Before I get rolling on this, my second blog entry for the day, let me show you Jennifer Grey (Dixie), the foster kitten who still doesn’t trust people much. Here she is, nestled in my sock bin and hiding from the world. And another photo of her with her brother Giorgio. Giorgio is the sweetest, quietest boy and looks gigantic next to her. But then, I think foster Jean-Paul Sartre, two months her junior, is also bigger than her.

So, I went to my specialty neurologist, the physical rehab doctor. Who laughed at my “Emotional Support Animal” t-shirt with the image of Animal from The Muppets.

She thanked me for being flexible and moving my appointment, and we started chatting. She agrees that some of my problems may have resumed with the recent shift change at work, and that Morton’s neuromas make sense after decades of toe walking.

My primary care physician had prescribed me Flexeril to try when my body felt stiff. My neurological physiatrist switched it to Baclofen and suggested I might take it up to three times a day when I feel stiff.

She was impressed when I showed off my quad stretch without leaning on anything.

But she studied my shoes and watched me walk and noted that my right leg is sliding more, that I’m not lifting off the ground like I should, and that my left leg scissoring is more pronounced. I also have less mobility in my right ankle than my left. She’s concerned about the increase in my spasticity and wants to see me again in a month.

And if my gait and spasticity doesn’t improve, I may need botox. In my hips. I’m not real keen on the idea of injecting neurotoxin into my system.

But my curls were sassy!

And then I came home and made sandwiches for my work lunches. With spinach and Hungryroot spinach artichoke dip.