Sorry I've been away so long. I've probably lost what little readership I had. I've been having a sort of crisis of faith about my progress, or lack thereof. It seems like in spite of my efforts I continue to do poorly. Every morning I wake up and think, "today I am going to feel better." Invariably this is not the case. But then I remember one character flaw I've never been able to correct, my impatience. I've always done things fast and expected fast results. A lot of times this works my benefit, in school and work and with things like household chores and being somewhere on time. However, there are some glaring disadvantages such as heartburn, worry and high blood pressure. The former comes from, as my friends and family annoyingly put it, "inhaling" food. I probably hear on a daily basis, "wow you really ate that fast," or, "did you even taste that?" And, my personal favorite, the ever pithy, “Gee, you're like a vacuum cleaner." Original. Although I usually mumble something akin to unintelligible agreement, like a grunt or a half smile, what I really want to say is, "Can you blame me? Between the lackluster conversation and the irritating noises you make when you chew your food, I'm just trying to finish up so I can get the hell out of here."

The latter two problems with fast processing speed, worry and high blood pressure, are due to the fact that I expect an effect almost before I submit a cause. “What do you mean the cookies aren't done? I just put them in the oven like five minutes ago.” “I've been on this damn diet for three days now and I haven't lost an ounce." If I take medicine for a cough or sore throat and it hasn't kicked in in the first 10 minutes, I obviously have some incurable form of throat cancer. Internet shopping is excruciating. It's almost not worth the convenience of shopping in my bedroom when I have to wait 7 to 10 days to get what I ordered. I don't think I've ever been able to make it to the end of a book without knowing how it's going to end. I flip to the last page before I've gotten a quarter of the way through the book. Patience is not my strong suit. Let me tell you, multiple sclerosis is not a disease that lends itself well to being impatient. The fact that it takes me more than 20 minutes to get dressed in the morning when it used to take me less than five is something that causes me a healthy amount of frustration. If I head off to bed around midnight I can safely expect to be tucked in around 12:30. Between transferring from my chair to my bed, situating myself comfortably, getting the blankets arranged and a host of other niggling annoyances by the time I close my eyes I'm more awake than I was when I decided to go to bed. If I have somewhere to be at a specific time I need to give myself a good one and a half to two hours head start. I spend most of my day getting ready for the day. By the time I'm ready to get started, the day is over.

All of this is tangential to my point, what was that again? Oh yeah, that I am expecting to do cartwheels after having given my new plan of action just a few weeks to take effect. Sure I have started going to bed earlier (tonight notwithstanding), I'm taking better care of myself, I'm on a new treatment regimen and I am working towards new solutions to current symptoms. But I've only been doing this for a few weeks. I haven't even started physical therapy yet. I've only had one treatment of methotrexate. Yet I am expecting instantaneous miracles. I just need to calm down and realize that nothing that is truly enduring in this world was ever effected overnight. There is no insta-cure, and if there were, it would probably be temporal and half-baked. The key to all this is going to be perseverance. I am probably going to have just as many bad days as I am good, if not more. It's going to be very difficult not to get discouraged. I often feel like I am trying to stop a bullet wound from bleeding with a band-aid (misplaced modifier?), or like I'm trying to stop a dam from bursting by plugging the hole with my finger. I don't think those thoughts are ever going to completely go away. That's fine. As long as I keep them in check and not let them run amok through my brain, I'll be okay. I would rather be Pollyanna than some whiny slob no one wants to be around.

So I guess I am over my pity party, as fun as it was time to move on. I hope I will be away this long again.