A ramble to nowhere.

I had a very satisfying run this morning. No watch, no walk breaks (except for the Bluemont hill), a nice cool temperature and a wonderful breeze. No pressure from well-meaning supporters to keep going, no previous times to measure against, just me, my legs and feet, and my thoughts.

My thoughts.

I will confess that I am consumed by this illness. I try so hard not to let it show, but I am totally consumed. I think about it every minute: where I was, where I am now, and I fear for where I am going. Every twitch in a facial muscle causes me concern. Every time I take my meds I wonder why and if it's making any difference. My sense of humor and positive attitude are my only real weapons, but they only support my head, not my dumb old mushels.

I guess I'm still dealing with acceptance, despite my brave facade. It's really a Potemkin village.

Today while I was running I decided I would make it an ALS-free day. I ran past the park where I usually see the Serial Killer and his dog (he's not really a serial killer, I just have names for the regulars I see on my course and this name goes along with the fanciful story I concocted...it's a long story). ANYWAY, as I ran past this park I said "Louise, stay here, I'll come back for you next week." Do you think she listened? Of course not. She's such a cow. I found myself thinking about her/it just like always. I must try harder next time.

It was impossible not to think about it when Aaron the orthotics guy came to adjust my resting hand splint. I asked him to tweak it because my hand is more swollen and the thumb is disgustingly bloated. I wake up at night because my thumb is uncomfortable.

Isn't that a strange thing to say? Have you ever woken up because your THUMB is uncomfortable?

To continue, Aaron brought a colleague who, when looking at my hand to see what needed to be done to the splint, commented on the significant atrophy in the web area. He turned my hand over and exclaimed over its witheriness. Thank heaven I was wearing my pointy-toed red high heels and pretty red scarf or I would have felt awful.

It's also impossible not to think about it when, during an emergency toner cartridge replacement, I had to ask David to please cut open the bag for me. Scissors are particularly unfriendly these days.

John the UPS man has taken to signing my name for me when he makes deliveries, isn't he kind? Still makes me think about it.

Sigh.

Oh well. This is really going nowhere. It's just a ramble to let you know where my head is.