(no subject)
Jun. 21st, 2005 10:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_rckWell, I'm doing better. I still feel dreadful, exhausted and helpless, but that's better than where I was this time last week. I'm just up to dealing with toddler necessities like food and diapers. I can't manage more than that, sadly, so Delia's watching a lot of TV and being cranky about it. (I can't entirely feel sorry that she'd rather go outside than watch Barney, but it's currently inconvenient since I can't take her outside. Even if I weren't too weak/exhausted, some of the meds I'm taking have 'avoid sunlight' warnings.)
As near as my primary care doctor and I can figure out, my initial chest pain two to three weeks ago was the first indication of the virus I was coming down with. That became a head cold that started irritating my lungs by making me cough to try to clear my larynx. That became real obstruction in my lungs at about the time that most of the viral symptoms eased. That's also when the ear infections and sinus infections got going.
My primary care doctor wasn't available when I went in for a walk in visit then. The doctor I saw that day (Wednesday of two weeks ago, I think) freaked out when she realized I was still nursing and wouldn't give me any medication apart from the antibiotic even though she'd said prior to that that I needed several (all of which I'm taking now and still nursing). She refused either to consult with my daughter's doctor or to let me do so. She put me on augmentin, a penicillin family antibiotic.
Two days later, I had rash on my neck (and over the next day, I developed hives on my left leg and rash on the undersides of my breasts) and went back to the clinic. This time, I saw my primary care doctor. She put me on bactrim (sulfa family antibiotic) and tessalon (cough suppressant). We both mourned the fact that there are now two entire families of antibiotics that I can't safely use (I had an allergic reaction to zithromax (macrolide family, I think) about five years ago). My doctor also pointed out that there's now only one antibiotic family that I can safely take while nursing. We discussed the possibility of weaning Delia, cold turkey. I was willing if it was absolutely necessary but reluctant because I suspected it would be unpleasant, especially given that Delia was already freaked out by my illness.
Fortunately, we were able to work around that. I did take a small step toward weaning, though. I'm no longer offering to nurse Delia when she gets up in the morning or wakes from her nap. I don't refuse if she asks, but I don't offer. Scott still hasn't adapted to this change, though, so he keeps telling her it's going to happen. Oh, well.
Anyway, from there, I got more and more sick over the next few days. My parents were still there, so it didn't matter quite so much. They left on the 14th, in the morning. The next day, Wednesday the15th, I did an early morning ER visit (which I've written about elsewhere). That did me some good but not a lot. By Thursday evening, I was doing pretty badly again, about where I'd been Tuesday evening, which made both me and Scott certain that I'd really need to be in the ER again by morning.
Scott explained that he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't lose his job if he didn't make it to work on time in the morning. (He only gets about one sick day a quarter, and he'd used his for my Wednesday morning ER visit.) We decided that I'd go that night and hope to get home in time for him to go to work.
Once I was in the ER, they did a chest x-ray. It came out normal (though I didn't find that out till yesterday). They gave me four or five breathing treatments but never managed to stop the cough. It would ease, but the moment I talked or moved more than a little, it was back, powerfully. They kept encouraging me to sleep, but I couldn't manage to relax that much (leaning back made the coughing worse, too). The fact that I don't handle albuterol, the standard medication for breathing treatments, well didn't help-- I was shaking uncontrollably. 'Jittery' is what the medical people called it. It's not a problem that's apparently important enough for avoiding using albuterol, at least from the medical side, but it's not a pleasant thing from my point of view.
They gave me oxygen through one of those nose hoses, the kind that hook over one's ears. Even that didn't get my pulse oxygen rate up as well as was hoped. By the end of the night, I was finding it miserable because it was one more dry irritant making me want to cough.
The doctor I'd seen had made arrangements for me to be able to leave and go home whenever I thought I had to. I'd emphasized that I had to be home by six in the morning so that Delia wouldn't be left alone. Actually, that was the one thing that I never lost track of all night, even when I couldn't really think. I knew I had to be home.
I think that my confusion made everything worse. Part of it was due to my exhaustion (I effectively hadn't slept for 48 hours and hadn't had much sleep for days before that), and part of it was probably due to my inability to breathe (my primary care doctor says my pulse oxygen was low enough that confusion on my part isn't surprising). I could tell that I wasn't functioning well because I had trouble following the plots of some of the books I'd brought and ended up having to stick with an overly simplistic romance and because I had real difficulty trying to do the acrostics I'd brought. Those are usually something I do as part of my bedtime wind down routine.
A side effect of the confusion was that I didn't ask some of the questions I should have. For example, there are medications I normally take at bedtime. Nobody told me to take them, and I didn't ask, so I didn't take them. I should have. I also didn't ask what they thought was wrong with me-- Well, I knew I was coughing and couldn't breathe. I didn't ask *why*.
I suspect that I was frustrating to deal with for the various nurses and such. They were all quite nice and helpful and very patient, even when I said the same things over and over again (usually talking about Delia).
When I first arrived in the ER, they kept assuring me that I'd be able to call Scott 'soon.' By about 12:30, I got insistent because I knew he'd be staying up waiting. I'd have used my cell phone (the posted signs said it was okay as long as I kept it a certain distance from all operating equipment), but I couldn't get a signal inside the building. When I did finally get a phone, Scott informed me that Delia'd woken not long after I left. She wanted to nurse. When she realized I wasn't there, she became insistent, saying, "Find Mama!" Scott told her I'd gone to the doctor, and Delia then ordered him to take her to the doctor too. He got her to sleep for a bit by driving her around in the car, but she'd awakened again by the time I called. He was trying to soothe her by showing her a slide show of her baby pictures (something she loves).
We made the mistake of having me talk to her over the phone. That produced loud wails and made me feel dreadfully guilty. Then I had to give the phone back. I spent the next several hours worrying about Delia and about how Scott was coping. Thinking about Scott needing to work without adequate sleep was pretty scary, too. His job isn't really all that safe-- Moving machinery, hot metal, molten plastic and so on.
At about five, they had a social worker call a cab for me. It was a shared ride that wouldn't have been my first choice if I'd been mentally together. I had enough cash for a regular cab, and that would have been faster, I think. I did get home by six, though, so Scott was able to get to work on time. He, poor man, had only recently managed to get Delia to sleep by putting her down on my side of the bed where she could smell me.
I roused her enough to nurse briefly and got her back to sleep in her crib so that I could have my own bed space. Then I slept a couple of hours before![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cherydactyl arrived with her kids to help me out for the morning. My mother-in-law arrived at about 11 and took Delia out grocery shopping. She stayed until Delia and I were both napping in the afternoon. In the evening, lunargeography came over and helped so that Scott could get to bed (He was scheduled to work at 3 am the next morning, but we got lucky at the last moment, and he was able to stay home. Of course, we didn't know that would happen until 2 am).
Although I was doing better then than I had been the night before, I was still not doing well at all. I decided to take a chance-- My primary care doctor had had me stop the codeine cough syrup when I had the allergic reaction to the augmentin, just in case the codeine was the real culprit. I was about 90% sure that the codeine had nothing to do with it, and I was desperate to find something that would ease my breathing enough to let me sleep a little. The asthma inhaler and tessalon simply weren't doing it on their own, and the OTC cough suppressant helped not at all. With the codeine, I manage a couple of stretches of three to four hours of sleep. That was wonderful.
Scott spent Saturday cleaning our room. He moved the furniture, dusted under and around everything, scrubbed away the winter mildew (we over did things with our humidifier last winter) with baking soda and washed the bedding. After working on our room, he went on to Delia's room and then the rest of the house. Under most circumstances, environmental stuff like this doesn't really bother me, but right now... Well, the cleaning actually seems to have helped some.
I'm still prone to waking up whenever any one of my medications wears off. This makes life interesting since the tessalon's every six hours while the codeine and inhaler are every four. I'll know I'm really recovering when I can sleep through any one of them wearing off (and I really, really look forward to reaching that point). Delia's also showing a distressing instinct for waking up in the middle of the night right when I'm at exactly the right point with my meds to be able to sleep well for a few hours.
Saturday evening,booniverse and her man came over to keep Delia busy for a while, and evalerie brought us an excellent dinner (which also gave me breakfast on Sunday and Monday). Both were an immense help given that Scott was running himself ragged trying to do what needed doing and I was finding walking from the living room to the bathroom a huge challenge.
I didn't end up sleeping much Saturday night for various reasons. Sunday, we went up to Scott's sister's for Father's Day. I collapsed on a couch while Delia ran around with her cousins with supervision from her aunt and grandmother (the guys took off to play a little golf). Even with not doing all that much but talking occasionally, I over did things. I'm not sure that staying home would have been better, but it was altogether a miserable experience. The fact that there wasn't much I could eat at dinner didn't help.
The meds I'm on have changed how things taste considerably. I've lost sweetness almost entirely, and bitterness is hugely amplified. Some spiciness seems to be blunted. Salty flavors seem unaffected. Under normal circumstances, I'd just have eaten the things that I don't like but that don't actually give me problems. As it was... I couldn't. This did bring home to me that Scott's family really has no idea what I actually like to eat. We've been married almost twelve years, and they still don't know that I intensely dislike the flavor of grilling. Rather, I dislike the flavor of *charring*. If the grill leaves a mark on the meat, any level of carbonization, it tastes dreadful to me. With the amplification of bitterness, I simply couldn't face it.
Yesterday, Scott managed to get home from work early enough to take me in to see my primary care doctor. She'd seen the ER reports already (I am pleased by the information sharing that the various branches of the university health system are doing these days. It used to be very hard to get those reports to cross any boundaries. This makes much, much more sense). She checked my pulse oxygenation and wasn't entirely pleased by it. It's up from where it was on Friday but still not normal. She endorsed my decision to go back on the codeine since I'm having no ill effects from it.
We discussed the matter a bit and concluded that right now I'm just suffering from hyperactive asthma. (Though 'just' seems to make it more trivial than it is.) Because everything's so wound up, I'm having serious problems from things that don't normally even register as part of my environment, things like the dust and mildew from the bedroom. I'm going to keep using the inhaler and taking the tessalon and codeine as long as I'm still wheezing and coughing. We're keeping the prednisone on the same schedule for now. It'll take about another two weeks to finish with that, assuming nothing changes. Starting tomorrow, I'll be down to forty milligrams a day. That'll last for three days, and then I'll go down to thirty a day for another three and so on.
While I've been down sick, several of my sage seedlings have died. They got too much sun and too little water and just withered up. The lemon basil's thriving in spite of the neglect. The dill and thyme are somewhere in between. I think I'm going to seed a little more thyme because it seems to sprout easily and to thrive as long as it gets regular enough water. I don't know that I'll try to seed any more dill or sage, though. The dill's kind of delicate with a single, thin stalk, and the sage takes a long time to grow. Of course, I suspect that part of the problem for the sage is where I've got the planter. The other planters get shade for part of the day and sun for part. The sage is on the ramp from our back porch and gets direct sun most of the day.
My hair seems to be falling out. Well, that's a bit extreme. I'm not going bald by any means. It's just that I'm losing a lot more than I'm used to, almost scarily so. If I had less hair to begin with, I probably would be afraid of bald spots. I don't know if it's because I'm sick, because of the medications I'm on or because I've cut back on nursing (I haven't had the normal post-pregnancy hair loss yet). My doctor's not worried, so I'm not going to let it bother me too much yet. I rather suspect that other people won't even notice when they see me.
Scott's going to attempt to persuade his employer to let him take some time off this week to stay with me and Delia, but he's not optimistic that they'll allow it. I'm hoping that they will because keeping up with Delia's really not easy right now. I'm trying to allow about five times as long to get things done right now as I normally would and to plan the necessities in stages so that I don't have to try to feed Delia and change her diaper in the same hour. Speaking of which... I need to start trying to pull lunch together for her. Some form of protein is necessary.
As near as my primary care doctor and I can figure out, my initial chest pain two to three weeks ago was the first indication of the virus I was coming down with. That became a head cold that started irritating my lungs by making me cough to try to clear my larynx. That became real obstruction in my lungs at about the time that most of the viral symptoms eased. That's also when the ear infections and sinus infections got going.
My primary care doctor wasn't available when I went in for a walk in visit then. The doctor I saw that day (Wednesday of two weeks ago, I think) freaked out when she realized I was still nursing and wouldn't give me any medication apart from the antibiotic even though she'd said prior to that that I needed several (all of which I'm taking now and still nursing). She refused either to consult with my daughter's doctor or to let me do so. She put me on augmentin, a penicillin family antibiotic.
Two days later, I had rash on my neck (and over the next day, I developed hives on my left leg and rash on the undersides of my breasts) and went back to the clinic. This time, I saw my primary care doctor. She put me on bactrim (sulfa family antibiotic) and tessalon (cough suppressant). We both mourned the fact that there are now two entire families of antibiotics that I can't safely use (I had an allergic reaction to zithromax (macrolide family, I think) about five years ago). My doctor also pointed out that there's now only one antibiotic family that I can safely take while nursing. We discussed the possibility of weaning Delia, cold turkey. I was willing if it was absolutely necessary but reluctant because I suspected it would be unpleasant, especially given that Delia was already freaked out by my illness.
Fortunately, we were able to work around that. I did take a small step toward weaning, though. I'm no longer offering to nurse Delia when she gets up in the morning or wakes from her nap. I don't refuse if she asks, but I don't offer. Scott still hasn't adapted to this change, though, so he keeps telling her it's going to happen. Oh, well.
Anyway, from there, I got more and more sick over the next few days. My parents were still there, so it didn't matter quite so much. They left on the 14th, in the morning. The next day, Wednesday the15th, I did an early morning ER visit (which I've written about elsewhere). That did me some good but not a lot. By Thursday evening, I was doing pretty badly again, about where I'd been Tuesday evening, which made both me and Scott certain that I'd really need to be in the ER again by morning.
Scott explained that he couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't lose his job if he didn't make it to work on time in the morning. (He only gets about one sick day a quarter, and he'd used his for my Wednesday morning ER visit.) We decided that I'd go that night and hope to get home in time for him to go to work.
Once I was in the ER, they did a chest x-ray. It came out normal (though I didn't find that out till yesterday). They gave me four or five breathing treatments but never managed to stop the cough. It would ease, but the moment I talked or moved more than a little, it was back, powerfully. They kept encouraging me to sleep, but I couldn't manage to relax that much (leaning back made the coughing worse, too). The fact that I don't handle albuterol, the standard medication for breathing treatments, well didn't help-- I was shaking uncontrollably. 'Jittery' is what the medical people called it. It's not a problem that's apparently important enough for avoiding using albuterol, at least from the medical side, but it's not a pleasant thing from my point of view.
They gave me oxygen through one of those nose hoses, the kind that hook over one's ears. Even that didn't get my pulse oxygen rate up as well as was hoped. By the end of the night, I was finding it miserable because it was one more dry irritant making me want to cough.
The doctor I'd seen had made arrangements for me to be able to leave and go home whenever I thought I had to. I'd emphasized that I had to be home by six in the morning so that Delia wouldn't be left alone. Actually, that was the one thing that I never lost track of all night, even when I couldn't really think. I knew I had to be home.
I think that my confusion made everything worse. Part of it was due to my exhaustion (I effectively hadn't slept for 48 hours and hadn't had much sleep for days before that), and part of it was probably due to my inability to breathe (my primary care doctor says my pulse oxygen was low enough that confusion on my part isn't surprising). I could tell that I wasn't functioning well because I had trouble following the plots of some of the books I'd brought and ended up having to stick with an overly simplistic romance and because I had real difficulty trying to do the acrostics I'd brought. Those are usually something I do as part of my bedtime wind down routine.
A side effect of the confusion was that I didn't ask some of the questions I should have. For example, there are medications I normally take at bedtime. Nobody told me to take them, and I didn't ask, so I didn't take them. I should have. I also didn't ask what they thought was wrong with me-- Well, I knew I was coughing and couldn't breathe. I didn't ask *why*.
I suspect that I was frustrating to deal with for the various nurses and such. They were all quite nice and helpful and very patient, even when I said the same things over and over again (usually talking about Delia).
When I first arrived in the ER, they kept assuring me that I'd be able to call Scott 'soon.' By about 12:30, I got insistent because I knew he'd be staying up waiting. I'd have used my cell phone (the posted signs said it was okay as long as I kept it a certain distance from all operating equipment), but I couldn't get a signal inside the building. When I did finally get a phone, Scott informed me that Delia'd woken not long after I left. She wanted to nurse. When she realized I wasn't there, she became insistent, saying, "Find Mama!" Scott told her I'd gone to the doctor, and Delia then ordered him to take her to the doctor too. He got her to sleep for a bit by driving her around in the car, but she'd awakened again by the time I called. He was trying to soothe her by showing her a slide show of her baby pictures (something she loves).
We made the mistake of having me talk to her over the phone. That produced loud wails and made me feel dreadfully guilty. Then I had to give the phone back. I spent the next several hours worrying about Delia and about how Scott was coping. Thinking about Scott needing to work without adequate sleep was pretty scary, too. His job isn't really all that safe-- Moving machinery, hot metal, molten plastic and so on.
At about five, they had a social worker call a cab for me. It was a shared ride that wouldn't have been my first choice if I'd been mentally together. I had enough cash for a regular cab, and that would have been faster, I think. I did get home by six, though, so Scott was able to get to work on time. He, poor man, had only recently managed to get Delia to sleep by putting her down on my side of the bed where she could smell me.
I roused her enough to nurse briefly and got her back to sleep in her crib so that I could have my own bed space. Then I slept a couple of hours before
cherydactyl arrived with her kids to help me out for the morning. My mother-in-law arrived at about 11 and took Delia out grocery shopping. She stayed until Delia and I were both napping in the afternoon. In the evening, lunargeography came over and helped so that Scott could get to bed (He was scheduled to work at 3 am the next morning, but we got lucky at the last moment, and he was able to stay home. Of course, we didn't know that would happen until 2 am).Although I was doing better then than I had been the night before, I was still not doing well at all. I decided to take a chance-- My primary care doctor had had me stop the codeine cough syrup when I had the allergic reaction to the augmentin, just in case the codeine was the real culprit. I was about 90% sure that the codeine had nothing to do with it, and I was desperate to find something that would ease my breathing enough to let me sleep a little. The asthma inhaler and tessalon simply weren't doing it on their own, and the OTC cough suppressant helped not at all. With the codeine, I manage a couple of stretches of three to four hours of sleep. That was wonderful.
Scott spent Saturday cleaning our room. He moved the furniture, dusted under and around everything, scrubbed away the winter mildew (we over did things with our humidifier last winter) with baking soda and washed the bedding. After working on our room, he went on to Delia's room and then the rest of the house. Under most circumstances, environmental stuff like this doesn't really bother me, but right now... Well, the cleaning actually seems to have helped some.
I'm still prone to waking up whenever any one of my medications wears off. This makes life interesting since the tessalon's every six hours while the codeine and inhaler are every four. I'll know I'm really recovering when I can sleep through any one of them wearing off (and I really, really look forward to reaching that point). Delia's also showing a distressing instinct for waking up in the middle of the night right when I'm at exactly the right point with my meds to be able to sleep well for a few hours.
Saturday evening,
booniverse and her man came over to keep Delia busy for a while, and evalerie brought us an excellent dinner (which also gave me breakfast on Sunday and Monday). Both were an immense help given that Scott was running himself ragged trying to do what needed doing and I was finding walking from the living room to the bathroom a huge challenge.I didn't end up sleeping much Saturday night for various reasons. Sunday, we went up to Scott's sister's for Father's Day. I collapsed on a couch while Delia ran around with her cousins with supervision from her aunt and grandmother (the guys took off to play a little golf). Even with not doing all that much but talking occasionally, I over did things. I'm not sure that staying home would have been better, but it was altogether a miserable experience. The fact that there wasn't much I could eat at dinner didn't help.
The meds I'm on have changed how things taste considerably. I've lost sweetness almost entirely, and bitterness is hugely amplified. Some spiciness seems to be blunted. Salty flavors seem unaffected. Under normal circumstances, I'd just have eaten the things that I don't like but that don't actually give me problems. As it was... I couldn't. This did bring home to me that Scott's family really has no idea what I actually like to eat. We've been married almost twelve years, and they still don't know that I intensely dislike the flavor of grilling. Rather, I dislike the flavor of *charring*. If the grill leaves a mark on the meat, any level of carbonization, it tastes dreadful to me. With the amplification of bitterness, I simply couldn't face it.
Yesterday, Scott managed to get home from work early enough to take me in to see my primary care doctor. She'd seen the ER reports already (I am pleased by the information sharing that the various branches of the university health system are doing these days. It used to be very hard to get those reports to cross any boundaries. This makes much, much more sense). She checked my pulse oxygenation and wasn't entirely pleased by it. It's up from where it was on Friday but still not normal. She endorsed my decision to go back on the codeine since I'm having no ill effects from it.
We discussed the matter a bit and concluded that right now I'm just suffering from hyperactive asthma. (Though 'just' seems to make it more trivial than it is.) Because everything's so wound up, I'm having serious problems from things that don't normally even register as part of my environment, things like the dust and mildew from the bedroom. I'm going to keep using the inhaler and taking the tessalon and codeine as long as I'm still wheezing and coughing. We're keeping the prednisone on the same schedule for now. It'll take about another two weeks to finish with that, assuming nothing changes. Starting tomorrow, I'll be down to forty milligrams a day. That'll last for three days, and then I'll go down to thirty a day for another three and so on.
While I've been down sick, several of my sage seedlings have died. They got too much sun and too little water and just withered up. The lemon basil's thriving in spite of the neglect. The dill and thyme are somewhere in between. I think I'm going to seed a little more thyme because it seems to sprout easily and to thrive as long as it gets regular enough water. I don't know that I'll try to seed any more dill or sage, though. The dill's kind of delicate with a single, thin stalk, and the sage takes a long time to grow. Of course, I suspect that part of the problem for the sage is where I've got the planter. The other planters get shade for part of the day and sun for part. The sage is on the ramp from our back porch and gets direct sun most of the day.
My hair seems to be falling out. Well, that's a bit extreme. I'm not going bald by any means. It's just that I'm losing a lot more than I'm used to, almost scarily so. If I had less hair to begin with, I probably would be afraid of bald spots. I don't know if it's because I'm sick, because of the medications I'm on or because I've cut back on nursing (I haven't had the normal post-pregnancy hair loss yet). My doctor's not worried, so I'm not going to let it bother me too much yet. I rather suspect that other people won't even notice when they see me.
Scott's going to attempt to persuade his employer to let him take some time off this week to stay with me and Delia, but he's not optimistic that they'll allow it. I'm hoping that they will because keeping up with Delia's really not easy right now. I'm trying to allow about five times as long to get things done right now as I normally would and to plan the necessities in stages so that I don't have to try to feed Delia and change her diaper in the same hour. Speaking of which... I need to start trying to pull lunch together for her. Some form of protein is necessary.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-06-21 04:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-21 04:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-21 05:22 pm (UTC)Scott sounds like a total hero. His employer does not.
no subject
Date: 2005-06-21 11:36 pm (UTC)Thanks for the good wishes. It does help to know that there are people out there who care.
no subject
Date: 2005-06-22 12:14 am (UTC)Yeah, absolutely. I mean, they almost always make payroll, and paychecks hardly ever bounce, and if the moon's in the right alignment with Mars and you fill out the right forms in triplicate (and sacrifice the virgin goat over the candles of the right shade of black) you might actually get your health benefits paid. So they're not entirely awful.
"And I am Marie of Roumania."
no subject
Date: 2005-06-22 01:21 am (UTC)I get more annoyed by the vacation policy, sick time policy and the lack of notice on overtime scheduling. And the safety conditions. The safety rules are actually decent, but the workers are under constant pressure to improve performance which means that a lot of them are inclined to cut corners and that those who follow all the procedures can get into trouble for taking too long.
no subject
Date: 2005-06-22 12:15 pm (UTC)My work here is done. :)
> [...] the benefits run slightly better than that.
Is "slightly better benefits" anything like "slightly pregnant"?
> [...] And the safety conditions.
Can someone file an anonymous OSHA commplaint, on the order of "Yes, there're policies and procedures, but Management pushes Workers to go faster and ignore them"? It sounds to me like there's an organizational history of this kind of crap, so getting the Feds involved might not be a bad thing — as long as it's not traceable back to him for retaliatory purposes. (What, me not trust them?)
no subject
Date: 2005-06-21 05:48 pm (UTC)*also sends get better vibes and wishes to you and peace/harmony and support to the spouse and babe*
<333
no subject
Date: 2005-06-21 11:35 pm (UTC)Hopefully, I'll be able to pick up my online obligations again soon.
no subject
Date: 2005-06-22 12:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-22 01:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-22 01:03 am (UTC)-Valerie
no subject
Date: 2005-06-22 01:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-22 12:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-22 01:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-07-09 01:41 pm (UTC)