"I have MS but it doesn't have me…"

What a load of malarkey.
Every time I hear this or read some cheery news about how wonderful life with MS is, I want to scream. Really loudly.
Except that I can't because I'd like to accomplish something tomorrow and extremes of emotion exhaust my fried nerves.
It's not that I'm not grateful. Honestly. If I had to have a chronic debilitating disease, MS is at least amusing. It changes and wobbles and is completely unpredictable. It makes every morning an exciting trip of "can I feel this" and "can I stand up without falling over?" and "will I need to nap half the day today?" It's exciting.
But it also sucks, absolutely.
I am tired of trying to live normally only to be hit upside the head with a flare-up or a sudden inability to do math or fatigue so intense I can't get myself out to buy milk, let alone do anything else.
I used to be a can-do type of gal, taking things on and throwing them about, accomplishing three things with my right hand while juggling another two with my left. I could multi-task. I could work with music on in the background
Now I find myself typing okay with one hand while the other lolls about and goes on strike or types at a different speed. My brain packs up and wanders off at odd moments and words go walkabout.
Most of the time I'm fine.
But I can't predict it, see. When my brain goes out on me, it's a sudden thing. I become exhausted in a moment, crash and burn.
And so I find myself limiting my activities, withdrawing from things, gradually detaching myself from positions of responsibility, backing off, choosing things that can be cancelled in a heartbeat.
So, I have MS, and yes, it does have me. By the throat.

Mad Sow, Mad Cow

Some of you blog readers may wonder why I refer to the blog as "Musings of a Mad Sow". No, I don't think of myself as an angry pig, though, honestly, if I gain any more weight...
No, it's all about Denny Crane on Boston Legal. Right before I was diagnosed, I got hooked on the show, particularly enjoying when Denny would say something completely irrational and then gesture to his head and say, "Mad Cow", as if that explained everything.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zz0H-Py2rjc&feature=related

One of the signs of MS in me was the loss of the barrier between my interior and exterior monologue. You know, that inner voice that says inside your head, "This guy is a jerk", while on the outside you smile sweetly and say all the right things.
I was in management, so my straight talking almost led to me being escorted off the property
It was quite agonizing, really. I'd realize that my mouth and brain had betrayed me and try to retrieve or patch things up, but often it was simply too late. So, since MS had the right initials, I decided to try to redirect my mouth by pointing to my head and saying "Mad Sow".
Oh how I wish it would work.
For the most part, now that I am less stressed and have slept adequately, my mouth is under better control, but it's not anywhere near perfect. I am much more intolerant of foolishness than I used to be formerly and need to remind myself that being part of any bureaucracy is NOT a good plan. And yet somehow I keep ending up being part of them.
And my mad sow keeps putting her little hooflet in.
Like many of us with invisible disease, my physical symptoms are small - except for numbness and an inability to walk further than a block or so. But the mental ones are glaring, at least to me.
I was "gently reared" as they say, and I cringe at being thought rude. My dad didn't raise me that way. But wherever those lesions nestle, they've liberated my tongue and tied up my Miss Manners. Maybe I need to follow that old African tale and dig a hole and yell my true feelings into it. Maybe then the sow would be appeased.

http://www.documentingreality.com/forum/f2/post-picture-angry-pig-72235/index3.html

Somehow I doubt it.

Chewing on aggravation

I am feeling testy, or rather, close to royally pissed.
First, I call "Service Canada" after their threatening letter about my CPP stuff - which I sent them yonks ago and which was screwed up due to their staff's stupidity, so I have to settle it again - and they talk to me like it is all my fault for being a lazy so and so and why HAVEN'T I got those forms in yet, despite moving, errors, MS and all that.... Grrr.

And then there's the having to rent a car so I can get to a doc appointment 2 hours away so he can sign the forms that declare me disabled STILL for a disease that is never going to go away and seems never to be getting better, but I must verify it with my doc every three months notwithstanding this and I still don't have a doc in my new town...

Then I keep running into people who minimize what I am going through, tell me to cheer up, remind me that after all I could be hit by a bus tomorrow (you know who you are) which I KNOW is meant to be comforting, but which has the effect of making me feel my current, very real difficulties are of no matter whatsoever. Yeah, I sure as hell know it COULD be worse. That doesn't mean it isn't pretty bad right now. Of course, no one can see the pain I deal with, or the muscle spasms, or the discussions I have with my bladder, or the fatigue that pushes its way into my consciousness all the time, rendering me speechless.

I knew one fellow who told me I should be rejoicing in my "Freedom-50" - not having to go to work - when really I'd work in a salt mine if I didn't have to deal with this thing and live in ever increasing poverty...

And then there's just real life annoying me - huge bank charges, the cost of a good bar of chocolate, you know. The stuff everyone has to deal with.

Maybe it's cos I've lightened my antidepressant. You see, I was unable to cry. I know this seems like a good thing, but it's one thing to not want to cry, and it's a completely other thing to want to cry and be unable to. It's all part of the numbness (which, I might add, has become totally encompassing again now, making me want to fling myself against hard objects just so I can feel something, anything, other than the interior muscle pain that exists related to nothing). I can't bear it anymore. I need to sense something. So I'm cutting back, and the result is that I don't go around with beatific smiles (which, frankly, were beginning to freak me out) all the time. Now when I smile, I mean it, and it's not just some sweet nimbus-type glow.

Maybe I won't be so endearingly pleasant all the time. This probably isn't a good thing. And maybe I'm in a mood just cos I went to a MS Society thing last night and saw....and became afraid.

Life sucks. And then you don't die. And it sucks forthwith.
Okay, enough grumping. I'm off to do something practical and giving and sensible - volunteering. I'll be better soon. Sometimes, though, I should be allowed to be grumpy, pissed off, annoyed at this turn of events.