World MS Day and things that are apropos of nothing.

(insert sound of one single party blower here)

I've been on Copaxone for one month now. It was really uneventful until yesterday when my injection site on my right arm was hard and itchy all day and it continued into today. Don't what that is about, so I'm going to call my Copaxone nurse tomorrow.

My symptoms are stable for the most part. Still numb fingers and toes, wonky left leg, sketchy balance and a spastic left calf. Ray of student RMT fame has been working that calf and my feet with massage therapy and I can feel my leg unwound for days a time now. I can't meet with him this week and I'm sure I will miss it.

--

I've been thinking a lot about secrets these days. I think it's because I've started writing again and my opening sentence from yesterday isn't something that I think my mother would be pleased with and I think that my grandmother would have a stroke at the mere idea of it.

I realized that for me to really write publicly about what I want to write about must wait until my grandmother has passed and my mother is senile. That makes me sad because that's going to be a long freakin' time.

I've done very little in my life that I am proud of. Two of those things have to be kept secret for the time being (See: Grandmother). The other two are really only impressive to me and that is it. Four things.

I find that I have lived much of my life waiting for better days because the present has been so crappy. I still feel like that most days I am at work. That tells me that the antidepressants work to keep me from killing myself but do not give me a false sense of happy.

Which is kind of a relief now that I consider that.

Next month will mark a year on Wellbutrin. Given how much generalized anxiety I've been having lately I'm planning on making another trip to the neuropsychiatrist - this time for some Adivan and cognitive testing.

Since Joe has decided that I am going to be an economist I need to figure out what is wrong with my brain that will hold me back from scholastic success. I'm fucking stupid all the time now and I know that some of it is related to the MS and some is probably just understimulation. There's no complex thinking in my life on a day to day basis unless I go looking for it.

I do wish things were different and I do live a lot of my life waiting for better times in the future. Maybe I'm making peace with that.

And the book says, "We may be through with the past, but the past ain't through with us."