Last night my friend Reba came to henna my head. Reba is fresh back from Morocco where she spent nearly two years in the Peace Corps and where I went to visit her before conceiving Finn. I have wanted to henna my bald head throughout this entire ordeal but never had the chance. Now, with my hair beginning to grow in for good, we seized the moment. It was a little clumsy—the henna mixture was too thick and for Reba it was like painting with fish poop. The stuff wouldn’t come through the tube, so we decided to use a toothpick as an applicator. I couldn’t find a toothpick, so we used one of those little umbrellas you put in a tropical drink. Fish poop and cocktail umbrella. Funny stuff. I slept with the poop on my head, wrapped in a scarf from Morocco for good measure. This morning I peeled off all the hardened henna for the big reveal. Now I look like a fish pooped on my head last night. Just barely there. But you know what? We had fun, and it felt nice to have my head tended to so nicely. I have been feeling so creative lately, and it seemed natural to extend that energy to my scalp. I put some pictures of the shenanegans up on the picture page.

Last week I caught the creeping cold that has plagued the community, in spite of our best efforts to keep me from it. The Boston team jumped into action with a 4 hour immuno globulin infusion to give my immune system a boost, and I narrowly escaped an invasive procedure to test me for the RSV virus. They wanted to stick a tube way up my nose into my sinuses but I whined so hard they finally went away. Now I am getting stronger every day. I am still on prednisone, and although I am tapering down, I still have that round prednisone face (and body) that reminds me of where I have been for the last year. I am anxious to leave this and all of the other drugs behind, and morph, finally and permanently, into the new me. The great thing about the prednisone is that I am running circles around myself getting things done. I am quilting again, working on Finn’s journal, getting ready to paint, finishing decorating Finn’s room, on and on. I have even been busy in the kitchen—Finn has taken to my cauliflower, broccoli, carrots and parsnips, even cantaloupe and mango soup. One day I even baked Dick cookies. It feels so great to move around the house so easily.

I have begun physical therapy to regain strength and feeling in my left leg. I am walking well now—my limp only comes out at the end of a long day on my feet. But I am saying “a long day on my feet”! Amazing. It’s hard to believe, but one year ago I was just beginning to be in real pain. I was seeing accupuncturists, massage therapists, orthopeds, osteos, etc., and we all just thought it was a bad case of pregnancy sciatica. It is amazing to think we carried on like that, worsening, for 7 weeks until my eventual diagnosis on November 21. It’s been a long year, and I am so grateful to be on this side of things.

We have been getting out for walks and enjoying this change of season like never before. It’s that brief but lovely time of year when, for just a few days, the air smells like both summer and fall—folks are mowing the lawn one last time, kicking the scent of fresh cut grass up to mingle with the chilly nippy scent of falling leaves. Likewise the temperature is wishy-washy—sort of cold and hot at the same time. It’s deliriously confusing to the senses. Tomorrow I’ll take Finny out to our lawn (fresh mowed) and photograph him with the giant pumpkin Nanny and Gramps brought over for him. It’s twice his size.

I know there was more I wanted to say, but now it’s late and I want to try to sleep for a few hours before the steroid zombie in me rises to make more pretty yummy things. More pictures and words later. I have all the time in the world.

Love and light,

Heather