For the past two-and-a-half weeks, giving my all to work, I come home with little left for me. Fine motor control is absent from my right hand. I am beat down from the effort needed to walk--even with my cane. Thinking at length leaves me near collapse. And, my usually thick social bulwarks are crumblng. The exhaustion does have one benefit, then. I am too tired to speak my mind.

I am too tired, now, to continue.

To all who offered support, advice, and perspective.

Though I’m feeling better, I’m not up to replying to every individual reply. What I read was gratifying, helpful, and uplifting. Thank you.

(Typing this while wearing an eye patch over my right eye, and having the visible display setting for Word at 150 percent.)

Went to work, today, and met with my supervisor to discuss my APR. My absences and occasional difficulties with attention to detail led to low ratings in places. Though I won’t be fired, I have been given a “letter of employment,” instead of a renewed contract. So, I’ve been wondering if it is time to give up full-time employment.

(Ideally, I should move on, but finding new work, almost two years ago, didn’t pan out. These days, it is difficult to gather the energy and focus needed to search and prepare materials.)

I need to think more about this change before writing about it here.

(Please comment, though, if you'd like to.)

Recovering from fatigue, experiencing double vision, and reduced executive function.

Yeah, the events of yesterday proved to be--well, you’ve read the previous three entries--but today was . . . okay. Why? Because I’m on top of things.

Yes, I had trouble getting to sleep. Yes, my sleep was not fulfilling. Yes, I awoke, early. But, I've taken the day in hand.

So far, I've washed dishes, prepared a heap (my son wants "heap;" I prefer "thrasher") of bacon, started filling in a new address book, and started cleaning up the mess that my apartment had devolved to over the past few weeks. While doing so, I listened to an interview with the poet who won the 2006 Pulitzer Prize, and an episode of Human Kind, which focused on positive psychology, the science of gratitude. (I am grateful for National Public Radio.)

Friday, when I was at work making up time lost earlier in the week, I met the young daughter--four, maybe five--of one of my students. The charming girl suffers from hearing loss, so her mother uses Sign with her. I got to use Sign. The delight in her face, when I, a total stranger, could speak her language, proved joyous for me.

(I've been using Sign with my son--who is not deaf--since he was born. A few years back, when we were at an ice cream store, and he was in his "I must meet everyone stage," we spent time with a family with a son with Down's Syndrome. The parents used Sign with him, which my son caught on to, so he used Sign with the boy, who was delighted to converse with someone close to his age.)

All right, I'm starting to babble--probably because of exhaustion. Wanted to let the wonderful people who have replied to my past two entries that I am well and in good spirits.

 keeps on flowing.

File under, "Even for the healthy":

Okay, I've mentioned before that the disabled, who must cope with what comes with the disability, must also deal with the everyday, the things the healthy face.

Two days ago, I sat in my car while the icy road wrecked it. Today, my toilet overflowed--and kept on flowing. While I was on the phone to management, whatever blocked the toilet gave way and the water stopped pouring forth. Of course, inches of water now coated my bathroom floor and was soaking into the hallway carpet. Maintenance showed up with a snake, but left for a shop vac. (Damn, they are noisy.) So, there is at least one advantage to renting one's domicile

Though I'm missing work for non-MS reasons, my boss still has had to pick up the slack for me. I don't know how this will turn out. Right now, I am waiting for claims adjustor to arrive.

Shakespeare leaps to mind. "When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone do beweep my outcast state, and trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries."

I live in Lawrence, Kansas, and drive to and from Kansas City, Kansas, five days a week. 

Yesterday evening, in freezing rain, while about to merge on to I-70, my car began to skid. I was managing a recovery, when the tires caught more ice. A 180-degree turn, at high speed, and the car slammed, lengthwise, against the concrete dividers.

I wasn't hurt, but I saw through the window a bent hood and steam, or smoke, coming from the engine. I babied the car to the right shoulder, but the brakes didn't work. I stopped the car by shifting to park. I put on my four-ways, the dome light, and waited.

No cell phone. I live on the edge, financially, so I don't budget for such a device. So, I waited. Even if it wasn't night time, or not raining, or the temperature near-freezing, I couldn't have left the car. How far would I have gotten on my cane and in my dress shoes? So, I waited, checking the rearview mirror often for the lights of a state trooper, while wearing two coats, gloves, and a scarf. I had turned on the engine, once, but the shaking and the noise scared me. So, I waited.

About an hour and a half later, someone knocked on the front, passenger-side door. I had moved to that side because I couldn't open the driver's-side door. Two guys with a tow truck had seen my dome light and had turned around to check on me. We agreed on a fee to tow my car to Lawrence, and I hobbled to the cab of their truck.

Beyond calling the insurance company, this morning, I haven't been able to think much about that to do next.

 This past week, the supervisor, with whom I have struggled with for months, shared with me that she has an aunt with MS.

"Didn't I tell you about her?" she asked.

The following is the answer that went through my mind. "No, you fucking didn't. Had you done so, I would have asked you to ask her about the effects of MS. Had you told me, I would have asked you why you, for so damn long, demonstrated so little understanding of and compassion about my difficulties. Why didn't you speak out when I provided a list of well-known people living with MS?"

Oh, brother.