cindylee
 Posts: 22
New Member
Send a PM
Give a Hug
|
What's left today after waking up each morning wondering if my feet will hit the floor stable or stumbling? Whether I slept well or not, doesn't matter much, for the disease has a mind of it's own. I roll over and see how early it is, and contemplate staying in bed for a while longer,but know if I do,I'll suffer even more physically. So it's time to get up and move around a bit. The percolator needs to be plugged in, after having made preparation for morning coffee the night before. So I stumble to the bathroom, relieve myself and throw cold water on my face, checking the mirror to see how distorted my face looks. And even with my magic pill, I can tell what sort of day I'm going to have just by looking at my face. I reach the kitchen, pour my coffee, make my toast and then take my magic pill. AHHHHHHHH......life is good. Even if I were destined to have a not so pleasant day......the coffee.....yes....the coffee will sustain me. I move into the living room, coffee in hand, and reach for my journal and pen for my early morning writing, after cuing up the computer for my daily blog. I slide into the big chair, something my children have labled since it can hold two people....waiting for the coffee to free up those parts of my brain that are trying hard to wake up. The blank page of the journal is awaiting the words. Will they be insightful, positive and enlightening, or painful and discouraging. And I decided long ago, either of course would be fine. I can try to have a good day physically, but I have some cleaning up to do on my plate. The plate that most likely each day is filled the minute my feet hit the floor. Already asking questions. What will my day be like? What will I be able to do? Can I actually get through another day of being limited to my apartment, wishing I could get dressed and go out to a regular job like everyone else? Whether the answers come or not, I'm determined to see what is left. After cleaning up my plate of worry, fretting, frustration and sometimes anger, what is left that I can enjoy for the day.... be thankful for? Long ago, there was no such list, and as the years progressed, it's gotten much longer. My list of all those things left to be grateful for will sustain me even better than my coffee. Whether I get better, worse or even die, my list will sustain me. I am not here to ponder on why MG....but wonder what I'm suppose to do with it. I can either deny it, hate it, ignore it, or embrace and understand it. So today I'll sit with coffee in hand and see what words fill up the page, and even if it's fill with pain...the ending is always good. Cindylee |
