This blog has been many things: A travel log, art blog, walking blog, external life story. Its only consistency was that it all was my doing. It has increasingly become what I call a, Diary of a Madman. I always wrote, in private, to understand things. It used the lessons I learned on essay planning to provide structure guidance through a quandary. That’s what I do here now.
Dr. Shoja sent me the link about Functional Neurological Disorder, I read everything. I really liked the term to describe my condition because the words ‘mental’ and ‘illness’ weren’t in it. She gave me a name to explain my condition that felt less embarrassing and limiting. It’s a nice clean name. FND. It is dominating my life again, as it did when it first came on.
When I’m ‘out there’ doing things like shopping or walking with my friends three mornings a week, I live with my symptoms. Telephone rings: Symptoms. Otherwise, I’m alone and not experiencing any symptoms. It’s fair to say that most weeks I’m alone every moment I’m awake except for four hours, and when I’m alone I think about what’s wrong with me.
Walking outside, I smell, hear and see new safe things that get me out of myself, and television and, most importantly, my beloved pets, and reading—these activities get me over myself/my condition.
Until three weeks ago, my thinking was positive after I got over the initial onset of my condition. I embarked on what I called ‘the slowest recovery known to man.’ My seizures slowly became less frequent and less violent. My speech never really improved, but it evolved, and I could be fluent using a fake accent. I learned to get by. I had hope.
The crisis number two arrived three weeks ago like a tsunami. I’m back to where I was five years ago when this all started, wondering if I’ll get better or this new level of awful will be permanent and how to function. Tomorrow, I begin a trial by fire.
Hello, Everest. Tomorrow I go to a new dentist. Friday and Saturday are days alone. Sunday, I go to Nanaimo for my vaccination. Monday, alone. Tuesday, it’s Dr. Shoja. Wednesday, Dr. Somebody@clinic about my blood work results (non-urgent). I’m going to all these appointments armed with my app and a note pad and paper, prepared on many levels for human interaction.
I feel as far away from human beings as a deaf person. People hear my speech, see my mini seizures, but no one sees inside me where I feel like the captain of a sinking submarine, doing my best to keep afloat. It’s tense. The boat is either going up, or, as happened to me three weeks ago, pointing down. I draw conclusions and adapt.
I’ll get used to this second stage and my adaptation will evolve. As with stage one, I’ll get used to things. But the newness of stage two is very much with me. And come tomorrow, I begin a series of first times as Stage Two Me.
I’d call what’s falling outside Angel Sweat. It ain’t rain. It’s better than nothing, but we desperately need rain. I shall hope for bigger drops all day. Friday, they say, may bring another chance of rain, otherwise there’s naught but sunshine ahead.
Below are snaps from my walk at Drumbeg on Monday afternoon.
|This is my favourite place at Drumbeg. It's off the beaten track|
somewhat and overlooks a straight that churns with the tide.
|The Arbutus trees are covered in blossoms about to explode. |
(They are hard to see in this photo, I know.)
|Bark on a Gary Oak.|
|That bark on the right! Close up below.|
|This, too, is chunky Oak bark!|