How We Do

How I Run
This is kind of what I look like when I run these days.

A good friend of mine referenced the Terminator because of the sunglasses. As you can see, I cut the collars out of my shirts (don't like anything around my neck) and, in this instance,  I cut off one sleeve. What you can't see is that my iPod is tucked into my sports bra and when I'm out running, I have my keys clipped to said bra. Because I care, a lot, about how I'm dressed at all times.

Remember how excited I was the other day because I felt competent and smart? The very next day I was contacted by a program director regarding information I'd inputted incorrectly in a spreadsheet. How fucking stupid is that? Who is so dumb that they can't enter numbers correctly into a spreadsheet? This bitch, that's who. I got really worked up and upset about it, although I didn't show it whilst I finished out the day. I was embarrassed and mad at myself for making such an amateurish mistake and having it pointed out by someone else, especially someone in such a superior position, was humiliating. She was nice about it and all, and it was just a matter of phone numbers and there were no negative consequences because of my mistake but still, it pissed me off. I ruminated on it for the rest of the day and into the evening, feeling like shit and forcing myself to take proactive and corrective action by going through my massive spreadsheet and pulling up every single file so that I could verify the information or make any necessary alterations.

And the thing is that it wasn't a big deal and it didn't affect anything and I'm the only one who fucking cared. I didn't realize just how much I was blowing it out of proportion until I spoke with Hunter on the phone. I'm pretty sure he thought I must have done something really horrible that was going to cost the company money or something by the way I was talking about it. By the time he understood what a small issue it was, I felt a bit ridiculous for having been almost in tears. But that's how I work. I care very much about what I do and I take pride in it. I'm a strict task master with myself and just push and push and push myself towards better and better results. God help me if I make a simple mistake because I just go off the rails a bit. Sometimes I take a breath, think things through, and think "jesus christ, kid, calm - the fuck - down... or don't, enjoy that heart attack you're working up to."

Why I Run

I ordered a salad for lunch from a pizza place today. The fact that I ordered it from a 'restaurant' whose name includes the word 'pizza' will tell you that it wasn't the most healthy of salads. It wasn't awful but it had a ton of cheese. To go along with this so called healthy entree, I ordered bread sticks because if there is one thing I know, greasy, cheesy, doughy, white bread sticks play a major part in the food pyramid. As I told my friend "now I just feel fat and stupid." She congratulated me.

Given the amount of carbs I've just ingested, I'm hoping to find a burst of energy towards the end of the day so that I can go for a post work run. Given how I feel right now, however, I'm fairly certain I'm going to need a power nap first; hopefully I'll have the self-discipline to make it a 30 minute quickie, as I believe power naps are supposed to be, rather than taking the word 'power' and using it to mean 'I'm going to pass out, fully dressed, wake up around 8, and then have some wine' which is what I've been known to do on a Friday.

Louis C.K. has some really good jokes about being overweight and one of my favorite has to do with his answer to a doctor who asked him how long into a meal did he typically feel full and stop eating. His response was along the lines of "the meal doesn't end when I'm full. No, the meal ends when I'm feeling ashamed and sick." I don't know what on earth allows me to eat enough that I feel gross, but it happens from time to time. And it is always something sub par and unremarkable. It's not like I sat at my desk gorging on perfectly prepared duck and escargot. Crummy cheese-encrusted salad and bread sticks. I mean, yeah, they were OK but if I had gone to a restaurant and had this, I would have stopped eating and not taken the left overs.

So stop it, self. Let this be another one of those teachable moments and don't do it again.

Dorks and Bees, what they have in common

N.E.R.D.
I have, evidently, reached a new stage of dorkiness, having gone to two coworkers excitedly stating "I have the 2012 ABMS Codes and Abbreviations list!" followed by a careful perusal of said list to see what was new (Congenital Cardiac Surgery! Pediatric Transplant Hepatology! Hospice and Palliative Medicine is a subspecialty under so many specialties now!) That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I look forward to this every year like a Vogue writer awaiting Paris fashion week or something.

There are a lot of bits and pieces to my job that many would find to be tedious and annoying whilst I find them to be gratifying. I don't generally discuss the aspects of what I do that I actually enjoy because I'm an asshole who prefers to bitch and moan (or does that just make me a human) and because it isn't all that interesting to most. One thing I really like is the challenge of recruiting a difficult specialty. Did you know that there are fewer than 200 medical doctors* certified in Pediatric Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation in the U.S.? Or that there are only nine Pediatric Surgeons licensed in the state of Delaware? I did! I also like the gathering of information and verifying of credentials, ensuring they are up to date and as they should be with licenses unencumbered. The latter is especially fun because every so often you run a license and find all manner of legal actions taken against one physician or another.**

But, like I said, it isn't all the interesting unless you work in my field and, possibly, unless you are me. Really, I'm doing you a favor in not discussing these matters.

*I can hear you, smart ass. "Medical doctor? As opposed to what, haw haw!" As opposed to doctor of osteopathy (DO) that's what. 
**Notable highlights include a Neurological Surgeon who would put his penis into the mouths of patients who were under anesthesia and multiple physicians who have had 'indecent and improper relationships with patients, regardless of mutual consent'.

Grams, no Boxes
Have you purchased anything containing pseudophedrine lately? I did so on Monday and was reminded that it has become quite the illicit drug these days. Instead of picking up a box in the cold remedies aisle, you pick up a little picture of what you would like to buy, take it to the pharmacist, hand over a government-issued ID, and wait for your information to be inputted into a databank. Only then can you receive the coveted pills, all red and tiny. I asked the pharmacist how many boxes I could buy before my name was red flagged in the system but she told me that they go by grams rather than boxes. I think she said you can purchase nine grams of the stuff a month but I'm not sure because by then my eyes had started to leak like faucets and I'd clutched my booty to my chest and ran out of the store as though I'd purchased the final box needed to start my very own meth lab.

Worth the purchase, by the way. The pseudophedrine seems to be doing wonderful things for my head cold and I am confident that I'll be back to my normal self before long. Granted, my evenings have turned into my coming home from work, collapsing on the couch, popping some allergy pills along with the cold medicine, passing in and out of consciousness, and bed before ten. Not an exciting life, what with all of the not being awake, but if it is what I need to recover, I'll put up with it. I'm fairly certain one more night in a semi-comatose state will be just what I need. Setting my phone to "alarm only" allows me to lay in my own drool undisturbed by anything save for the pig letting me know he would like some more hay or reminding me that I still owe him for not giving him any floor time on Monday. It was for his own good, I didn't want him to get sick.

Fortunately, my cold hasn't disturbed my work life too much, and in fact, I'm hoping to get a bit of over time this week to help with my car bill. I have been a paragon of productivity this week (second time I've used that phrase in this here blog), arriving to the office early, remaining, as if chained, at my desk, plowing through masses and masses of work. It's gratifying really, having an endless amount of work to do and having at it for hours at a time, and I enjoy being efficient and productive (I'd make a damn fine ant or worker bee).

I told you I'm dorky.

Productive cough

I'm sick again. When did this start, where I get sick all the time? When I was in middle school/junior high, I used to get sinus infections every six weeks like clockwork because I have a super sexy open sinus cavity. Shut up, it isn't what you think. It looks like a tiny mole or something and you'd never notice it unless your doctor told you about it and then you did the super smart thing of trying to see if you could stick an earring into it (which you could). Mine is by my ear but most are on kids' throats and excrete mucus. Mine never did so we didn't know I had one for a long time. But that shit stopped some time ago and I became one of those annoyingly healthy people who never got colds. These days? I get sick and it sticks the fuck around for awhile.

Granted, this time it has only been two days but I don't like it and don't understand why it is happening. Runny nose and cough. I wouldn't be concerned but for the fact that coughs don't happen to me but I understand they hang around for a bit. Plus, my friend is coming next weekend and I simply refuse to be sick during his visit because that will put a kibosh on any fun. So hit me with any remedies, OK?

With regards to my chronic and incurable disease, I'm doing A OK. I had a follow up visit at my MS Clinic and my neurologist said I'm doing fine although I may have a slight deficiency on my left side. It isn't a problem or anything but I mention it because the test was hilarious. Clapping. I had to clap with my right hand clapping my left and then my left clapping my right. Evidently, I clap slower with my left hand. It is most likely a mixture of the fact that I'm right handed and it is awkward to clap with my left hand. But really modern medicine? Clapping? This is what we use for neurological tests? Awesome. Oddly enough, my left toe now responds to vibrations at a normal rate, which it did not do back in September, the last time I saw this physician. I've asked my mother to overnight some point shoes ASAP so that I can restart that ballet career.

A fun fact about my neurologist is that he is German and doesn't always understand me. He asked me what I do for a living and I found myself having to explain things like medical board certification and malpractice suits so that he'd have an idea of what it is I do. A bit disturbing since he should know these things but I just assume he refers to them in a different way (and I know that he is certified with a license in good standing - I looked that shit up before I ever saw him). He gets really excited to try out new Americanisms that he's learned and he even tried on a mid west accent yesterday. At the very end, I asked if I could just leave or did I need someone to walk me out. He apparently thought I was asking how to get out because he gave me directions. Poor fuck. He deals with disorders of the central nervous system and has to explain medical shit to people, which is probably challenging enough without even this slight language barrier.

Regardless of my occasional panic attack/pity parties, there are some things I still find joy in with regards to the ole MS. I still get a kick out of saying "I have to go to the clinic" and letting friends and colleagues make of that what they will. "Clinic" intimates things like VD or abortion and I don't clarify for people. I also still get a kick out of saying "incurable disease". I know it isn't funny or anything, but if you have one, saying "I have an incurable disease" is something you can say and it tickles me for some unknown reason. Probably the ambiguity and uncertainty of it, when people don't know just which of the IDs I'm referring too. I always feel like I'm letting them down slightly when I admit that it is multiple sclerosis. Still, I find it fun to say.

And that is that. If you need me, I'll be practicing some dance moves and applauding people with my left hand to build up my strength. When I'm not swilling cough medicine and taking day quil pills that is.

Mystery Fruit

Blubber
I forced myself to go to the stupid gym and use the stupid elliptical last night. I did 2.5 miles in 30 minutes and when I stepped off after my cool down, my legs were made of jello and I was terrified I'd fall over. I went up a flight of stairs* to walk a half mile round the track before going home just to calm my legs down. It was kind of nice and relaxing to wind down that way, and I enjoyed watching two separate individuals who would occasionally sprint around the track. I liked watching them because they ran with their arms flailing about as though they were being chased by monsters or zombies or Dick Cheney or something.

We all have things we dislike when it comes to the gym and here is a list of mine since nobody asked:

1. Super fit, skinny chicks who get on the treadmill next to me and run at 8 miles and hour whilst wearing baseball hats. I sweat like a Yeti and can barely run a mile at 5.5 right now so give me a break, will ya? 
2. Any woman wearing makeup.
3. Any woman wearing her hair down (unless her hair is too short to put up).
4. Super fit, skinny chicks sitting at equipment and phoning in the work out. I work hard and I'm a Yeti.
5. Men who clearly didn't put deodorant on before hopping on the treadmill next to me.
6. People who don't wipe down their machines. Really?!?! 

I threw in the last two just to make it seem like I have less of a complex than I really do. Here are a few things I do like about the gym:

1. When I see really fit people quietly working out in corners and not being all flaunty about it.
2. How isolated and alone I feel when I'm on a treadmill/elliptical with my headphones on.
3. When I see overweight people or people of my stature putting in an honest effort.
4. Seeing people punch weight bags. I don't know why, but that just tickles me. 
5. Seeing people working out with friends and using one another as spotters. I would like to have a spotter. 

I generally only bitch about the gym so I thought I'd throw some good things in there. I really do enjoy seeing super fit chicks who can do pull ups unassisted and yesterday I saw a chick on the third floor in a quiet little corner doing pushups and all sorts of things mixed in. I also like seeing super fit guys doing work outy things when they aren't being grunty and ostentatious about it. 

*The particular gym I went to last night has three floors and I believe three of the staircases are made of thick green glass with nothing in between. Hard to describe, really, but they make me really uncomfortable because I prefer to have something solid when I'm climbing steps, especially with jelly legs.

Wagons

After eating roughly $5 of vending machine food yesterday, I went home, had a glass of red wine (really, just the one glass, I know, right?), pizza rolls, and ice cream. And now I'm back on the stupid detox with one variation; I am drinking diet soda. That's right, fuck you, I'm drinking a diet Coke. In fact... ahhh, I just took a sip. My plan is to drink soda (one a day) for the first week and then wean myself off in hopes that this will be easier. Unfortunately, I don't feel like eating chicken or cheese, the two things I brought with me, so I'm basically just not eating. We'll see how long that lasts before I shovel chicken down my gullet without chewing, like a snake. No gym today but I'll probably do stupid chores when I get home. I hate stupid chores. Maybe I'll just play with Johan instead.

I feel like there was something else I was going to say but, for the life of me, I can't think of it. Yeah, I'm certain it was super important, like about how I came to work and found a mystery fruit* at my desk or about how my feet are really cold or something. Actually, I just remembered what it was but it is for another post of all its own. I'll have to make a note so I don't forget. What the fuck? How did I have a topic all picked out and then end up writing so much about the gym?

*

And it is only stupid Tuesday

That is how I feel today. Yeah, I guess that makes a load of sense, huh? Yellow makes that picture feel uncomfortable (well, it does if you are me and you are a synesthete) and in my head I just keep thinking "dude.... what the fuck."

Yes lady and gentleman (I'm being kind and assuming I have two readers), I fell off the wagon last night and am still just walking beside it today. Stupid fucking sugar detox. Stupid fucking friend, KR, who is all healthy and inspiring and good at this shit. I had wine last night. Lots of it. I was supposed to just have 'some' because I have to run today but nope, I decided I'd have lots and not really eat much. Cause I'm smart. So I'm hungover today and treating said hangover with M&Ms and Sun Chips (three little bags). I am also drinking lots of water though, so I'm not a total fuck up.

I do like that the extent of my fucking up is pretty minimal. A little bit of candy, some chips, oh, and soda. Oh my god! Soda!!! How I missed my diet Coke. I think I told three people and the vending machine "I'm going to drink the fuck out of my diet Coke" and I did! It was glorious and I am filled with effervescent happiness just reminiscing about it. But yeah, I didn't have Chinese food or pizza and I didn't just sit and eat an entire cake on my own or anything. Really, the damage is minimal (or else I'm just talking myself out of feeling uber guilty).

I'm not taking this whole day off mind you. If the chips and M&Ms don't help, I'm just going back to the protein and nuts and unhappiness that I've been hanging out with for the past week (heh, nuts). And I'm still going to the gym, if only to punish myself by making myself run and sweat out the alcohol and feel awful. I couldn't run yesterday because I fucked up my shot on Sunday night and hit something and so had a very painful thigh. I did core work instead and discovered that my hip doesn't work right. Seriously, there are certain moves I can no longer do because it feels like my hip is going to come out of its socket. I've had this feeling before, whilst climbing a rock wall in college (oh those glorious days when I was healthy and thin!) and when I tried to be on top for sex (yeah, weird and random, right? I've not been on top in years and I don't really do blow jobs so I am the most spoiled sexual partner of all time). But not being able to exercise is a new one and I wonder if it has to do with running. Lousy body. I bet it wants calcium or something. There's calcium in prenatal vitamins, right?

So, yeah, that's where I am today. As I emailed my best friend, "being at work not hungover is awesome. I am at work and I'm hungover. " She jumped off the wagon last night in her own way. She also provided me with some of the best comments ever and I'll leave you with them to brighten you day:

Via text that came out of the blue:
"Soooo. Got so drunk last night that I peed the bed. A lot."

Email conversation:

ME: "So are you going to Taco Shack tonight?"

HER: "Hells yeah we're going to taco shack! I'm going to mow down on some yummy tacos and then  later tonight I'm going to give up my taco to him. That should make him feel better and be less mad at me."  

And that, that right there, is why she is my best friend.

And in case you were wondering, yes, she did give up her taco. I totally asked. Oh, and I think Taco Shack is actually the name of the restaurant.

Don't beat it. No, really, don't.

I forgot to pack a green apple with my lunch today. Normally, this wouldn't be a big deal. I've spoken about how time consuming I find apples in general (it's somewhere on this blog but I have no idea where... I did look, marginally, but didn't find it in two minutes so quit) and how if I cut one up I end up looking into the bowl thinking "well, I guess this is what I'm doing today." But we are not in normal times when we are detoxing from sugar. All I have to look forward to is one green apple a day, which I consume at work, and a couple of glasses of club soda with lime wedges in the evening. Sad, I know, but this is all part of learning to eat for fuel rather than fun or emotion. If I'd done this a long time ago I'd probably have far, far, far less weight to lose and I'd have developed a taste for my arch nemeses, vegetables, which I'm slowly doing.

Thus, the forgotten green apple was something of an emotional crisis. So much so, in fact, that I ran out just now for the sole purpose of purchasing a single apple and some pistachios. I asked my friend if she needed anything and she gave me a couple of bucks to grab her something for lunch and off I dashed down the road. And you know what? Everything was a round number. How often does that happen? I did two transactions since my friend was using cash and I was using a card. Her lean cuisine came out to $2 exactly and my purchases were $4. How does that even happen? I mean, they have tax here in Ohio so shouldn't it have at least been something like $4.07? Not that I'm complaining, mind, I was just really surprised.

On my way back to work, I had the following thought, out of nowhere:  In my opinion, 'beating off' is my least favorite term for male masturbation. Where the fuck did that come from? I wasn't thinking about any type of masturbation or even sex so how did my brain jump to "neat! Rounded numbers!" to euphemisms for jerking off? I suppose it doesn't matter; what does matter is that it is true. I really don't like the terminology or sound of 'beating off.' Can you believe that is the reason I decided to write this post? Just so I could say "my least favorite term for male masturbation is 'beating off'"?

Clearly, I only give my readers (all 2.56 of you) the very best when it comes to my genius and mad, gangsta prose style.

The eggman cometh

Words Shmords

Something I need to stop saying so frequently and randomly:

"Ah! Come on stupid!"

This is always directed at myself and always for some stupid reason such as dropping a piece of paper or forgetting my coffee cup in the break room.

Something that made J crack up and posted at the suggestion of Hunter (background: I sleep with two stuffed cows, one of which I've had since I was three years old [fuck you, I am too still bad ass.]).

ME: "I can't find both my cows so I'm just sleeping with the one."
J:     "No cows."
ME: "Uh huh, usually two cows but tonight just the one. <speaking more to the cow or myself than to J>
          Who are you? Oh, it's old floppy!"
J:     "Old sloppy?"
ME: "Old floppy! We aren't talking about my vagina after all."

Just Dumb

I realized fairly early this morning that my outfit makes no sense. It would have done if I'd had all the pieces I'd planned on but I couldn't find my leggings (I really need to invest in a dozen pairs of black leggings). So, instead of looking cute and fun in black leggings, a black skirt, gray and white striped shirt, and colorful flats, I'm wearing a gray and white stripped shirt, black skirt, nicer black tights, and boots that are a bit much for this outfit. I should have worn a different shirt or a different pair of shoes or just worn black trousers instead. But evidently, I was dedicated to the idea of this outfit. That or I was so fucking cold that I didn't care to think too hard. Seriously, my bedroom is frigid. I finally got around to emailing my apartment complex about insulating the AC unit so hopefully, when I get home today there will be a ghetto plastic sheet masking taped around the fucker.

Sugar, Sugar!

Whilst I am at the moment convinced that I'm hungry all the time on this detox, I'm pretty sure it is just because I'm not eating enough* and I am getting a hell of a lot done. Yesterday I was stunned at how productive I was what with the diligent work day, 3.5 mile run at the gym, trip to the grocery store, cooking, washing dishes, and doing laundry. That may not seem like a lot but compared to my usual work day followed by lots and lots of couch time, it's pretty major. Hell, I wasn't even planning on doing laundry last night, it just sort of happened. Maybe today I'll accidentally vacuum or wipe down every surface. Who knows? The sky is the limit! And being productive is certainly more rewarding than plowing through my DVR'd show list whilst drinking and stuffing myself with chips. I dare say I feel pretty good right now. I even texted my friend, KR, to thank her for getting me into it because I'm really looking forward to the results and I feel good knowing that I'm actually doing something good for my health. I'm sure I'll end up freebasing black tar heroin by the end of the day so I'll just enjoy this moment while it lasts.

*Definitely a matter of not eating enough as evidenced by a conversation with Birdy here at work in which I said "maybe tomorrow I'll have two hard boiled eggs for breakfast instead of just one." I've been at work for five hours and so far I've eaten one egg, a few pieces of cheese, a green apple, and, just now, a chicken breast I cooked the other day. I'm not exactly eating meals, am I? 

 

I am jonesing for a diet coke

I am certainly killing it so far in 2012. I was meant to begin the 21 day sugar detox yesterday... but. Well, at 3:30 in the morning, I woke up and the best idea in the world seemed to be for me to eat mint moose tracks ice cream whilst watching Murder, She Wrote reruns. Other than that, I didn't do badly until the evening when I was cranky from being so hungry all day and ended up going to the pub with J, where we had a beer a piece, cheeseburgers, and, for me, my beloved pub chips and a side of ranch. Totally worth it. And, on the bright side, I did hit the grocery store on the way home and ended up cooking things so that I'd be a bit prepared. I've been sugar free all day today, ran 3.5 miles after work, and stopped at the store for more items to cook and prepare so that I don't want to kill myself from eating the same thing every day.

Surprisingly, things ended up going well after a very inauspicious beginning. On Friday I was so bored I started fiddling with my work email signature. Usually it says something innocent like "Jane Doe, Administrative Assistant." Throughout the course of the day, I changed it several times to such things as "Jane Doe, Secretary to the Stars" and "Jane Doe, EVP of Quackery." I forgot that I'd done this until I'd emailed four external parties with an email signature that read "Jane Doe, Honey Badger." Not my proudest moment although one person did respond saying he loved my "handle" and the end of his email said "Sent via my Dixie cup and string device" which I thought was funny.

I was actually looking forward to going to back to work after the second long weekend in a row. Too many days off and I feel unemployed, slothful, and in need of structure. I wasn't exactly in the best of moods all day and I didn't have as good an attitude as I'd hoped, but it really wasn't bad. Certain things pissed me off early in the day and I got a bit irritable in the afternoon, but nothing major and I only slammed my hands on my desk once when my boss hollered for me. Even though that man still drives me crazy and I hate parts of my job, I am beginning to reconcile myself to the fact that I might remain here for some time. That's a bit strange for me to fathom just because I was promoted so quickly in my old department and then transferred relatively soon after. But I have a good job that I can manage to enjoy and I have great benefits. I also have someone who looks out for me and says things like "you know how you are going to be evaluated in March? You want to have a file of all of your accomplishments and achievements to present to boss man." I've never had to do that before so wouldn't have thought about it. The two month's notice is helpful indeed. And, since I won't be drinking to capacity as often as possible as frequently as before what with this detox, I'll have plenty of mental clarity and free time to work on it.

Side note: I bought a bunch of fruit before I started this detox. A grapefruit is, inexplicably, on my living room floor and Johan is trying to eat it.

All in all, not a bad day. I even drew a face on an egg.*

And now, off to my slightly charred yet delicious steak and my train wreck snow peas. The recipe said crips and delicious, mine are soggy and probably burnt but hell, at least I'm eating some vegetables.

 *Afterwards, I put it in the break room fridge. I'mma eat him tomorrow. 

Preparedness

It's funny how unprepared you can be when you think you'll be fine. Every time I finish a bath and go to take a shower, I think I've run the water long enough to be warm only to be shocked with a brief blast of cold.

In October, I was seen by a Certified Nurse Practitioner named Colleen to discuss treatment and get a prescription. I was terrified, relieved, and grateful that she would see me because I'd been told the day before my scheduled appointment that my treating neurologist was ill and couldn't make it and the CRNs only worked in the day time. I had to email a client stating that I had to leave no later than 11, the scheduled end of a meeting, in order to make an appointment and if they foresaw the meeting running late I would make arrangements. They said it would be fine and thank you for the notice.

Colleen wanted to speak in depth about all of my options. I knew there were inject-able drugs and the Tysabri infusion, the clinical trial I would refuse. She told me all about Copaxone. how it had been FDA approved in 1996 and had very few side effects. Granted, I'd have to inject every day, but this seemed like the best answer. Side effects included, mainly, some minor injection site reaction and a possible chest tightness that dissipated in 30 minutes. While still nervous about administering a daily injection, I signed up whole heartedly. I even had a flu shot for the first time to see what a shot would feel like. No big deal.

I was not prepared for the knots. It doesn't happen every time but it happens frequently enough where I develop hard knots under my skin which redden and becomes sore and itchy. As they fade, the knots leave phantom bruises. They are unsightly and irritating but warm compresses help with the itching. But then J helped me shoot into my arm for the first time last night and I've had what I believe is a negative reaction that has caused me concern for the past few hours. I've felt this way one other time in my life, years ago, and the feeling is so odd that I don't like describing it to people because it makes them uncomfortable. I feel as if a layer of my being is slowly stripping away from my body, internally. Not my legs or arms, my by central nervous system, like I am shedding a very much needed part of my skull and spine. It is a nebulous feeling and an uncomfortable one. I'm not scared, not yet, because, as I said, I've had this before and also I read on line, whilst researching a different reaction, that many people cannot shoot into their arms because they have a worse reaction.

But I wasn't prepared. I thought I might have some redness and soreness, not hard lumps under my skin that I press on like old chewing gum. Not warm red marks, making me fear an infection. I spoke with a friend today about what might lay in store for me, something I don't do very often because I don't like discussing things I have no control over and I don't like dwelling in fear. But then I started to have this very odd and uncomfortable sensation and multiple sclerosis felt real to me for the first time in 6 months, the day after I mailed a letter to a friend in which I said that it still did not feel real regardless of the daily shots.

I think a lot of people think of MS and think of wheelchairs. I know I used to. But now that I have it, this dreaded disease that I've always been scared of, I know more about it and know how much more is at stake. My friends and family don't like to talk about the "might happen" aspects because they can't stand to think of them happening to me.  I don't either, but I have to be a big grown up and know what might happen. I have to understand that I may lose my vision and have diminished cognitive function. I have to know that one day I may not be able to walk. I think I could handle a wheel chair, but what if I cannot see to read, what if I lose my capacity to think as well as I do? I never knew that these were things I'd have to be terrified of. And there is nothing I can do because there are no guarantees with MS. Things are good right now, weird side effects and all, but I cannot play ostrich anymore. Not that I have to ruminate in what may be awaiting me or give up on life as others might if they feel they've been given a death sentence. But I have to be aware of what might happen so that I can be as prepared as possible.

Not that I'll ever be fully prepared for any of it. I just can't risk being shocked.

I've been working on this for days - this is what happens when I try

Why do people like me?
I'm beginning to think that people should not trust me enough to give me access to their Facebook pages. My BFF had a baby in March and so, naturally, she posts a lot of baby pics on her page. I'm the asshole who rarely comments unless it is to caption the pictures with phrases suggesting the baby is high or drunk. If I'm lucky, the dog is in the picture as well. I've created a running theme in my head where their fat bagel (beagle crossed with some other dog) is a drug pusher who gets the baby (we will refer to her with the name Baby) to toke up. Bagel is really on the losing side of things, however, because she is older and has been in the house longer than Baby. So mom and dad just say "bad dog" and then give Baby something soft and malleable to put in her mouth (well, they don't give it to her for that reason but everything ends up there; hey, she's not even one yet and she's smoking dope at the level of a three year old so cut her some fucking slack).

And this is my best friend we are talking about, not some random person from high school whose friend request I accepted because I was drunk. I actively like BFF and even wrote a post about her once. But, evidently, if you are my friend, nothing is sacred. I do get some credit, however. My brother posted something that I could have totally run wild with and made all sorts of inappropriate comments about. But for one thing, he was talking about having done some charity (that is not a euphemism), for two, he has a lot of religious people on his page, and finally, he's in Abu Dhabi so why mess with the kid?

In sickness and in health
Johan is getting harder to ignore these days. He isn't, however, getting any smarter. I moved his cage and haven't returned it to the right spot yet he still only rattles the cage in the one spot; the one furthest from me. He was pretty stoked about coming home from the vet though. He was very intent to get out of his carrier and jumped into his home when I had it unzipped enough. Usually I have to open the carrier the whole way and place it in his cage and wait for Sir Waddles to sniff and slowly make his way out. I guess he really missed his stuff. Makes sense in some respects. I miss my bed and my belongings when I'm gone as well but his belongings comprise a food dish, a water bottle, a plastic igloo hide, and his own shit. I think I would be less enthusiastic about returning to such splendor.

J and I are going to try and see if we can fix our marriage or save it or whatever. We met and talked and it was pretty awful, but we agreed to start seeing one another more often, to hang out, and see if we thought it could work. We have a long road ahead of us but I think it will be worth it. I can't believe I really thought it was over without putting in any effort. All I can think is that I had a mini breakdown due to the MS diagnosis and the fact that my marriage was disrupted in any way at all. Now that I'm beginning treatment, I'm beginning to be a real person again, not this out of control lunatic girl who makes reckless choices and doesn't see beyond tomorrow.

Yes, I said treatment and beginning as in "I've recently started taking medication for my disease." Who knew this day would actually come? I mean, it only took five months from the date of my diagnosis. But now here I am, with a sharps disposal box on the table and a box full of syringes in my fridge. I've injected myself without help twice and with help once, the first time (obviously) at work with the aid of one of the nurses on staff who does home health stuff. So far it has been without incident save for the first time when I got some swelling and bruising. Self injecting is even less of a hassle than I thought it would be. After I got my first ever flu shot, I thought "this will be a breeze", and it totally is and takes almost no time after I've let the drug sit out in the open for 30 minutes to warm up. All I really have to do is wait for the alcohol from the swab to dry because if you inject and you still have alcohol on your skin? That shit stings.

Speaking of the flu shot... I got my first ever fucking flu this year too, right after I finally got over a two week cold I'd developed. Needless to say, I will not be taking that shot again.

A, B, C, easy as R, B, C

If it turns out that I have leukemia on top of MS, I'll just go ahead and lose my shit altogether. I received not one but two phone calls from my neurologist's office today. The first was to inform me that although my health insurance company had approved authorization for the Provigil, they had denied the dosage. So I had to call the insurance and find out what that meant. Nothing really. I just can't take the amount neuro wants me to but I wasn't sure I'd need to anyway. And I was told I'd only been given 15 pills so I wasn't going to owe anything, although I was allowed 31 pills and would have to pay another $50 if I wanted the other half. Fantastic. Took a week and a half for my insurance to complete the prior authorization, I finally pick up the drug, and now I have *issues*. Fortunately, it worked out in the end as I just found out when I was at the pharmacy. I was given 30 pills, not 15, just of a different dosage. So no harm, no foul, just a bit of anxiety to liven up the day.

The second call came minutes before a 4 o'clock meeting. I was informed that my neuro wanted me to follow up with my PCP because my blood work came back and showed a low red blood count. Mine is 2.6, the same as a healthy child's. I can't recall another time in my life when I've had this so I'm a bit troubled. I'm hoping that it was just a mix up at the lab but it could also be a fluke, one time thing, anemia, or leukemia. Normally I'm pretty chill and relaxed about this sort of thing but not since the out of nowhere MS diagnosis. The last time I had anything out of the ordinary happen, it turned out to be a chronic, life-long disease of the central nervous system. I don't think I can be chided for being a bit gun shy or easily spooked or whichever turn of phrase is best suited. I tried to get the lab report but it was too late to do anything more but fax a release of medical records request back and forth. I don't know why I even bothered as I shall be seeing my PCP at 8 a.m. on Monday morning, long before I'll see the report now.

But I haven't bruised more easily than usual lately, and I haven't suffered tremendous fatigue or weakness. I find that odd, actually, given that I used to suffer fatigue before my diagnosis. No real chance of me feeling that now, of course, not with the Provigil in my system. But I think bruising is a thing, isn't it, with leukemia?

I'm sure it's nothing; I'll just be happier when one of my doctors tells me so.

To the victors go the spoils - Updated

Victories and Failures of Last Night

Victory Managed to go beyond a string cheese and glass of wine and eat something sort of adulty. OK, so this is technically a snack, I think, but I ate two packages so that makes it a meal in my book. And I had lots of ice water, something I don't usually do at home but am getting better about (see: my diet soda addiction).

Failure Unsuccessfully tried to argue with a friend's sister who is encouraging said friend's spending habits this week. Sounds like it is none of my business of course, but oh, if you only knew. And my point, in my mind, is very valid. My friend is spending money and buying things for another friend (the two became close about six[?] months ago) and my contention is that friend A's sister should be a bit wary and suspicious of the sudden spending on mystery friend B. After all, friend B may be taking advantage of friend A. This isn't the case (I know friend B very well) but seriously? My family and friends would not be so readily accepting of such behavior. Read a couple columns of Dear Abby to see how awful people are and then maybe you'll have a healthy level of suspicion and cynicism. Or is that an east coast thing?

Victory Managed to fall asleep by midnight. Hurrah! Not being able to fall asleep at night has gotten really old, especially when I've given myself a goal of getting out of bed by 6:45. I've discovered that if I play music, whale sounds, or thunderstorm ambient sound from my iPod, I can drift off relatively easily. That is, if I can keep myself from checking email and Facebook and if I am careful about what music I'm playing (the other night I had a playlist of the Cranberries and "Salvation" came on and scared me/jerked me awake).

Failure Woke up a bunch of times in the middle of the night. This sleep nonsense has to stop and I'm hoping Provigil will help sort me out. I took my first (half) dose this morning and so far I don't feel anything untoward, though I may be blinking more than usual.

Update on Goals for this Week 

6:45 a.m. - This goal I'm keeping because I've done it two days in a row and it actually makes me feel better to have some time in the morning (albeit not very much time) rather than just running around like a maniac. Granted, I was still four minutes late to work today but at least I look like I put some effort into my appearance (contacts in, bracelets on). In fact, I feel pretty badass because I'm wearing a pair of new jeans and that always makes me feel badass (though I'm certain I look like a different type of ass; please see dinner from last night as described above). So I may even up the ante and aim for a 6:30 wake up. Stay tuned!  

**UPDATE** I might feel like a badass in new jeans, but MY GOD I am wearing the WORST shirt ever. It is super unflattering and I've been self-conscious from the moment I realized it has me looking like a linebacker. Needless to say, it is going to be ripped from my body the moment I walk through my apartment door and thrown into the trash.

Swearing - Yeah, who am I kidding? As my friend's sister pointed out, I might want to just stick with one goal a week because my swearing seems unstoppable. Again, I am trying to be better about it in the office, but in emails to friends and on the phone (which I actually use these days), I'm just, well, awful. And like I said, this isn't something that is necessarily harmful, especially if I can keep it out of my professional life, so I'm not taking this failure that badly. Actually, the bright side is that someone once told me that swearing makes a girl really unattractive and given certain odd things that have happened to me lately (someone flipped for me, a stranger hit on me, and an old friend lusted after my feet), this might be a really good thing.

Finally 

What is with the prolific posting lately? Do I have any sort of job/life at all anymore? Also, this needs some color so here is a picture:

Next thing you know, it'll want a coming out party

The neuro-ophthalmologist should have a sign outside his door reading "The only news you get from me is shitty news." My right eye (the bad one) is doing really well. The neuritis is healing up very well but there is permanent damage done that is irreversible. Blow one to my hitherto good spirits. But, to an extent, I was kind of prepared for this. I know that when your immune system attacks the myelin around nerves and then another part decides to try and fix it, the fix isn't good as new. It's like putting a patch over a hole in your tire instead of buying a new one. It works OK, but it isn't the same thing.

Blow two was much harder to swallow. Remember that healthy left eye? It's been all swagger and bombast the last few weeks. Four weeks ago when I saw my neuro-ophth, there were signs of some decline in this eye but I was told not to worry too much because this sort of thing happens; the good eye spontaneously declines and repairs for no known reason. No big deal. Liar! There are signs of permanent damage to my so-called good eye as well, which means I probably had a mild neuritis in it as well, which spontaneously repaired itself. The damage isn't as bad as in my right eye, but that isn't the point. The point, ladies and gentleman, is that if there was a mild neuritis there as well, my disease is active.

I find this upsetting though I'm not sure why. I wasn't expecting this news, thought I'd just saunter in and out of this appointment with some nice visual field tests under my belt and that would be that. Nope! Present disease activity! Oh boy! This will certainly influence how my neurologists decides to treat my particular form of MS and there isn't anything I can do about it so calm down, right? And considering that I'm not even sure why I'm upset about this, I figure I won't actually be upset for very long.

And that was my Thursday.

Thursday's child gets all the candy this week

Pleasant Surprise
I suddenly realized that today is Thursday, not Wednesday as I seemed to think. This is the best thing that has happened to me at work this week. Do you ever do that, forget what day it is and have it work out in your favor? I often *feel* like it is Thursday when it is Tuesday or something like that, *feel* like it is later in the week than it is. Rarely am I so delightfully wrong and find myself closer to the weekend than previously thought. Well done, Thursday, well done.

This couldn't have happened on a better day seeing as I overslept and had to make a mad dash to work this morning. Evidently the lady in the Ford Focus woke up in plenty of time given her speed of 50 mph on 315 north. It is always incredibly frustrating to be running late when the rest of the world seems to be early or on time based on the speed of traffic. But I was only 15 minutes late and I've been making up time throughout the week and will work into the evening to further make up time as I have yet another follow up appointment with my neuro-ophthalmologist this afternoon. I'm pretty sure I've gone to various doctors' offices eleven times since June 4, a frequency rivaling that of the elderly. I'm hoping this will be my last visit to this particular specialist until next year since I'll be going to the MS Clinic on September 2. Surely they can take care of my MS-related visual disturbance (which is pretty much done at this point). This is actually my second MD appointment this week as I saw my GP on Monday so I could fork over some money to get my fucking prescriptions refilled for a six-month check up. As much as I like my GP, I'm going to break up with her just to get rid of the co-pay and twice annual visits. I like my gynecologist more (sorry GP!) so I'll just see if she can act as my primary. Let's face it, if I'm letting you stick things into my vagina, I am obviously trusting you. If I don't have an intimate and loving relationship with you and I'm letting you stick foreign objects into the old girl, I'm most likely trusting you with my health. Therefore, I think you can handle my thyroid condition and mental madness.

All Dressed Up Like I Was Going to Walmart
Have you seen the Giant Eagle Market District? This is a humongous grocery store with an eat in cafe, Willy Wonka type candy aisle, and a fantastic wine and beer section. It even has a soda fountain of wine! I went there a few weeks ago and fell in love, so much so that I was all eager and excited to go again last night. Granted, I just hang out in the wine, prepared food, and flower section because I'm not big on crowds, but the possibilities of what I might be able to do if I crossed the threshold between produce and the rest of the store keep me wanting to go back again and again. The first time I went, I did a little walk through with J and saw a make-your-own-vinaigrette station near what appeared to be a fairly large international foods section. I could make a curry dish! Or samosas! Or maybe a fresh pasta dish! Not that I would of course, but I could, the options are there for me now. The coffee/tea aisle looked pretty wicked as well. I really need to get over my fear of being crowded/need an exit at all times/fake ass agoraphobia so that I can explore this place. The puffy, solid-yellow, sunflowers I bought last night are lovely, but they aren't going to feed this girl (and if I'm honest, neither is the turkey and swiss sandwich I purchased).

The funniest thing about this place is that I treat going there like an event. "Any plans for the weekend?" "Yes, I'm going to the Market District!" It's just so big that it feels like a mall and I could probably get lost in there for a really long time. It's like how people treat Whole Foods or Trader Joe's; it isn't just a store, it's an experience. God damn, Giant Eagle must have hired a really good marketing expert because I can't believe I just referred to a grocery store, which sells tampons, plungers, fish, and trash bags, as "an experience."  But maybe I should turn this blog into a low budget 'life and style' type of thing. I could write opinion pieces about my favorite 'hot spots' in the city from The Market District to the various locations of "Half Price Books", where they never have what I want and, as J once said "people go to fart in public." I could delve into the 'style' portion by writing long and involved articles about the $20 dresses that can be found at Target and how best to sort through the nightmare of a Kohls sales rack. There would, of course, be a special piece detailing my own personal wardrobe with the year of purchase listed for each item (the jeans I'm wearing now? at least three years old). I could even expand into the culinary world and give tips on how to subsist on string cheese, oatnut bread, smart balance, and fruit roll ups. A low rent Martha Stewart, if you will.

I suppose if this office gig I have doesn't work out, I could give that a shot. And, just to add some color to this post, here is a cartoon I drew this morning and sent to my former boss upon receiving notice from a client that we will be receiving a case in a specialty I will now have to recruit. Happy Thursday!

Labor Day

Well holy shit, the clinic called me this morning and my appointment is scheduled for September 2 at 8:30 in the morning. I should get there 15 minutes early and if I need to reschedule, I need to give them 48 hours notice.

My mom is pretty upset that it is so far down the line since I've been waiting so long but I'm just grateful that I finally have the appointment scheduled. It could have been pushed further into the future, it could have been on September 2 but not until 3PM, it could have turned out that they weren't actually taking new patients. There are a lot of things that could have made this worse. Besides, this will give my mother time to make travel arrangements so that she can come up and attend with me.

I wish I could say that this gives time for J and I to work on things as well and maybe he'll go to the clinic with me but I don't think that will be the case. I'm doing my best to respect the distance required right now and only emailed him this morning about a 'business' like item and I was very unemotional and let him know that I was trying to respect his needs and said that I don't want to upset him or cause him anxiety, we just needed to take care of this little thing. Hopefully I didn't freak him out. He teaches today so I won't hear from him for awhile.

But I have my appointment scheduled and hopefully that will alleviate some of my stress. I'm having so much trouble sleeping that I actually called out of work today due to exhaustion. I actually miss the fatigue that usually plagues me. Fatigue is a pain in the ass but it doesn't make me feel sick and doesn't make me feel quite so bleak and stupid. I slept off some of the sickly tired this morning and now I need to start doing something like cleaning or laundry or something so that I'm not just an unproductive blob.

Cry baby

Seriously?! OK, so I decided to call the MS Clinic for as a follow up to find out when I might hear about an appointment. I dropped the fucking MRI disc off on July 6 and was told it would be seven to ten business days. This upset me. I cried. But not too hard, because I was downtown and had to be careful of pedestrians and one-way streets. I've marked my calendar every day to reflect how many business days have gone by. Today is business day seven. So I thought I'd call if only to be reassured that it wouldn't be long now.

Nope. Now I'm told it is usually one to two weeks after the physician gets the disc(s) and medical record(s). He'll review everything and then see which doctor can/will take me, and then I'll get a call.

Maybe it doesn't sound like that big a deal, two weeks rather than ten days, but that adds four extra business days, which means another two non-business days are in there and I may not hear from the mother fucking clinic until July 19th, which is just two days shy of one month since the god damned diagnosis.

This has been, without question, the shittiest summer I've had in a really long time and I seriously think things need to improve before I lose my shit altogether.

Boo hoo. Woe is fucking me. 

Delayed Shock

The full weight and shock of my diagnosis hit me at about midnight last night and I broke down into tears and sobbed. I don't think I'm actually sad about this - is that strange? Sadness just strikes me as an odd emotion to feel for myself about something like having a disease. But I'm scared and I'm confused and I don't know what to do. Nothing has been very easy during this process, easy or straight forward. I had to see multiple specialists and undergo all sorts of tests, all spread out over the course of this month. I was so relieved to have my diagnosis that I didn't take into consideration what that diagnosis really is.

And I still don't know. I don't know how I'll be treated other than the probable drugs and monitoring. I don't know how far advanced my particular disease is. I don't know what I should expect, be aware of, or be on the look out for. I just plain don't know.

All I've been doing is assuring others that I am fine, that I am OK with this, and making jokes or being silly. Yesterday I made stationary using the image of my MRI, which was given to me by my neuro ophthalmologist. I worked like a tyrant trying to play catch up and continued to speak with interested parties about my adventures towards the diagnosis and yes, yes, please calm down, no I'm fine.

Oh, and god damn it, I don't want to hear about your friend, your ex-girlfriend, your mother's friend's kid, or that kid who you grew up with whose father had MS and was just fine. I know you are telling me this because you want to reassure me that this doesn't mean I'm going to suddenly become infirm but right now I don't care about anyone's experience but my own. Perhaps that is selfish but I have a feeling that it is to be expected and normal. I don't care that everyone is fine because what if I don't get to be one of them? And why can't I just think about me and about the other possibilities?

Again, I know these people are well intentioned and so I don't blame them and I just continue the conversation as normal when the subject of who they know with MS comes up. But inside I just seethe and rage because I'm tired of hearing about it.

I texted my boss last night and told him I wouldn't be in the office because I'd just felt the real shock and needed a day. He's perfectly fine with that, of course, fine and supportive. When J suggested that it would be better for me to go to work rather than sit at home and just be upset, I was angry and hurt. I explained that I couldn't go in and have to be jokey about it and I couldn't go in and act like the deadlines and work I had left over was important but I'm not. I think that's part of the reason it hit so hard last night. I've been so busy trying to get people to not worry about me that I haven't worried about myself. Not properly. And I haven't allowed myself to be important enough and worthy enough for the attention and the worry.

So I'm taking today to process it all and to cry when I need to and think about the worst when I need to. I'm taking today to shut myself off from the office and the distractions. Now I know why people were surprised that I went in on Tuesday after receiving the diagnosis. I ought to have been devastated and at home with Jeff being comforted. The shock was just delayed but I have felt it now and I'm not going to run from it.

Verdict

So. I have multiple sclerosis, the big MS. Honestly, I was relieved by the diagnosis since it makes sense of so many things as previously mentioned and isn't as bad as inoperable cancer or embarrassing like syphilis. But I do feel as though I could make one of those overly dramatic pharmaceutical commercials.

"It all began when I was jogging and I suddenly felt a pain in my neck and head. Days later, the vision in one of my eyes began to blur. The pain went away but the vision got worse...could I have MS?"

Of course, they'd show me wearing  a sweater with sleeves long enough to stretch over my wrists, gazing out of a window on a rainy day, mug of tea in my hands. The voice over telling you to talk to your doctor if you've experienced these problems and to ask about whatever drug is being shilled would begin. I will be shown outside raking leaves or gardening, laughing with friends, and maybe cuddling on the couch with my husband, a book open in my hands.

Tomorrow I go back to the neuro-ophth and I hope to never have to see him again as his abrupt manner doesn't suit me. My neurologist referred me to the OSU MS Clinic so I'll hear from them and be set up with a visit. My mother is going to fly in so that she can go with me and I think I'll ask J if he can go as well. It isn't that I'm scared; I just think it would be very good for both of them to know about the clinic and my treatment, for them to be educated so that they can both feel better about this. My mother was, initially, angry. I think she found it incomprehensible that her baby girl should be diagnosed with something she finds to be odious. J, I believe, was scared, worried that I was more scared or upset than I was letting on. But I think he understands now that I'm truly OK with the diagnosis so he is getting over it as well. Right now he is on the phone giving his mother the news.

Frankly, I'm tired of relaying the news! I went into the office and made my rounds, going from office to office, cube to cube, thanking people for their support and filling them in. I work in the best office ever. So much compassion, love, support, and kindness, just flowing out and embracing me. And they are so genuine and sincere! If I have to have MS, I must say that I consider myself lucky to have found this out whilst surrounded by all of these wonderful people.

And now I can relax. I can exhale and lean back and just relax. Because I have my answer and no longer have to wonder and fret and consider worst case scenarios. The relief is amazing.

Diagnosis Proper (from a doctor an all)

Thus far in my attempts to uncover the source of my medical misery, I have seen by the following specialties:

• Emergency Medicine (twice), 
• Family Practice (possibly twice because I don't know what the Urgent Care doc was)
• Neurology, 
• Ophthalmology, and 
• Neuro-ophthalmology. 

After this afternoon, I will have undergone the following tests:

• Blood tests, 
• CT, 
• Spinal tap, 
• Cervical x-ray, 
• Visual field tests (twice, two different sizes, both eyes), and 
• MRI with MRA (after popping a Valium to keep from freaking out)

Thus far, I know that I am suffering from optic neuritis, an inflammation of the optic nerve, on the right side. Hence the blurred vision and eye pain. I also know that this can be treated with high dosages of steroids, but that it will also go away by itself. Whether or not I treat with steroids, the average time it takes for vision to return to normal is half a year. I seem to be the only one at all concerned by this time frame but, at least it isn't permanent. I've also learned that there is nothing I can do on my own to make this worse, which means I am allowed to exercise again. I went for a 2 mile jog on the treadmill on Tuesday and it was the best thing for me, really. Other than the fact that my vision got worse (which I'd been warned about), it was fantastic. My head pain was temporarily suspended and my overall attitude and mood were vastly improved. I hope to attempt my scheduled 3 miles today but must wait to see how I react to the Valium (claustrophobic).

Here is what I still do not know and will not know until I learn the results of the MRI/MRA: what caused this in me? It could be something doctors still haven't discovered. It could be a simple viral infection that is easily cleared up. It could be sarcoidosis, which J has and which I will call J Aids if I get it because I will have gotten it from him (is it catching? I don't know but it would be an odd coincidence). It could be a rheumatoid disease that I don't know the name of (one of many), and it could be multiple sclerosis. Obviously, MS is one of the bigger fears but at this point, I don't think I'd cry too hard at it. I am actually more frightened of it being some scary rheumatoid chronic illness.

But there is no way of knowing until Tuesday when I see the neurologist. Because this world is shit and god forbid I be given an answer to an ailment that began on June 2 any earlier than June 21. Bring on socialist medicine; I'm used to the wait.

Never Ending

Yesterday saw me back in the ER due to ongoing blurry vision in my right eye. Diagnosis? We don't know. Of course we don't. Well, I found out that my test results from Saturday were all clear so that is a good thing. After performing a fundoscopic exam and doing some blood tests, I was referred to an ophthalmologist who I will see at 2:15 this afternoon. I'm glad I can see him today because, for some reason, I'd prefer to shell out more money and not get answers immediately rather than having to wait. I don't see the neurologist again until next Tuesday, when we will discuss the results of my MRI with MRA that is scheduled for Thursday. And if I still don't have answers I think I'll just stop caring because it is getting harder and harder to remain upbeat. There are only so many tests that can be done and after the MRI/MRA, I think I may have exhausted them. And while my head/neck pain have improved dramatically (just flashes of intense pain when I turn my head to the left or right), I must admit that it is scary as all fuck to have my right eye blurry. I can still read, obviously, and it isn't painful, but I've always been terrified of losing my vision because of how important reading has always been to me. Before I was diagnosed with wicked kerititis some years ago, I made J promise he would read aloud to me if I went blind. Sounds funny, I know, but when you read as much as I do and have such poor vision (20/400), the idea of not being able to see at all is terrifying (well, I suppose that idea would be terrifying for anyone who thought about it; if you have shitty vision as do I, you might just think about it more).

Moments like these make me grateful that my mother never calls me, just e-mails me. I'm tired of talking about whatever this is and just e-mailing a few people at work this morning has been enough to set me off. I don't think I'm sad or even that scared, but I am frustrated beyond belief and my reaction to any intense feeling is to cry (which is super embarrassing). But with my mother it is worse because she assumes things are worse than they are and is naggy about it. I called her this weekend to tell her that I wasn't in excruciating pain because she seemed to think otherwise. I then suggested that maybe she should text my eldest brother one last time to let him know she cares and wants to know what is going on with SIL but that she isn't going to keep calling him every day. Because god damn, the poor guy is dealing with his wife being part of a grueling clinical trial and that has got to be hard enough without having your mother call and say "how is she? is she miserable" every fucking minute. But I just get the e-mails so don't have to deal with it immediately and can put it off.

And now, back to stupid work that I have to do from stupid home. Today I get to tackle a back log of voice mails that I've put off returning all because I hate being on the phone and I still get nervous when I have to talk to physicians. But I suppose it will be good to take my mind off of the mystery that is currently me.

*Updated*
So much for a same day appointment. Who was I kidding anyway? But I have the ophthalmology appointment at 9:30 tomorrow morning and it will evidently take 90 minutes. Weird. On top of that, the MRI people called because they were concerned about the fact that they had me coming in at 12:45 and the prescription had my appointment down as 2:30. So after scaring me and making me think "oh shit! please don't make me reschedule this for another day! the only definitive thing I've been told is to definitely keep this appointment", it was determined that I would just come in at 12:45 and forget about a later in the day appointment. Nothing like crying a little at your desk to make you feel like a professional!