For the record: yes, it's very nice that I'm not dying of Ebola somewhere. Yes, it's very nice that I'm not holding out a tin cup, begging for alms because I have leprosy. Yes, it's very nice that I'm not a quadruple amputee. Yes, I'm pleased that, so far as I know at this particular moment in time, I don't have cancer.
I am not remotely thankful or grateful that I have multiple sclerosis.
Okay? Just to be clear: there is not one single thing about this disease that inspires any desire to thank anyone or anything. It sucks like a Hoover on speedballs. It hurts. It's unpredictable. It causes depression. The treatments, such as they are, are expensive or painful or both, and ALL the damned treatments, painful or not, also cause depression.
So: not remotely thankful to have this disease.
I am not remotely thankful for the raft of health issues currently making my life miserable, any more than I've ever been inclined toward gratitude for the health issues that have dogged me from birth. Little things, little indignities. My friends who live with serious illness - CP, ongoing crippling migraines, CFS, cancer, you name it - will know what I'm talking about.
I am not remotely thankful for having so many damned things messed up in my autoimmune system that none of my doctors can figure out what's happening where.
I'm not thankful for my life-threatening allergies.
I'm not thankful for whatever's causing me to produce so much saliva that I can't even swallow it all. Yes, the claritin - after four days - has stopped working. We're back to square one. And they still aren't sure what's causing it.
I'm not thankful for the second instance in a month of having my right leg go into simultaneous episodes of myokemia and ataxia (if you don't know what they are, and want to, please google them; my hands hurt and I've got a lot of typing to do this morning).
I have no sense of gratitude whatsoever for the shakes in my hands.
I'm not planning on offering up gratitude for the slow disintegration of my spine, or for the bulging disc in my neck at C-spine C3-C4 that I can't afford the time or the money to get fixed right now. The neck hurts all the time; I do my best to ignore it. The spine is more ominous: little electric shocks and pain. Move a certain way, freeze in place, grind the teeth, wait for it to stop. Whom shall I thank for that?
I am undelighted about an upcoming replay of the mangled biopsy. This one is likely to suck not much less than the mangling did.
I'm not thankful for the throat that keeps wanting to swell shut, or the fact that I keep losing my voice.
And I am REALLY not offering any thanks for the little white lesions on my brain.
I'm tired of physical pain. I'm tired of watching my body disintegrate. I want my health back. I'll take any part of it back.
Give me back my health. I'm not asking for a fountain of youth, I just want my health back. I'm 53, not 83. This is ridiculous.
Give me back some health, and we'll talk about thanks and gratitude and discuss half-full glasses. Right now, the glass is perilously close to empty.
Labels: health, ms