I'm Back

I’m back, but I’m not as organized as Humdrum was.  When Trixsay takes over, things scatter—and she always takes over when we travel.  For example, the neat narrow-ruled notebook was to be used exclusively for my travel journal.  But the information about most of the animals we saw is in my messy writing journal where any topic goes.

Worse than that, photography has begun to compete with my novel’s snowflake for my heart and soul—again.  I know I’m going to have to give up wildlife photography eventually for health reasons.  I was assuming that this Brazil trip would be my last one.  How wrong I was.

In the last three weeks, we’ve had one photographer invite us to join him and other amateurs on a new India trip next year.  In Brazil, our photographer-leader asked if we would be interested in a South Africa trip she’s thinking about for 2017.  So my brow raises, my heart pounds, and I begin to taste dust and smell curry.

I love wildlife photography.  That’s a given.  But can I physically endure these trips?  I decided that it was time to talk with my rheumatologist about prednisone.

Withdrawing from prednisone is a distracting process. My head spins like I’m riding a tilt-a-whirl.  I can’t walk a straight line, yet I don’t drink gin.  I’m just dizzy, ditsy me.

Monday at my rheumatologist’s office I received my overdue shots of the biological I take—one of those miracle treatments for RA.  It was time to withdraw from my self-administered flare treatment.  Or was it?

I confessed to the doctor that I started taking prednisone in Brazil.  She sees to it that I have a supply of prednisone on hand for flares.  I really didn’t want to come back from Brazil because without the steroid my corporal tunnel problem is worse, my feet hurt, my knees hurt worse, and my fatigue problems are downright depressing.

We talked about my feet.  My big toes tingle most.  It’s more annoying than actually painful.  She said I probably have the equivalent of corporal tunnel in my ankles.  The prednisone was treating all three problems.  She suggested that I could maintain treatment with a low dose as long as I get enough calcium and continue my Prolia shots.

I accused her of blessing me.

Trixsay was sticking her tongue out at Mysery.

I now know when I’ll get back to my novel (which already had been postponed at least five times for various reasons.)  When I break a hip or a leg, then I’ll give up wildlife photography and work on it (but I may be turning my photos into art by then).

In the meantime, I’ll write my blog (irregularly), process photos, and smile.  Trixsay is taking over my life.

Stained Glass Window at Chicago Museum of Art