Hard to believe it's been a few weeks since last entry. Since Sonya left to reconcile with her husband, I've gone into full denial and then, finally, full relapse, and then something of a full collapse, I guess.

My legs started spasming while Sonya was here, but I didn't say anything, thinking it was just going to go away. Later, when I re-inflated her air mattress and wouldn't get up off of it, and finally when I called the school to say I was in too much pain to teach, I realized something was probably wrong.

Five days of IV Solu-Medrol and more Predisone than my body can handle later, I'm still using a cane for balance and barely making it to five hours of work a day. Today Mom came over and helped get my laundry from the laundry room and took me to go grocery shopping...my movement for the day.

Somewhere in there, Meredith came down for her photo shoot and I spent a weekend with her that involved running to the hospital for a few hours each day, hobbling along the beach on a beautiful Spring day, petting a one-eyed cat on a couch with Joan Jett, and letting Jello Biafra drive my car around the greater Los Angeles metropolitan area. Jello's a whiney little elitist ass, by the way, and Joan Jett is fucking adorable as all hell. Love her. Various other rock stars were there, and I ate sushi with members of Green Day, NoFX, No Doubt, and the Offspring. It was a great time, and I was high on vicodin for most of it. Thank God it all went down that way, though, so that I didn't have to think about the fact that my legs might as well had been sawed off at that point for the pain and general burdensome uselessness they were giving me.

Since then, things have been a bit more mundane, and they've allowed me, for better or worse, to get a bit more in touch with just what the hell's going on in my body. The Prednisone continues to wreak havoc on my body...water retention beyond any sort of reasonable belief, skin breakouts, omnipresent tightness of what must be my entire gastrointestinal tract, and heart palpitations enough to give me some of the worst nightmares I've had in years.

I will get back into the pool tomorrow, and if it kills me, well, fine. I'm just going to pull for a bit and see how it feels to get my heart rate up for something other than fucking steroids. Nothing fancy, just movement. I can't walk, or I'd be back down on the beach in a heartbeat. So I'll slug my way through the pool for a bit and see how that goes.

It's late, and I need to get back to bed, but I've just had a very cleansing bath and thought that I ought to get off my pity-pot and back into the swing of things...which of course includes writing it all down somewhere, purging it from my brain, and then getting back into a much-needed routine in the morning. So what if my To Do list includes checking in with the neurologist, taking only three steroid pills, cashing a check at the bank because I've lost my card AGAIN, and sleeping for an extra two hours tomorrow? I may be back at ground zero, but fuck if I'm going to let this goddamned body beat me.

Oh. Also? The date with the boy went fine, but he's not really my type. He's a surfer pothead with a good head on his shoulders, but the chemistry just wasn't there. And, since I told him that I have MS (which was why I wasn't writing him back very promptly anymore), I haven't heard from him. No surprise there. Also not a big deal. But worth mentioning. I tried.

Now bed.

Posted by twids at 10:45 pm