Shots and Cats

I feel abnormally stressed lately, and it needs to stop. One, I am afraid of getting wrinkles. B, people my age get grey hair now; that needs to not happen as well. Three, worrying is like a rocking chair: it gives you something to do, but it gets you nowhere.

I have MS. I mean, I have it have it. For the last year and half I have been 70% diagnosed, and in my mind I took that to mean I didn't really have it, and that it would go away eventually. I was all prepared last week to go in to my neuro's office and be cured from this non-curable disease purely because I was stubborn enough to think I could prove science wrong. The exact opposite happened. In fact, that 70% became a full blown 100%. I was okay with it at first, but then reality sunk in, and I realized these shots are for the rest of my life. I could take the little buggers because during my nightly ritual of face washing, reading, last minute texts and a shot, I thought about the time when I would slice off that last part and go to bed happy and comfortable. Well, that's not true anymore and it is hard when the only solid plan for your future is a damned shot.

Which brings me to another worrisome area. My mom says I have a smile that gets captured in pictures every once in awhile. She calls it my real smile. The real smile, according to her, is in my eyes where she can see me in two little blue dots. I was a good child. In fact, I was my mom's best child for obviously, non-biased reasons. I may have bit Dayna a time or two...or a lot, or hid toys in the hall closet instead of walking them the ten feet further to my room. But, I do know I could entertain myself for hours at the end of some meadow field while my dad slowly chugged away in a tractor--the rythmic cha chu, cha chu, cha chu of the tractor was my summer time theme song. I loved any type of water, perferably one with fish, frogs or bugs to watch. I loved the haystack with all it's catacomb tunnels and holes that, like pandora's box, just had to be explored! That was me and how I grew up. If I saw some bug or cavern of hay I wanted to know about, I went and found out about it. That's a little harder to do nowadays. I just like to know things. I don't need to know facts and figures, but just things. That is the me my mom sees in those pictures. I'm curious, and I like to know things.

Balance is necessary, and right now, the only for sure thing in my life are these little glass syringes, and I hate that, but curiosity did kill that cat.