I guess my promise not to take another long hiatus from writing sort of went down the toilet. In all honesty, it's been a pretty stressful couple of months or so with trying to figure a lot of things out. It's okay though, I'm doing well aside from fatigue and a new relapse that is including vertigo which throws me off balance so if you see me out, I'm not as drunk as I might look. I'm powering through it, setting myself some nap schedules and adjusting to my new normal. Now that the diagnosis is definitive and the syringes of Copaxone are sitting happily in my fridge, I feel ... well, I feel surreal.
"New Normal". Is there such a thing or is normal not so compliant as to allow itself to become in a state of newness? I don't know how well or for how long I can wax poetic on the ever changing and morphing state of normal. I guess it can change, we change. I read somewhere that people tend to have gone through personality changes on an average of every seven years which explains why when we reacquaint ourselves with someone from our past, they can seem so very different than what we remember. Silly maturing brain.
So I suppose the point of my rant before I drifted off into a pre-nap, exhausted tangent is that my new normal includes a feeling of being surreal. I guess the surreal feeling is coming from having to adapt to something that I just wasn't prepared for nor did I ever want to be prepared for it. Sitting across from a neurologist and hearing him say that he was positive I had MS turned my whole world upside down. He went on after that explaining to me the ins and outs of the disease but all I heard was that I am now the proud new owner of the same disease that killed my mother. I know, I know ... medications and treatments and outcomes are completely different now and the chances of me ending up with such an aggressive form of the disease is slim but I can't help it if I slip into memories.
There's a lot of new things that this new normal has brought with it, like giant pink elephants in the room with me that I try to ignore. I'm sure this is perfectly normal to allow myself to slip into autopilot as I progress though the daily tasks of laundry and dishes and sweeping floors, chasing kids and making lunches. The elephants sit there though, waiting for attention but I prefer the autopilot. The old wonderful will has to be updated and we all know just how much fun that can be (definite sarcasm there) plus with that comes appointing guardians which means some difficult conversations to have. Then there's determining a living will and the possibility of appointing someone power of attorney in the case that I can't make decisions on my own (already had a pretty intense nightmare about that one that required tea to recover). There's also looking for a new apartment without stairs since my heavy legs are making it hard to get up and down the ones here. I also have to hunt for some fat utensils for my gimpy hands, find some way to get some vocational training since office work is out of the question and almost impossible to me now and blah and blah and blah and elephants. I prefer autopilot for the majority of the day and tackle the big things one at a time, no rush since I plan on being here until I'm at least 114 years old.
So even though I'm gliding through my days spaced out on Planet Distracted listening to old George Carlin stand-up and crossing things off of my multiple lists, I seem to be enjoying these days more. I get excited for sunshine and snowflakes, the rain doesn't seem like such a horrible thing anymore. I don't dread the housework but rather enjoy the outcome after a good cleaning session. I like chasing tiny people around in the morning and waking the munchkins up has become a game. I look forward to making supper and hanging out listening to the events of the day from the perspective of three elementary school kids whose hugs have become the best thing in the world, I could simply melt. The daily trip to the gym to limp around with the other ladies, most of them over 65 and in better shape than me, is inspiring and amazing. My lovely and sometimes strange BBM texts from two of the most wonderful and beautiful girls I know are sure to brighten my day and are definitely something I thoroughly enjoy, even if most of them are sent from the bathroom. Then there are Thursdays. Yeah, that's a whole other post but that amazing shooting teacher still gives me butterflies and makes me stutter. Thursdays have become my favourite days, one that I can forget my elephants and relax with someone who loves zombies as much as I do, can talk as much as I do and smell the pears and caramel in a freshly opened bottle of whiskey.
It has become quite a surreal life these last couple of months. 2013 was frought with worry and wonder and 2014, although started quite oddly, seems to be settling itself into a balance of exceptionally difficult and exeptionally beautiful.
There's a lot of new things that this new normal has brought with it, like giant pink elephants in the room with me that I try to ignore. I'm sure this is perfectly normal to allow myself to slip into autopilot as I progress though the daily tasks of laundry and dishes and sweeping floors, chasing kids and making lunches. The elephants sit there though, waiting for attention but I prefer the autopilot. The old wonderful will has to be updated and we all know just how much fun that can be (definite sarcasm there) plus with that comes appointing guardians which means some difficult conversations to have. Then there's determining a living will and the possibility of appointing someone power of attorney in the case that I can't make decisions on my own (already had a pretty intense nightmare about that one that required tea to recover). There's also looking for a new apartment without stairs since my heavy legs are making it hard to get up and down the ones here. I also have to hunt for some fat utensils for my gimpy hands, find some way to get some vocational training since office work is out of the question and almost impossible to me now and blah and blah and blah and elephants. I prefer autopilot for the majority of the day and tackle the big things one at a time, no rush since I plan on being here until I'm at least 114 years old.
So even though I'm gliding through my days spaced out on Planet Distracted listening to old George Carlin stand-up and crossing things off of my multiple lists, I seem to be enjoying these days more. I get excited for sunshine and snowflakes, the rain doesn't seem like such a horrible thing anymore. I don't dread the housework but rather enjoy the outcome after a good cleaning session. I like chasing tiny people around in the morning and waking the munchkins up has become a game. I look forward to making supper and hanging out listening to the events of the day from the perspective of three elementary school kids whose hugs have become the best thing in the world, I could simply melt. The daily trip to the gym to limp around with the other ladies, most of them over 65 and in better shape than me, is inspiring and amazing. My lovely and sometimes strange BBM texts from two of the most wonderful and beautiful girls I know are sure to brighten my day and are definitely something I thoroughly enjoy, even if most of them are sent from the bathroom. Then there are Thursdays. Yeah, that's a whole other post but that amazing shooting teacher still gives me butterflies and makes me stutter. Thursdays have become my favourite days, one that I can forget my elephants and relax with someone who loves zombies as much as I do, can talk as much as I do and smell the pears and caramel in a freshly opened bottle of whiskey.
It has become quite a surreal life these last couple of months. 2013 was frought with worry and wonder and 2014, although started quite oddly, seems to be settling itself into a balance of exceptionally difficult and exeptionally beautiful.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Come on...let me know what you think... or just follow me on twitter @blueallieboo and rant to me there ;)