So Here's the Deal

Some of you who know me better than most, might of wondered if I was ever going to write about it. "It" being my diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis a while back.

Well, I hadn't really gotten my brain around it. And Lord knows, I still really haven't gotten it all the way around it, but I do have some thoughts on the subject. And a few other things as well. Big surprise huh? Brace your selves, I might actually reveal something about my inner, deepest thoughts.

Oh and by the way, for those who didn't know about it, I'm sorry. I looked around for some kind of so called, "coming out" card (Surprise! I have MS!) at the Hallmark store, but to no avail.

Anyhoo....When I was first diagnosed, I sort of freaked out. Mostly on the inside because I did not want to freak out anyone else, but still, I was not as cool as some might think. I relieved myself of a lot of the angst I was feeling by talking to my doctor and doing my own research on line. In a nut shell, I have Relapsing-Remitting MS. Although, that could change at any time to any of a few other "types", it's hard to tell at this stage. If you want to know more in detail, feel free to click the link.

I will tell you that, to some, this might seem sudden, but to me, I knew something was wrong for a while now. Symptoms and the like were popping up all the time, but I never put them together. But one day, I decided that I would go to the doctor with my symptoms and see what was what.

Long story short, I got an MRI on my brain, and they found evidence of MS.

So for various reasons, I had decided to go the homeopathic route. I did research, I got a referral to a homeopathic MD, I started taking all the cool herbs and shit that the Doc told me to. I had to start setting my alarm on my cell phone to remind me to take all the different stuff, since some I had to take three times a day. I was feeling pretty good about it.

Then I started loosing vision in my left eye. Freaky to say the least. So then I took a treatment, I won't go into detail about, but I will say my usual fear of needles has taken a backseat to my now blase' attitude of "here's my arm, whatever. I would like to see normally now."

Anyway....I'm ok. Or I will be. No worries. But I do want to tag something on to the end of this missive.

I was able to have my totally awesome dog, Daisy certified as a Mobility Service Dog. She helps me on my bad days to balance, or on a very bad day, will help me up if I fall and will stay with me if I have to wait for help. She is wonderful.

And in here lies the hard part. I never realized how many people out there (including myself until recently) do not know the law when it come to Service Dogs. I think that if you own a business that deals directly with the public, you should make sure that you and your employees know the law about this. It could save you a lawsuit. Not to mention any hard feelings of the person using the dog. I know.

Please click on this link and read. It could save you and the person with the disability some grief.

Once upon a time.....

What you are about to read, is a fictitious account of every day life for a grocery cashier. Except the part about the amazing beauty of Kimberly. That part is entirely true.

The shockingly gorgeous Kimberly was minding her own business, doing her mundane job of checking groceries at the supposedly "high end" store in her recent hometown that rhymes with Spewgene.

Kimberly, so incredibly stunning, her dark brown hair, was perfectly coiled at the nape in a way that showed her clientele what a professional she really was. Since the flow of heat from the above air ducts had unsurprisingly cranked itself up for no apparent reason, small droplets of sweat formed on her perfectly clear brow as she prepared to bag the groceries she rang up for the snooty little lawyer's wife that liked to pretend she was a stay at home mom, when Kimberly knew that the woman's Nannie's name was Allie and the kid's names were Phoenix and Sunny. In fact, she gave them very cool stickers when they came through her line; and that this woman standing before her was actually a "Stupid Fake Mom".

Always, forever feeling like a robot, Kimberly unfailingly made idle chit chat and small talk like a good little retail slave with the "fake mom".

While ringing up the junk this woman buys:

Stunning Kimberly: "Hi, how's it going?" (this is shorthand for "I really don't give a shit, but I am expected to ask.")

Stupid Fake Mom: "Fine, how are you?" (She doesn't really care either, but is still in her fake, polite mode)

Eye Shockingly Gorgeous Kimberly: "I'm doing well. Do you have a bag?" (We have, probably the highest population of patrons that use their own bag (s), in the area. We are green here, it's no longer "paper or plastic?")

Stupid Fake Mom: "Oh no!" Perfectly horrified with herself. "I left them at home on the counter. I am soooo sorry!" ( I really don't fucking care.) I guess I'll have plastic. (Seriously?)

Is She For Real? Kimberly: In the snootiest voice she can manage, "We don't doooo plastic. (Can my nose get any higher?) But we have paper, with handles.(As if that is the coolest thing EVER!)" Since Stupid Fake Mom really has no other choice, Kimberly proceeds to open the paper bag and get ready to start ringing up the nasty processed crap that is on the conveyor belt.

Stupid Fake Mom: "Ok, if that's all you have." (Like she really has a choice! What the fuck ever! For one thing, she prefers plastic? Since she "forgot" her bags at home? The reuseable bags that probably don't exist anyway, and all she really wants the plastic bags for is to pick up the adult-arm-sized poop that her, "I-got-papers-and-everything", Great Dane strains out, with eyes bulging, four times a day.)

The Ravishing Kimberly: Because she needs this job and in some kind of perverse way that even Dr. Phil probably couldn't understand, she kind of likes it; proceeds to ring up the crap Stupid Fake Mom is buying without saying another word. Oh, except to say, after noticing the debit card gripped tightly in one manicured hand, "You can run your card anytime you want."

Stupid Fake Mom: "Oh, can I run it now?" (Is that not what I just said, Fucktard?)

Kimberly, still strikingly gorgeous: Although gripped in a sruggle with herself not to smack the stupid bitch upside the head, is still able to very politley answer, " Yes, anytime." Stupid dipshit.

The Stupid Fake Mom proceeds to slide her card the wrong way, upside down, backwards, too fast, too slow, and back and forth like a street dude on crack.

Super, spectacularly pretty Kimberly, could of, at any time, instructed her on how to do it correctly. But, she thought that as a lawyer's wife, and mother of two children, with a license to drive (presumably), that this Stupid Fake Mom should at the very least, know how to read the instructions that are written in plain English, not to mention diagrammed for the reading impaired on the fucking machine! Apparently Kimberly was wrong. Shocking, I know.

Stil,l stunningly gorgeous Kimberly: "Your card still didn't read correctly." (Although you did try it every other way you could have possibly tried it, except sliding it in your own ass crack....but the correct way.)

Stupid Fake Bitch Mom: "What did you do wrong?" (Are you kidding me?)

Kimberly holding her tongue a wee bit longer than normal: "Try swiping your card correctly this time." She can't help but be a shit at times. *wink.)

Stupid Fake Bitchy Mom: "I did!" Although she did make another feeble attempt. Swiping again...."Oh, I guess that did it."

Kimberly: (SUPREME effort to not roll her eyes.) "There you go!" (She feels like she's praising a dog pooping outside for the first time.)

Kimberly hands the Stupid Fake Mom her receipt and gets her the fuck out the door so she can turn to the next sheep in her line.

Kimberly would like everyone to know that the cashier that you talk to in the grocery store deals with this shit all day long. Eight hours a day. Occasionally she will have one normal, straight talking, non-retarded person, but pretty much this is it. Seriously. Every day. All day. Amazing, huh? Just thought maybe you would want to know.

What The Hell Ever

I am going to admit right now that I really don't feel like writing. Not just today, but ever again. I feel like no one would want to read it anyway. I just don't know anymore. What used to flow freely from my fingertips, now feels like constipation of the brain.