"Woeful Me" ;)

Woeful daughter, "But DAAAAD!"

Today's post is not an easy one to do because for the last couple of weeks I've been feeling under the weather a bit more than usual.  Several times I told hubs that I wouldn't be able to write a post tonight but in the end my guilt got the best of me!  My life has also gotten a bit busier than is good for me - quite the opposite of what I should be doing at this stage, which is getting a lot of rest.  However, life happens and there's not much you can do, no matter how much you try.  Right?  Right!  So onward! 

• The week before last, I did end up going to see my endocrinologist since I felt it would be too rude to turn down an appointment that was carved out for me after the cancellation.  It was a very good, though intensive, visit.  First, it took me my usual 3 hours to get ready; secondly, my sleep was so messed up that I was up at 3AM for a 3PM visit.  The drive (by hubs, not me!) to see him is a bit long and the visit took over an hour.  Normally I see him at least once a year to make sure that my Human Growth Hormone (HGH) levels are where they should be and that the dosage is correct.  This time we had so very much more to go over, including the after-effects of my gall bladder surgery (hormones involved in this aspect of my health as well) and my adjustment (or "non-adjustment") to the hypothyroidism.  Much was accomplished and many more blood tests ordered.  In other words, he doesn't like where I stand some 4 months after the diagnosis of the thyroid problem.
• Then, as luck would have it, two days later we had a meeting about the progress of the redecorating, remodeling, etc., and how it was coming along.  Let's just say that it was off-the-chart stress.  Fini.
• On top of all that, even hubs started getting worried about the disappearance of my jewelry and we've been hunting it down every chance we have.  I thought the post on the "blue men" would dissipate any nerves regarding this issue.  That is, I thought I'd be able to put things into perspective about it all and let the jewelry appear when it would, but no such luck.  The more we hunted, the more I "yelled" at hubby and the more nerves were frayed. (Ahem.) This morning, after almost two weeks of jollies on the part of the blue men the jewelry reappeared in our house.  Hubs, the stalwart one, was almost in tears because I had been so upset.  (As Marlo Thomas, Rosie Grier and the kids would sing, "it's alright to cry!"
• Which brings me to the last bit.  I've been feeling so ill from all these events (and MORE!).  My health simply keeps getting worse and worse.  I find myself falling asleep at the oddest times for many hours, then not being able to fall asleep when I've had pain out the wazoo.  And it's been the craziest things, too, which have been bothering me!  For example, last night I suddenly developed bursitis in a cheek (not one of those on my face!) and it took three well-aimed shots to get that under control so that I could move.  Suddenly, I had not only one leg I couldn't count on - the one with the neuropathy - but a second one which was collapsing on me, the one with bursitis.

Would it be too trite to say that in the last couple of weeks it feels like the old song, "if it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all..."?   

One good thing, however: despite how I felt, I only cried once.  It could have been a river but at least I was able to control that part of my life.

As always, hoping that everyone's feeling their best, only better.  Remember: don't be like me: it really IS alright to cry!  Ciao and paka! 

Losing Weight: Part 1, The Reasons

Thanksgiving at a friend's home: you'd think my kids had lived an "Oliver" life!

There seem to be dozens of ways to gain weight if you're a person who suffers from CFIDS/ME/CFS and/or fibromyalgia and I do believe that I've had the dubious honor of having gained for each one of the reasons at one time or another.  It's a real problem because, let's face it, the way we look DOES affect the way we feel about ourselves.  No matter how much we tell ourselves that all we want in life is to be healthy, there IS the little part that we quietly add, "and to be a normal weight."  It's not surprising because before we became sick, we usually WERE at a decent weight.  

Today I'll just pick out four reasons why we often gain weight.  Some I've gone into before, but others are new to this blog.  Tomorrow I'll post a few tips that have helped me with the ways I try to lose weight, an ever-increasing list.  But today, some of the "causes."  Remember: knowledge (or acknowledgement) is power!

• Insomnia.  If you don't get enough sleep, your hormones go all out of wack and you start to gain weight like crazy.  For more on this, see the post I wrote about this here.
• Medication.  Despite huge vigilance, a few years ago I was on entirely too many medications (around 50!) and we were able to cut the number down, as well as the dosages.  It was hard work and sometimes I think I would do well to go back to a few but when I think this, I also think, "at what price?"  I do have a couple that I may need to start back on but will be talking to my GP about this because I'm not sure of the benefits vs. happiness factor with my weight.  "Proper weight" is not just about looking good - were it only that easy.  It also gives us a bit (ha!) of a self-esteem problem that, like it or not, does accompany the weight issue.  And let's face it, it's hard to lug around extra poundage. 
• Overdoing it.  Every single time that I overdo it - and it doesn't take much to get into that state - my appetite soars and the poundage comes on in spades.  Just sitting downstairs in the kitchen as preparations went on around me on Thanksgiving and then sitting at the table for dinner was way more than my body could realistically handle.  I've not weighed myself since this out-of-control eating started and as a result, I know I've gained at least 10 pounds, if not more.  I've more or less given up until tomorrow since it's hubby's birthday today and I knew that stopping the eating and then "starting again" with his birthday again would just be too much.  So, tomorrow I start to give myself the pep talks and maybe by Wednesday I can start those first three days that are so hard to get through as you're trying to get back to "eating right."  See this post for more on the "eating right" and losing weight the healthy way right here.
• Stress.  We had the painters in the house for two weeks and then there was all that running to the ER and testing and that all proved to be too stressful, which led me to overeating - a real understatement.  Now I have not only the holiday weight to deal with, but all the stress-induced weight gain of something I had a lot of trouble dealing with.  It had to be done.  Now the weight has to be dealt with.  End of excuses or lamenting from and for me!  Get with the program, self! (Unfortunately the work is not completed yet.  I'll have to come up with some sort of way to deal with this better!)

And yes!  Make sure you check with your doctor to see if there is something new going on with your body that is causing the weight gain or lack of weight loss. You may need to explore the possibility that you've developed a new issue that needs to be addressed (like me when my weight went super wacko and it was because of the hypothyroidism) or if there is a medication which you might no longer need or can take in a lesser dosage.  

Weight is the bane of most women, especially in the States.  If you've had the misfortune to add medical conditions, things get that much harder.  Some medications I know make it harder for me with the weight but my doctors and I feel that I have no choice but to continue on those medications.  I try to work around the meds, but that's not easy.  Remember that foremost is your health.  THEN establish the weight which you are comfortable to live with, but be realistic about the number.  

Finally, remember that body image is not always right: we are often our worst enemies and think we look much worse than we actually do.  

And that's it for today.  I hope everyone's feeling their best, only better.  Ciao and paka!

Do As I Say, Not As I Do! ;)

It's all a balancing act: walking up First Avenue to our apartment in NYC with baby trying to climb onto and off my shoulder!

I apologize for having been MIA since Friday (in case there are masses of faithful readers out there mourning my absence and my ever-so-witty humor *ahem*) - but this CFIDS/ME/CFS and fibromyalgia body of mine has been betraying me at every turn - or so it seems.  This happens to me every single autumn/fall as the barometric pressure changes have their fun toyng with me, whereas the temperature changes do THEIR damage.  MY rheumy told me yesterday that all his fibro patients are absolutely miserable.

This year has been so much worse than in years past.  I daresay that this year is right up there with the second year of my adult human growth hormone (HGH) "deficiency" drama - when I was surviving only on fumes. I finally had to be hospitalized in order to simply keep me alive until all the red tape of approval came in, an almost two-year process when all was said and done. We all worked feverishly on my survival, such a nightmare, especially since we weren't even allowed to pay for the HGH out of pocket until the approval by all parties involved got their act together.

And then we had the whole "compartment syndrome" surgery/fiasco just eleven months ago, when all my organs started to shut down, and everyone just concentrated on keeping me alive (the little dramatists), one of those "worst of" years.  So when I say that this is one of my worst periods ever, I have some pretty good company to compare things to - and I've spared you many more incidents, since I - all together now - am trying to make these posts shorter! ;)

It's even difficult to say how much worse it is this year: 100 times worse, 1,000 times worse, a million times worse?  All I know is that I'm "rather" miserable and sicker than I have been in eons.  

Now, I'm not writing this in order to gain sympathy points or votes - that would be rather silly. What I'm writing about is my reaction to being this "new" sick.  Some include, but are not restricted to:

• My legs are like jello and often can't carry me.  I end up crawling a lot.  I'm like dead weight - if hubby is at home, he tries to help me to the bathroom, but dead weight that insists on falling is not the easiest feat to accomplish.  And no, I don't drink, as one doctor in the ER once tried to ask my daughter behind my back - whereupon my daughter started to laugh her head off - a rather long story I'll spare you.  
• When I sit up to get out of bed, my head starts to spin and I see dark spots in front of my eyes - or light spots - and it feels like it's going to implode or explode - I'm not quite sure which.  
• My pupils aren't dilating and contracting the way they should be, even with no medication in my body.
• My head feels so heavy, as if it's made of some sort of heavy metal, because it wants to hit the closest surface, usually the floor, face down.  If I'm lucky, I hit the mattress and just lie there unable to move at all for about 15-30 minutes, making it quite uncomfortable for the rest of the body hanging off the bed.
• My veins, especially the ones by the wrist start to feel as if they are going to either explode of implode.  
• My whole body starts in with these jerky sways, then jerky shakes.

I think you get the messages.  These symptoms are just the tippy top of the proverbial iceberg. 

However, to make things worse, I've found myself engaged in two behaviors that are doing me no favors. However, having weighed all the options, I've decided that I should go on or just do as much as I can.  Mind you!  DO NOT FOLLOW MY EXAMPLE, but rather as I say, not as I as I do, because, after all, I'm an old bat!  Most out there have their whole lives ahead of them and also have not been ill very long.  For the newly-diagnosed patient there is the problem of whether or not a near-cure could really help, if not a cure, period!  Looking at you, spoonies, I have real faith in the cure being found!!!  But getting back to moi and my self-absorbed self (yes, I do see my failings):

• I've been acting like a bit of an "in your face teenager" daring my CFIDS, ME/CFS and fibromyalgia evil fairy. Just as I did wrong with the "non-stop eating" celebration of the dreaded and surprising hypothyroidism, I'm daring, in a way, the DD "fairy," to inflict more damage onto me like a playground bully, though this bully is so much stronger than any bully from school - as I should well keep in mind.  

• I'm mad!  I'm angry!  I've had it.  I've adjusted, compromised, accepted so much of this stupid, idiotic illness for 38 years and I realize that really, I don't have but so many years left - after all, I've closer to 80 than I am to 25!   I have to do what is right for me and not live someone else's guidelines or dictates, because I've wasted enough time already.  I've been ill way too long and realize that in the next decade or so nothing is going to cure me and nothing is ever going to give me back even 10% of a normal life.  Like the person who got severe polio before the vaccine, I'm never going to get well enough to really live life.  Oh, I'll keep fighting - it's part of my nature and DNA - but I'm also trying to accept reality with what will give me a semi-normal standard of living occasionally.

• The holidays are coming up and I refuse to live a "Green Acres" life, the old sitcom where the couple from NYC buys a house out in the country and can never finish remodeling the hovel.  Our remodeling has been going on for 5 years!  Good grief!  The only saving factor about the kids going away to school was that my house would finally be immaculate.  Wrong: I was soo naive!  I live in fear that the remodeling will be completed the day before either hubby or I keel over and we will not have enjoyed a finally put-together house! (Almost!)

• The holidays are coming and that is a big problem for me.  I do not do well with holidays. I used to decorate the house with absolute perfection, down to the Christmas china, chargers, baking peroshki's and cookies, at least 3 or 4 different cakes for dessert.  We'd have Christmas parties.  Even my book club finally decided that each December meeting would be at my house because (LOL!) why bother at any one else's?  (Fine solution for me as the house was washed and sanitized to a inch of its life anyway!)   

But now I have to figure out a way of dealing with all these emotions, planning what is feasible, what isn't, what I won't give up, what I should.  I do know that I will TRY and do all within my power to drive myself harder this Thanksgiving (and hubby's birthday!) and this Christmas than I've been able to in the last 5 or 6 years, because our family's had incredibly bad luck, as well as good luck, health-wise lately and we have much to be grateful for. I want to fall asleep every night (or day or whenever this dysfunctional body decides it'll give me a break and let me sleep a bit) feeling as if I've accomplished something.  Last night I was able to crawl through two rooms that are jam-packed with everything from other rooms and managed to find 3 "must" tablecloths and linen napkins, was able to crawl to the washer and managed to do 6 loads of laundry.  Hubby took care of the dryer (I trust him with the drying part, but never the washer!) and he folded them away to take to the cleaners for pressing. 

That's three things down and how many hundreds more to go????

If anyone has any tips as to how to get organized for the holidays in the easiest way or hints for getting through it all, or any part of it, period, we'd all love to hear it!  

In the meanwhile, I hope all are doing so very well, their very best, only better.  Ciao and paka.

Roads Traveled and Not Traveled

Little Irene really ticked off about the big fuss made for kindergarten graduation when there was still so much more work to get done before getting to the PhD studies.

Last night, as hubby (and I?) watched the summer season's first episode of "Grimm," my mind started wandering.  I couldn't help thinking about how much my world has differed from the time I started thinking about what I wanted to do in life vs. how my life has actually turned out.  It's definitely been a mixed bag, as I think it is for everyone. I truly believe no one comes out of this life unscathed (perhaps the only thing I took away with me from my class on Emerson) - it just depends on how much "scathing" we happen to experience.

I well remember that as a four-year old, I wanted two things.  I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would go to college one day - and proceeded to inform my high school next-door neighbor of my intentions.  She had a good laugh and from that laughter she practically rolled down the hill we lived on.  

But I was also aware that our family was pretty hard off financially  - both of my parents arrived in the States a few years after WW ll ended - and consequently my other "goal" was more of a dream than a firm "this IS going to happen."

I always dreamed of traveling and I do think that's one reason I became such a bookworm so early on.  The armchair traveler: the easiest and least expensive way of exploring the world.  And I think I did inherit some sort of a "travel gene."  Our family did a lot of traveling along the eastern part of the States, but the immigrant's way. Rarely did anyone stay at a motel.  You had immigrant friends in Cleveland, so you explored everything between NY and Ohio.  You had friends in Florida?  Ditto!  

But I had bigger dreams and higher aspiration than to "see the USA in a Chevrolet" as an old commercial beseeched us.  The only problem?  I didn't know how we'd pay for college, much less travel?  (What four-year old thinks this way???)   

Back in the day, as they say, you needed money to travel The World, LOTS of it - or you could become an airline stewardess, a very glamorous job when air travel was so exclusive.  The problem with being a stewardess, however, was that in the days of what would now break a bucket load of laws, there were incredible restrictions to being a stewardess - and I never thought I could achieve them.  Among many other requirements, the stewardess was beautiful, her figure was to die for, she had "class" galore and needed at least a second language.  I felt I had only one thing going for me, the second language bit, and after my Villa Maria Catholic boarding school I just might have been able to figure out the "class" thing - "might" being the operative word - but the rest...?

Thankfully, the world started changing - as things do - and I changed too - as one does.  Flying started to become an "affordable luxury" and as our family assimilated into the great American middle class, travel around the world also became a not-so-impossible dream.  And one fine day I met hubby, a person who rarely, if ever, met a challenge he didn't love, who'd already spent a summer backpacking his way across Europe, often sleeping in parks when he couldn't afford a youth hostel.  My biggest travel dream came true when we flew to London for our honeymoon.  

Since then, I've been more than fortunate: I've traveled aboard to more places than I could have ever imagined - WAY more than I could have imagined.  Anyone who's read much of this blog knows I was in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia just last month, despite this DD.  

I'll let you in on a secret.  Until two years ago, I'd never even HEARD of Kuala Lumpur and had no idea that Malaysia was even a country, much less knew WHERE it was.  (Shame on me: one of my favorite novels of all time is Nevil Shute's A Town Like Alice, which started its story in what was then known as "Malaya.")  And I wasn't alone.  Every single person I spoke to - after my son started to try to figure out a way to go there to study - would ask me, "where is THAT?"  When we were at the "major medical center," which was VERY international, I never once came across anyone who knew where KL was.  The only person I spoke to who knew?  My cousin in Russia when we spoke on Skype!

There's a saying which has become a cliché: be careful what you wish for.

And there's the rub.  I never specified, growing up, that I needed my health too.  Health?  That was a given.  We may have been poor, but everyone I knew had their health - in spades!  I always thought the expression, "if you have your health you have everything" was a saying that the rich made up to make us poor people feel better about our lot in life.  (Skeptical little creature, wasn't I?)

And so, with each overseas trip we ever took, I never even realized at the time that it was harder to get myself together to go on that dreamed-of destination that I'd read about in books.  And with each trip, it became more difficult to  actually DO things once I got to my destination.  I really slowed hubby down, but he just assumed all women were slower than men.  (Hubby must be forgiven: it WAS the '70's and a very different world gender-wise.) When I arrived home, each trip forced a longer recovery time on me, though we were very good at coming up with excuses as to why each was harder.

Not once did hubby suspect that anything was amiss.  I looked healthy.  I was active and went to a gym every other day at a time that no one really went to gyms.  We were in NYC, so this was a new trend, especially the yoga classes.  (I told you the world has changed but you doubted me!  Admit it! ;)) 

I well remember barely making it home, just a few short blocks, but having to sit down somewhere at least twice on each block, sweating, panting, unable to catch my breath, desperately trying not to pass out.  Yet we saw this as normal, thinking that I was simply "adjusting" to the whole "exercise" movement (four years of adjustment?). We conveniently overlooked or forgot that I walked miles each day in college and was never out of breath, running across our infamous university drill field numerous times a day - or the thirteen years of summer camps in very primitive conditions and much physical activity, with me always the best runner and swimmer in my age group.

We conveniently forgot or didn't understand that the flu that initiated this illness of mine started a series of events that looking back on were ever so obvious that something was amiss - like ending up in the hospital.  Just weeks before I met hubby, just a few months after "that flu," I was hospitalized for colitis.  We blamed all the antibiotics I'd been on because of all the secondary infections I kept adding on to that initial flu as it grew more complicated every day and as I passed out every day from that "ground zero" illness, thinking, "mind over matter" and "no pain, no gain."

Over the years I had incredible (to me) opportunities to travel.  At first, each trip was something we saved up years in order to do.  Eventually, we became more financially secure (thanks to REAL jobs) and after about 15 years into my CFIDS/ME/fibromyalgia, insomnia, each trip eventually reached the point where it was not frivolously taken.  We were finally noticing a pattern.  We also finally had a diagnosis, though we had no idea what to do with it: no one really did.  

But if nothing else, I've always been stubborn and always hard on myself.  Sick?  Yes...but nah, not REALLY!  So in the '90's, visiting most of Europe or the two trips to Russia and the Ukraine once the Soviet Union fell apart, or taking my three trips to Australia, there were family reasons for me to go.....the list is long.  But each trip cost me, and the price for my last trip to Oz was two years in bed. 

So, here I am, 38 years later.  And I still cannot accept that I'm ill.  

Perhaps if this wasn't such an invisible illness, I'd have an easier time accepting it.  Perhaps if I'd known from the first days that I was sick and not lazy, I'd have been able to adjust.  Perhaps if I'd known that having three 10-lb. babies in three years was a bit over the top, and had taken it a bit slower, I'd have been spared the degree to which I'm so sick now.  Perhaps if we'd known what we were dealing with early on, I could have spared not just myself, but my family, too, a lot of grief, a huge understatement.

In the end, I have to wonder, did I achieve what that four-year old was determined to do and had the chutzpah to dream of?  Yes, I did get my university degrees, though not the PhD I so badly wanted.  And I've traveled more than I could have dreamt of, even further than Dorothy did to HER Oz.

And I ended up with a life I never dared dream: a husband who loves me and whom I've loved since the first moment I laid eyes on him (yeah, yeah, corny), a best friend of 42 years who is so wonderful that I feel badly that everyone in the world doesn't have this fantastic a best friend in their lives, and the biggest treasure of all, my three beautiful, kind and giving children who, despite putting much grey in my hair, have made my life rich beyond any measure.  (As she madly knocks on wood and does the Russian "tphoo! tphoo! tphoo!")

The only thing I would have changed?  Perhaps I should have added the "good health" clause.  

But to put a positive and yet very realistic spin on it all, I have to wonder what incredible things may not have occurred had I remembered that clause.  And that's my other pastime when things get especially bad.  I really, really have to work on seeing that things are what they are, the past can't be changed.  

Consequently, to stay relatively sane, I start to look at all the little roads that may have not been traveled had I stayed healthy.   And as we all know, the road not traveled, the harder road, is really the one that makes our lives richer.  Harder, yes, but hopefully, much more rewarding in the end.  Or so I sincerely hope!

What do you think?   Given a chance to change the course of your life, knowing what you know now, would you have gone along the road you were fated to go?   In Frost's poem "The Road Not Taken" and in the M. Scott Peck's famous book, The Road Less Traveled, we are given choices, whereas in real life, we with CFIDS/ME/CFS, fibromyalgia and the plethora of complications have been thrust upon us...it wasn't a choice.  But looking back, do you think that there was some purpose that this often nightmare road was the fated and destined one?

Just thinking.

And I do hope everyone is feeling their best today, only better!

             ************

And please don't forget to sign up for the Subscriber Giveaway. ;). In my more insecure moments I worry no one will end up making a comment and the Giveaway will be a flop.  Hubby says not to be so hard on myself, but..... Make your comments for the Giveaway  on the post here (hit this link!)  Good luck and thanks for stopping by and reading!

Trying To Look and Act Human Even When Sick.

Bioderma, Clarins, the Omorovicza "mitt," the Sisley face mask, and the Elemis Papaya Enzyme Peel

I'm afraid I'm pretty ill at the moment. In fact, worried hubby stayed home to keep an eye on me in the AM - a rare occurrence - and I kept asking him for cups of tea with honey. Saying that I am not a huge fan of honey qualifies as an understatement: the last time I had tea with honey was when I came down with the bug that led to the CFIDS/ME/fibro - when my mom flew down to my university to "nurse me back to good health" - so my request for tea with honey pretty much scared the bejeebees out of hubby. I certainly hope the tea and honey work better now than it did back in 1975!

At any rate, when flying home, I came up with a few ideas that I think will be successful for me if I ever have to fly again, which I sincerely hope not, given the unsettling experiences I had coming back.  One day I may write about them, but for now I'm too "verklempt," as Mike Myers used to say on SNL.  I'm just glad I'm home, where I should be, recovering from it all.  (Lawdy! How DO I Manage to sound like such a drama queen!)
So, getting back to my thoughts and ideas. 

• A surprising and successful way to find use for something I didn't care for before:

I was just about to pop a mitt-like washcloth into my checked-in baggage, when I experienced a flashback to the skimpy warm washcloths on the plane that are occasionally passed around before meals.  I received said washcloth "mitt" in one of those trial-sized kits (Omorovicza )which, at the time I thought was a total waste of money.   Now, however, that said "mitt" has found its "calling," I'm more than thrilled that I have it.  
I simply wet it, wrung out all the water I could and popped the thing into a ziplock bag and slid it into the top - and thus easily accessible - compartment of my carry-on.  Every time I needed to wash off my face or hands, I turned to a clean area of the mitt.  

And good grief. This is not a germaphobe talking, just a relatively clean person: those planes are absolutely filthy! Even though business was much nicer (read "cleaner") than economy, still....  And since I try to stay away from the bathrooms as much as possible because of the germ factor, this damp washcloth turned out to be an inspired move. I liked that there was no stickiness after I used the "mitt." I find that any kind of wipes leave behind an unpleasant stickiness.  I can actually see myself using this trick even for a trip by car or train.

• The Bioderma worked out so well that next time I'm going to double the amount I take.  

(Did I say "next time"?  Excuse me while I take my temperature.  Yes, I'm quite delirious!)  I just need to put more cotton pads into the skincare and makeup bag I brought on board with me (hypothetically speaking, of course!)  In fact, I was so obsessed with the 3-1-1 rule of liquid contents taken on board that I kept getting completely confused and kept thinking I needed to take as few items on board as possible.  Fibro-fog really had a field-day with me!

• Skincare masks turned out to be a huge "face-saver."  

My skin was actually in better shape getting off the plane than it had been before getting on, thanks to constant hydration and fooling around with different products.  It made the time go by more quickly (well, almost) and kept me busy.  And yes, I'll be doing a review of the masks I've loved so far, as soon as I can get myself together and run a couple more experiments.  But I do love them completely!

So, there you have it: three ideas that really worked. I'm sure more will come up as soon as I can wrap my head around all that's happened, as well as once my fevers stop torturing me!

In the meanwhile, I hope everyone is doing as well as can be, "only better"!   


NOTE: I've corrected some of the content. Sorry about the errors. It appears that I was indeed a tiny bit delirious when I wrote this post: I've come down with croup, of all things. I sound just like a seal when I cough!