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Saturday, March 12, 2016


I roll over, pulling the soft flannel sheets with me. I realize it is later than most mornings when I wake. The sun is already streaming in through the bedroom window.

But, that's okay, because it is Saturday. 

Silently I scroll through my morning routine. I always prepare a nice breakfast for my fellas on Saturday. Scrambled eggs, toast and jam, bacon...

If I get up and start the coffee now, I can enjoy the newspaper in the quiet time between now and when my son and husband are seduced by the early morning aromas.

Early morning...

Sun streaming through the window...

Twelve hour drug schedule...

Oh, no!!!!

The digital read-out on my Bose alarm clock flashed an unforgivable number at me.


Since starting Ampyra on March 4, I have religiously swallowed that little white pill a exactly 8:14, AM and PM.

Ampyra is a time-released pill that is reported to aid in walking, balance, and energy deprivation of individuals suffering from multiple sclerosis. Everything I have read about Ampyra stresses the importance of abiding by a rigid time schedule. 

I do not know if an arm might fall off or if my subscription to Momentum Magazine will be revoked if that schedule is not kept; mainly because I have not pushed the envelope and rebelled against those neatly printed instructions on the prescription bottle.

In my haste to exit the warm confines of my bed and reaching the kitchen without casualty, I realized that my first stop needed to be the bathroom. That added another thirty seconds to an already late consumption of my medicine.

In the back of my mind, envisioned another appendage disconnecting from my body and my Saturday newspaper privileges taken away as punishment. 

This was horrible.

Straight A mentality Lisa had really messed up! 

I would have to wait another 12 hours before continuing what, so far, has been a promising ride on the Med Wagon.

But, hey...Wait a second...

The decorative clock on the bathroom wall put me n a different time zone. No, it wasn't the preferred 8:14, but it was also not as late as I had at first believed.

By bathroom time, I was only one minutes late.

And, guess, what? According to the oven clock, I was tight on time.


Crisis diverted.

At least for another 12 hours.

Enjoy your Saturday,

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