What Is Wrong With Me?!

Trying to acclimate myself to a higher dose of Neurotin is kicking my butt. I spend 90% of the day sleeping and the other 10% trying to get something -- anything -- done. That 10% is spent scratching my itchy spots, which there are many right now, grabbing the funnel and crunching up Pringles and cake donuts to funnel down my throat before the Neurotin kicks in and I go back to being comatose. Yesterday I was snarfing Pringles and sunflower seeds when I fell asleep. I woke up with crumbs all over my shirt and even a few sunflower seed shells stuck to me. How revolting! I was irritated that the dogs didn't clean me up while I was knocked out. When I'm awake and eating they won't leave me alone. I fall asleep with a feast on my shirt and they can't be bothered. But they sure found the time to rip apart their water bucket and the garbage. There were plastic pieces all over and chewed up paper towels scattered all over the floor. It took me a few hours to come out of my haze to clean it up, after I cleaned myself up first, of course.

These itchy spots are going to drive me crazy... well, crazier. My palms itch like mad, especially my right one, this attack (don't care what the neurologists say, I know my body) is killing my face/ear, making my right leg spasm and clench up, which is very painful and making my muscles very sore, and these itchy spots! My head itches so I have to dig in my hair like a flea ridden dog. I told my little sister I thought I had lice and she ran off before I could tell her I was kidding. She would believe that because I love to go to thrift stores and try on the hats, which she is convinced are crawling with lice, but I haven't gotten lice yet and even if I did it is worth it to try on those great hats. My right arm and leg crawl constantly to where I have dug up the skin in places. But the relief of a good scratch is worth a scabby body. Again, my little sister says I look like a person with a skin disease, I am so scratched and scabbed up. Maybe I should consider clipping my nails short, but it feels too good to scratch for me to care.

I am feeling so negative about myself and this disease right now, I am not fit for human consumption. I would suggest throwing my carcass to the hogs, but I know there are ignorant people out there who would not eat the pork because it might have gotten tainted by the MS, so I may have to reconsider that idea. I haven't been taking my vitamins or other supplements that I'm supposed to take because I don't care about myself right now. That may not sound like a big deal but I take them religiously so my not taking them says a lot about how I am feeling. I'm so tired of being a piece of crap and having all these problems that make life a burden, but I can't tell anyone around me that because they would worry about me. I know I'm in a down pocket right now, but I also know it is situational. Once I start to feel better I will take an interest in the things that usually amuse me. Right now I am putting on a happy face when everyone is around and pretend I'm getting along okay, even though I'm MAD MAD MAD. Somewhere along the lines everything got messed up. I never wanted to be a crippled gimp who is very limited in what I can do. I wanted to do so much more with my life than struggle to be somewhat normal. I was going to school when I was diagnosed, I was doing foster care and looking to adopt. I wanted to do more volunteer work, not less. Now I don't know what I'm doing or why I'm still here. I can't seem to find my way, or any purpose for this life. It frustrates me to be unable to do the things I want to do. It infuriates me that I am dictated to by my disease and when I try to override it, it always gets the last laugh -- I fall or get clumsy and hurt myself or the fatigue wipes me out too soon. I'm sick of being called "sick" because I don't think of MS as an active sickness. I can't go to bed for awhile and drink lots of fluids and be better after enough time. I'm not "sick" in the sense that I think of sick. There are no pills to cure me. No surgery to make me all better and my body is healthy, it is just my messed up immune system that wants to attack my (tiny) brain and spine.

Sorry to go off like that. I get so frustrated and angry sometimes I just have to let it out. I seem to orbit around the "anger stage" more than anything else. And nothing makes me angrier than an attack and neurologists who try to tell me otherwise. The good news is, I go to see the shrink in a few days so maybe a tweaking of my psych meds will help even me out and help me find a new path for this life.