See the eye doctor (appointment made), family doctor (appointment made), naturopath (appointment made) and osteopath (appointment not made yet...). This is all in the goal of spending the next 2.5 weeks getting as well as I humanly can get in the time I've got to myself.
Yesterday I saw the family doctor to talk about the strange prednisone-crazy anxiety attacks. She was very kind to me about it all and just wanted to make sure that the super-fancy disease doctor knew that I was starting to feel a bit weepy from the stupid meds. Then she was kind enough to give me some little pills that calm me right down. The last thing I need is to start freaking out all the time, rev my immune system up even more and then have the disease get even worse. Oh, and I've now made not one but two appointments with the osteopath, so cross that off too!
Then I walked all the way from the hospital up to Bloor Street just so I could knock this one off the list:
6. Buy a good pair of walking sneakers for the better weather soon to arrive.
Done and done!
By then it was time to take the subway to see the naturopath, who I haven't seen in two years. That's how much my life had sort of gotten away with me...anyway, it was great to see her and she's going to help me work on my diet and other homeopathic stuff. I see her again once more before I go to back to work. It's a great start, I think.
My one true goal is to be much better prepared for the toll that working takes on me in terms of living with the disease. If I can get super-organized by the time I go back, then I won't feel like I'm wasting my life away when I get home and am too tired to do anything except watch television.
Oh, and there was this great quote that I forgot in my post yesterday about The Good Life. It's kind of pretentious, as Corinne is reading Plato to her lover, Luke, while they're off cheating on their respective spouses, but I liked the sentiment:
"...any single book is the instantiation of a kind of Platonic form—the ideal, the creation of an author, which exists independent of the physical object. And here they sit on the shelf: The ideal's latent until we pick it up and connect ourselves with the mind of a man or a woman who may long be dead. And, in the case of a novel, with a world that never actually existed."
Just something to think about today as I go about slicing and dicing the list!
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