You know what I hate?

I don't mean to ever laugh at a remedy for what we're going through, and won't, but has anyone thought about carrying around all those spoons and temptation when so many are unfortunately going through unwanted weight gain?  And I'm afraid to ask this next question for fear  that someone will hurt me--but I'm wondering why I have LOST weight from PMR? Year and a half ago I began my horrible pain & aching and within 3 months I had lost 20 pounds, going from large shirts to medium. For quite some time every doctor visit (and at home) had me exactly 171 pounds. My wife will verify that, and curiously my beloved "Phoebe" weighed exactly 16 pounds every vet visit!  With concentration on eating habits since that time, as the pain has been replaced with the dreaded fatigue, I have gained back 12 pounds. ("Phoebe" now consistently weighs 17 pounds. No, we're not eating the same food.)  Wish I understood all that with the hope there was a suggestion there  that would help the unfortunate weight gainers.  

Again, sincere thanks to all who offer this online support and understanding. It sure helps the coping!  You, and "Phoebe," are magnificent in that therapy.

more of a dislike than a hate, one of those unavoidable weekly chores that challenges mind and body, designed to make me more than aware of all the problems of being pollyed.

Packaging.

I hate it at the best of times. Whoever thinks it up must do surveys to discover what is most difficult to open. Then make it doubly so.

The foil seal on the pred bottle that's so thick it almost needs a drill to penetrate. Followed by cotton wool stuffed so far in it needs tweezers to remove, and who can remember where those are?

But worst of all the bubble packs. The little weekly pill box has compartments for 7 days. Which means bursting 35 little bubbles.

All different sizes. The aspirin is the worst, so small and extra strength bubbles. Never a pop, more a sustained squeeze and a sort of anaemic ooze needing more tweezer use to pick the confounded things up from wherever they fall. Don't pop them over the tiled kitched floor, they bounce and scurry every which way and hide. There's a big colony of refugee aspirins somewhere.

The pariet is probably the easiest, a soggier sort of foil and a bigger tablet, which can just be picked up. But easy is a relative term until the pred takes away the morning stiffness in the fingers.

Cutting the pred is a challenge. The tablets are beautifully rounded, specially designed so that contact with the knife has them spinning out of control. A short sharp tap with the knife and ... there's another one smashed into a thousand pieces. The 5mg aren't too bad, they are brittle enough they usually break along the line. Marginally easier than cutting a cornflake (I'm sure you've all tried that). The 1mg are softer, soggier, without a line, and they just sort of crumble. I long for the days when I don't have to cut so many. 3 or 4 mg was worst. Cut a 5 and a 1. Why can't we just squeeze the right length out of a tube, like toothpaste or glue, or take 1ml. Grrr.

But the mental concentration required to get all the right pills into all the right little compartments without a mistake is almost overwhelming.

Wednesday ... Thursday ... Friday ... yes please a cup of tea would be nice .... Saturday .... not too much sugar this time please .... Monday .... not that's not right ..... Sunday .... no, better not have a bikkie thanks .... now where was I up to ... no, the scones are nice but really no ..... oh yes, Sunday ... no, that's not right, how many in each ...... Monday, Tuesday ... that looks like a nice cuppa thanks ... Todayday.

Phew, that's one lot done, only five more to go. I can do this. What day is it today?

I think its 5 1/2 in each compartment, I remember now, they changed the colour of the crestor, and the aspirin must be right 'cos they have a little heart on them - how thoughtful. It was 5 and two halves last week but I've reduced the pred, that must be why my fingers hurt more. And the thyroxin has 100 on them, or at least they do when I find the magnifying glass. I'd better count them all again, just to make sure.

Its good though. Because I fill seven compartments and today makes eight. How thoughtful. A different day every week. How exciting. And it means cutting the pred in half is an even number.

I dream of the day when the chemist is a big machine where we feed all the prescriptions in one end and a strip of big bubbles, each containing a day's, or an hours, or a weeks, or an anythings, heap of tablets, all nicely sorted, each bubble with the day and time printed on it, conveniently ready for instant consumption.

But where would be the fun in that ....

bah humbug!