Tremors

Unfortunately the monster doth protest. I have had some real breakthrough pain in the last couple of days. I have tried to get by with taking Motrin and doubling up on some of the meds. I guess the good news -- can there be good news with any of this?-- is that I am only feeling pain on one side. Which means the diagnosis remains correct. Which means I am a candidate for the surgery. Which means I can start freaking out again about said surgery.

I have been having incredible dreams due to, I am sure, the massive amounts of drugs, I mean medicines, coursing through my system. (I really do need to stop calling them drugs. I had to go tell my kid's teachers that I am not on "drugs" I am on medicine) And one of the weirder parts of being on the four different meds and having these crazy dreams is that I remember them in the middle of the day, quite clearly and I have to literally stop and think, Was that real? Did I really experience that? Or was that a dream?

The way I realize that those moments aren't real is that they suddenly stop replaying in my head and I can't remember them. I assume that if they were a real memory, I would be quite clearer in my ability to keep them going and remember them. I am sure I look crazy with my hands jerking about and my mind suddenly wandering and wondering. I tend to drop a lot of items now, my usual grace (that of a fencer) is completely gone. I am jerking and shaking all over the place. If I wore a suit of armor, it would be clanking and clanging. Surely the people around me would protest this, but in my image of me is a mess.

My life has taken such a strange turn. I spend every Thursday night as a seventy year old woman. I get all of my bottles out and my tray of pill cases and divvy them out. I might as well have Lawrence Welk blaring on the TV. It used to be Thursdays were "Jousters Nights" (a little shout out to my dear old Ohio friends) a bar that would sell anything to anyone no matter what the age. Now I am hoping that one of those drunks got their degree in Neurology and is working to solve my condition.

And as I get ready to go to bed and have a night of crazy, vivid dreams, I place my ice packs in a neat little row in the freezer so I can easily grab them in the middle of the night. In the dark, my ice packs are my only defense against the monster under my skin. It is me against it as I struggle for sleep. I am staring down a gigantic windmill, holding an icepack and praying that someone out there can relieve me of this journey.