I do not think I am overstating when I say that I have handled having an inexplicable, wildly fluctuating, baffling and mysterious disabling disorder with a fair bit of levelheaded calm. Panache, even. Style. (My wheels and my crutches are sa-WEET.)
This is not how I’m handling my concussion. Not at all.
I wonder. Is it because this is Just One More Thing? Is it because I am a big whiny baby? Is it the constant pain? I am unaccustomed to constant pain.
It is almost funny that this small thing — this temporary thing — has left me bowled over and terrified that I will lose my job, my friendships, my vocation; whereas MS is no big deal.
Or it would be funny if I did not find myself in tears of self pity when I see bicyclists on the road. Self-pity is not a good color on me. It does not suit.