Okay kids, it’s that time again. Let’s have the update on the status of things.

My first appointment of the day was with the social worker from the ALS Association. I was introduced to a new employee, and I had been asked if this new employee could sit in with me for the whole day to get an idea of what clinic is about. I’ve had a couple people sitting with my sessions; I think I’m a good candidate for kind of easing someone into the job. I’m not so far down the road that I’m a bitter, depressing train wreck, I’ve got a pretty good attitude about things, and – as evidenced by this blog – I am not opposed to sharing. He was a really nice guy and understood a lot of the gaming and geek references that J, Gecko, and I shot back and forth with each other throughout the appointments as usual. There was nothing new to report on my part for this segment, the house search is still ongoing, the appeals for help are coming along, I’m doing okay here.

Second appointment was with Kelly the dietitian. Because she is also my friend, she had brought me birthday presents of two graphic novels from a series I adore called Lackadaisy. Happy birthday to meeeee! The official part of my appointment went smooth as usual, I received my typical good-natured lecture about drinking water instead of soda, otherwise everything checked out. I remarked to Tony, the observer, that presents aren’t usually part of appointments, but I would never be upset if they were. ALS shuld come with fabulous prizes. Or at least an administrative assistant. Kelly is incredibly thoughtful and it’s a pleasure to be her friend – not just for the comic books.

Third appointment was nursing. I had a few things to talk about here, things that would be addressed by the corresponding specialists as the appointments happened that day, but it’s always good to give the nurse a heads up so she knows what to follow up on.

Fourth was respiratory. My absolute least favorite appointment of all time. We started with the standard cough check, which is still great. Second thing we always do is check my inhale capacity, a test where I put a mask over my nose and mouth and inhale as sharply and strongly as I can. I’ve always done really well on this test. The respiratory specialist agreed with me and told me my sucking was great, upon which J, Gecko, and I did our level best to not lose our shit laughing. We are 12. The last test is the worst one, where I lean into a mask again with my nose plugged and after a couple normal breaths I forcibly exhale as much as I can and keep exhaling and keep exhaling until I feel like I’m breathing myself inside out, and then sharp inhale. I do this three times. During this appointment, the test machine said “great effort!” on all three tries, which it doesn’t always do, so I felt really encouraged. Until she told me my breathing had actually still gone down a bit. Not as dramatically as before, though. Still not dangerous levels yet, but still very much declining. I tried not to get discouraged and mostly succeeded.

Appointment number five was neurology with Dr. Olney, the new partner for Dr. Goslin. I mentioned to him the biting my tongue in my sleep thing, and how I’ve been using a night guard to get around it, and he asked me a very obvious question. “When did you start your new medication, again?” I replied it was… Right around when I started biting my tongue. Derp. It had not occurred to me at all that it might’ve been the side effect of the new medication, but when he asked that question it seemed very obvious that it was the problem. It’s still not a dealbreaker, just like the weird sleep pattern is not dealbreaker. That is the price I pay for not spiraling into a black mood at 4 AM every day, and it is worth the price of admission. I also talked to him about bladder control, or in my case the absolute lack of, as a follow-up to my previous conversation with Dr. Goslin. She had told me what my options were, and I went home and researched the mall because that’s what I do, and I had pretty much made up my mind how I would like to address this. I’m getting really sick of wearing adult diapers, they’re expensive, and they don’t always work properly and I wind up wetting the dang bed anyway, and I’m getting preeeeeeetty tired of sitting in my own pee. I have two options for a catheter, one is the traditional Foley catheter which is just a tube snaking into your urethra and a bag attached to the other end. It’s functional, but prone to infection, and for women it’s not something that is fun to have to sit on at all times. The other option, the one I’m now pursuing, is called a superpubic catheter. It’s where they punch a hole into your abdominal wall, connecting a tube through there, which drains into a bag, same as the other. It’s reversible, it’s not a horrible procedure to have to endure, and it would eliminate the need for a very uncomfortable tube in a very sensitive place. We talked about my previous experience with the urologist, how I stopped going to her because it was obvious she had no idea what ALS was. (Here’s a clue: we are not going to fix my problem by doing Kegel exercises.) He gave me the names of two urologists that have worked with their patients before and were trusted. I’ll keep you posted on how this goes.

Sixth appointment was pulmonology. The last clinic had me meeting with the pulmonologist also,and so this is a new part of the Clinic routine. My standard physician was on vacation in New Zealand (jealous!) so I had seen a practice partner. Who I actually really liked, though my regular doctor isn’t a bad guy at all; his partner has a better sense of humor is all. He had grabbed my breathing machine records from the net, because my AVAPS automatically uploads my sleep reports to the cloud and that’s not even creepy at all what are you talking about. He was overall pretty happy with my results, but still chided me about needing to use my machine for more than four hours a night to get the best results, and more than 60% of the time. I was properly chastised and promised to be better about using the machine. Which I stayed true to by the way. So far. J came over and helped me this last weekend with cleaning and organizing, and now my AVAPS doesn’t live on the arm of my wheelchair or the corner of my bed anymore, it has a proper home now, on a shelf just out of reach when I’m lying in bed. Since I have to wake up properly and sit up to turn the machine off, I’m not pulling the mask off after only four hours anymore. I also was encouraged to keep up with breath stacking. Because of course I was.

Seventh and final appointment was with PT/OT. I didn’t get to see Deb unfortunately, but I like all the specialists. We breezed through the appointments since I didn’t really have anything to report. We tried the grip meter on my left hand just for funsies, and it registered nothing at all. “…You got it to move,” she told me encouragingly. But not enough to register as a grip. Meh. I promised to hit them up when I start needing help with other things, like toileting and whatnot. I’m still doing pretty okay on my own with those things, for now. But I will be very happy when I don’t have to get up to pee anymore. I can still do the necessary things, but only having to do them once a day instead of four or five will be a very welcome change.

So that’s what we did. And that’s how it went. Steady as she goes, with nothing new to report except a 6% decrease in breathing capacity. They didn’t even have me bother talking to speech therapy this time; I never have anything to report. Oh, there is one weird thing that happened. We did the FERS scale and my self-evaluation actually had me at 32, higher than the 26 I was last time. When I got the letter afterwards, they hadofficially put me at a 30. Which is still higher than it was last time? I have another appointment with Dr. Goslin in a few weeks and I will ask her about that then.

And now you are up-to-date.