Tuesday, December 27, 2016

My Last Christmas Dinner

Yes, you heard me right.  I've cooked my last Christmas dinner.  It was delicious!  My cornbread dressing was mouthwatering, the ham was perfection, the home made mac and cheese was dreamy.  And I hope they enjoyed it.  It just took too much from me, and two days to recover, and I'm turning over the responsibility to my new DIL, I'll just consult.  I was exhausted.  Not to mention....

We had grand-girlie starting Thursday, planning to stay through our dinner Saturday.  Friday night just before bed, she began throwing up.  Great.  I had immediate visions of re-sicking with that stupid crud I just survived.  She was sitting on the toilet and hurling in the garbage can, and propelled that mess all the way over and across my feet.  And I'm thinking...."do I have any cuts on my feet????"  Its heck when you have no immune system, I can't even fight a head cold at this point.  but anyway -

She held out, and so did I, until about 10:00 Saturday morning, and I finally got her up and took her home.  Thankfully, I had felt good enough (even though I was POOOOOPED by the end of the day) to start the cooking Friday, and most things just had to be "assembled" and shoved in the oven to cook.

It wasn't a great day.  The Mr. was in a "mood".  The dog pooped on the floor while I was gone taking B-girl home, and that's all it really takes for him, especially in the morning, and since he has so little control over his emotions, as usual, it was an all-day-funk.  Although he did "keep it together" while company was over to eat, you could tell because he had nothing good to say about anything, and kept getting up and pacing like usual when he's like that.  Made H nervous.  but then she's new to the family, she's doesn't understand how he operates.  She doesn't understand that when he gets like that, its best to completely ignore it, act like its not happening.  because if you "notice" it or say something, omg, all that does is wind-him-up.  Living with a Boarderline can be a very precarious situation at times.  And now that I'm on prednisone full time since this last year, that has now become the "catch-all" for everything that goes wrong, or any attitudes that get flung.  'course that doesn't explain the first 28 years of being together, but hey!  Who's counting that?  Its all good.

It wasn't a great day #2 - I think H called son-#1, because 10 nano-seconds after everybody left, I txt him to say Merry Christmas, and he immediately calls me (huge sigh....its RARELY good when he calls, long story another day).  I sighed heavily and answered hesitantly.  He immediately wanted to talk about "the shit that went down there today with dad".  Huh?  "yeah, I heard he upset H".  "hmmm...that's news to me".  I could see she was nervous, but to say that "shit went down" is WAY over stating the "incident" (if you even can call it that.  its just dad being dad. I guess I'm so used to it, it doesn't bother me anymore like it used to.).  Now, considering all the crap that has went down between our oldest and us (did you know mental illness CAN be hereditary??), the first thing I wanted to tell him was "if something did, what business is it of yours?"  but I didn't.  Once he realized he wasn't going to get anywhere with me on that score, he launched into his usual diatribe about how unfair we treat him, how bad he's had it, and there are usually some words placed in my mouth that I never said (generally his twisted version of something I said and by the time his brain computes it, its completely totally NOT even close to what I said.  Can you say "boarderline"?).  I let him yammer on with out a word for about 3 minutes.  Then I tried to talk.  Which never works with son #1.  He's never interested in listening, he's only interested in talking which means when its my turn, he is constantly interrupting, interjecting, being rude, and we usually end up talking at the same time, like we're on the Bill Oreily show or something, and that's usually when the yelling starts.  But yelling doesn't really work for me any more.  being upset, doesn't work for me any more.  I finally told him, "look, my heart rate is up so far, I'm dizzy.  Why are we talking about this AGAIN?"  he said "I know...but..."  see that's the problem.  My health issues don't even compute with him.  If I had stroked out and died right there on the phone with him, he would have been pissed off that he didn't get to say all he wanted.  Anyway, we finally ended off by him saying "well, I guess I have nothing left to say" and I answered "I truly love you" and I hung up.  I love you son.    But you can't disrespect me, and yet demand respect.  And even the laws of nature say its not even possible that your dad and I are guilty of being the cause of ALL that went wrong in your life.  Stop lightly passing off your own mistakes and take personal responsibility for yourself and actions.

But anyway, yes, I've prepared my last Christmas dinner this year.  We still have a fridge full of "Christmas food", you know how that is.  by Thursday we'll be sick of it and be longing for a burger and fries.  :)  

haven't picked up a hook or needles much at all.  And I have this one HUGE project that I'm working on.  Months ago I said my days of taking orders to make things for other people, were over.  Dead lines and I do not work well anymore.  If I see a pattern and think "oh that would be so cute on so-in-so!"  then I'll make it and give it.  No pressure.  And if I don't finish it, then nobody gets hurt.  But no more "will you make me a _______)"  no, I won't.  And to her credit, this person did not ask me to make this afghan for her.  I made one for the Mr. and it is STUNNING!  and she admired and admired and gushed over it and the words "do you want me to make you one?" came out of my mouth before I could stop them.  She teared up and said, "would you???"  well, it was too late then.  So I'm about 1/10 into an afghan that is over 6ft across at the widest point.  but she's a good friend, and worth it.  Now if I can just stay well, and some how re-start my craft-mojo, I can get this done, and start making things on my list that I WANT to make.  I have this goal....to use up all my yarn stash before I croak.  You should see my yarn stash.  smh......not as much as some I've seen....but well, we'll see if I can do it.  Stay tuned for a future Etsy shop.

And that's about all the Christmas drama I can think to talk about.  Christmas hasn't been "magical" since I was a kid.  My brother and I both lamented Christmas Eve about how we missed the "magic" and the waiting that was so hard, waiting for Christmas morning.  *sigh*

Ya'll be sweet and happy new year!

Tuesday, December 20, 2016

.......And we're back again!

Well now!  This has been a fun week.  Not.  Two weeks out of the hospital with PE, and I caught the crud.  Back to the recliner for me, from Tuesday the 13th until...well, to be honest, its today that I actually feel my old "normal".  A FULL WEEK again.  Sick...again.  Fever, chills, nausea (and some hurling too), bad headache and serious dizzy, and just a general "oh God...I think this is it" feeling.


Friends...I'm almost at the end of my rope with this.  And remember....March is coming....with pollen.  A lung flare is just a given.  but you know what?  I feel pretty good today.  And its been weeks and weeks and weeks since I could say that.  So today, I'm going to enjoy and be glad and grateful and thankful.  The sun is glorious, even though its cold as a witches tit in Idaho.  Its beautiful outside my big window.  Which, I am going to lose pretty soon.

When I left last week sick, before I left Boss #1 called me in his office, and in a most loving, kind, compassionate way, basically told me to "make a plan".   Since October 1st, I've used up all my sick leave, all 140 hours of it, and will now have to dip into my annual leave.  Which I do NOT want to do because that's the one I get the lump-sum pay-out for.  That's what's going to pay off my mortgage and loans so I can afford to go on disability.  With disability, I estimate my monthly earnings will decrease by at least 1/4 of what I bring home now, so expenses have to be cut.  Our standard of living is going to be a lot tighter.  but at least our home will be paid for.  We have a roof over out heads.  Not a great roof, but a roof none the less.  :)  God is good.

But still...make a plan.  So as I laid in my chair hour after hour day after day sick, I made a plan.  The disability retirement paper work is complete, all I have to do now is get my doctors to do their part.  Stop!  ok, my Rheumy Dr. Eye, is moving offices and will not even be in operation until February.  No way in hell am I going to drop those papers off right now.  They'll never be seen again.  I'll wait and hand deliver them to my next appointment on 7 February.  Ok, that's a delay.  But, it may be a good delay.  I had not planned to take any time off this week for the holidays to save my vacation time to sell.  But I really think, and Boss agreed, that I came back too early after the hospital stay, my immune system is so compromised already.  So I decided to work a few hours yesterday and a few hours today to clear out some critical work, then I'm off until Monday.  So...that's 24 hours of my vacation that, with the doctor delay, I can earn some back before my papers process.  I'm just hoping it doesn't take so long that I end up in the March flare and have to be off which cuts into my leave time.  but anyway, I can't fret that.  I'm only 5 payments away from my mortgage being paid off, so woot woot! on that. 

So yeah, I made a plan.  When we are all together again after the holidays, Boss #1 is off until after the new year, I'm going to lay out my plan:

The fact that this illness is completely unpredictable (except for the pollen flares, just expect them), I can never say from one day to the next how I will feel.  Its the nature of the beast.  It just is what it is.  Now we throw in the blood clots in the lungs and we have a whole new ball game.  Those will take months and months to be absorbed.  Because of the RA-Lung already my breathing is not normal, add in the PE and I'm a walking slug.  So.  Given that the position I hold is a very "Visible" position, it needs to be filled.  And any time I'm gone off sick, my desk and phones have to be covered.  A little background, I am the personal admin for the chief and asst chief of the Ops Division with one of the largest engineering companies in the world (you would know them immediately if I told you the name, but I have to have some privacy, plus I don't think the bosses would like that).  I work among some of the most educated, smart, gifted people you'll ever come across.  I am surrounded daily by suites and ties, people who make embarrassing amounts of money, and our company also holds many patents, we have inventors, guys who blow things up and build things, we have many people in the building who have letters after their names, we have people who dig in the dirt.  But any way, yeah I have a very visible job.  So, my plan is this, go ahead and put my position out on the street and replace me.  Bring this person in and let me train them, and shadow me for a few weeks, then find me a closet some where away from people with germs, I'll file, be a time keeper, what ever, and just wait out the time till I am processed out.  Our company is so large, I'm told it can take as long as 6 months for the approval to work though our system up to the home office.  Since this is a "disability" retirement, and not a "real" retirement (I'm too young for real retirement *wink*), it takes longer, has to be signed off on by many people.  So that's the plan.

I've been in this room since 2001.  I got this position two months after 9/11.  And I came from another office in the building.  In total, I have been with this company since right out of high school.  I hired on as an entry-level clerk-typist in 1987, they sent me all over the place to train to be a buyer, and eventually that's what I became.  I'm one of the few people in this building that has a company credit card.  I've worked, pretty much, full time since I was 19 years old.  As of this past September, I have 29 years.  And that's enough I think.  Its a scary leap of faith, to be sure. 

So that's "The Plan".  I'm about to close a door, and another is going to open.  I don't know what's on the other side.  Only God does.  but He's given me a lot of peace about it.  I don't want to stop working yet, but my body (God) has another plan.  I'm trusting in Him.

Well, ya'll be sweet, and have a good Christmas!

Tuesday, December 6, 2016

I'm Like The "John Wayne" of Health

Yes, I've been gone for a while.  I had a "little" issue that landed me in ICU for two days, and 3 days in a "regular" room after that.  Here's the story:

First, in my own defense, I did not recognize any different symptoms.  With RA-Lung, some shortness of breath and lightheadedness just goes with the territory.  And I'm on pain killer, so I didn't notice any worsening or "new" pain.  That being said, once again, I faced down death.  Apparently, God still has a plan in action for me, because I really should not have walked away from this one.

I went to bed Saturday night, 19 November, as I usually do.  Nothing to report, all systems normal (my RA "normal").  Sunday morning when I woke up to go to the bathroom (and its only about 15 feet from my bed to the bath door), I had to stop 1/2 way there, gasping for breath, like I'd just run a 5K, heart racing and pounding.  WTF now???  So all day Sunday, I just laid around in the chair.  I couldn't move around without feeling like I was going to faint.  And of course, I'm so predictable, I got up the next morning, dressed and came to work.

I already have my own handicap parking spot right next to the building, 30 maybe 40 feet from the front door.  By the time I got thru the door, I almost buckled.  The security guy came running around with a chair and then helped me to my office.  The whole time I'm thinking "I should have stayed home....something is very wrong".  Once I got to my office, I called my friend Pam in the safety office which is where we keep the nurse too, but who was not yet in.  Pam came up with that little Sat meter that measures how much oxygen is getting to the blood.  As long as I was sitting, it was 95, perfect.  Then I got up and walked around my desk one time, and my sat rate dropped to 78.  Pam tried to talk me into calling 911.  She got the work nurse on the phone, and told her and she agreed, 911.  I was not about to be hauled out of here in an ambulance.  Pam had also brought up the wheel chair, of which I was MOST grateful, got me out to the car, drove me home and Leslie (another dear friend) followed her to bring her back.  Tim took me to the ER.

Got there, got checked in.  Leslie's son is an RN in the ER, so she had already called him to tell him I was on the way, and he brought me straight back, no waiting.  LOVE HIM!!  As long as I was still and calm, no problem.  Soon as I'd start talking, or get up and walk, my sat rate plummeted.  In my mind, I'm thinking "well, the ILD is progressing, I guess I'm going to be on oxygen now"  which, by the way, they did shove the oxygen thingy in my nose, and I was mucho better immediately.  but anyway, the ER doctor got in touch with Dr. G, and he ordered a CT with contrast.  People, when the ER doctor came in and told me the results, you could have knocked me over with a feather.  Pulmonary Embolism never even hit my radar.    Blood clots in both lungs, and both legs.  5 days in the hospital.  I had a DVT in my left leg with complete obstruction back in 2012, it just never occurred to me that I had them in my lungs.  The symptoms of PE are the same as the ILD, only magnified by 1,000.

My Rheumy, Dr. I, came to see me, she said "Do you know how blessed you are?"  I said "ummm yes!"  Apparently, a couple of the clots stopped just before they reached my heart.  I came close this time.  Bad news, as if it could get more bad, there is "infarction", which simply means the tissue around the clots in my lungs has already died.  In short, I will never breath the same again.  I have a new drug now, for life.  Blood thinner.

Depression.  Despair.  And trying to keep a good attitude.  Still putting together my papers to take early retirement/disability.  There's so much going around in my head, that I think I'll leave it for tomorrow.  At the moment, I am back at work, and playing catch up.  And...well, there's just a LOT going around in my head that I need to get down in writing.  Just maybe not today.

So yes, back at work.  But moving at a snails pace.  I can't let my heart rate go up, or my chest will hurt and I get very dizzy.  I have to be careful not to even let myself get angry or upset, nothing that makes my heart beat faster.  People.....I am a slug.  But I'm a living slug.  I walked away, again, from a serious blood clot condition.  That's twice now!  God is good.  :)

Wednesday, November 16, 2016

A Few Basic Facts

Found this on Pinterest, just sharing.  Basic facts about RA that most people don't even know.

I also want to add that this banner does not even talk about the extra-articular issues with RA, such as RA-Lung which is terminal.  If somebody ever says to you "yeah, but it won't kill you" you can school them.  Yes, RA can and does kill.  Rest in Peace Glen Frye.

Tuesday, November 15, 2016

Up To This Point....

After a right-lung flare that I began to journal (I journal all flares now) on 28 September, that I thought had ended by the end of the week of 21 October, but no.  On Saturday, 22 October, I woke up and the right lung was beginning to swell again.  On Monday evening I was washing dishes, trying to be careful because the right lung was swollen and hurty.  But surprisingly not as swollen as it had been in the weeks before, which made what happened all the more dumb-founding.  I was washing a dish, felt a "pop" in my right side, and an immediate  extream amount of pain.  First thought that came to my mind, "omgosh, I've cracked a rib!"

The next day I called Dr. G's office to see if I could get worked in for an x-ray.  I've never cracked, fractured or broken (Tim "schooled" me on the terminology, Thanks love) any ribs, but I'd heard that, like a broken toe, there's really not much that can be done except binding.  I'm already on pain meds, and prednisone, so really all I wanted was a confirmation, and to make sure no piece of bone had sharded off.  So they tell me Dr. G is off until Thursday the 27th, and would I mind seeing the doctor-on-call?  I said that would be fine, all I need is an x-ray, and I explained to the nice lady I was speaking with about the lung flare I was getting over and how Dr. G and I monitor my lungs close.  Well, I do anyway.  This was at 8:30a.m.   Finally at 2:30p.m., I get a call back.  Aside:  by noon, I had already given up on being seen and possibly not even getting a call back, so I had called them back and just made an appointment for as soon as I could get in, which by the way, was not going to be until Friday November 4, a full week and 3 days out.  I digress:
So, at 2:30pm I finally get a call back tell me "the doctor-on-call says that since Dr. G has already been monitoring this situation, he says you need to wait till he gets back and see him.  Oh and take some asprin for the pain."   *cue deer-in-headlights-look-and-crickets-chirping*.  Then only thing I could manage was "thanks", and I hung up.

I got up and had Tim take me to the walk-in clinic.  One x-ray later, not one but TWO fractured ribs.  Frustrated?  You betcha.  I left the clinic and got Dr. G's office manager on the phone and told him what had happened, and how I got "blown off" and if doctor-on-call would have bothered to take 30 seconds to pull up my record on that little lap top they all carry around, he would have seen my history, and probably I would have gotten an x-ray.  maybe.  Either way, bad bad service.  So, the office manager assures me that he will investigate, and make sure that Dr. G is brought up to date as soon as he returns.  You know...I really REALLY thought that somebody up there would call and check on me by Friday, I really did, wasn't Dr. G told?  But no, nothing.  They've called to check on me before.  But not this time.  No well check, no phone call, nothing.  Until I had my appointment a week later.  When I was ushered into the exam room, Dr. G's nurse, JN says "So what are we checking today?"  I just looked at her like "you have GOT to be kidding me???"  But I was nice and said "so I guess nobody said anything about what happened to my ribs last week?"  and she put her head down and said "Yes, Dr. G knows about it".  I decided, it just wasn't worth it.  Don't get me wrong, I love Dr. G. and his nurse JN.  Dr. G has snatched me off the edge a couple times.  Its some of his staff that is infuriating.  Sorry, but I have to agree with Tim, some of them will make you want to choke the life out of them.  And the two ladies that sit up front, I swear somebody needs to assure them that "smiling" will not crack their face.  nasty nasty attitude, make you feel like they are presenting your with a gift by allowing you to be seen.  Sorry, I digressed again, but I could tell by the look on JN's face, that some serious "talking" had indeed been done.   And when Dr. G came in a few minutes later, he assured me that he had had a long "sit-down" with the doctor-on-call about my situation.  See, I know what happened.  Because it happens to those of us with chronic painful illnesses, they automatically assume you're looking for pain meds.  doctor-on-call assumed I was looking for some pain meds, which again just confirms that he never even bothered to look at my record or he would have seen I'm already on pain meds.  I felt abandonded.  But anyway.

Over this past weekend, the weekend of 12 November 2016 - I woke up Saturday morning in a coughing fit, and after 3 good weeks of healing, re-injured the ribs.  To the point that they hurt as much or worse than they originally did.  Tim had an "episode", and of course I said something about his reckless behavior, which pissed him off, and I got the silent treatment for the rest of the weekend.  By Sunday, you know an injury always feels worse the next day, by Sunday morning the next day, I was in some pretty serious pain, and swelling.  And I'm pretty sure Tim thinks I was putting on.  He sat there and didn't move and watched me on-hand a laundry basket, he wouldn't even move his chair a bit so I could get around him and I almost tripped on the chair.  He heard me suffering all day long.  And never even asked if I was alright. 

I got up and came to work yesterday.  Took me a while to get showered and dressed, but I made it.  And I worked all day.  By the time I got off, everything was worn off, and I was in some hot pain.  ohmygosh the pain.  So of course I'm grunting as I come in the door, every blasted move is like searing white hot pain in my side and he says in a not-so-nice-kinda-snippy-voice "Are you STILL hurting THAT bad?"  I just looked at him a second and said, "remember I told you I reinjured myself from a coughing fit Saturday?"  No, he didn't remember, because he was too busy being pissed off at me.  He barely listens to a word I say, and then only to correct me, or talk down to me, or snap my head off.  I asked him Sunday morning if he wanted anything from the store, I was going to get a fountain drink (I love a fountain drink instead of can), and he looked at me with complete disdain and said "Didn't you JUST go to walmart yesterday???"  in a real snotty voice.  Sometimes, he acts like the very unfortunate fact that I live in the same house with him is irritating.  I'm never right about anything, I'm dumb as a box of rocks, I never had an idea that would work.  makes me wonder how I ever fed myself before he came into my life.  but anyway, I didn't mean to go all "there".  Because honestly, most of the time, he's a huge help and I don't know what I'd do without him.  Its just when he has an "episode", it reminds me so much of mama and brad.  Its those days, I'm ready to check out.  Its those days when I lose the will to keep fighting this monster that is slowly killing me.

Dr. I (My rheumy) say's "you're not nearly as bad off as some of my other intersticials".  Dr. G says "but!  you've got time."  What ever you say.  I know how I feel.

And after this bad weekend (so many bad weekends all the time), I've about decided not to retire.  I can't even imagine going home and being there day in and day out, in that chair, with someone who barely makes conversation with me, unless I'm letting him talk.  All I ever seem to do is just give him topics.  I try, but he grabs it and goes.  20 minutes later, I come to and he's still talking and I have no idea what he's talking about.  He is never willing to just be quiet and listen to me.  So I don't try any more.  I can't imagine going home and sitting in that chair every day and every night, I'll die of depression in less than a year.  I'm already depressed.  I've been in constant, non-stop pain for over 8 weeks.  Non stop.  Never ending.  Only managing.  Also, its amazing the great service you can get at a clinic when you tell them up front you don't need pain meds.  They will stumble over themselves to help you.  Sad sad sad sad sad.  Hey, I went to the ER 2 years ago with a torn trapezoid muscle in my shoulder, and got accused of being a junkie there for the meds.  You pain-killer-junkies out there, thanks a lot.  Because of YOU, those of us who need them, have to go through hell and back to get them, and keep them.  So thanks for the solid!  You guys are right up there with the meth-heads who ruined it for everybody with descent OTC cold meds. 

I've vented enough today. 

Thursday, November 3, 2016

Post Number 1

Because one more voice for RA can't hurt.

The purpose of this blog is to document my journey with RA from this point on.  Diagnosed 11 years ago with RA, last year I got a devastating diagnosis.  A common  extra-articular manifestation of RA is RA-Lung, also known as Intersticial Lung Disease.  (so common that my first Rheumy must have *assumed* I knew, because she certainly NEVER said a word about the possibilities in the 8 years I saw her before I fired her 3 years ago.  Long story, another day)

There are so many misconceptions about RA, and the tv adverts for our meds don't help.  Believe me, I've been on Humira for 9 years.  It has never made me feel well enough to put a play ground together, or be a professional chef, and I'm sure Phil Mickelson is being paid for his time (he has scoriatic arthritis, not RA.  and I'm not sure the difference there).  I would guess that if you pool 100 people and ask them just basic questions about RA, most of them would say its just "arthritis".  Most people do not know the difference between OA and RA.  OA is what your granny has, its wear and tear.  RA is auto-immune and incurable and progressive.  Big difference!

So much to say, but there's time.  Today as an introduction, I'll keep it brief.  Since making the decision this week to move forward with disability retirement after a lung flare so bad, it fractured two ribs, and after basically being abandoned by my doctors office during his absence while this flare was happening, I knew it was time to begin to blog the rest of this journey.  In a few months, I'm going to have a lot more time on my hands.  30 years is long enough.  And as one person said, "if its going to start cracking your bones, its time to go home".  Yep.  Time to close this door after 30 years of dedicated service, and go on home.  I have a grand daughter I need to be a real grandmother to before the ILD does me in.  There's more to life than working now.  And after running the numbers, it will be tight, but we'll make it.  I want to go home and live, not stay here until I die.

So join won't you?  This blog is going to be brutally honest.  Because one thing I have learned is that only somebody with RA really knows what its like, not even doctors.  That's the sad part.  That even most doctors are just groping around in the dark with this vicious monster of a disease.

My current Rheumy actually said to me back in the spring, during my first real bad lung flare, "you're not nearly as bad off as some of my other intersticials..."  as I sat there, and every breath was a knife in my back.  I began to wonder....just how bad do I have to be before I'm "not as bad off...". 

Stuff like that.  Those are the things I want to talk about.  I'm tired of watching tv commercials that bring this disease down to the level of a flu.  And there is a plethora of video's on youtube that promise you CAN be healed from RA, all you have to do is go vegan/homeopathic/acupuncture/meditation/glutten free/no sugar/vicks vapo rub  just pick one and you too will be healed from this incurable disease.  *cue major eye roll*

I am terminal.  And that's the other reason I'm doing this.  One day, after I'm gone, my doctors are going to get a card with this blog address on it so they can come and read what I went through.  I've read the average life span after ILD diagnosis is about 4 years, and I'm down one.  My GP says "you've got time though"  do I?  how much?  you can't tell me.  You know why?  I do.  I know why because I've actually done the research.  You have to do a biopsy of lung tissue to see just how far and fast it is progressing.  Even HRCT will not show you that.  All I know, is how I feel.  All I know is how my lungs function today, compared to this time last year.  And it is a great diminished difference.  That's all I know.  I'm no doctor.  But I've learned that sometimes, even the doctors don't know.

But this blog is also to help others with this dreadful disease.  If my journey or experiences can help even one person, or encourage someone, then mission accomplished.

Welcome to my RA world.