This is such a sick joke. I actually thought the last few days, maybe this is the beginning of the end. I think I’m going to get better now… What’s wrong with me? Am I going to spend the next 20 years thinking this is over every time I have a day when I’m able to move? I’m so angry about the tease. I’m so angry about the Catch-22: I can’t move without hurting myself and, if I don’t move, I’m hurting myself.
I had a horrible night’s sleep. Didn’t fall asleep until nearly 2am, had nightmares, awoke constantly, had drenching sweats. Today I feel like a truck hit me. All of my muscles feel inflamed. I’m hunched, I’m hobbling, I’m creaking, I’m wheezing. My spine is rebar, my eyes are embers, my head is a rotten apple.
But my mood isn’t plummeting into despair. It’s just sitting in anger, which, for me, is much more manageable. My stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance) seem to be mixed up. You’re meant to go from depression to acceptance. I’m going backwards. I was in depression last month, denial yesterday and today I’m angry, so let’s get straight to bargaining: I would give a limb to be out of pain. I would give two limbs to not have this disease. No contest. I will never, ever work myself close to death again and neglect all my friends and family. I will do nothing but altruistic work for the rest of my life, if this is taken away. I could bargain for days.
Now I hope we can just jump over depression and get straight to acceptance.