Pretty Good

Today was an incredibly surprising day.

I had a really crappy night. Pounding heart, uncomfortable muscles with twitches, a tension headache across the brow, and major anxiety.

I woke up this morning and my legs worked. My body didn't ache. I didn't have a headache, nausea or feel like vomiting. The pressure behind my left eye was gone and the continuing blood-shot look of that eye continues to decrease. I felt *good*.

I didn't feel back to normal, or like I did a year ago, but I felt good. I felt like maybe I was making some progress. Like maybe things really could be different in a couple of months. Last night was the first case of side effects of the solumedrol steroid treatments. Five doses and then I get side effects. Great.

Speaking of side effects, the reaction I had the first time to this treatment likely wasn't caused by the treatment, but the fact that I had a slight case of double vision that was causing vertigo. My EEG showed some crazy stuff going on with my ocular nerve before the treatment, and it took over two weeks for the treatment to shut it down. So, 17 days of puking was caused by my eye. How about that?

It's weird, I have felt so crappy for so long to have a day like today (a day I've been dreading for more than a couple of weeks) is really inspiring. I can't shake the feeling in the back of my head that it's all going to fall apart again, but today was good.

In about 15 hours I will be past my period of cytotoxicity and will be able to kiss and drool on my husband again. I am going to try a new remedy to ease my dry, flaking, screwed up skin tomorrow, and try to get back into my routine of vitamins and supplements to make up for the fact that I really, really can't cook.

I wore makeup to the hospital yesterday. It's the first time I've worn makeup in months. That's a big deal, but it felt really good to actually give a shit about my appearance.

The thing that freaked me out the most yesterday was that I couldn't remember being there a month ago. I mean, I know I went, I know that my friend Rina took me there and met me at the nurse's station to pick me up, but I couldn't remember where I went in the hospital, I didn't remember the nurse, or the room, or anything. The nurse remembered everything about me, including what kind of hat I wore the last time. She remembered my husband's name, even though he wasn't even there the last time. It was weird. I was incredibly upset that I couldn't remember anything about my first treatment other than the guy who was in the next bed was kind of a jerk.

Ahhhh, cognitive difficulties. Or trauma. Who knows really?

I have a difficult time being patient with myself, I have a lot of things that I have to work out financially and career-wise. I wish I was capable of drinking more wine with friends and being able to fall asleep at midnight or getting up before 1 PM.

About getting up before 1 PM, my mum is telling my grandma I have MS tomorrow. So, I have to be up at 9:15 AM to suck back enough coffee to be coherent enough to talk to my grandma. She's a little emotional, loves her grandkids, and has a blood pressure issue. I don't want her to have a stroke over this, so there's a ledge she will need to be talked down off of.

I hope mum has a lot of tissues. This is going to be a tear-jerker for her.