A Very Bad Day

Flagstaff, Arizona, is a magical place.  Even the KOA Kampground (a chain that I avoid like the plague) here bumps right up against the Coconino National Forest.  Everyone is nice (well, almost everybody), and it’s just incredibly cool to go to the grocery store and listen to families talking to each other in Navajo or Hopi.  And unlike the Mescalero Apache, who are sick of white people, the Native Americans and white people seem to get along just fine, even though the Navajo and Hopi got a really bum deal at first.  In my opinion, before Americans start getting all self righteous about Israel, they need to give back all the land they stole from the Native Americans.  And I am serious about that. 

Anyway.

I met my new spine surgeon for the first time today and had a set of xrays that were shockingly worse than they were two years ago.  My cervical spine is starting to look not like a spine at all, but like some random stick, bent in the wrong direction.

A new finding is that I have zero reflexes in my right arm, very little in my left.  Strength was 0/5 on the left and 1/5 on the right.  I guess that explains why I have to use two hands for a lot of tasks, and couldn’t open any sort of bottle even before I fell on my left wrist, which is getting worse not better even though I keep it in a splint. I see the hand surgeon on the 11th.

I showed the doc my tremor and told him about the muscle spasms and twitches, and that I was worried about spinal cord compression causing that.

He said I might have cord compression, but that it wouldn’t cause those symptoms or my weakness and lack of strength, but MS would explain those things.

I have been thinking that myself, but to hear him say it was like another nail in my coffin.

So he ordered an MRI and referred me to Neurology to investigate the MS angle.

By some miracle, someone had cancelled their MRI slot, so I was able to have it done this afternoon.  The MRI techs were nasty and snotty, which did not help my emotionally fragile state at all.  When a neurosurgeon tells you you probably have MS on top of your spine looking surgical, it’s harder to let snotty technicians roll off your duck’s back.

So when I got back to my van and found that Atina had helped herself to things in my toiletries bag, and shredded stuff all over the floor, the bed..I went nuts.  Apeshit. I screamed at her.  Threw things.  Then I collapsed on the floor and screamed and screamed and screamed.  Atina tried to help me, but I wanted none of it, so she lay on the edge of the bed trembling while I lay on the floor screaming.

Everything hurts.  I have a headache, which I’ve had all day, from high blood pressure.  I take the damn pills for it, but today they didn’t work.  My BP was 152/95 even after my pill, so god knows what it would have been without.

Tomorrow I have to make all sorts of appointments, neurologist, Neurosurgery recheck, RV repair because more components are shitting the bed; and all I want to do is sit in my new chaise and get wiped out on cannabis and benzos to counter the paranoia from the THC overdose.  I might still, if I can get enough done in the morning.

People, it was a very bad day, and I have a feeling it’s going to get worse.  I’m carefully thinking about where that red line is going to be, and how to arrange things.  I have the means.  I have no interest in “palliation.”  I have no one to help me.  I can’t stand to be around other people, like in a care home.  I can’t stand strangers in my environment.

I’m in constant pain, I’m exhausted all the time, I drop things, I fall.  It’s getting to be that time.  I’m winding down.