April 24, 2010
In a foul mood
I am spitting mad, and it's a general thing, non-specific, non-directed - the very worst kind of bad mood.
Maybe it's the lingering fatigue and confusion after the fantastic Erma Bombeck Conference. Maybe it's the dieting to try to deal with my newly acquired diabetes, when all I really crave is a large Rocky Road Ice Cream from Baskin Robbins.
Maybe its a newish friend of mine who suggests it's time for me to attend a workshop on how to deal with the bad relationships in my life.
Maybe it's the bad relationships in my life.
Or maybe it's this CCSVI thing. I'm a sceptic, it's true. I don't like the smell of anything that talks of being a miracle cure - it makes me think of the snake healers in the South West, or Carter's Little Liver Pills. Talk to me of a miracle cure and I'll just betcha there's someone making big buckeroonies off of it somewhere. And I really hate the anti-neurologist and anti-MS Society garbage that is being put on the web about it.
That said, I'm none too fond of my neurologist, who resorted to way too many "supposedely"s in my report of examination and made me feel all that old feeling of "maybe I'm crazy" stuff that I lived for years before diagnosis. (See bad relationships, above)
And it's so tempting. There's a clinic in Montreal that could scan me for a mere $900. Once I got scanned? Aye, there's the rub. Here in Ottawa, all the folks who could do the procedure to widen the veins have been told not to, and all the clients who ask for it are then sent to my neurologist, who then bounces them off his caseload, leaving me with no care.
Which seems rather rude, I think. And frightening.
So, I'm caught in a nogozone. I am curious, yes, suspicious, yes, wary, yes. I suppose I have time to wait, given that my disabilities are relatively scant - would like to say I can't do much mentally these days, but that's not so noticeable. I can still walk, and that's what matters to the neuro. But I'm not good with waiting (see bad relationships, above).
And my time is running out. I'm still technically employed until July, and could return to my job if I felt I could do it. After that it's a whole new job search, which is terrifying. If I could be "cured" before the end of that time - how wondrous, how exciting - but it ain't going to happen.
So I'm in a baaaaad mood.