Hi! I'm postponing writing about Captain Lee. Learned something new and important about him recently.
I don't want to talk about it.
What I would prefer to talk about is MS. (That's a clue as to how bad it is. But, I don't want to talk about it. I can't. Not yet.)
Oh and I'd like to talk about cognitive difficulties and MS. (Yay!)
Maybe it's that I'm tired from my big trip into NYC yesterday to see the Colbert Report (Yay for real!). Maybe it's just all these flubs happening at around the same time, but I'm feeling a bit freaked out today. On Tuesday, I realized that I had missed my daily shot the day before. It's been a year for me (nearly), and that was the first day I'd missed. I found out, also on Tuesday, that I forgot to pay my son's preschool tuition (which is too damn high, but whatever) for February. I neglected to check the hours for the MoMA yesterday morning, so that I get into the city early specifically to see the Cindy Sherman exhibit there and that goddamned place was closed.
So, it's okay, right? I just then realize that I didn't bring a coat to the city, but rather wore a big sweater and now I'm hot, so let's go buy a shirt and a coat so that I can take off this goddamned sweater but still not wear a bra. I have trouble wearing bras lately. I might be "Fuck you guys!" to everyone, but I still will not wear a tank top with no bra out in public. Hence, the needed shirt and light jacket combo.
So, all that's been happening. But then, I got to see Stephen Colbert in person last night and it was rad! At one point I was six feet from him - for the bit with the skeeball ticket redemption in last night's 1000th episode. Handsome man!
I also got the day off from my kids, which was nice. My three year old son has been difficult lately in the terrible two's (or rather, terrible three's) kind of a way. So, it was nice to take a break from it. I wish the MoMA had been open, but all in all, excellent trip.
Wow. I had thought of a few things to talk about re cognitive difficulties, but now I'm thinking about yesterday and am all happy and don't want to whine. Eh, let's get them down, shall we? Otherwise, I'll forget soon enough.
Firstly, I completely cannot teach organic chemistry anymore. Or general chemistry, for that matter. In addition to having zero short-term memory, I also do this thing where I say the opposite of what I should at critical times. To my son, as he's learning how to use real toothpaste, I say, "Now swallow it!" when I want to say, "Now don't swallow it!" or "Now spit out the water!" It's weird.
And I know there's the tendency to say, "Oh...everyone does that! That's normal!" and that's very nice of you. It is. But, I could never teach organic chemistry again. And that's pretty much my only marketable skill right now. "It's (R). No. Wait. It's (S). No. Wait, there are two stereocenters. It's (S,R). No. Wait. It's (R,S)." And in my head, I want to say, "Aw, Jesus, who fucking cares. R, S, it doesn't matter."
Only it does. It's a goddamned disaster. The last semester, fall 2010, was like that and that was a year and a half ago and I was still really up on organic. My students, though, had a hard go of it. I felt bad.
I guess my other marketable skill is taking care of children, but unless they want someone who has periods of extreme fatigue as well as a hair-trigger temper, they might look elsewhere.
I guess all this is just now hitting home. I need to prepare for it, too. My next goal, after cleaning the outside of all our windows - my claustrophobia/neat-freakiness compelled me to do that - is to clean my desk and prepare for a hand-off of the bill paying and all that to my husband. Who really really doesn't want to have anything to do with our money because he has his own anxiety issues. Understandable, for the sole salary earner, but I don't honestly know if I can be trusted. A few months ago, I sent the wrong check to the occupational therapist. I sent her payment and my son's tuition in the same envelope. Oh, and don't get me started on taxes. I'm responsible for our taxes. This will hopefully be the last year of that.
So I'm going to be responsible and get my affairs in order, so to speak. Pray to God I don't throw away some extremely important piece of paper in my cleaning frenzy. Aww, crap, that's going to happen. Let's just hope it's not too important.
Two last depressing things: 1. I'm reminding myself of my dad more and more, only he has dementia that was brought on by years of alcohol and drug abuse and mine is due to nothing I actually did. Hardly fair.
And 2. I came across this person's little bio/inspirational essay in More magazine at the dentist the other day. Yesterday. That seems like a long time ago. Weird! Anyway, here's the ending:
With MS, there are days I’m going to have pain whether I sit in my chair and wallow or keep moving. It’s a choice. And my choice is, I’m not going to live my life on the sidelines.
Eff you, I don't feel like moving. Actually, today I do, that's not true. I just don't want to be made to feel guilty for those days when I don't feel like moving. I've found that shame is not a motivator for me - in fact it makes me angry and defiant. How dare you try to tell me how to handle my version of this stupid illness. Really, how dare you. (Spoken as if I was Maggie Smith, naturally.)
I know, I know, I'm being a pain in the ass. I'm being paranoid and stupid. She's not trying to tell me what to do, but probably telling us what she says to herself to get herself motivated to do all that exercise. Maybe what she tells herself to just get through the day. Good for her, I guess.
Oh! That reminds me - I had a super paranoid, The Game type of incident yesterday on the train to and subway in NYC: This middle-aged, paunchy guy in a bad sweater and white sneakers was taken aback by me at the Middletown train platform. I somehow startled him. Weird, but whatever - I was walking at a good clip. Weirder, though, is that he went through Penn Station, same as me, to then get to the uptown E train platform of that train station - you know, Penn Station, which is ginormous and chock full of people. At that point, I was startled. And then I kept looking over my shoulder until above ground - certain he was following me. Which he wasn't. But that wasn't to say that someone else in the Game took his place, since he was fingered. I had it all worked out.
Oh, brain, what won't you come up with next. I'm glad I got this rant out. Feels good. This week in MS, indeed.