A Room With A View

and one without.

Finally, six years and one month after we were originally supposed to do so, my department moved into a new office space. We were part of a grand reshuffling that moved many departments throughout the facility to areas better suited to their needs. Our old space is being absorbed by the antenatal unit that has been slowly surrounding us for the past few years, while our new space used to be home to the simulation department and the lactation department.

Before we moved in, the rooms housed creepily real-looking simulation dummies that could go into "cardiac arrest" or "renal failure" or "hemorrhagic Ebola" at any given moment, and was papered with a host of informative posters about the wonders of breastfeeding. It looks a little different now. The only residual sign that my new office used to be a patient room is the oxygen hookup still adorning my wall; so, you know, if I'm having a rough day I can just pull out my nasal cannula, plug in, and take some deep breaths for awhile. It's a nice little space.

My only complaint:

My old view.

My new view. 

IM Excerpt #4 (Because It's Time For Some Funny):

On various ways to make a buck.

me: what's up?
Bea: Packing up dvd's to sell at 2nd and Charles
me: it warms my heart to see you changing up what you sell on the street corner.
YA BURNT.
Bea: dammit
me: (i am STILL LAUGHING. alone. in my office.)
(still)
Bea: LOLLERSKATES
me: ok. i'm good now. ...snort! nope, there i go again.
Bea: hahaha
me: :)
so, what IS 2nd and charles?
Bea: A giant buy-back place. Also, cheap used books, cd's, dvd's, records, etc.
I just started giggling about YA BURNT again.
me: ah, it's like Bookmans here
and :D
Bea: Bookmans. Yes.
Okay. Going away now.
me: ok. happy hooking. i mean hocking.
hee.
Bea: :P
BYE

The Update

In the spirit of keeping y'all in the loop, here's an update on where things stand with the GD MS. I had my second opinion appointment last week. Thanks to some string-pulling by the amazingly kind higher-ups here at work, I was able to get in to see the specialist at the Mayo Clinic two days after the call was made. That is some magical stuff right there; you don't get in to see a general neurologist in less than a month, let alone a specialist at a world-class establishment. Another reason to be thankful despite all the awfulness.

Have you ever had a neurological exam? You feel like a freaking genius the entire time. Walk to the door and back? No worries, I've got this. Tell you when the buzzing from the tuning fork pressed against my big toe stops? Don't mind if I do. Touch my nose with my eyes closed? Nailed it. (...it's funny until that potential day when I can't do that anymore...[sad trumpet]) After a very thorough neurological workup and review of all the test results I brought with me, the specialists said exactly what I didn't want to hear, but exactly what I was expecting: total agreement across the board. Diagnosis, outlook, treatments, all of it.

So, I've made my decision. In the spirit of doing everything I can to stay as healthy as possible for as long as possible, I'll start medications in October. Theoretically I could start sooner (as soon as two weeks from now), but I have a lot of traveling coming up in September and I don't want to be on a boat in the middle of nowhere having some crazy reaction to a brand new medication. So I'm giving myself the next six weeks to live a normal life (whatever that is). Then in October I'll start my new normal; one that includes daily injections, possible lumps and divots in my skin, and the constant fear of that next episode (When will it hit? How bad will it be? What will be affected this time? My hands? My legs? My eyes?) hanging over my head. But one that also includes hope. Hope that this course of action will give me more time as...me. Just Kristen. Not Kristen-dealing-with-MS. And hope that it will give doctors and researchers the time to come up with...something. A better drug with fewer side-effects. A less-invasive delivery system. A cure.

I turned 30 two days ago. I'm staring into this new decade with a lot of unknowns; my life could look wildly different ten years from now, for better or worse. The only thing I can absolutely control is my attitude, so I'm determined to do my best to have a good one. The rest of it is in God's hands; I believe that's a pretty safe place to be.