Letters to the MonSter
Thirty-seven hours ago you woke me up before dawn, screaming in my ears and demanding an audience.
For what purpose? I know not.
Days later I am still at your mercy, but better equipped to face you in battle. For other days the entire left side of my face has felt like the recipient of a jackhammer blow. For the majority of that time, the muscles on the left corner of my mouth drooped in a pseudo novocaine manner. A decisive ringing in my ear proved to me that Edgar Allen Poe knew what he was talking about when he invented the word tintinnabulation. The vice that embraced my forehead had nothing to do with Hannibal Lechter.
What's with the literary references? When one feels this bad, there is nothing else to be done but close your eyes and concentrate on the distractions of television or recordings, if sound can be tolerated at all.
After testing positive for Covid, a friend affirmed last week that this **** is real. I am truly sorry for all those individuals fighting this plague-like illness and I do not mean to lessen the bitterness of the disease ravishing our globe, but, folks, multiple sclerosis is no monster in the closet.
This **** is also the real deal.
What makes it worse is the isolation of the disease. Comparing apples and oranges here, it is impossible not to compare a few elements of these two diseases: isolation, helplessness, and fear of the unknown. I cannot imagine what a day is like for an individual who suffers both illnesses at once.
I feel isolated because there is no one in my life who can begin o understand the mixture of emotions filling me when I have to plan my every move. I am alone in this disease. The MonSter is with me every second of every day. This is a lonely disease. One that requires an intense amount of organization. A trip o the grocery store often demands my attention for days prior to the event. No, I'm not whining; I'm letting you know what it's like to war with the inner demons of the scenario because even with me saying it out loud I'm still alone in the demands of my body. The MonSter forces me to make decisions independent of anyone else. Maybe this is self-imposed, but I've learned through trial and error.
Helplessness is a huge aspect of MS. I feel helpless because my body is betraying me and there is only so much I can do on the battlefield. I take prescriptions, I eat as healthily as I can afford, I do my exercises, and I honor my family obligations as well as I can. All of these things are commendable, but I am not responsible only for myself. I am also responsible for reassuring my family and friends that I'm fine. In other words, I am a liar. Welcome to my world.
While constantly trying to build me up and protecting my loved ones from the very real aspects of my disease, I walk daily in fear of everything MS-related. Should I be taking the DM I'm prescribed to should I be taking any DM? Should I have canceled those recent MRIs as a precautionary measure of Covid or will a few months delay even matter? Do I have a brain tumor? Am I experiencing the precursor to an aneurysm?
Why is she obsessing about all of these inevitable issues? You ask.
Because she can. I say.
But, for today, I will enjoy the slight repreive from this Headache from Hell.
Have a good day,
Lady With The Cane
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