Don’t worry, I didn’t do any of the driving

Yesterday was a scary day. I got a lot done and made it to two different public events all while simultaneously existing in my own upgraded State Fair Funhouse Nightmare.


Though I begrudge its knowledge I’ve become accustomed to a certain daily “rhythm” — wake up, feel ok for a while, realize you’re climbing towards a plateau of gnarly, brace through plateau using as much normalcy as possible to maintain the invisibility of your disability, feel beginnings of clarity first in head then in body… then the worst is over and whether or not I emerge frisky or exhausted, the worst is over.

www.marriedtothesea.comEven laying down for a cat nap between functions didn’t seem to help. I woke with electric brain fizz (in the ilk that accompanied waking paralysis in the past) and assumed that I probably just needed a longer nap, but “oh well, it’s the holidays!” When wrapping a gift for the party became too difficult and began to induce tears I might should’a taken the hint instead of another dose of Amantadine. But “oh well, it’s the holidays!” I was an optimist and assumed whatever was plaguing me today would clear — the daily rhythm right?

In addition to having baked cookies the night before, I didn’t want to not show up with my wife at her new job’s work party. I clean up real nice, y’know? And I assumed whatever spell was offending would pass… late afternoons and early evenings are usually my guaranteed* times to coruscate, as far as cognition and mobility are concerned.


In 1989 I loved 1848.

A spot on the sofa cleared in the first few minutes we were there, so I sat simply facing the same direction for the duration of our time there (somewhere between 1-2 hours). I listened to the unintelligible symphony of many different happy conversations taking place mostly behind my head; the upside to this was that when the Secret Santa gift exchange started, I had one of the best seats.

My vision was doubled and slow-moving, like the mouse cursor on a computer from 1989. I was unsteady upon upright with debatable motor skills for such public-setting-appropriate tasks as “holding a plate” and “correctly ingesting beverages.” The party was fun and the people were really quite genial — I do not regret going, because had I not I’d just have been sitting alone at home feeling bad, which we all know will just make you feel worse.

hdxhLast night was scary. On one hand, I was proud of my public staying power. On the other hand, I still started crying** on the drive home. Today is already better for not being as bad as yesterday, but I’m not going to press my luck any further. It is my goal to stay in bed today. “Nothing bad is going to happen if you don’t wash those pans,” quoth the wife this morning. It is written into our marital contract that I respect her wishes and opinions, and I wouldn’t want to let her — or the courts — down.

Woe is me?


*I know, I know… MS guarantees you nothing like that.

** Crying isn’t something I do often — I live by the motto “There’s no good in giving yourself a sinus headache and a runny nose!” My wife told me to stop being so good at faking it, and maybe she’s right. I enjoy being good at things, ergo I might enjoy getting this kind of arbitrary one-up on a physiological condition I felt was attacking me. But still, last night was scary.

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