(no subject)
I finally have an appointment with my primary. I haven't seen him since November. That's the longest I've gone in years without seeing a PCP. It means that this carefully built wall of denial won't be able to protect me anymore. I've intentionally had Mitochondrial disease in cat-state, and I truly didn't think I would discover anything worse. Of course I was wrong. Constant tremor, weakness, tics, and a level of aphasia worse than it's ever been. He had brought up the possibility of a minor stroke when I had been hospitalized in November and had tics afterwards, and that was before I realized how bad the aphasia had become and before the tremor became so obvious. I'm so much more scared of something progressive, and according to my pain specialist, those are looking like my only two answers.
I honest to god didn't think I would survive to this coming birthday. Ever. I never believed I would still be alive now. And it feels shitty that I can't talk to anyone about this stuff anymore because at this point only a few people know how very nearly I didn't, and that I'm not actually being dramatic. I want to celebrate that, but I feel like I can't talk openly to most people I know anymore. I'm looking for shared joy and excitement, maybe even some pride. I'll get 25% that reaction, 73% pity, and 2% vaguebooked snide hostility, passive aggression, or obnoxious holier-than-thou bullshit.
And of course this is an awful anniversary time for me. I'm having a hard time of it. And part of me wishes that for once in my life I'd have a birthday party with friends, but now of all times I don't deserve it. And I can't have people coming out feeling obligated to get me stuff, because then I'd just wind up feeling more guilty than I already do.
I dunno, no amount of meds can change this situation from being really, really crappy I suppose. I'm dealing with it far better than I was, but it still feels shitty.
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