The Obscure

Neurological Exams

I went to see my neurologist on Monday. He examined my MRI and deduced that there actually isn't anything wrong with my spine. Then he made me get like a pint of blood drawn so he could run an enormous amount of tests on me and check me for different diseases or syndromes. He is one of the best doctors I have ever worked with, if anything it seriously wrong, I trust him to catch it.
There was one funny thing about the appointments, though. Apparently my problems could be symptoms of advanced syphillis, which means I would've had to been infected by it somewhere between 10 and 12 years ago, which means I'd be about 8 years old when I caught it. I thought that was worth a chuckle. He tested me for pretty much everything that anyone could ever have, so I think soon enough I should have some answers.
As previously stated, in my last post, this pain is pain beyond anything I have endured in my entire life, and I was a very accident-prone child. A broken bone would be welcome, if I had to trade that for this. I'm almost breaking bones several times a day as it is, my leg is too weak to hold me up, and therefore I keep falling down.
I digress: the pain. Today I am going back to see my primary care physician, I am going to ask him for something better for my pain, or a higher prescription of percocet, or something. I am going to ask for oxycontins, given the amount of percocet I am taking right now, I don't think that taking oxycontins will kill the pain any more effectively, but the level of relief that it gives me will be long-lasting, so that I have that same level of relief all day. Or I might just ask for more percocets, I don't really know yet. All I know is this is something that is hard enough to deal with already, seeing as I have no idea what is going on, and being in completely constant, unbearable pain is a bit too much. Adding injury to insult, if you will.
Anyway, it's no use worrying (although I don't know if any of you are) I don't know what's up yet, as soon as I do I'll put it up here, and until I do, the only thing worth wasting brain-power to worry about is how I'll deal with my pain-level, andthat isn't anything you guys have to worry about, that's purely my problem. So, in short, there is no need for concern on anybody's part. There is a damn good chance that my problems will all clear up within weeks, and I'll be fine. We shall see, I suppose.

Panicking.

I didn't think that the prospect of going to the neurologist in order to find out what is wrong with me would make me nervous or frightened. In that, I was very wrong. I felt fine until I woke up this morning and realized that today is the day to do it. Every minute feels like it is dragging by so slowly it is almost going backwards, and in my head I keep on seeing Ackill saying, "Sorry son, but you have an extremely rare form of MS and we can't do anything for you." or, "I'm sorry to say that you have arachnoiditis." or, "You have a tumor."
Something along those lines anyway. I have to go see him later today, and I am trying not to be scared, but there are so many things that could go horribly wrong, so that I am petrified.
I can only assume that everything is going to be alright, that is what I keep on telling Elena. She is taking this whole situation harder than anybody, especially now, since she is just as housebound as I am, she has the unwanted pleasure of seeing me at my weakest, suffering from my infirmities; a thing that I used to try to hide from her, because she worries about me quite a lot, and she has enough troubling her as it is.
The pain, although I wrote earlier that I am well-acquainted with pain and can therefore deal with it, has reached a level higher than any other pain I have experienced and, to my increasing displeasure, seems determined to remain at that level. The pills I take block out the pain some, but even with phenergan they only last three or four hours at the most, and I simply do not have enough to make it through every day without wanting to shoot myself. It is pain beyond anything I have ever endured, including breaking bones, the aftermath of different surgeries, and the worst headaches I have had.
I am frightened, in short. Very frightened.

Strange Days Have Found Us...

I went to the Doctor yesterday. Apparently the muscles in my left leg have begun to atrophy, so it is not a simple neurological thing that is wrong with it. He suspects that... well, there isn't any easy way to say this. He suspects there is something wrong with my spinal column, perhaps a growth. It could be that we have been looking in the wrong place for the source of my headaches for a long, long time. If it is cancer, well, it must be pretty slow-acting, because I've been dealing with this for three years, and I do not believe that my headaches and the problems with my leg are not interlinked. My reasons for believing otherwise are quite simple, my leg hurts more when I have a bad headache, it gets flares of pain when my head gets flares of pain. Therefore, the problem with both of them should be one and the same.
As I said, if it is cancer, it is very slow-acting. I am a little concerned that it might be, because my dad got atrophy in some of his muscles and that was the first sign that he had cancer. But if that is indeed what it is (and the chance of that is very low) they should be able to zap it pretty easily, because, as I said, it is slow-acting, whatever it is.
It is a mark of the severity of the situation, though, that I now have a prescription for four ten milligrams percocets a day. Because the doctor said he would never give me more than thirty milligrams a day, and he had to go back on his word in consideration for the amount of pain I am in. I thought that nothing could hurt worse than some of the headaches I have had thus far, I was wrong.
There is a relatively large chance that this will turn out to be a cyst or something benign, because I don't have a lot of the symptoms of cancer, so it would have to be a strange form of it if I had it. If it turns out to be a cyst, there is a good chance that they could just drain it, or remove it, and all my problems would be over.
Whatever it is, something is fucking with the nerve-lines in my spine. I have to get MRIs and go see some neurologist and get an EMG of my leg. If you pray, pray that I will find answers, and that the answers won't be as terrible as they might be. If you don't pray, I would ask that you make an exception, and pray for me anyway.
I am not afraid, I do not think it is my time to die, and I doubt I am going to lose the use of my legs or anything like that; and pain is something I have a very intimate relationship with, so there really is nothing happening here that I can't deal with, but the support of my friends and family would help me get through it, even so. I can no longer walk without a cane, regardless of painkillers, so if you see me I will look weak and enfeebled. That is because I am weak and enfeebled. I do not have to tell you that I do not like looking that way to anyone, my close friends especially, but right now I have no choice, and what small pride I have I will have to put away for a little while, whilst I deal with this new developement.

I do believe things will work out to be ok, it is just hard not to think pessimistically. I didn't think things could get worse, and they have. The pain is almost more than I can bear, but I have ways of dealing with it. The worser part of this is not knowing what exactly is wrong. I am going to get tests done on friday, I suppose I will post again then with the results. I love you all, and I hope to see you all sometime soon. In light of this recent developement I have realized how much I have isolated myself from my friends. I did it partially out of neccessity, but that is no excuse. I don't know how many people still read this, I decided to post everything here because I didn't want to talk to everybody individually about these matters. I will see you all sometime, hopefully sooner rather than later.
It will probably turn out to be no big deal, so don't worry about me (I don't know if you were going to anyway, haha) I'll be fine.
See you later, large monitor lizards from the Galapagos.

Can words describe everything? Can words, in fact, describe anything?

It appears that my weird headache syndrome that does not exist according to medical science still has a few surprises in store for me. My left leg is slowly becoming lame. I've known for a while now that the left side of my body suffers more than my right when I am in the grip of a headache, but now my left knee is stiff and painful, and my ankle cannot bear much weight without collapsing under it's pressure. Hobbling around with a cane is something I am still not used to, I'veonly come to rely on it over the past couple of days, but I sincerely hope that this is a face that will pass. Not least of the reasons behind this hope is the fact that I simply cannot drive a standard with a game leg, and I hate driving automatics. I want to get a cane with a cushion on the handle, too, although that will make me look even more old-manly, because I have to put so much weight on it that it hurts my right hand terribly after a little ways a-walking.
I have not much else to say, except goodnight. So: Goodnight, and a pleasant morrow to you all.

Son of a BITCH!

I can't get to sleep, I hate it. I'm in too much pain to sleep, then I take something for pain and my body, being pain-free, is suddenly filled with energy and a longing to go out or at least use some of my muscles a little. I am out of my sleeping pills, I took a huge dose of seroquel and it didn't do a thing!
Furthermore, what little writing ability I have seems to have atrophied since I signed up for this whole fucking college deal. I've written several essays thus far and they have all been utter shit. On top of that, my headaches are now at the point where I am actually taking a few weeks off of school, without having even completed an entire week yet. Four days, four days was how long I could go before my body cracked.
I hate being a fucking cripple.

It seems so often that I write of the terrible awareness mankind has of it's own existence, but then, it is that terrible awareness that keeps me up at night, and that sometimes brings me here. Give a man, a gun, one bullet, and 24 hours alone during which he would contemplate all the dark corners of his soul, and I'll give you a corpse. After all, it is only medications that keep half of our society from killing themselves, isn't it? And the other half is kept from killing us by only the threat of consequence. If you do not fear, or overlook, the threat of consequence, you very rapidly commit murder.
I am a man, I have a gun, I have a bullet, and I have had a lifetime to contemplate are the dark corners of my soul and have found nothing to my liking. My hands are tied with medications, my fingers peeled away from the trigger by the chemicals coursing through my blood. Give me me, unmedicated. Again, I will give you a corpse. Whether it be my own or not, I cannot be sure.
I have the unmistakable air of a madman. I shall go do what madmen do best: sit in silence and think about how crazy the world is.
Goodnight.

Funny Funny Chico

Hello everyone. I don't know why I am writing right now, except for that I have little else to do. I WAS going to go to the Roger Waters' Show tonight, but I am having a really bad day and, being low on painkillers, wouldn't have been able to manage it.
It's cool though, I have all of tomorrow to sit around and do nothing. I have two essays I have to do for school, they actually look like they might be fun, I think I will post them on my blog, and the writings that they are based on, of course, so that they make sense.
I am sighing inwardly as I realize that I do not have anything else to add. Sorry to give you such a short, unfulfilling post, but I do what I can. Goodnight friends.