The Obscure

Welcome, one and all, to the incongruent ravings of an inferior mind!

Monday, September 25, 2006

 
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.

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