Two and a half years ago, I was diagnosed with MS. Hardly fatal, but I do think it’s killing me. Know what I mean by that?
It hurts, I hurt. I twitch, and jerk and I have periodic tremors, I sometimes experience foot spasticity and fall and always in public. I make a half hearted joke about an old wound sustained during my two tours in Iwo Jima that never goes over well for a myriad of reasons. I also have cervical stenosis which presents its own neural fuck fest. The two combined maladies mean sometimes I sleep for days. Other times, I’m awake for days. I can’t handle heat without serious repercussions. Like wilting. My A/C is turned down to Inuit. I don’t leave my house much, especially in the afternoon. I eagerly await The Hill Country’s first cold front.
Bring it, Ma Nature. And hurry.
But if cold weather won’t come to me, I’ll go to it. In fact, my family is going to NYC after Thanksgiving to celebrate my sister’s 68th birthday. The concierge at the Trump Hotel and yes, those reservations were most intentional, says it almost always snows the week after Thanksgiving. We’re staying in a suite….Central Park side, thank you and I’ll be the one in flip flops and shorts, Trump dress code be damned. It will definitely be cold.
Good thing I look smashing in blue.
But on a serious note, MS includes so many indignities I won’t mention here. In the beginning they used to make cry, but now I’ve hardened some. A chronic disease just becomes a way of life. It doesn’t define me, but it certainly feels like it defiles me in many ways. You don’t get used to all the changes in bodily functions: you just learn to accept them . MS is one massive effort of acceptance. It bears emotional weight too. My short term memory, going back about ten years has been greatly effected. I used to be able compartmentalize things, with instant retrieval. Can’t do that anymore.
That ability sure helped when I was in comedy. If it was Thanksgiving, I could pull out a Samoset joke. Now, I think Samoset is some kind of luggage. Now, I have to check my calendar several times a day just to remind myself of the date. Now, I tell family members where important things are because I’ll forget where I put them.
On a more important note, (I don’t mean to sound self-important) , I’ll be blogging more. I’ve been instructed to use my brain several hours a day. Word games, solitaire, crosswords, and yes, blogging.
So, after a lengthy hiatus, I’m back, but fear not—MS will not be the essence of every post and I think my days of overanalyzing American Horror Story episodes are over. Trying to find logic within the plot holes season after season made me consider becoming a Socialist.. I’m now binge watching lots o’ cable shows such as Succession, Homeland, Mind Hunters, Chernobyl, The Pacific, Ray Donovan and Shameless (sans Finona) and select network shows which might tickle my journalistic fancy, One upcoming story is about the adult son (a detective) of a very prolific serial who helps his equally psychopathic son solve crimes. Few people know this but I seriously considered becoming a criminologist, but there was all that pesky psychology.
And finally, you can expect some political rants, stuff about Longhorn football, audacious criticisms of public features, basic human observations, whining about my non-existence love life, and a general sprinkling of well frankly……the same old crap.
Tootles.
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