The record-shattering temperature where I live was 114 degrees today.
That’s not a typo. Only Baghdad, Basra and certain lower levels of hell were hotter than here.
And, as you can expect, I’m not dealing with it all too well.
Starting with the parking lot I went all Towanda on. This morning, Groundhog Day all over again — parked in the way back. Grrrrrr.
And the office was a balmy 86 degrees because someone turned off one of the thermostats. Double grrrrr.
My house? Around 84 degrees. At least there I can strip down to almost nothing and it’s socially acceptable (my cats and dog are a very forgiving lot).
And it’s not that I’m all prissy and whiny because I hate to sweat. Heat does bad things to me.
Like create another exacerbation. Or a pseudo-exacerbation.
I’m officially over the IV steroid honeymoon. And also officially scared.
Because this means I’m worse off than I had feared. As much as I bitched and moaned about my MS treatment, it kept my body from losing its way. Now, the wiring is all frayed and the signals aren’t getting to places like my feet and hands.
I can still walk, so I have that going for me.
Still, if I were a robot, I would probably be destined for the scrap heap about now.
If I were a robot, would I be cooler?
I go for another MRI on Friday. And then it’s probably back on treatment, this time one that is safe during pregnancy.
How I wish this summer was an improvement over last year.
But, like the heat, I’ll drag on.