Monday, May 25, 2009

I like walking. It kicks ass.

Let me take this opportunity to skip the whining for once and say something positive: I can walk (again) and I like it. Thus far, MS has only "borrowed" things from me and I'd like to say thanks to the hobgoblin for returning the items it took, still relatively undamaged. I know I tend toward ranting and cursing so I'm warning you that this blog will not be that. Don't go looking for rainbows and unicorns here or anything, but today I've got good things to say.

I've managed to come through another exacerbation without any noticeable permanent deficiencies. I've got the feeling back in my feet (except around the toes) and they aren't burning anymore. My legs are back to working reliably and the crushing fatigue has finally lifted. Now that I'm not so surly and defeated I can admit again that I have it much better than others and now find myself a bit ashamed of all my carrying on.

I have found myself in a better mood lately, but I'm a little suspicious of it's origins and timing. Is it the nortriptyline that I've been taking? Am I getting used to this bizarre schedule at work?
Even my husband has noticed my "better mood" lately. Wink wink, nudge nudge. I'm a bit wary because I don't think too much has changed. I'm still stressed about all the usual things. And I'm still not sleeping so good, but I haven't been sick, which is weird. The typical stomach bugs and colds and the like have plagued my friends, family, and coworkers, but I haven't gotten my share. Very strange. Makes me think that I must be on the placebo for the Fingolimod trial because I get the impression that the folks on THE DRUG catch every little thing.

I have an uncanny feeling of gratitude lately. I'm grateful for my job even though it sometimes sucks. I'm pleased as punch with my mother for taking care of the kids this summer, saving me tons of money and worry. I find myself smiling during the half mile trek from one end of the hospital to the other because I'm not dragging one of my legs or concentrating on landing. every. single. step. And I'm really quite pleased with how easily I can avoid the hazards of manuevering around the oxygen tubing and urinary catheters and velcro straps and IV tubing strewn around every single patient.

I can walk, and that's rad. I walked across the causeway in the middle of the night with my husband just for fun. I walk around the grocery store without having to lean on the cart the way I remember my grandmother doing it. I'm not staring enviously at House's cane anymore. (I actually started to imagine how much easier walking would be with a cane during this last relapse.) I'm going to New Orleans in July (yes, JULY. Yes, I know it'll be hot.) with my husband and I'm gonna walk all over the French Quarter so I can show him all my favorite places. I can again wear whatever shoes I want without worrying which ones will trip me up or be too "quiet" to help me figure out when my foot has hit the floor.

Being able to walk is the shit.