2. Facial massage and exercises may help prevent permanent contractures (shrinkage or shortening of muscles) of the paralyzed muscles before recovery takes place. I rather enjoy this, but Linda leaves me to my own resources of self massage I have learned to perfect over the years.
4. Other therapies that may be useful for some individuals include relaxation techniques, acupuncture, electrical stimulation, biofeedback training, and vitamin therapy (including vitamin B12, B6, and zinc). Nope. Have not gone here as we speak.
6. Painkillers may also be required. It's important to protect the eye from drying, which may result in infection and ulceration. My most inconvenient physical experience through all this so far is protecting my eye from drying because I cannot blink or close my left eye... It is extremely hypersensitive to light and wind so I keep it covered most of the time while awake with a patch. I tell people I am advertising for an underwear commercial and they laugh it off. This patch, taped to my face at night, prevents me from injuring my eye as I sleep which could also result in infection
That medication thing? I have become dangerous to myself by now. I did not hurt nor did I think I needed to be where I was. I approached the male RN and simple told him I was ready to go home. He was most professional. Seriously. He understood my concerns, but really expressed his concern about my physical appearance and asked if I could be patient and at least talk to the ER physician. His sincerity kept me there. Told me he was going to do some blood work very soon. He had no more than an hour to spring his trap or I was out of there!
My name rings across the room of pending death. I am allowed to enter the outer sanctuary as he scrubs diseased particles from my vein in the bend of my elbow. I told him I faint at the sight of blood but he apparently found no humor in my words as he secured for the hospital with one stick, at least 1500 bucks of insurance money of which 20% of that was my responsibility to pay! Should have gone home, but in his trained wisdom, he inserted an IV into my arm and taped it securely in place across my hairy arm which just chapped my ass! 10 minutes, 10 hours or 10 days, I know that tape was going to be pulled off and it just set the stage for what was to come. I was then escorted back into that room with every sick eye jealous that I had received medical attention, Linda looked at me and said. “They have you now!” I just thought to myself… You’re the reason I’m here! I decided she didn’t need that so I kept my mouth shut. Security was sitting too close and I still had my concealed carry weapon secure at my side.
Linda gave up the spirit. She could no longer remain in an upright, cordial position of optimism and encouragement knowing in her heart at that moment I would have been better off dead! I knew she was tired and told her to just go on home. If they ever let me go I could call a police officer or take a taxi cab home. I think I even said I could hitch hike if I needed too. She smiled and said what would be best for her would be to go to the car so she could lay back and take a nap. I agreed that would be the very best thing for her to do… As I watched her ease out of the doors of the emergency room, the Beatles tune, “Alone Again, Naturally,” crossed my mind.
Dr. Brown finally came into my room and evaluated me. No questions… Thank goodness… Stick out your tongue, lift your eye brows, look to the right, now to the left. Can you see this and how does it look? Well, maybe a couple of questions, but they were actually relevant to my purpose for being there. Bottom line, he confirmed his suspicions of Bells palsy but could not rule out the possibility of a minor stroke and he would like to keep me for observation and further testing. Oh thrills! Only thing I could think of was, “what is my deductible?” As he left, I still refrained from painting my car with my laser to get Linda’s attention and simply called her cell phone… I smiled as I watched her stir from my prodding’s and told her what was going down. Asked if she could bring me some of the overnight stuff in the trunk of the car and take my firearm before someone actually discovered that if I have underwear on, I possess a concealed pistol as well. She surprisingly appeared quicker than I expected, left me what I requested, gathered my possessions and departed for home and a well deserved rest.
Still no sleep and visitors in and out. I finally caught a mouse sniffing around a linen bucket and that satisfied my hunger as the first meds were given me. Ativan! Wow, that stuff must have a good street value. Sometimes after administering this amazing pill, they roll me off to some distant planet and put me into this death chamber called an MRI… I spent an hour and a half in there and thanks to that tiny little pill, I slept the entire time except for the last 20 minutes. They actually woke me up and said, we have another 20 minutes of pictures we need to take that we overlooked on the doctors orders. What??? Ok, I said… lets do this. This twenty minutes. Let me see… I realized several things in that period of time. 20 minutes is a life time when you realize you are claustrophobic, impatient, immobilized and moderately restrained. It dawns on you that you can take a human life and entertain the possibility of engaging that sin starting with the people that are inflicting this mental torture upon me. 20 minutes! I started counting. 2,782 is what I got to counting very slow. I am not a mathematical genius, but I do know that counting slow those numbers EXCEEDED 20 MINUTES! I tried to reason with reason but there was no reason to debate. The ativan was totally gone and anxiety had replaced it with that Hyperactive Disorder I talked about in my story, Attention Deficit, What??? I had the panic bulb in my hand and was just to the point of ripping it from its unknown source and use it to choke the first person I found as the thought of exiting this invasive MRI tube reached a saturation point! Oh yes… They knew it too! They said I was quiet expressive. I was the only one they shared, had ever sang rather loudly while in that machine and the fact my legs were sticking straight up had them all wondering what just might emerge from the magnified brain scan. If you’re wondering? No one died. But I am mentally ill..
They finally moved me to the 6th floor of the hospital. Endless visitors. It was good. I was still experiencing severe anxiety and only wanted rest. What I got was hospital food and a nurse that was once a member of the Hell’s Angels motorcycle gang. We traced our roots back to
I was still wound up tight. Family and friends begin to fade and I ask the attending nurse for some kind of sleep aid. I simply cannot close my eyes and rest. She returned sometime later and said the doctor ordered some xanax to take the edge off and sometimes close to 41 hours of no sleep except for the ativan induced rest in the MRI machine, I slipped into unconsciousness.
Other than a mild disturbance with blood pressure checks and finger pricks to check my sugar level, I simply did not move that entire night as a peaceful sleep consumed me. As my world came into focus the following morning, I pulled the taped patch from my eye and began to think, logically?? Remember those plastic elongated container they give you to pee in under the covers as to provide you privacy and to measure your urine out put? Hey, I have not spent that many nights in a hospital, but I must say I was impressed with my output level! Glad I had walked into the bathroom to utilize that instrument because my cup almost runneth over! I was impressed and when the nurse walked in and observed my measured reward they so solicited, her words made me feel good about myself when she said, “my, my, impressive!” Glad she confirmed my feelings. I then became somewhat excited as my breakfast tray arrived in my room! Oh My Word!! Grits and eggs and BUTTER along with a piece of wood that masqueraded as toast!! I opened the butter and dipped it out of its container onto my grits. Actually put three little tubs of butter onto my grits… I took my fork to mix it up as to savor the taste more abundantly and found to my dismay, my grits were a rubber mold of what only resembled grits. I realized I was not going to mix my butter mixed grits into the scrambled eggs and wondered then if those scrambled eggs were anything like the grits!? I didn’t care. I was hungry so I took my plastic knife and sliced away at the grits and ate the pieces like french fries with my fork. I just didn’t look at the eggs as I prodded them into my digestive system as well. What I can tell you was that it was deliciously pleasant!
I slept well. Everything is closed in
Beautiful funeral. Hope I’m not the next to die. This funeral would be a hard one to follow. I know Diane would have been proud. As for me? If I looked the way I felt it had to take away from Diane's home going. I was constantly aware of my face and my eye was constantly hurting. I hurt emotionally and physically. I still refused to let it separate me from saying good bye to my oldest sibling and smile at the names of my mom and dad as my sister will rest just a few feet from them.
I walk into church with my eye patch. My wonderful pastor. Hey! We have a pirate amongst us! Good to see you Rod! He then tells everyone about my sister and my situation. I appreciate it, but if I’m called a pirate one more time, I’m going to gut shoot someone. I just hurt most all of the time and I hold my lip to talk and constantly think I’m drooling! *shit* Sorry Nathan…
I return to work. As long as I keep my patch over my eye I am not uncomfortable except for limited visibility. I try to remain in my office rather than spend time driving the streets. My co-workers are kind and accept my setback with understanding. When I do get the occasional comment about the eye patch or the extra long glance to observe my face, I just comment I am soliciting a roll for an underwear commercial and keep walking. I cannot smile and that bothers me the most.
February 11, 2014 Tuesday
I am running out of the acyclovir and the anti-inflammatory steroid known as prednisone. Probably a couple of more days and that mind altering medically induced crazy will release my mind to return to a more "normal" for me. Friends far and near tell me that prednisone is some powerful stuff! I refuse to argue as I have had discussions with Rod Ferguson even Rod Ferguson didn't like! As I have alluded to before in this particular "collection" of thoughts, I have discussed with Linda and a close friend the possibility of including pictures of my progress... Kinda sorta like maybe a photo-journal posting to accompany the printed memoirs? Anyway, I don't know if I will or when I will but I do have and continue to take pictures. Those horrid pictures!
My left eye seems to be cooperating with my autonomic motor stimuli as this is my second day without my patch. It is not where I would like it to be, but it is getting there. Leaving Sam's last night a cold blast of wind particularly irritated and burned my eye reminding me to give it time. I came home today from work just ahead of a gathering ice storm and walked off 3 miles of prednisone induced stress before climbing into the shower... As I exited the comforting wash, I dried off, powdered my fanny and soothed my shaved head with my Dove Post Shave Balm. Staring at what I remembered of my manly self, I couldn't help but "parakeet" some in the mirror! (yes we all do it so shaddup!) Oh you poor distorted, pitifully aging man, let me see just where we might be today as I took tweezers to those few hated hairs that tend to gather in my ears and stick their tongues out at those that might venture too close... grrrrr... Linda so needs to pay closer attention to me! I am getting helpless. I might be helpless, just don't want to look the part, YET. Anyway, as most of you know, what I miss the most during this experience of paralysis, is my smile. I leaned close into the accommodating mirror and gave it my best. The Elvis look curled the right side of my mouth, and despite my aggravation, I noticed movement in the downside droop of the left side of my mouth! I looked again and really got excited when I realized my paralyzed side actually showed signs of movement! EUREKA!! I'm excited, why in the world am I thinking Eureka Springs, Arkansas? I back away to take in my entire face and lifted my eyebrows. The wrinkle lines are only halfway across my forehead and I wanted so bad to see movement in my eyebrow! Not there yet, but what I do know is I am excessively pleased... Thank you all for your prayers. If this prednisone doesn't cause me to fling myself under some passing bus, I will continue to beat this one day at a time.!
February 12, 2014 Wednesday afternoon
Actually today is the 13th of February and I am sitting in my favorite recliner recuperating from the experience of last evening. I am still existing on generator power even though outside at this very moment (3:50 pm), the sun is bathing a post ice storm landscape with the promise of spring. Funny I ended my last post with a light hearted remark of the prescription drug Prednisone's affect on me... Little did I know just how serious this bus scenario just might be if it does interact with my actual existence! I know there is some dangerous prescription stuff out there and even though friends told me to be careful and that subliminal voice kept screaming her warnings, I ingested this pharmaceutical designed steroid as prescribed until I slammed head first into that oncoming bus I candidly implied.
I threw caution to the wind and took my precious granddaughter to eat chicken strips at Popeye's Chicken while my florist wife labored late into the afternoon preparing for the seasonal onslaught of Valentine's Day. I knew better, but despite my diabetic existence, for some reason I asked my Kbear to fill my cup with the sugar bomb we commonly refer to as Coke! I've only drank water for several months knowing I don't need this stuff as I've wrestled with weight and blood sugar numbers. However, my encounter with sin again wins and I partake in this particular elixir to my hearts content. I had, NOT one large Styrofoam cup, but two actually. We left to return home on a full stomach of chicken strips, red beans and rice and of course, Coca-cola...
As we arrived home, I passed the purring generator and settled into my recliner covering myself with my blanket and fighting the ache in my left eye that had been exposed most of the day to the elements. Remember my eye? I applauded the casual half attempt of its function to your earlier! Any way, I was miserable. I asked Kbear to put drops in my eye as I settled back into my chair to establish some sort of equilibrium or accepted sense of peace. Quiet peace... The prednisone that continued to build up in my recovering system and the sugar bomb I had recently ingested had other plans for me.
For any of you that might be prescribed this drug for whatever reason in your future, please understand the possible ramifications as I'm sure it presents itself different in each carbon life form, so let me tell you my experience. I reclined and covered myself from the chill. Unknown to me, my blood sugar began to sky rocket. I refused to move from what I prayed for was a catatonic state of desired sleep as I knew the prednisone alone was denying from me. About this time Linda returned home from her long day of work. Immediately my world was kicked in the side and I became irritated as she rearranged extension cords to establish TV and satellite connections to seek her form of relaxation from her strenuous day of labor. Understand now, in my overexposed prednisone mind accompanied by a rising sugar level, I knew the generator that helped us tolerate our electricless world would not support the added demands my volcanic mind envisioned! I tried... Oh how I tried to sit passively and allow my precious wife to arrange things to accommodate her needs for rest... I felt the deep movements of plate tectonics deep inside of my soul, try as I may to ignore them.
My sweet youngest daughter arrived to bring school clothes to Kbear. She had been at my oldest daughter's home to visit and stopped by to drop them off and just be a daughter. She stepped into my media room just inside the carport. She stopped beside my recliner as my wife slung extension cords as if to deliberately overpower my struggling generator. At this moment my granddaughter came in and said, "Hi, Aunt Paige," the last vestiges of sanity slipped as the continental plates jumped causing irreparable shifts in my world as I knew it to exist. For some reason, during the visit with Kbear's mom at her home, Paige witnessed the typical teenager room and felt it her obligation to lecture my favored grand-daughter on her responsibilities of home etiquette and hygiene. I screamed something to the effect of STFU and get the whatever out of my house in very ungentlemanly words as I exploded into an uncontrolled rage as my world and MY WORLD alone shifted! I don't recall much from that initial explosive response except that most surviving life forms quickly evacuated my immediate area as the prednisone finally defined its presence in my body in the form of a mental eruption.
A scattering of those I love the most occurred in real and digital form as some uncontrolled rage became unmanageable to me. I started to tremble with shivers I could not understand and simple questions from the most patient person in my universe as to what was wrong was met by hysterically uncontrolled sobs of rage and tears! My soul, what was going on! Who could I reach out to! NO ONE WAS THERE! I was destined to ride out this nebulas of whatever this was that I had never experienced before as I simply cried and said over and over, "Dear God, Dear God!" I have never been here before. I wanted to reach out but had no one to reach to! I could not communicate with any one! Linda, of course, probably thought a .45 caliber round might be the best therapy for my pitiful display. She was beside herself as she finally got me to swallow some form of over the counter medicine to help calm me. With her help I discovered my blood sugar was 391 and my blood pressure was 177/98. She mentioned 911 and that encouraged yet another uncontrolled settling of shifting plates!
Despite my mental state of mind, I was able to stab my neck with the prescribed insulin and pick from my pharmacy of medicine the proper blood pressure tablets to slow this lava flow of emotions that was petrifying my current existence. With a concentrated effort I tried to tell those I care about to steer from my disturbed present condition as I finally established contact with the best friend I've ever had in Texas. I could not communicate with him, but his voice was encouragement enough for me to confirm a sense that I might survive this storm. I thought it was nothing more that a panic or anxiety attack and was able to ingest a couple of the Xanax tabs prescribed months ago when I was fighting another demon. My world slowly started to return to a logical pattern of thoughts as Linda helped me confirm my blood sugar was dropping and my blood pressure quit teasing me with the possibility of a real stroke! My friend then touched on the reason for this nuclear exchange in my mind when he said, "flush that damn prednisone down the toilet and never touch it again!"
Precious friends, never take for granted the gift of sanity. As it slipped from me for a brief point in time, I can't help but try and share with those that venture this far into my printed words, how beautiful it is to be in control of your mind. I am fine as I sit here right this moment and those beautiful pebbles scattered among my life are treasures. Seems like it doesn't matter how far you try to throw the most beautiful one away, it is comforting to know you can always find it among the scattered debris of circumstantial life experiences. Cherish it!
I am really doing much better today! I love this sunshine as Seasonal Affective Disorder has been temporarily halted despite the fact I'm still on generator power. If I were truly allowed a reprieve from the last 48 hours, it would be for restored electrical power to my home. I am still grateful as there is more movement in the left side of my face. Oh yeah. Lest I forget... I love you....All of you...
February 17, 2014 Monday
They exist amongst us. We read about them in the newspaper and social network newsfeeds and about their increase and necessary need for their existence! They are said to appear over fatal traffic accidents and the FAA has forbidden their use in delivering pizza's to any given GPS address! Of what am I speaking of? Drones. Those dreaded drones that invade our privacy... Every time I step to the edge of my patio during the day or
|My favorite Virus Drone!|
The late evening of day 21 found me cleaning away at my toilet bowl knowing a coming encounter was inevitable! If you're lost, read my short story Idiosyncrasies and you will understand what I mean. At the 0300 hour of day 22 my encounter with my youngest virus drone established a deep regurgitating repetitive pattern until the 0730 hour and trying to find comfort on the bathroom floor next to the coveted repository gave me a crick in my neck that is a reminder of that thankfully past morning. However! What exercise it provided my paralyzed face! Somewhere around this hour, I prayed for what I hoped would be my last event of the past morning and brushed my teeth, sterilized my mouth with Listerine before finding sanctuary in my bed. The last thing I remember was Linda giving me some ibuprofen and asking me if I needed some anti-nausea medicine?? ANTI-NAUSEA MEDICINE? I will refrain on commenting on my thought at that particular time! I mean, really?
I came to life around the 1130 hour to find myself alone in my home wondering if I should assault the entire dwelling with Lysol to prevent someone I care for from having this dreaded experience. I struggled to the comfort of my recliner and media room as I surfed channels waiting to see if there may be another surprise waiting to suddenly appear in that, "Surprise, I'm not through with you yet," reminder. I surprisingly felt better as time passed and nuked a bowl of canned Chicken Soup to see how well that might go. I eased onto the sun drenched patio and more time passed. Linda finally came home from church and a visit to Wal-Mart to find I was still alive denying her access to my social security! She brought me up to speed about my early morning hour telling me I am still the funniest person she has ever known. She told me I talk to my toilet bowl and encourage myself by name as the act unfolds. As I finish, she said she could not help but laugh as she heard me start laughing at how happy I was that moment was over. What would have really tripped her was if she could have peeped in and observed Meggie sitting on the edge of the lavatory looking at her human probably thinking, "What in the Hell??? I'm so glad I'm a cat."
So as day 23 dawned, I awakened in intense pain yet absent the sickness I endured. You see, if you remember back from your past experiences, the wretched convulsions leaves every muscle in the chest cavity and stomach area full of lactic acid and sniffing your nose is extremely painful... Don't forget the crick or nerve in my neck? I was pitiful... However, the positive? As I mentioned earlier, the exercise did my face wonders! I do see positive results since the last time I reported. I still hold my face up, but my eye has not bothered me at all today as of this update at 2120 hours. Progress is still slow as I expected and I still do not have a resemblance of a smile yet. But I know it is coming. Thank you for bearing with me and I sure hope you don't mind my rambling...
March 2, 2014 Sunday
Strange as it may seem, it has been a few days since I've updated my progress with recovery. I guess we can call it recovery? I was told at the onset that Bell's Palsy could start showing signs of recovery at 6 weeks and could take up to 6 months to reverse itself. Let me just tell you that yesterday was my 5th week with this deformity and with this mile marker behind me, I must provide you with where people think I am versus where I think I am.
When you see yourself in a mirror every day of your life, certainly you will not be able to measure the milestones as you pass them. They are invisible to you except when you press closely in and observe carefully. Of course, Linda interacts with me on a daily basis. This doesn't necessarily mean she "looks" at me closely every time I pass to see if there is anything different about me. Oh, she occasionally notices when my underwear are on inside out and comments, but other than that, I am one of the visible road markers she has become use to seeing every day. My co-workers are much the same. They see me, but don't really look at me or take notice of my recovery. They just take it for granted that I am who I always was. In my heart of course, I am still me, and my condition is steadily improving. It is at such a slow pace I compare it to watching a healthy hair turn gray or watching a fingernail grow!
With this progress being measured by several sources divided into two groups, ME and others, Linda told me I was 95% recovered. Others don't even notice I have the beginnings of my returning smile. The smile is not there to me, but it does appear as a slight grin in casual conversation with others. Only the careful eye of someone intent on communicating with me would notice my remaining paralysis... Only when I laugh and this powerful emotion demands the presence of my smile do I realize the actual progress of where I really am with this shared time with this malady... Linda said I'm 95% through my recovery and if I may, let me tell you where I feel in my heart I am... I think I am 95% to Half Way through my recovery. I am truly hoping that as week 5 found me yesterday, Saturday March 1, I hope week 12 will find this entire post signed off on with my Rod Ferguson and initialed by my favored editor...
Until then, I will live each day to the best of my ability. As slowly as I recover I am equally aware that I also age at that same speed. I don't mind getting older actually but this darn neuropathy in my feet is getting aggravating and my son just asked me if I could come spend time with him in Alaska! You see, I have life to live and this Bell's Palsy was nothing more than a minor compass adjustment that helped remind me of where I am and is helping me to focus on where I desire to go! So spare me the "kill me its Monday" jokes and "hallelujah its Friday" get out and play hard posters. I don't want to miss one day of my life by wishing it away. I must correct myself on this weather though, as I have started to complain about the low temperatures. Who cares if it is cold, raining, warm, sunshine, overcast, windy or 110 heat index. I have life to live and friends to share it with... I'll get back with you hopefully just one more time before this story is defined as past history.
March 19, 2014 Wednesday
As I carefully scanned my aged face in the mirror on the morning of day 51, a couple of things crossed my mind... I still recognize myself and my cat is still at ease with me and constantly pursues me in anticipation of her "Temptations" treat. Yeah, you have probably seen the commercial on TV. She loves the treats and it makes me feel like she just loves me. Laughing... Its ok. I know why she follows me around and besides, I find other ways to amuse myself as well. What I realize, as I look in the mirror, is the fact that I scarcely notice the remaining curl of my lip as a result of the paralysis. I can actually grin in complete function and my smile is almost totally back. My personal (to me) smile is probably 75% back if not more. Only those paying close attention to me would even notice what remains of the time I have spent thus far with Bell's Palsy.
My whistle has not returned to its fullness... I cannot yet whistle with a song I choose on the radio like I once did. There is still that "Novocain" feeling in my top and bottom lip on the left side that keeps me from forming the perfect note required of that melody I wish to project. Will I ever return to that "normal" I once knew or will I be reminded the rest of my life of this ill shared time? Another thing I thought I might share with my readers is my voice. My speech is normal. Actually, my vocal cords never lost the ability to speak words. Pronunciation of the chosen words was tested because of the precise movements required of my lips. Remember now, the left side of my mouth was totally paralyzed. But as I adjusted and my paralysis slowly subsided, this "noticeable" handicap ceased to be a concern. Oh yes, my voice. My millennial friends and even some from the last century may not know that I was capable of carrying a tune with my voice. A solid baritone actually that secretly wished I had been a full course bass! Well, here is my point. Who amongst us doesn't engage the melody of that favorite spiritual or those rock and roll songs we grew up with? My voice, as my whistle, is no longer the same. I do not have the strength in my muscles to control my vocal cords with accuracy. Oh, I'm close to the note, but noticeably not there in pitch like I once was.
I am at that point in my heart and mind that if I do not have a 100% recovery from this encounter I know I will never be able to sing like I once did. There was a time when I sang for others. There was a time when I sang for the Church. There was the time I sang for me. Some enjoyed, some accepted it as the norm, and there came a time it was given as an offering to my Lord. What I am discovering as I share with you these words is the fact I never realized how much I enjoyed singing for my pleasure. I laid my Martin D18-12 down 20 years ago. On the rare occasions when I take her from the case she rests in, although my fingers may remember the chords, my fingertips are too tender and my hands no longer have the strength to make her resonate as I once did. Will my voice strength follow the lead my hands have accepted as the norm? I know God cares not of my ability but my availability to sing praises to His name. I just never knew how much I enjoyed singing. If I am unable to return to what I once so enjoyed, I still thank God that my love for music still resonates deep within my soul as my Mockingbird entertains me at any given moment and the different genres of music on internet radio still stimulate my soul to just "sing out!" I am speaking of my ability to hear! And that I still have. Where am I?? 75 maybe 85% there with my recovery? Will it be 100%? I'm not sure. What I am sure of is this, until you see my name under the last post and the initials of my editor underneath my name, I still have faith in 100% recovery. Simply stated? I still wish to sing for more than just myself, but most importantly I have what I missed the most. My smile...
August 13, 2014
I mean, seriously, Rod... That many days since you felt the need to let us know where you are? I actually amaze myself sometimes. I know several hundred of you have sent me texts and emails asking when I was going to finish this short story, so let me. Since my introduction to Bells Palsy back on January 25th, I sit here today to tell you that I reached probably a 95 to 99% recovery from that mark. I was most fortunate. Still have trouble whistling and making certain sounds and many times when I am alone, my left upper lip will start twitching. Strange... I reach up and rub it with my fingers until I refocus on what it was I was doing when the twitching started. I've noticed nothing else residual of this event worthy of discussion other than if you, yours or someone you know encounters the surprise anomaly, point them in my direction. It affects everyone differently but it helps to talk to someone. Now my focus is on helping Linda recover from bi-lateral knee replacement surgery. Day 13 post-op for her and she is doing great. Hey, ever heard of a Hydrocodone Fog? *smile* It is in my Facebook Quotes for August 2014. Interesting.
January 25 thru August 13, 2014