Tag Archives: brain damage

Dumbstruck

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The world and it’s dog, think of MS as a condition that affects muscles, both in pain but mainly weakness. They see us as future cripples, the people sat in wheelchairs, rarely seen without a carer and simply waiting for the day to pass. After all what value are we to the world, the cripples who can no longer work. Some look at us with pity, but most don’t look at us at all. We are invisible, long before we disappear completely by becoming housebound. I can say that, because if someone had asked me when I was 20, that is probably roughly what I would have said. Just as I saw spina bifida as people wearing calipers until my son was born with it and then died 12 days later. None of us really know what any chronic condition or disability is like until it somehow touches us. Even now, I couldn’t tell you if my Jeffery felt pain or felt anything at all, I just had to take the word of the doctors, that he was at peace in his misshaped body.

MS isn’t just weak muscles and pain, it is so much more. All you need to do is read my blog from its start to today, and you will see that there isn’t a single part of me that it doesn’t affect. Although, I do have to add that what you would read is my version of PRMS, one of five forms that MS took until recently, now there are only four. I discovered yesterday while reading on line that PRMS no longer exists, we have been absorbed into PPMS, although how I’m not sure. I’ve read the description often, and I quite honestly don’t fit. Yet, who am I to argue with the great and the good of the medical world, I am, after all, only the person who lives with it. In fact, I’ve lived with it now for over 30 years, but if you were diagnosed with RRMS, SPMS, PPMS or even benign MS tomorrow, I couldn’t tell you what lies ahead, because I haven’t lived your life. It’s not just MS that this is true of, whatever the condition, all of us would find our own quirks, symptoms, and difficulties, that’s just life though, as none of us live the same one in the same body.

At times people have asked me what is the worst thing about the conditions that I have. Yes, it is plural, I like the majority of people with a chronic condition have a collection of them. Why they travel in gangs, I can’t tell you the medical reasons, but I’d make a guess that once our bodies are weak, we are susceptible to other developing. As for the worst part of it all, well, it depends on what day and at what time you ask me. In the mornings, I am most likely to say that it’s the pain and by the evening the fatigue, catch me in the middle of a brain fog, and I’d most likely look at you stupidly and say very little of any sense. Chronic illness is a minefield filled with monsters, just waiting to take over from each other when the others have got fed up of playing with you. But if you have one, you already know this.

Today, though, my physical monsters are just treading water, the pain levels are set at normal and my fatigue just slightly higher, today, it’s the monster in my brain that is having the most fun. I have started and not finished a dozen things already, and my poor browser, has been straining under the number of web pages that I have opened, most I have little idea why. Concentration is little more than a distant memory. I have even stopped this post more times than you would believe, returning and having to read my earlier entries, and then sitting here trying to work out where I thought it was going. Even now, I’m not sure. Mind you, that’s nothing that unusual. For some reason, today seemed like the perfect day to change broadband suppliers. I had been thinking about it for a while, but out of the blue, I found myself actually doing it. So hopefully, as of the middle of next month, I will be flying on high-speed fiber and miles from the company who couldn’t even answer their phone without getting me angry and leaving me in tears. Yes, I will double check all that I’ve done when my own brain has returned.

I know that I am being rather flippant today, that is quite often the result of living in a muddle, as if you don’t take it on the light side, you’d drive yourself mad, if, I’m not already. Seriously, though, unless you are living with a brain that has been affected by something like MS, you don’t have a clue just how frustrating and depressing the whole thing is. I know that I am still managing to type out word after word and that I will appear to many as not having the slightest problem, but take my word for it, my brain is a mess. All of those wonderful tricks or the gizmo’s that are supposed to aid me in my everyday life, to me, are totally useless. It doesn’t matter what it is, my brain finds a way of turning it into an ignorable annoyance, something that doesn’t apply to me, or at least not at the moment it is trying desperately to put me back on track. It doesn’t matter if it’s a post-it note, a list, an alarm or even something huge in the middle of my computer screen, I can ignore it and totally forget ever even seeing it. Life with my brain is now one long smooth line, uninterrupted by all those annoying little things, like eating, washing or taking my meds. Well, it would be, if I hadn’t long ago started using Adams brain to fill in what I missed and of course my carers now keep me straight as well. Yet, I’m lucid and intelligent, well I think I was once, and might be occasionally now, as long as I don’t engage my brain, it will trip me up in seconds, if I let it and even when I don’t.

There is nothing in my life that annoys me more than those hoards of people who have happily brushed aside everything I have said, then try to tell me of this amazing way they know, of getting things done and never forgetting again. I learned long ago that I wasn’t only invisible, I was also mute as what I have said, was clearly unheard. Until you have spent an entire day, with my brain, in control of your life, you won’t understand, any more than you can understand the effects that pain has me, outside of the pain itself. When your brain is being eaten alive by lesions, nothing is as simple as it was just a week ago, far less a year ago. Unlike my body that now sits in a wheelchair, there is nothing visible that supports my brain. I can’t show it to you, all I can do is tell you, but then, of course, I forgot, I’m mute.

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 01/08/2014 – A spark of truth

I am waiting for the phone to ring, Teressa and John are due to come and see us today the first time we have seen each other since Christmas. To be far I doubt I will get a call before 12, after all, they are on holiday and as she is staying with her brother, I know last night will have included more alcohol than is …..

It’s still there

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It seems that with every day that passes, things are changing in my life. It’s not just the physical changes, the things that are clear to anyone reading my blog, but it’s also the psychological and emotional effects of all that is happening. I am having to adjust at breakneck speed, as each thing that happens, just hasn’t allowed me to assess and work my way through it, before the next issue, screams it’s way into my life. It has got to the point where I don’t even feel that I am even reacting to anything for at least 24 hours. I appear to just accept on the surface but then, bang out of nowhere, the next day I crumple inside and truth of it hits me. If there wasn’t enough going on, I have invited another to join all the mess that is now me.

It struck me over the weekend, just how ridiculous this thing I have about Adam seeing me naked, really is. Yes, I can and have, given many reasons over the years I have been writing, but none of them make it right. From the fact that I can’t stand the sight of my own body, right through to the biggest fact, he hasn’t seen me naked for at least the past 12 years, possibly longer. Like many marriages faced with all the issues that conditions like MS causes, sex became something that simply stopped and has never started again. At the start, it was  because of our joint fear of the pain that it caused and was compounded when my libido totally vanished. Naked wasn’t required, something that as my weight rose once I because housebound, I was grateful for. When it became clear that I wasn’t coping with things like having a shower, I chose to have a carer, rather than Adam seeing my decrepit body. After only three showers, the fact that I don’t have a problem being naked with a complete stranger, it started to wonder around in my head, just how wrong the whole situation was.

I have put myself through total hell recently about the whole thing and just when I was coming to terms with it, those tumbling thoughts, started to ask, “Then why not Adam?”. I was totally shocked the other evening when a similar collection of words, tumbled out of my mouth. I knew Adam had accepted the situation, but I also knew that it hurt him, and hurting him, isn’t something I like doing. I had started the conversation, and I also knew that I really meant what I said. I want to get past this, to be able to feel comfortable naked in front of him. There are so many reasons for wanting things to change, but what had brought it home to me, was the other night when I wet the bed. It had shown me that there are a lot of situations ahead of us, where I might be forced into that situation, and I honestly fear reacting badly, or not being able to cope with it. I don’t need anyone to tell me that it’s stupid, I fully understand that, but when it comes down to emotional reactions, you don’t need me to explain how unpredictable they are. Add in the damage that has been done to my brain already, and as time passes will be done again, well, we really have to somehow get past it now, while I can still be rational about it all.

How we go about it is the biggest question that neither of us fully answered. Adam suggested that I continue with things as is, but the next time that dye my hair, that then, he should wash the dye out for me in the shower. I dyed my hair last week, so we are looking at maybe 6 or 8 weeks time. I think his idea is that gives me time to think and time to get used to the idea. I agreed, but I fear that it is still a case of nothing to everything in one quick act, and it could make things even worse, and hurting Adam even more. I have so much running around in my head just now, and I just feel as though what I have done, is to give myself yet another one.

I spent the afternoon yesterday, sorting out some of it anyway. I have found with ease some pads for the bed, that apparently, will hold up to 3 liters of liquid without leakage, plus they are washable. So I have bought two to start with, I hope that I won’t need more than that, but they are on the way. I also bought some underpants or knickers depending on where you live. I haven’t worn any for most of my adult life and when I did, it was just a g-string. Until a few weeks ago, the leakage that I had, was very limited and of the nature of few drips, rather than enough to wet my clothes. I have been using pads whenever I have been going through bad phases of it, without proper knickers which yes, is possible but often uncomfortable. In the last two weeks, I haven’t been without them, but I couldn’t go on like this forever, so I decided it was time to join the rest of the world and wear them. It is all beginning to add up financially and all because I’m not well. I’m hopeful that what I have bought, will see me through until I see the continence team.

When I spoke to my doctor the other day, I discussed what had been said to me when I was at the hospital. He hasn’t received the letter as yet, but he put my Morphine slow release tablets up from 70mg to 90mg twice per day. I am only on my second day of them, but they are really making a difference, the discomfort that I have lived with for the past three years, has been reduced to a more background level, rather than driving me nuts continually. It has also reduced the pain levels throughout. The feared fog or grogginess just isn’t there. If anything, I would say that I am that bit brighter, which if you think about it, makes perfect sense. So at least today, I can end my post on a positive note, something I fear has been missing in the last couple of weeks, as I have often said, the good is there when you look for it.

 

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 23/06/2014 – Not an answer, but it helps

My body feels like a wound up spring that want to explode but can’t. It took me nearly 3 hours to sort out the overnight tweets, nothing odd there but I was finding it harder and harder as every minute passed to use three keys on my keyboard, Ctrl C to copy the name, Ctrl V to post them onto my spreadsheet. Each time I did it I felt as though all I wanted to do was scream loudly, not out…..

I never stop learning

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On Sunday, I struggled through what I hope was my last shower alone. It was actually a really odd shower, as I spent the whole thing looking for those points where realistically I need help. To my surprise, there were far more points of struggle, and even danger, than I had ever noticed before.

When you are just doing things, because they have to be done, you just do them regardless of their difficulty. From start to finish, it was pretty much a disaster, and one filled with so many danger points, that I began to wonder how I have been managing at all. My simple analysis from start to end proved what I already knew, the shower head spends more time on the floor than it does, actually pouring water over me. When we had the shower installed, I made a huge mistake of putting the fold-down seat directly below the shower pole. The result is that I have water pouring onto my head, somewhere that I don’t only find painful, but as anyone who cares for their hair will tell you, just removes shampoo and conditioner as soon as you put them on, not much use at all. For a long time, I have been thinking about adding another pole to the adjacent wall at a lower level, I could then control the flow and most importantly the direction, with much more care. I also think that it won’t just help me, but will help the carer who is coming to help me.

When it comes to washing my body, I have found that there are more parts of me, that I couldn’t really reach than I expected. I knew that the only way that most of my back has been washed for a long time, is while I am actually washing my hair, and during my final rinse, in other words, not at all. I have only been able to manage a cursory stab at my feet, and even parts of my legs don’t do much better. I have relied on the extra length that my razor offers to not just remove the hair, but hopefully the dirt as well.

Since my legs went just over six months ago, I can only say that luck must have been on my side. Getting dry, is nothing else other than an accident zone, waiting to happen. Without help, I have been up and down like a yo-yo, collecting towels, sitting, twisting and trying to dry myself just a little, before having to stand up again. The grab rails we installed several months ago have made it easier, but drying yourself one handed with a large heavy bath sheet, is ni on impossible. A combination of air drying, and sitting with the towel wrapped around me in my wheelchair when I can no longer reach anymore, or my legs don’t want to play this silly game any longer, has had to suffice. I have been accepting Adams help when it came to my feet, as my system had resulted in the skin scaling between my toes and in fact, all around the rest of my feet. He has achieved a huge improvement, but, is still scared of rubbing them quite as hard as they need to be.

Even once dry and dressed with Adams help, I still have to return to the bathroom to sort out those areas, where I have been using kitchen paper towel to ensure complete dryness. I have due to my cesarean scar, a large flap of skin that if it isn’t totally dry, rots. It’s not just there, but also under my breasts that have to be dry, before covering the skin with Savlon. You would think that knowing that has to be done, would be enough to ensure that I carried it out. but it isn’t. If I am not reminded, within 36 hours, they all begins to hurt and produce a someone unfriendly smell. The real problem is the loss of sensation, I don’t feel the pain and anyone else would, occasionally a mild stinging, but nothing more than that.

Having now only had a shower once a week, for the last few years, it has allowed Adam a whole week in which to wash my pajamas, socks, and dressing gown. Two weekly showers are going to put a huge strain on that system. For the first time in 5 years, I actually bought myself something new to wear, three new pairs of pajamas and a spare pair of trousers. All of which, apart from one of the tops, should be here today. Which means that this afternoon, I actually have to do some real work. Somehow, I need to clean out the draws in my bedroom, which have been holding a mixture of things I haven’t even seen in years. Years ago I offered not just to clean out the draws, but also my wardrobe, as nothing in either is of any use to me and Adam, really needs more storage. Over my years of immobility, I have ballooned from a size 8 to a size 22, virtually nothing I have is of any use to me. To date, he refuses to accept this offer as he sees it as my space, even when it’s space I don’t need. Yes, I need two of the four draws and some wardrobe space, but he can have most of it.

On the surface, asking someone to help you shower, sounds like nothing, but it is changing everything in ways that I never thought about. I have already had two sleepless nights about it. When they asked me “What time would you be ready for your shower in the morning?”, I was led by the word “morning”. The thing is, I don’t, I shower in the afternoon, between 3:00 and 3:30 usually, but being led, made me answer 9:30am. To do that, would cause me a total shack up of my routine and it was distressing me in ways that just weren’t worth it, long before I even started. I tried for two days to do what would achieve their plan, not showering, just all it would take to be ready. I couldn’t make it work in my head, and for me, that is where it matters. One phone call from Adam fixed it as closely as they could, it will now be 4 pm, something I can handle.

The whole of that is just another example of what goes on in my head, and how if I am led, I can land up anywhere. Right now, my spoken word is a total mess, I’m not sure if it is the flare or the steroids, but when I talk, I can get no more than seven words out, before forgetting what I am saying, or what the next word should be. At it’s worst, it’s every couple of words. All morning I feel fine, other than my hands and legs, then the phone rings, and I try to talk and the truth appears in a way it can’t be hidden. By evening, it is far worse, but fatigue amplifies everything. I am in no doubt now that I am in a flare, but if the steroids are helping or not, I’m not totally sure. They are not a panacea, and have been used for years because they can make a change, nothing new has been found that works any better. Which is just another sign of how little work is really being done in the field of MS. With me having PRMS, the chances of them fixing everything, is extremely thin, my condition rarely does what other forms do, and most of the time, I am on my own. My hands are that bit better, I can at least feel all of my fingers, but using them is very hit and miss. My legs which were fine to begin with, joined in over the weekend, there has been no change there. Although they have been collapsing for months, they are now also telling me they are going to do it, which is off-putting whenever I stand, especially as it makes me move slower, increasing the danger. All I can do is hold on, and wait. That is a continuing story, waiting and more waiting, as there is nothing more anyone can do.

 

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 08/06/2014 – When and how

I remember quite clearly my Mother and even my Grandmother complaining that they didn’t understand the world any longer. I used to laugh inside because I always thought that they were referring to the changing technology, the gizmo’s and gadgets that we these days wouldn’t use as they would already be seen as old fashioned. Now I wonder if what they really were talking about, was something…..

Mind the gaps

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I seem to be spending so much of my time confused these days, lost as to what is happening and when. I knew, and I have even mentioned them several times, that I have both hospital appointments and on top of that someone from Social Services coming to see me, but as to when any of these things were, well, next week was all that was in my head. It appears next week is far sooner than I thought. When Adam phoned me at lunchtime yesterday, he told me that he had managed to change the appointment with Gastro to an earlier slot on the same day. I had been worrying that going there so late in the morning, would lead to another horror story. I was so pleased that that one was sorted out, as I was quite honestly stressing about it already, and it’s not until the 16th of June, then Adam said something that made the colour drain from my face.

This Wednesday morning I will be at the breast screening clinic. That particular appointment was originally supposed to have taken place back in January. Due to not even being able to book an ambulance for five different dates, it was finally shunted all the way to May. I don’t know why, but I didn’t think it was until next Monday, no, that wasn’t one of the possible dates, just one my brain managed to create all by itself, something it seems to be doing with ease recently. My confusion was all the greater as quite clearly, Monday would no longer be May, but my brain was quite happily just ignoring that fact.

Not surprisingly, the fact I had that one wrong, meant the visit from Social Services had also become muddled. When Adam told me the other day, clearly, I wasn’t really able at the time to take in all that he was saying. He asked me something about would the two being in the same week, be too much for me. What he didn’t realise was that I was confused, so when he asked, I thought they would be three days to recover between them, not just one, plus, I thought I had the whole of this week doing nothing, just relaxing as much as possible, so no problem. Now I am faced with a total nightmare. Today, the shopping arrives, Wednesday, out to the breast clinic, Thursday to rest and then the assessment on Friday. This is a hugely busy and stressful week for me and I wasn’t even aware of any of it.

Dates, times, and appointments, all things that seem to be becoming more and more muddled. It doesn’t matter how many times Adam tells me what is happening, or how many times I have written these things down, my brain is determined to make a total mess of them. It isn’t helped as Adam throws into the mix of chatter about other people, his family, what’s no TV and so on. What should be clear information, lands up in my mind as anything but. Then leave me alone with what he thinks is clear details, and slowly I turn it into anything but. We have come up with different ways of dealing with this in the past, but none of them work and none of them result in breaking my confusion. But that doesn’t mean that we have given up, I have come up with a new idea, one that is at least worth trying. Last night, I suggested to Adam, that every Sunday evening when we sit down together to watch TV, that the first thing we do, is to go over everything and anything that will be happening in the next 8 days. I want him to tell me about what he will be doing, if he has time off, or he’s doing something with his family. If we have hospital appointments or if anyone is going to be coming here. I am hoping that with it being clear defined information, that we discuss face to face, that I will be able to avoid the panic attacks, of being totally lost.

Unless you have lived with confusion, it is something that is difficult to explain. I used to be so good at dates and so on, I never in my life had the need of a calendar or even a diary. I remembered everything, birthdays, days out, you name it, I knew when it was due to happen, at home, outside of it or at work. Finding that you can’t do something as simple as remembering the date of a hospital appointment, is scary. It’s even scarier when you suddenly don’t even know how old you are and have to work it out from the year you were born. Yes, that has happened to me, and more than once. We don’t expect our minds to drop information that simple and that vital, so when you are searching wildly for the answers, the fear starts to grow and just makes it worse by the second. It feels as though someone has managed to get inside your head, and has plucked all that you need that second, out of its home and planted it somewhere else, it’s just you don’t where. You run from place to place, to place, getting more and more desperate by the second. Should it be a case of someone else, telling you, you have it wrong, the effect is even worse.

I had without any doubt in my mind, the next two weeks planned out, I knew where I was going to be, what I was going to be doing and I was safe. Suddenly, all that knowledge was ripped into tiny pieces and I was standing there desperately trying to catch each piece as it fluttered just out of reach. It was out of reach because I knew where it was meant to be, I had known for weeks, so how could this new information possibly fit into my life. Making it fit was like picking up a mallet and voluntarily hitting myself over the head with it and I had to do it, as I now trust Adams brain, far more than I do my own when it comes to this sort of information. Once you find your brain letting you down, even if it is within defined parameters, you start to mistrust it in others, but there is only so much double checking that you can do before you drive yourself insane.

Watching your brain fall apart isn’t that easy to live with. I tried for a long time to pretend it wasn’t happening, but it is, and I know I can’t pretend it’s not any longer. It’s a growing fact, and something I am becoming more and more aware of. Which in an odd way, I guess is good. If I wasn’t aware, well I would be in a far worse place than I am.

 

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – 31/05/2014 – The small things in life

I don’t know who you are but good morning to the six people reading my blog at this very second, 10:49 am 31/05/14. I really love that little globe at the top of my blog page, it has this strange effect of changing my mood, just by looking at it. There are days like today when I pop in to pick up the details for the link at the bottom of each post, to the post from 2 years ago and I am greeted by flags around the world, flags belonging to people who are connected to me, right at that second. Just knowing……

Maybe tomorrow

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A letter arrived the other day, that as always Adam opened for me, it’s my turn to apply for PIP (Personal Independence Payment). I have been in receipt or DLA (Disabled Living Allowance) now for years, without it, I would have found life impossible, but it’s all change in the system and from everything I have heard, it’s not all good. I knew this day would come, they started rolling it out about 3 years ago now, I, though, have been just sitting here quietly just dreading the day that the letter would land. I am so glad that I chose ages ago to let Adam open and read all my mail, as I seem to get myself so confused and frequently distressed by even the simplest piece of news. Adam told me when it arrived and over the next couple of days, laid out the basics of what it contained, but when I got up this morning to find it sitting on my desk, with a note from Adam, explaining the other information I would need, I still got myself into a spin.

I find it so hard to accept that I was once a person who ran so many aspects of an international business, and now, a simple letter puts me into a panic. How has my brain diminished so far? I know from my writing and what I do on Twitter, that I can still appear as an almost normal intelligent woman, but I know, I’m not. Ask me to do anything, even the smallest thing that is outside of my normal everyday life, and I am beyond lost. The instance I am even faced by the idea, that I have to do something unusual, the panic begins. I have had so many experiences over the last years, that have taught me that my brain now has only one role, that of the trickster. It will misread, mishear and confuse me at any opportunity that it can find. From the simplest of things like getting the times wrong, the ones that are right there in front of me on the screen, for the evening’s TV viewing, to not being able to see that something is advice, not a fact. I quite simply, can’t trust myself about anything, and always check with Adam, that I have managed to get it right, before, I take any action. It’s easier that way, as if I don’t, I just land up wound up and in tears, over my stupidity. I wouldn’t trust me to do anything, that I don’t have the opportunity to check it all not just once but ten times, and even then, it doesn’t surprise me, that I get it wrong. Worse still, I all to often, don’t see my error until it’s far too late to fix it.

I can admit it now, but the last four years that I was working, I wasn’t. I knew things were falling apart, so I set to, and I automated almost everything that I had to do. I worked from home, so I spent the first three months writing computer program after program, that did every aspect of my daily work. By the end of my first year, I had reduced my actual physical daily work, to half an hour. Yes, I had ad-hoc work to do, but I had been doing the job for 10 years by that point, there was little that I hadn’t done before, so I at least had the basics required sitting at my finger tips, it was just a case of updating it. I didn’t feel guilty at all, that company had worked me into the ground for years. It was purely due to my teaching myself to programme, that meant I could even produce what they wanted before I was housebound. They wouldn’t spend the money on software, so I had to build it. I was also on 24/7 call out, to fix, patch and keep running, a phone system that was officially obsolete and I kept it running for 5 years, 2 years past the point of dead, without a penny more on my wages, it wasn’t unusual for me to spend my entire evening, or the bulk of the weekend, working on, no extra money and often, not even a thank you. They had used me for years, so no, I didn’t feel guilty doing what they asked, just not in the way they expected it to be done.

When I was made redundant, I knew inside that no one was going to employ me. I knew because, I, wouldn’t have employed me, but I tried. 18 months on, I accepted the truth. My brain, was no more up to it, than my body was able to getting me out of this house. Four years on beyond that, and I am the proud owner of a useless lump of flesh, that isn’t worth the space it takes filling up my skull.

At first, it was just the different, the unknown, the things that I wasn’t comfortable with, that upset me. Now, even the predictable throws me into the depths of despair. PIP is totally unknown. The person I will be speaking to is totally unknown. The questions they will ask me, well I might have a clue, but I know already, that I will at some point, land up in a stuttering mess. Talking to people on the phone, is daunting. What if I get someone who’s accent I can’t understand? Will they have the patience to let me think and to talk? Will they be upset, if I keep asking them to say things over and over, because, I don’t understand? If I get the questions muddled up, can I fix it later? I hate the phone even more than I hate meeting strangers face to face. What are they thinking? Are they laughing at me? Shaking their head and rolling their eye’s? Are they taking the mickey out of me? Why do I have to do these things? Who sits and thinks up the best way of upsetting those who don’t have the mental capability to deal with such a situation? Why can’t they just send me a form? Forms are good, you have time with a form, you can practice what you want to say, over and over, choose the best and write that one down. Forms are good, I like forms.

I can’t do this today. Not today, maybe tomorrow, by tomorrow I will have had time to think. I will have had time to talk to Adam, to go over it with him. I wish I had understood better what he was saying when he told me this letter was here. He makes light of everything, I guess he just hopes that I will be fine, this time, I won’t need him, this time, I’ll just do it. Why would he think that? No, I can’t do this today. I am too agitated by life to step into something new. Maybe tomorrow, maybe then I will up to picking up that phone and typing in those digits, maybe tomorrow, I will be able to actually talk.

 

Please read my blog from 2 years ago today – Staying happy

Sorry, sorry for going over so many things in the last few days that have been so serious and somewhat a downer, it’s a fact thought that chronic illness has so many things attached to it that make it easy……