not due to the icy conditions but to her own stubbornness, insisting she could walk OK on her own within her flat. Of course being New Year's Eve, the A&E was extremely busy, so she was sent home after a few hours with a cast on her arm but no investigation into the cause of the fall. Needless to say she fell again a few days later, and my daughter was once again called upon to travel in the ambulance and wait in the busy A&E. This tine they have kept her and, hopefully, moving her to a home when she is released but they seem to listen to her when she says 'I'll manage' to everything when she obviously cannot.
We were, as a family, dealing with this emotionally when I received a letter to be an in-patient in the Urology department, As usual, transport was a problem, after many telephone calls it was decided that one ambulance could be used, I would be collected for my MS clinic appointment and after that taken straight to the Urology ward. So I did have a short Xmas break and logic was used with regard to the transport. But does anything in my life ever go smoothly? About as smooth as sea during a storm.
This time it was the weather, A heavy fall of snow the day before my appointments prompted me to ring and check about the next day's transport, and, yes, as I had thought, there would be emergency ambulances only due to the snow and many side roads being impassable. So I didn't know when I would get to the MS clinic for the results of the many scans and tests, or when I would be having my operation in Urology.
The next day, the day I should have gone as an in-patient, I received a telephone call from the ward asking where I was. I explained about the transport situation and was told that they would still pick me up as I was going to be an in-patient but she would check. She rang me back and told me I would be collected within the hour, of course this meant panic packing. I had been told that it would only be for one night so I didn't need much. Silly girl believing everything you are told.
The ambulance arrived at Out-patients at about 12.15 pm. Just as the MS clinic had closed but did I expect to be able to fit two departments into one visit? No, I had learned by now that I'm not that lucky!
I was left sitting all day in the day room and nobody going past to remind them I was there, of course the wheelchair was not one that I could wheel so I was dependant totally on other people. Eventually, at after 5 pm, a sister walked past and I managed to attract her attention which set all the wheels in motion. About 10 minutes later the consultant came to see me and told me I was first on the list the next morning. I was then taken to the ward and given a bed, settled into it then given loads of tests - blood pressure, blood, and temperature. I was given the first of daily injections into my stomach that prevents the danger of clotting. Surprisingly there was no pain from this injection probably because of the amount of fat!
It was explained to me that the ward staff had not known I was there despite telling the desk upon arrival, but unfortunately in a different part on the ward. I blame the porter!
The anaesthetist came to see me and told me that she intended to use an epidural anaesthetic rather than a general because the recovery time was quicker and would not cause MS problems like a general would. Obviously she didn't know my track record. Would this be as simple as was made out?
We shall find out next time.
That takes me and you up to the operation time, the next report will tell you all about the operation and the after effects plus what is now happening with my MS.
Thursday, 28 January 2010
Saturday, 16 January 2010
FLOWERS ON ICE
Right. to tell you all about what a Contrast MRI is and involves along with the transport saga that is endless, and, of course, weather dependant.
The Urology department appointment was eventually made for the week after the MRI and the same week as my ECG appointment, convenient but tiring for me. The only scanner they had free for the MRI was at the local cancer hospital so the appointment was there, it's a nice place although I wouldn't like to be a patient there, for obvious reasons. I was taken to the scan department by wheelchair and shown into a changing room where I had two gowns to put on, one with the opening at the back and the other with opening at the front, to preserve modesty. I had researched the process thoroughly and so knew that it involved more needles, not something I was looking forward to! I was put into the tunnel machine with the space helmet like before and the a cannula put in my arm at the inner elbow spot, although they had a struggle as the vein wasn't compliant as usual.
The cannula was connected to a syringe loaded with a solution containing the same type of silver as is used to coat CDs, also the cannula would be operated by computer from the staff 'safety' area where they operated the scanner from. First, there was the normal thudding noise from the scanner as it traversed my brain and spine then about 20 minutes later the machine stopped and the syringe attached to the cannula activated, a slight stinging sensation was felt in my arm and then the scanner noises began again.
Afterwards the fun began again – I was wheeled back to the dressing room and promptly forgotten about, I sat for a while like a good girl then realised it was the self-propelling kind with that had large wheels on the outside. So Pat decided she could move herself to the reception area to wait for the passenger transport. Foolish woman! Only 1 hand/arm had a little bit of strength! So what happened? Circles is what happened. At first I could only move in circles but soon figured out that if I gripped the wheel tightly, or as tight as possible with my right hand I could achieve a sort of forward motion, it wouldn't have fooled a policeman looking for drunk drivers but I was going in the right direction f0r a change, that is until I encountered a door! There is not enough strength in my right arm to open a Pull door so obviously I always use my left hand. The only movement I achieved was going backwards as I pulled the door open but ended up too far backwards and unable to keep the door open whilst I propelled myself through the opening. After a few attempts a member of the admin department took pity on me and pushed the wheelchair with me in it back to the main reception.
The reception area is also the snack-bar seating area and I love to eavesdrop whilst waiting! As I said earlier this was the specialist cancer hospital and there was some people whom I couldn't help pitying but others were the ones who broke every rule for visiting or accompanying patients. One in particular caught my ear – A woman accompanying her daughter who both looked like talk show rejects; the mother (about my age) was regaling the person next to her with her ailments over the past twenty years, along with friends and relatives death details, this poor neighbour was bald, obviously because of chemotherapy, and was sat looking very embarrassed but was too polite to tell the woman to shut up. It amused me that we will endure a person with no forethought like that but all complain when the bins aren't collected on the usual day.
After they had gone along came another woman my age with her very frail, elderly mother who had obviously got to an age where she decided she could speak her mind and no-one would be offended. I cannot now remember what she said but it amused me at the time, I commented upon her pretty ring and she proceeded to be give me the history and provenance of all eight or nine rings she was wearing. She obviously still had all her faculties even though she turned out to be nearer 90 than 80.
On the journey home I couldn't help pondering on the fireworks if the older lady had been present earlier when the younger one had been loudly giving all the morbid details of her life. Now THAT would have been entertaining!
Five days later I was at the out-patents again, this time to Urology for my pre-operation assessment, basically it was a series of tests to ensure I was fit enough to have the operation whereas all the neurological tests of the past few weeks had been to make sure I was fit enough for the modified chemotherapy treatment I would most likely receive for my MS. So I was enduring loads of tests [with needles] to make sure I was fit enough to be made fit! (Well fittish anyway) So once again blood was extracted and my blood pressure taken, also the operation was explained [to be honest I would rather not know what people are going to do to me whilst I'm unconscious] I came away with even more leaflets about the procedure, what would happen afterwards, and the benefits of epidural anaesthetic which is what I would be having. As this was only about a week before Xmas no admission date could be given, not that I was desperate to be operated upon.
A telephone call the same day did not help. The local housing authority rang in response to my complaint, good to get a response even if it had taken a solicitor writing to them to get that response. The story is of no-one being prepared to admit to their mistakes, my bathroom and kitchen were 'modernised' during September and October 2008 and as a result of bad workmanship and being ignored for 6 months the leak has now created mould on my Living Room wall therefore the new wallpaper put on in December 2008 needs replacing and the new kitchen needs an entire corner replacing but the housing department thinks I should do the decorating but as I didn't cause the problem why should I pay? Anyway I digress, the house is another problem that will be solved when it is solved. [forget it for now woman and deal with your health at moment]
I was back at the hospital again the next day to have my heart checked, thank goodness it was the last test. I would now have just over 2 weeks with no hospital attendance, time to breathe and even smell the flowers as they say. But it's December and there are not any flowers to smell!
The Urology department appointment was eventually made for the week after the MRI and the same week as my ECG appointment, convenient but tiring for me. The only scanner they had free for the MRI was at the local cancer hospital so the appointment was there, it's a nice place although I wouldn't like to be a patient there, for obvious reasons. I was taken to the scan department by wheelchair and shown into a changing room where I had two gowns to put on, one with the opening at the back and the other with opening at the front, to preserve modesty. I had researched the process thoroughly and so knew that it involved more needles, not something I was looking forward to! I was put into the tunnel machine with the space helmet like before and the a cannula put in my arm at the inner elbow spot, although they had a struggle as the vein wasn't compliant as usual.
The cannula was connected to a syringe loaded with a solution containing the same type of silver as is used to coat CDs, also the cannula would be operated by computer from the staff 'safety' area where they operated the scanner from. First, there was the normal thudding noise from the scanner as it traversed my brain and spine then about 20 minutes later the machine stopped and the syringe attached to the cannula activated, a slight stinging sensation was felt in my arm and then the scanner noises began again.
Afterwards the fun began again – I was wheeled back to the dressing room and promptly forgotten about, I sat for a while like a good girl then realised it was the self-propelling kind with that had large wheels on the outside. So Pat decided she could move herself to the reception area to wait for the passenger transport. Foolish woman! Only 1 hand/arm had a little bit of strength! So what happened? Circles is what happened. At first I could only move in circles but soon figured out that if I gripped the wheel tightly, or as tight as possible with my right hand I could achieve a sort of forward motion, it wouldn't have fooled a policeman looking for drunk drivers but I was going in the right direction f0r a change, that is until I encountered a door! There is not enough strength in my right arm to open a Pull door so obviously I always use my left hand. The only movement I achieved was going backwards as I pulled the door open but ended up too far backwards and unable to keep the door open whilst I propelled myself through the opening. After a few attempts a member of the admin department took pity on me and pushed the wheelchair with me in it back to the main reception.
The reception area is also the snack-bar seating area and I love to eavesdrop whilst waiting! As I said earlier this was the specialist cancer hospital and there was some people whom I couldn't help pitying but others were the ones who broke every rule for visiting or accompanying patients. One in particular caught my ear – A woman accompanying her daughter who both looked like talk show rejects; the mother (about my age) was regaling the person next to her with her ailments over the past twenty years, along with friends and relatives death details, this poor neighbour was bald, obviously because of chemotherapy, and was sat looking very embarrassed but was too polite to tell the woman to shut up. It amused me that we will endure a person with no forethought like that but all complain when the bins aren't collected on the usual day.
After they had gone along came another woman my age with her very frail, elderly mother who had obviously got to an age where she decided she could speak her mind and no-one would be offended. I cannot now remember what she said but it amused me at the time, I commented upon her pretty ring and she proceeded to be give me the history and provenance of all eight or nine rings she was wearing. She obviously still had all her faculties even though she turned out to be nearer 90 than 80.
On the journey home I couldn't help pondering on the fireworks if the older lady had been present earlier when the younger one had been loudly giving all the morbid details of her life. Now THAT would have been entertaining!
Five days later I was at the out-patents again, this time to Urology for my pre-operation assessment, basically it was a series of tests to ensure I was fit enough to have the operation whereas all the neurological tests of the past few weeks had been to make sure I was fit enough for the modified chemotherapy treatment I would most likely receive for my MS. So I was enduring loads of tests [with needles] to make sure I was fit enough to be made fit! (Well fittish anyway) So once again blood was extracted and my blood pressure taken, also the operation was explained [to be honest I would rather not know what people are going to do to me whilst I'm unconscious] I came away with even more leaflets about the procedure, what would happen afterwards, and the benefits of epidural anaesthetic which is what I would be having. As this was only about a week before Xmas no admission date could be given, not that I was desperate to be operated upon.
A telephone call the same day did not help. The local housing authority rang in response to my complaint, good to get a response even if it had taken a solicitor writing to them to get that response. The story is of no-one being prepared to admit to their mistakes, my bathroom and kitchen were 'modernised' during September and October 2008 and as a result of bad workmanship and being ignored for 6 months the leak has now created mould on my Living Room wall therefore the new wallpaper put on in December 2008 needs replacing and the new kitchen needs an entire corner replacing but the housing department thinks I should do the decorating but as I didn't cause the problem why should I pay? Anyway I digress, the house is another problem that will be solved when it is solved. [forget it for now woman and deal with your health at moment]
I was back at the hospital again the next day to have my heart checked, thank goodness it was the last test. I would now have just over 2 weeks with no hospital attendance, time to breathe and even smell the flowers as they say. But it's December and there are not any flowers to smell!
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
MY WEEKLY TREATS AND PAPER WASTAGE FOR THE HOSPITAL
The first appointment letter to arrive was for the follow-up visit to the weekly clinic of the Neurologist. This was when my inability to write proved to be very fortuitous, because I can't use a paper diary and pen, everything is entered into my phone calendar. So when the Neurologist's secretary rang to inform me that she had a date for my lumbar puncture [some people just HAVE to deliver bad news] which would be after the follow up appointment and the Neurologist needed the to see the result of this and another brain scan before the follow up appointment, it meant changing the clinic appointment date and so the secretary moved the clinic appointment for the following week. That was no problem I just changed the date on my phone calendar = soon solved!
I should have known that the solution was too easy – the next appointment letter arrived, it was for the umpteenth brain scan. I need transport to the hospital and back, have done for years and to attend any department so why do they make appointments in an evening for me? I think it is due to the widespread belief that everyone has transport or access to transport, the looks I get when I tell anyone that I am no longer allowed to drive and my other half doesn't know how and neither do my offspring, people thinking I am joking – it seems as though having your own transport is taken for granted for people under 70 years of age. Well I am under 7o and have a license but no car, and given that every visit to any out-patient department and the result of such visit is noted on a mainframe computer which my GP can access, WHY ISN'T A MARKER PUT AGAINST MY NAME SO THAT TRANSPORT IS BOOKED AUTOMATICALLY?
No such system exists, therefore I am sent an appointment letter and then have to contact them, not easy as the majority of departments have an answer-message screening system. When I eventually speak to someone the appointment date has to be altered to ft the transport hours and, at the moment, that usually clashes with other appointments. End of rant.
So I had a rearranged Neurologist appointment when I received the appointment for the brain scan, and the transport game started again. It was relatively easy this time but the only available appointment that fitted with the transport hours was, again, for after the neurologist clinic appointment! Again I had to try and contact the admin department but this time the person I needed to speak to was on leave or only worked part time, I say this because she always seems to be off at the end of the week. Anyway I did speak to her and she agreed that the neurologist clinic appointment needed to be after the brain scan, she tried fit me into the following week's clinic but there were no vacancies, and there is no clinic for two weeks afterwards due to the Xmas break.
I had one appointment per week, which was fine by me because the journey to the hospital and back plus waiting at both ends of the appointment wears me out and I need at least 1 day to recover.
Everything was now sorted, [or so I thought] I went for my Lumbar Puncture which was not as bad as I imagined. I was taken to the Neurological day ward and told to lie on the bed and wait. A sister came to do the procedure, she explained what she would be doing, first of all giving me a local anaesthetic then a long needle would be inserted to draw some fluid off the spinal cord. That frightened me. No wonder it used to be called a Spinal Tap!
I was told to loosen my jeans and lay on my left-hand side curled up in a ball, a pillow was placed between me legs, then she sat down in a chair and inserted the local anaesthetic, she said it would sting but to me it was more of a burning sensation. Then it was time for the long needle, she had told me that it was not a precise science and there may be a lot of waggling it about, and boy did she have to waggle it. After a few “ouches!” she asked if I could feel the needle, the answer puzzled me, I could feel it in my stomach! Apparently it wasn't actually in my stomach but was catching my stomach nerve. The nurse then had more guidance once she knew were she was and found the place she wanted.
I had to lay still during the procedure which was difficult because the natural reaction to something painful is to try and pull away from it. I say painful, it was more discomfort than pain. I was told I had to lay flat for half an hour so I expected them to remove the pillow. But they didn't mean that flat! I was even allowed to lay on my side and brought a glass of water with a bendy straw as I was under instruction to drink a lot over the next 24 hours to bring the pressure back up.
The more painful thing that caused more trouble was the blood test they had to do afterwards. I have always been a coward when it comes to sticking syringes into my arm, 3 different nurses and 3 bruises later they did eventually manage to get the blood, the sister did mention that it would be easier if I was warm and although I thought I was hot, I was actually cold to touch. That is one of my problems, I feel very hot, especially my feet which are icy to touch, even if I catch my opposite leg with my foot. A problem compounded by me having bare feet in the house all of the time because my balance feels as though it is affected by shoes or slippers.
Then it was the usual routine of waiting for the ambulance to go home. A quick rant coming – sometimes, because I can walk unaided apart from my stick to the transport, a medicar is used which is just an ordinary taxi with an 'ambulance' sign in the windscreen. OK they don't get tips or ready cash this way but they do volunteer they aren't forced to do the ambulance run so WHY ARE SOME SO MISERABLE? If they hate the job so much Why do it? End of rant.
When I arrived home there was another letter waiting for me, this time from Urology with an appointment for my bladder pre-operation assessment. I don't know if it was a reaction to the stress of the lumbar puncture or the stress of the whole situation but I must admit it made me cry and throw things. I think I had pushed the bladder situation out of my mind whilst I was trying to digest all the MS information.
Anyway I was back on the needing transport treadmill, I rang the number in the letter immediately and Guess What? The answer phone message was on, it was Thursday afternoon and the letter had the appointment date for the following Wednesday so contact was imperative, but, no-one rang me back, this was also the situation on the Friday. I received a call on the Monday and was told that 48 hours notice was needed to arrange transport. If the woman who called had not been so nice I would have pointed out that if my call had been returned on the Thursday or Fridqy it would have been well over 48 hours. The day after the original was suggested but I already had an appointment for a contrast MRI on that day.
I will tell you later about the contrast MRI and how many times I have had to put changes in my phone calendar.
I should have known that the solution was too easy – the next appointment letter arrived, it was for the umpteenth brain scan. I need transport to the hospital and back, have done for years and to attend any department so why do they make appointments in an evening for me? I think it is due to the widespread belief that everyone has transport or access to transport, the looks I get when I tell anyone that I am no longer allowed to drive and my other half doesn't know how and neither do my offspring, people thinking I am joking – it seems as though having your own transport is taken for granted for people under 70 years of age. Well I am under 7o and have a license but no car, and given that every visit to any out-patient department and the result of such visit is noted on a mainframe computer which my GP can access, WHY ISN'T A MARKER PUT AGAINST MY NAME SO THAT TRANSPORT IS BOOKED AUTOMATICALLY?
No such system exists, therefore I am sent an appointment letter and then have to contact them, not easy as the majority of departments have an answer-message screening system. When I eventually speak to someone the appointment date has to be altered to ft the transport hours and, at the moment, that usually clashes with other appointments. End of rant.
So I had a rearranged Neurologist appointment when I received the appointment for the brain scan, and the transport game started again. It was relatively easy this time but the only available appointment that fitted with the transport hours was, again, for after the neurologist clinic appointment! Again I had to try and contact the admin department but this time the person I needed to speak to was on leave or only worked part time, I say this because she always seems to be off at the end of the week. Anyway I did speak to her and she agreed that the neurologist clinic appointment needed to be after the brain scan, she tried fit me into the following week's clinic but there were no vacancies, and there is no clinic for two weeks afterwards due to the Xmas break.
I had one appointment per week, which was fine by me because the journey to the hospital and back plus waiting at both ends of the appointment wears me out and I need at least 1 day to recover.
Everything was now sorted, [or so I thought] I went for my Lumbar Puncture which was not as bad as I imagined. I was taken to the Neurological day ward and told to lie on the bed and wait. A sister came to do the procedure, she explained what she would be doing, first of all giving me a local anaesthetic then a long needle would be inserted to draw some fluid off the spinal cord. That frightened me. No wonder it used to be called a Spinal Tap!
I was told to loosen my jeans and lay on my left-hand side curled up in a ball, a pillow was placed between me legs, then she sat down in a chair and inserted the local anaesthetic, she said it would sting but to me it was more of a burning sensation. Then it was time for the long needle, she had told me that it was not a precise science and there may be a lot of waggling it about, and boy did she have to waggle it. After a few “ouches!” she asked if I could feel the needle, the answer puzzled me, I could feel it in my stomach! Apparently it wasn't actually in my stomach but was catching my stomach nerve. The nurse then had more guidance once she knew were she was and found the place she wanted.
I had to lay still during the procedure which was difficult because the natural reaction to something painful is to try and pull away from it. I say painful, it was more discomfort than pain. I was told I had to lay flat for half an hour so I expected them to remove the pillow. But they didn't mean that flat! I was even allowed to lay on my side and brought a glass of water with a bendy straw as I was under instruction to drink a lot over the next 24 hours to bring the pressure back up.
The more painful thing that caused more trouble was the blood test they had to do afterwards. I have always been a coward when it comes to sticking syringes into my arm, 3 different nurses and 3 bruises later they did eventually manage to get the blood, the sister did mention that it would be easier if I was warm and although I thought I was hot, I was actually cold to touch. That is one of my problems, I feel very hot, especially my feet which are icy to touch, even if I catch my opposite leg with my foot. A problem compounded by me having bare feet in the house all of the time because my balance feels as though it is affected by shoes or slippers.
Then it was the usual routine of waiting for the ambulance to go home. A quick rant coming – sometimes, because I can walk unaided apart from my stick to the transport, a medicar is used which is just an ordinary taxi with an 'ambulance' sign in the windscreen. OK they don't get tips or ready cash this way but they do volunteer they aren't forced to do the ambulance run so WHY ARE SOME SO MISERABLE? If they hate the job so much Why do it? End of rant.
When I arrived home there was another letter waiting for me, this time from Urology with an appointment for my bladder pre-operation assessment. I don't know if it was a reaction to the stress of the lumbar puncture or the stress of the whole situation but I must admit it made me cry and throw things. I think I had pushed the bladder situation out of my mind whilst I was trying to digest all the MS information.
Anyway I was back on the needing transport treadmill, I rang the number in the letter immediately and Guess What? The answer phone message was on, it was Thursday afternoon and the letter had the appointment date for the following Wednesday so contact was imperative, but, no-one rang me back, this was also the situation on the Friday. I received a call on the Monday and was told that 48 hours notice was needed to arrange transport. If the woman who called had not been so nice I would have pointed out that if my call had been returned on the Thursday or Fridqy it would have been well over 48 hours. The day after the original was suggested but I already had an appointment for a contrast MRI on that day.
I will tell you later about the contrast MRI and how many times I have had to put changes in my phone calendar.
Saturday, 5 December 2009
LIFE AS A PINCUSHION
So now I had finished the steroids but didn't have a clue as to what would come next. The effects of the steroids went away immediately and when I look back, it seems like looking back on your holiday, feeling fit and non-drowsy with the brain at 100% [OK so my brain had never been 100% but was at the same percentage as pre MS].
Some more visitors to help me, therapists, a physiotherapist and an occupational therapist called one afternoon with even more information. Apparently the pelvic muscles are the main ones affected and they would get in touch with a speech therapist who would help me with my swallowing and coughing as well as my slurred tired speech. The physiotherapist would order me a frame to be able to lift myself up to sitting position in a morning and then to stand, and she would be back in a week with a shorter walking stick as she believed mine was too high for me, and also show me the exercises I would need to do, Exercises? Exercises?! I hadn't got any energy to do anything especially not exercises, thoughts of keep-fit classes with super-fit forceful teachers come to mind.
The frame arrived a couple of days later and the fun I had that night trying to read around it! Eventually I chose the frame holding the book open position which seems to work to date. The day or so after the frame the physiotherapist came with my new sized stick and information about the dreaded exercises. Yet another leaflet came with her, I was amassing quite a pile in my folder, pity the eyes aren't working properly, at one point I discovered the joy of the magnifying glass, I now have them scattered around the house, the kitchen for reading the oven temperature on frozen food cartons, obviously the living room for just about anything, and in the bedroom to help [well try to] with the beauty process.
The exercises were quite easy, apart from the balance ones that is, now it was a case of remembering to do them on a daily basis, my memory has never been that good at the best of times but the MS seems to have taken it away altogether.
Then the appointments started arriving, and are still continuing, so more next time
Some more visitors to help me, therapists, a physiotherapist and an occupational therapist called one afternoon with even more information. Apparently the pelvic muscles are the main ones affected and they would get in touch with a speech therapist who would help me with my swallowing and coughing as well as my slurred tired speech. The physiotherapist would order me a frame to be able to lift myself up to sitting position in a morning and then to stand, and she would be back in a week with a shorter walking stick as she believed mine was too high for me, and also show me the exercises I would need to do, Exercises? Exercises?! I hadn't got any energy to do anything especially not exercises, thoughts of keep-fit classes with super-fit forceful teachers come to mind.
The frame arrived a couple of days later and the fun I had that night trying to read around it! Eventually I chose the frame holding the book open position which seems to work to date. The day or so after the frame the physiotherapist came with my new sized stick and information about the dreaded exercises. Yet another leaflet came with her, I was amassing quite a pile in my folder, pity the eyes aren't working properly, at one point I discovered the joy of the magnifying glass, I now have them scattered around the house, the kitchen for reading the oven temperature on frozen food cartons, obviously the living room for just about anything, and in the bedroom to help [well try to] with the beauty process.
The exercises were quite easy, apart from the balance ones that is, now it was a case of remembering to do them on a daily basis, my memory has never been that good at the best of times but the MS seems to have taken it away altogether.
Then the appointments started arriving, and are still continuing, so more next time
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