I, of all people, know I have no guarantee I'll be able to keep writing (between previous brain fail and all my diagnoses so far), so I'm going to tell you that one of the stories I'm working on is about time (yes, and it's about time I wrote that and ever so many more puns, as I am wont in time as a self correcting system, but I digress.) The story is loosely modeled on books called Flatland and Flatterland, the idea comes from the time storm in the Planet of the Apes movie remake, and the experience behind the idea comes from the intense change in my time perception while I was being thrown out of a violently flipping vehicle. This idea has been in my head for many, many years and keeps evolving with me as my thinking evolves through more sweeping insights across several sciences that evolve the ways we see the world around us.
Today. Remember I said about a year and a half ago I had a dream where I lost my right hand? And then I brought it up again last month. I've been through so much already against so many odds that I'm having a hard time believing this, but I guess it's true. My doctor very strongly confirmed today that I'm skating around the edge of losing and never regaining certain limb functions if I don't get into 3 surgeries sooner rather than later. My first reaction is a disinclination is to believe it, since I'm obviously still using my hands, out of sheer will and force much of the time, yes, but still going. After damage confirmation from a neurologist earlier last year, and more extensive damage confirmation from physical therapy through the fall, I was told today during follow up that from here there is generally no more improvement, and I could, in fact, see a sharp decline in function if I don't do something more drastic to halt the nerve death I've been hastening with my insistence on so much hard work, which in turn will cause muscle wasting beyond any amount of force of will I'm able to wreak upon my poor hands. Once the nerves themselves give out, I simply lose muscle control, point blank. In case you're new to me and thinking I'm making a big deal out of carpal tunnel, this is both carpal and ulnar and involves my arms clear back to my spine. Yeah, whee.
The idea of getting my writing done through dictation nearly has me undone because, even though I've worked so hard for so many years to communicate better verbally, there is no way I can ever get to come out of my mouth what comes through my fingers and a keyboard onto a screen and directly into another person's brain via their eyes. I cannot always hold a thought through my own speaking, but in print I can drop thoughts and pick them back up at my convenience. I know there is software for this, but the idea of grinding through more tutorials has me facepalming.
I was sincerely hoping this would be my biggest writing year ever, and I still hope that. But today I learned that, as everything else in my life, I may be asked by the cosmos to enjoy one more good challenge thrown on top and in the middle of all the others I have learned to joyfully navigate while I purge my soul of all those whiny demons that whisper "I can't." I will to do what I want for as long as I can and so much more.
That, and I got up after my late evening nap for a cookie. I had made chocolate cookies yesterday because one of the RP writers I got into this week kept bringing up cookies, and of course I had to have the chewy chocolate kind, and now I'm sorry I ate one because I don't usually eat carbs this late and I feel a little sick, even though it was just one cookie. But I think most of what's making me feel sick is the ten long hours I spent in town and the idea that this keyboard that I so dearly love is part of what I'm using to finish off my hands after years of hard labor. I've joked about a blogging addiction (as I like to call my writing discipline) being better than med addictions, but I fear the joke is turning back on me, even though I do get up and move around a lot.
No one looking at me right now would ever be able to tell how upset I feel, or that I'm upset at all. I've barely said a word aloud about it all day. I didn't say one word coming back in my door about how almost paralyzed my hands felt from driving so much today (Scott's eyes were dilated, plus he got a pneumonia shot and ran a bit of fever all day, got all weird and scattered on me, was actually pretty funny, but then I'm kinda mean and tortured the poor guy), and then, again as always, preparing all the food with the hands I could barely use and still never saying a word.
And then I dreamed again. I have really good dreams, I can't let them all die with me. If I never see a penny back, I need to share what's in my head. I've never in my life ever run into anyone else's stories that are like my dreams and the stories I make from them.
Yes, the obvious question- who else started wondering about nervous system fail in general? I'm even more sorry now I ate that cookie, although I know that's not really why I feel sick.
So many long, dark nights I have thought "I'm not done yet" and kept shoving on. Tonight is one of those. This year is one of those.
I'M NOT DONE YET.
Cheese is awesome. I think I've mentioned my latest cheese love somewhere. Black Diamond Premium Reserve (aged 2 years) is fixing everything so I can go back to bed in a little bit.
The movie is Jewel of the Nile and this song was a top ten music video when my life was first starting to really explode apart. Three years later I was diagnosed. I was told I'd be both blind and permanently crippled by 40. This hand thingy ain't my first rodeo. I will always find a way, and no one can stop me. Lemme show you guys how to whine about stuff...
