I can see death's disguise...

It's been, coming up on a year since I reeally givin this project any fair thought. Actually I've had many thought's but have just been too preoccupied with a newer way of the newer way of living.
Perspective.....as with all thing's changes. I can't even begin to count how many 180's it's busted on me in the last 3 years.
When this thing began I lived with my family in a house with 1 wife, 3 son's, coverd parking, a 2 car garage, a back yard and all the other shit that come's along with it.
Now home is 1 bedroom apt with a covered parking spot. Without giving them some sort of "out" i cant figure out why I've become the focus of nothing, seeing my youngest what has slowly been whittled down to onjce a month and his older bothers maybe......once in a six month period is probibly the tuffest to digest.
Do I need go further? No

By the time I had made it to my chair in the infusion center, late, by around a half hour due to the unscedualed  banyo stop.
My walk began at the drop off zone at the U, acually it began getting ready for the day at home. Needing help buttoning up my drawers, tieing my boots and getting ready for that big day.
By this time walking had become a joke. With my joints just locking up, especially in/at the knee's. I would go to take a step and my knee's would just lock up. So hard that it felt as though the joint should be working in reverse as if the knee cap should have been in the pit of the joint and I should have been moving around like a kangaroo, only walking. Obviously I tryed to walk correctly but the more I would try to walk "right" the more thw joint would try to move the opposite direction to the point of pain. Using my fists I would swing wildly with all I had sometimes tyhree or four times to force my knee's to function as they should have.
In my cassa I had wall's and furniture to aide and catch me when I fell but getting down the two step's into the garage into the paddi wagon required wife and eldest son's help, basicly human cruches and a boost into the passenger seat.
A really nice Betty White lookin nurse comes by with a few questions and a book for me to read about Tysabri. It contain's info on do's, donnt's and other facts such as "This shit can kill a craka dead as all hell!" She want's to know if im sick, have the flu or think i may be ill.If so "You'll have to rescedual. Tysabri is like a ballistic weppon on the immune system. It wipes it clean out so if you have any infections they are givin the green light to raise hell in your bod.
My mind was having a hard time staying on the current.
My "last walk" going nothing like I had Envisioned for myself.
"Hey babe just hold on a sec, one of those parking guys will probibly help us out." I aint waiting for noone I gotta fuckin piss." Thats where it got all fucked up. Trying to get someone's attention in that drop off zone is near imposible there's so much going on. Van's , buses, shuttles and cars all droping off and picking up in that little zone. I was able to sorta slide myself outta the seat and on to the black top luckly on my feet.
I had envisioned something a bit more...bold, for myself. Having to have someone dress, tie my shoes and boost me into my "car seat" kinda put a whole different twist on the events leading up to being hooked up to the IV.
I was,
 Sittin down! sittin down! Everybody's settled!
Stepin forward! tripin forward! tripin forward!
Someone who saw me struggling grabed one of the maany wheelchairs that were in the drop off area, "Sir do you need some help? Here's a wheelchair..." "No! I'm ok" huge lie "where's the closest restroom?" All I regestered was the direction he pointed in. I had to hustle.
Walkin (tripin) the mile! walkin the mile! walkin the mile! walkin themile! walkin the mile! walkin the mile! walkin the mile!
Then my knees began to lock up on me, first the left. Im sure it looked funny, some guy swinging wildly at himself in the middle of the foyer, then the right, i couldn't move.
Then my wife caught up. Doing all she could to  help me stay off the earth and moving forward.
And now I'm sure I could taste the pee I had to go so bad.
We had gone in the general direction of where the guy had pointed in.
Walkin the mile! walkin the mile! Walkin the GReeen mile!
"Fuck! where's the fuckin bathroom!!?" Now feeling that burn when one really has to drain it.
We were both looking all over, Teri spoted it, we had about a hundred more feet, I tryde to speed up my pace but all that did was cause my legs to really lock up.
Stagerin the mile! Falling the mile! Teri caught me the mile!
The burn was becoming more and more intence, we looked to be couldn't have been thirty feet from the banyo. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck i gotta go!" "Almost there babe!" Then I looked down at my feet and caught sight of the big wet spot that trailed down my left leg. "Oh my god we gotta get to that damn bathroom! I'm pissing my fucking pants!!" "K here it is, you need help inside?" "Somehow I dont think the fellas in there are ready for you.." "Are you gonna make it?" "Gonna have to.."
Through the door there were a few fellas shaken dew. Trying to just be normal when one is hugging the walls and stalls like a blind man who's pissed his pants...well let's just say musta been the day's entertainment.
Doing everything I could to keep the tears that formed in my eye's from falling was imposible, still I acted if it was buisness as usual trill I made it to a stall and latched the door locked. Muffeld like, the waterworks really went nut's.
For a breiff moment my mind turnd off "The green mile" reel and shifted to the more depressing "Monsters ball". I could not keep Billy Bob from preachin how "You just fucked up that mans last walk!!" I began to shrink with self shame.
"Babe? are you ok?" my wife had cracked the banyo door. Trying to keep it together, "Yeah I'm alright...my pants on the other hand are not. Can you go ask the infusion center if they have some blue smock pants I could use, I cant go anywhere all yella! It's that or I'll have to rescedual!" "Ok, I'll go ask. You'll be alright yes?" "Yeah, I'm sure as hell not going anywhere! I'll be good!" "K, I'll be back."
That little bit of chit chat pulled me away from Billy Bob and back to The mile.
It's so underestemated how "twisted" my mind is. It's like I was born to humor tragedy.

Walkn the mile! walkn the mile! walkn the mile!
I'm goin to the toilet! I'm sitn! and prayn!
Lord as my sheperd and so forth and so on!
Sorry for all the bad shit I done and all the people I've tramped on and I hope they forgive me!
And I'll never do it again! that's for sure.
Five or so minutes went by and then "Babe?" The wife had made it back with some pants the coast being clear she came into the banyo. The pants were blue...but they were"Paper? what in the hell!?" "Thats all they would give me!" Not much I could  ssay to that except "Fuck!! what if they tear or I piss myself agian!? Did you tell them why I'm late and my small problem?" After a quick exchange of words it was decided that the "walk" was no longer "dignifyed" I was gonna have to arive to my IV chair "rolling"
The plan was I was supposed to change into the paper blues while she ran for a wheelchair I should have used in the first place.. "K, I'll be right back" I could here the banyo fall silent with the close of the hydrolic door. It feel totally quiet.

Still prayin! still prayin! still prayin!
Gettin right with Geez-ZUS!!

Well then do it quietly! Ya bastard!
My frusteration was so throagh.
I suppose the fact that I had devaloped what my wife refured to as "claw hands" din't make me any more gleeful. It deffinately pissed me off all the more. Considering I had to untie my boots, unbutton my fly, take off the piss soaked, double thik canvased Arborwears, bvd's and socks with literal booger hooks for hands and fingers. add in the fact I could hardly balance myself on the throne, I think a mushroom cloud would have gone off in anyone's head.
When she returned with the chair,she came back into the men's room without warning a few fella's scatering and a couple of the brave and unshaken finished in there own time.
One thing about the wife. She can be the Bull in the fine china shop at some of the "best" time's, all I could do is laugh, her along with me.
After she got me off my seat she had to put on my paper pants and tie (break) the paper draw string. "Oop's!""What the fuck am I supposed to do now?!?'
"Just hold em up till we get you in the wheelchair." Somehow my amazon wife...WILL'd us out the banyo and me into the chair and off we went

Rollin the mile! rollin the mile! rollin the mile!
When you enter the chamber (infusion center the first thing one will notice is all the lazy boy's. Depending on what time it is, some already may be occupied.

So this is where the mile end's? Holyshit! You could execute like a bakers dozen in here! Shit! The point (state prison) aint got shit on these guy's!!
We took the recliner closest to the banyo,that's when the executioner (Betty White) met me at the station.

Roll on 1!!
Once Betty confirmed she does infact have the right individule seated is when she passed us the book on the poison to be delivered and give's me some of the hospital's fourty dollar Benadryl and some Tylenol incase of a "reaction" tothe seven thousand dollar a bag of Tysabri.

Roll on 2!!
Then the Pharmacy deliver's the bag of solution.
Betty then disapeared briefly and returned with a clean "rig" to tap my vein with. I always think of Vincent Vega anytime a needle gets stuck in my pipe's. Always wonder if I'm gonna bust that closet junkie accedently draw and see my blood cycle with the drug in the syringe and slowly reinject the mixture back into me. The ritchuel" Haven't yet but I just know one day I'm gonna be able to say "BUSTED!!"
It was in the infuszion centre they got me strug out and addicted to the feel and taste of saileen solution they "clean the IV line with.
Betty got me all hooked up and dripin, for the next five or six hours.
drip.....drip.....drip.....

Rambling

Im not sure if im suffering from "writers block" or what the deal is.....It's taken me so long to get to this point, which really is'nt to far.
When i began this "little" project, i had a book in mind....now im not so sure that what i have to share is all that informitive in the scheem of the MS world.
When i began i personaly knew of three other people with MS. There were also alot of people who knew someone with it.
When i was diagnosed, i really dont think i had an inkling of what this sentance would  mean for me. It's kinda like when your a kid and your parents tell you they are getting a divorce. Initialy when mine told me i was like that guy in the bilge of the Valdeze in Water world when the smoker throws a match down the hatch. The old man charged with keeping track of the oil levels sees this and blurts out "Oh Thank God" But then your world changes in ways you were'nt prepaired for "like it or not" its so "not fair." No, no its not, it's not fucking fair at all.....but its gonna happen none the less. So i chose southern Cal with my Pa. I figured id go where the women "put out" (at 14) It was gonna be like i was an Elk, i was gonna have a new Doe like every week..lol. What i thought was gonna happen and what actually transpired were two entirely different things. There was SOME goings on with the "Hot Bettys" but nothing near what i had invisioned for myself. Aim High i always say.
When i showed up for my first neuro appointment amongst other things i was givin a book about MS. "This an owners manual?" "You could say that" i began thumbing through it "It tells of different symptoms and ways to deal with each." I constantly had my nose in that book looking for the term that matched the symptom i was going thru. I remember seemed like everytime i cracked that book open, it always opened to the wheelchair section "Buuuullllshit!" i would always verbalize and rush my way to other chapters.
At that time Facebook was just in the "Welp" stage of the Dragon it was to become. I was able to get in communication with a friend whose woman i lerned had had the diseise as well...Although we had never had a face to face conversation, she became sorta my "Goto Betty" i was always asking questions about syptoms, mental trash, booze, Medical Marjahootchee etc. etc...
It was alarming to find out she and as i found out later a ton of other folks go unmedicated, the reasons are usually, insurance is the bigest one,  MS is super spendy, or the Medications dont work the way they should or like myself were down to using the possible death by brain infection inducing Tysabri and unlike myself said "Fuck that noise." And insted choosing an alturnative approach using things like DIET, fish  oil, massive doses of vitimin D and a grip of other homieopathic remodys.
The course of my Multipal sclerosis has pitted me up against most of the immidiate people in my life. Wife, two older sons and my 4 year old does'nt really have any choice but to be "Part of the crew, part of the ship"....or however it goes. Im at worlds end with Jack Sparow. "NOBODY MOVE!! I lost me brain....."
Friends have always been apart of my own personal ecosystem. I've always held my friendships in high reguard, atleast as best as this dude could. There have been times that my thinking became all fucked up and i actually screwd over a few as well. Not a bunch but the few that i have, at there perspective times, i did so with the quality like i was a pro.
Now i spend alot of my time alone podering the ugly inventory of rotton things i've visited upon others. When i break all those situations, it forces me to believe : This is how life has returned the black magic ive manifested in my time here. The Universe has always had a way of keeping it's own enventory on all of its creations.So it should be no supprise that the "Great spirit put mein this chair. Is it his way of saying "You need to have a seat and look around....see what you aint beenseeing!!! Get your head out of them tree's and think about some shit!!!"

The Eve of the Last Walk.

Ironic that my Mom would give me a present for Mothers Day. She brought me a Willow branch walking stick she erned at a fund raiser of some sort. "Here honey this is for you. I thought you could use it to help keep you from falling down." She had herd my many tails of traveling all the way to the earth unaided.
As much as i hated seeing myself using the thing it really was exacly what i needed. And then some.
I wanted nothing more than to stay on the coutch at home. But i also really wanted to spend that day with my family. I honestly believed whole heartedly that this was my last day. I was getting the needle the next day.
Tysabri and all the signatures i had thrown down saying i understood the risks associated with the drug. "One in a thousand...." i just knew that i was going to be that one that got the rare brain infection and "bought it."
I really took time to absorb all aspects of that day. The conversations, the Mothers Day brunch, the smells from the kitchen, the way the food tasted, the extra warmth and light the sun offered that morning.
As at most Mothers day breakfasts many different generations were present. From the anchent and honery to my todler who is also quite capable of letting one know how its gonna be. But there was no issues with anyone that morning. Alot of our thoughts were with my wifes aunt who passed away that winter scuba diving.
Agian the word legacy came to my mind. In a conversation with Sunny her daughter i remember the topic of being proud of her mom. "She may be gone but atleast she left a surreal amout of legacy in her wake. I mean you had to turn away a giant line at her viewing after like 4 hours of visiters." It was really more like 6 or 7 hours. There were so many people you would have thought Elvis passed agian. Cindy had touched so many peoples lives on so many different levels. So much that people were willing to wait like 2 hours to have that final conversation with her.
Seeing that many folks show up really put things in perspective (once agian) for I thought about all the places i had been and all the different people i met. Even if i had put a sweet taste in all there mouths, without a dbout it still would'nt come any where near the amout of people lined up to see Cindy [off].

I see ;7

Night time is when things always seemed to be there worst. Pain increased, those ants that tormented me all the time would rrrrrrreally go to town at night.
When i would sit-lay down, it was never for more than ten or so minutes. Between the inability to get into a position of comfort and the fear that my body would not get up agian, i would constantly do the "rounds" stagering the loop though the rooms in my house.
While in the middle of some laps one night my legs began to sorta hyperextend. I would go to take a step and my knee joint would not just lock up but it actually felt as though it should be working in reverse of what that joint is supposed to. Sorta like a kangaroo, obviously whith out all the fuckn hopping. Sometimes this would cause alot of pain because at times, somehow my brain had convinced my knee that "this is how we're gonna do things bitch!". I seriously thought my knee cap was gona moonwalk itself to the pit of my leg. When this would happen it was excrusiating. To break the trance my brain had on the joint i would bitch slap the shit outa my knee pits. This caused me tohit the earth quite a bit, glancing off of funiture at times.took there toll on my hot bodd.
The bowell issues i had endured up till now had me so scared i was gonna shit my pants at any time, all the time. With an inability to identify much less hold any kind of gas! When i walked around gas would do what it always does. But i could not do what i would udoubtibly do like regulate my trasmision in the immediate atomosphere. "Thhhhup thhhhhup thhhhuuuuuupp!!!" That would send me to the banyo like every twenty minutes. Not wanting to ever share an Idaho experence with the fam, i was taking no chances. Doing the stand up sit down, check, stand up and squat real slow like soas to coax anything hiding out, give the Elvis push, check agian. Sometimes i would preform this systems check four or five times. These new proceedures took there toll on the familys cache of buttwipe. Thank the lord for Cosco and the kirkland family reunion sized TP.
It probibly goes without saying but i'll say it anyhow. These many throne visits caused a serious case of ONE RED ASS. In my case, uber monkey butt. Any normal dayly ache or pain one has to endure, could be mutiplyed by like 8 sometimes 10 at others.
One night, while in transit to the beloved banyo i damn near riped off my lower jaw possibly my whole fuckn face.
Making it in with the stealth of a junky, closing the door then i would turn on the light. It was while doing this that it happend. After fliping the switch on i turned to stager twords the throne but my feet did'nt recive the memo and stayed planted. Same old shit except my decent was delayed by the hang up between my jaw and the countertop. It all happend so quick the reflex to self preserve was so weak it could not be implimented till damn near impact. So my jaw hung on the countertop just right, it got to bear the weight of my body, causing my whole head to roll back in pez dispencer fashion. Not only that but i felt pain at the base of my skull which had me in fear of jamming my brainstem out the top of my dome.
When the dust settled i was on the floor laboring to breeth, unable to swallow with a torn up face. It was so painfull. Instinktively i felt around my grill just knowing my lower jaw was gonna be hangn by one side or the other, which it wasnt.
By now my wife was thuroghly awake and rushed in "What the fuck!!?"
The next day i was walking through the family room to the kitchen for fresh coffee and stoped to look out a window. As i finished my gaze agian i turned to make my way to the coffee, agian my feet did'nt budge. My balance and weight were forced tword the window "Oh fuck!!" Knowing the outcome of this could be with me bleeding to death.
Its funny, there a few different ways i react to things. One way is to simply stop the action. Another is to choose the lesser of two evils. Another is tocover up and just accept im about to hurt. But with a double pained window, my mind simply will not be silenced with "cover up and except". No my mind goes into worst case senario in certian situations, such as this. Lots of different visuals play in my head in like a milisecond. The outcomes played in my head involved me being damf neer halfed were it not for my spine. One played with the outcome every artery in my upper body sliced. Another had my body coming to rest in the family room and my head rolling to rest in the backyard.
The out come my mind did'nt give an possibility to was: As they all begain. With me falling like a tree sighted for the center of the pane of glass. Me straitarming my arm like a dumb ass for impact knowing full well i would probibly lose my arm."Better my arm than being halfed or Ichibod Craned" I did'nt know what else to do but hope for the best and yell for dear life.
It all conclueded with me on the floor with a big gash on my back and a pretty good sized lump on my mellon. Looking up to see the window still as clear as ever. "It fuckn worked!??" In a Jack Sparow sort of way. The strait arm glanced me tword a movie case, to which i impacted the corner with my back. The corner tore me open and put a golf ball sized knott on the back of my dome.
Were it not for all the support and help of my wife, im sure i dont know what ever i would have done. She is to me as Virgel is to Dante. She was to be my guide in this comedy.

i SEE ; 6 Draft #4

That night required i have some one zip and button my fly, my fingers stoped working in that capasity. Bob and dental plan escorted me to and from the banyo and where else i may have roamed. The fact i was drinking at all dictated that i have my rig (catherter) with me or pay dearly, which would happen anyway.
One fatefull trip to the can, a clear plastic baggie with the rig and lube inside, fell out of my pocket and hit the floor. I had no idea untill Bob knelt down "The fucks this!?" Eyeballing the ground score. Bobs stair shifted from the baggy to Dental plan as if to say "Oh dear lord."
If anyone had any question how fucked up i really was, that night would clear the air for a dbouters.
"Thats mine" grabing it outa his hands. "Yeah dude im pretty fucked up now." As he began for the door "Hey man you aint gotta explaine nothin Chris, not fuckin  nothin man. You ok  by yourself in here Chris?" "Im startin to wonder, yeah i should be alright." " Hey Chris?" "Yeah?" "Not nothing man, remember that. Dont be affraid to holler if you need anything." "Thanks Bob."
He closed the doorand i waited about a minute. Then i made my yell for the calvary. "UH Bob!! Bob im gonna need a hand!!" About 5 seconds went by then a quick knock. "Chris, you ok buddy!? Ya need a hand!?" "Yeah man, you alright Chris?" Opening the door, with an expression of supprise. Seeing me standing nodbout. "Hey Bob, are your hands clean?" "I washed em about 5 minutes ago...." As i began working my fly down "I need your help holding this while i drain it." Holding back with all i could. Bob took a step or two forward, with a look of: I did'nt mean help wuth that. He got one more step before recognizing the masked grin i could no longer disguise. Then being met with a look of contempt. "Fuck you." "Dont worry Bob your secrets safe with me." "Fuck you Chris." I about lost my footing with laughter.
Getting back to setting up "the works".  Pulling the over sized folly sword from the baggy. It was a bit s;ipery due to past useage.
My wife was told by the ER nurse she was able to talk out of one. "They can be reused, just was it with soap and water after he uses it."
"So fucken septic" Applying lube and moving on to the next step. "Opperation swallow!"  Squeezing the cobras eye open, i began running the rubber sword down it's gullet.
By now we had broken down gag reflex. Reaching the PNR or halfway, without freeking myself out was a good sign. When the end taped into the belly of the beast im met with an eruption of the contence. When the gyser erupted, a release of anxity swept through me. Which cased me to ease my grip on the instument. Not realizing this untill pee bagan to rush out between the tutrbe and the "throat" fallowed by a projectile of rubber sword. Hitting the toilet rim and glacing itself tworads the out side of the bowl, finding a landing zone underneith the bowl. Coming to rest on the white turned grey area of tile was enough to make me sick.
Picking up the odd shaped surgical tube led me to further inspection of the floor. The closer my head got the more the srface began to change from grey to a greyish yellow with texture. "Oh man! I'll not b using this ever agian." As intoxicated as i was im suprised i acctually used some T paper to raise the pipeline and find the trash can. As logic would have it, the pee fairy made her pressents known. Fightig the feeling for like...5 minutes, i ran- stagard for the banyo. After trying with all hope. Ofcourse i was met with the same result, failer.
Its intresting how quickly a mind can persuade itself  to change when met with pain. "Fuck it, i dont give a fuck." Retreving the catherter out of its trash can grave. "Maaan!! this is so nasty! With the quickness, i wased it with soap and water then proceded on to drain it. "Man, i better not get some kind of penile fungus from this."
Around two in the morning i would perform, absolutely, the last gitmo technique. When i was met with the same result as earlyer but this time the tube chose to sleep with the Titanic and landed IN the toilet bowl. "Oh shit!!" To me it was a deth sentence. Agian i would put it in the garbage. Agian i would make a B line to take a leak. This time when i got to the banyo, the events of earlyer flashed through myhead peering into the waste basket. "NO DUDE! That's grosser than gross!! A mans got to know his limits!" This thought process would put me to the test. For about a half hour the pain was exscrewciating and then suddenly, just, went away.
Duane and i would make our way home as the Midnight turned a dark aquq marine. As much as the night was an element i thrived in, there is always someting i found about seeing the sunrise without sleep, wrong, depressing....sac religious? It's rough sharing your self with a creature of the night and a creature of the sun, one or both enevitably suffer.
Stumbling through troot door to sse my wife with Noah slurping down one of his many morning bottles. With a way less than thriled look on her face "Where'd you go...???" Continuing to the back deck "We were down at Myahs." Finding a seet on the back deck for  a smoke. After all the booze consuption from the night before, somehow i came home with a half a Bottle of Beam. Whithout any hesitation  i unscrewed the lid. As dark aqua began to give away to light aqua, "Down the hatch!"
After a night of mass consuption accompanyed with completely stupid philosophy and ideals, causes me to reflect the next day. But this time i was filled with thoughts of MS, thoughts of frustration. The fact that my time climbing, my mistress in this life was through, combined with the whiskie took me to some sereious dephs of dispare.
One smoke became two then three,one after another became quite a bit of the pack. With the wife steemed about my return to old ways, she stayed as far away as possible. So i sat there watching the sky go through its dayly metemorphsis doing to same with the bottle. Ofcourse i was overcome with emotion, tears had been running down my face for awhile, they evolved into an all out cry. Noone would talk to me....
At some point i did get a little bit of much needed company. My 12 year old son, Colby made his way to a patio chair, then made a stair at me. Not wanting him to see his Pa subcome to defeat and his spirit broken, i made an all for not effort to conseel my bubbering.
He would just stair at me, evey 30-40 seconds he would break his stair and look to the two by six's that made up the floor of the deck, only to return that inquisitive gaze.
Colby, a very curious little boy (Too much so at times) just sat outside with me for what must have been an hour. In that time he got to hear the customary drunkin banter. But this time, those eyes that seemed to peirce whatever bullshit one may front, seemed not of curiosity but more of concern and possibly sorrow? It sent me into an even greater tailspin. It dawned on me that all that little boy had ever known of his father was an absent workaholic that amounted to nothing but a drunk hit me, hard.  And as only a drunk father can, i warned him of the bottle and dope. More importantly i warned him 'The booze and dope are not the enemy. "The weakness in your head is the true enemy. People who understand moderation and understand there is pletty of time to have fun with all that shit as you grow older. But right now your a kid Colby.......for God sake be that kid for as long as you can. Dont grow up to fast, cause at somepoint your gonna wish you were young agian." Taking another big pull off the bottle, wiping tears and sparking another Boro. "Colby being a drunk is so lonely, and a complete waste of time. You'll never get in the history books for anything worth a damn, for being a drunk. Just look at me...What do you want to be rememberd as? A drunken tyrant or someting really inspiring? Do you know what the word legacy means?"

I see ;5

The two weeks leeding up to, what i would begin to refur to as my final walk,  "The green mile". "Those statistics are fuckin with me. One in a thousand." Tumbling around and around and around, all the time. I was thinking and talking myself onto the "table" for the "needle" i would casualy phun...gallos humuring my way througfh what i  truely felt in my gutts, "I'll be that 1 in 1000!!..... heh".
I could not bring myself to " just throw it out" The rebif i had left being only two doses short of a box. "There's gotta be away i can get this to someone who could'nt afford the nutty out of pocket $3,500 price tag" "You cant do that" i was told.  I kept it in the fridge anyway in the eevent i came accross someone.
It did'nt take long before my symptoms went from worse to 60 in 2 days. The last job i was to complete for my 9-5 came within days of being unmedicated. Mrs Powell lived off of wasatch blvd on Yorkshire Dr. We were to remove a locust and japanese maple in the backyard and beautify a locust and two bradford pears in the front. As always, we began in the back with bladder issues in tow. Agian with no cover, this time all i could do was hope noone was at there window.
My "nohorn" help must have been wondering "How in the hell is this guy figure he's gonna climb?" I had to sit down to get into my saddle, worming my way into it. It was really difficult putting on my hooks. Sinching down the straps was quite the chor, having to grip, pull and buckle all at once. My fingersjust didnt posses the strenth needed to hold on to the staps when sinching them down. "You need some help?" my helper would ask. "I got it. Cant you see that?" i would grin, i dont think he knew how to take what i said until he saw the grin. Some how i was able to get just enough of of a grip to get my gaffs secured. The walk to the tree must have been someting to see, Walking in hooks alreadt requires one to walk bowleged. Walking on the outsides of your feet to avoid dulling up the four inch spike that is pivotal in climbing removal trees. I was walking so jackt that my spikes were sword fighting causing me to trip up all over the fuckn place.
It took me 3 hours to do  what would have normaly taken 30 minutes.
My left leg would'nt work so my right leg took the brunt of all progresion. Most all balance was focused on the right. To climb i would step with the right, kick in and half step. Thenputting all wight on the right and grabing what ever i could, i would just heave the left as high as it would go and sorrta swing it to the trunk and lowering my left side e at the same time, chancing a home for the gaff. IF i was  able to start a hole,it would take all kinds of weight shiting to get a "decent" seat. Being that i was in some of the hardestd wood in Utah, it took forever
By lunch the back was done and so was i "This is gettin redicules man" kept coming to my mind and work its way past my lips, many times that day. Being the stubbon sob that i am, i just could not bring myself to "tap out".
The aloud me to complete three of the five trees, the two removals and beautifying one pear in the front. The heat of the day killed me, just getting into 619 to leave proved to be a near imposibility. Finly climbing up to the Capn's chair, i lit a Boro. Taking two drags was all that was needed to tell me "Yer killin me dude" causing mywhole body to litteraly "burn" from the inside out. Beginig in my bones, then my muscles and finly my skin. Like i had acitone injected into my body. The vise being more important than the way it made me feel, like the last cillea ona smokers lung "what do i got to loose" and had two more for the ride back to the yard.
In the shower that night my legs and everything down there could no longer feel the beems of water hitting them. My eyes began to see "ultra violet" first big sploches floating around accompaneyed by "firework" type stars that would spin in small circles with tracers and a serious feeling of floating and dizzyness.
Having to allocate two days to a job that really should have takin one. With the help i was givin. Nwe managers, along with the battle i was fighting in my head and many other worrys began to take there toll. Dbout and a feeling of defeet crept into my head. My attitude went from "can do" to "i just dont care anymore." Weeping was a reaction i could not stop or even delay. It was all i could do to find a place to alow the water works to do there thing.
Pulling away from the Powell residence, "My time hear is over"  mentaly waving the white flag of surrender.
Now, for me to say someting like that, i had said it before in the past only to ignight that final reserve of fury to propel me through the dilema. This time, it was different. The fire that stoked that inner magic was now a mere pilot light. Insted, a yeld to dispare was all i could muster.
That friday i knew would also be my last. I dont even think i mutterd one word to anyone as i left the shop that night.
It was days before the green mile. If i had'nt drove my wife and kids insane with my antics i was sure to now. Already couching it, flooring it and sleepwalking from sun down to sun up. The feeling of having to pee every ten totwenty minutes kept me going from the front room to the banyo, add in that every second or third trip included a crash to the foor and along with the breaking someting, made for many slepless nights. In attempts to eliminate noise for my wife and baby, i would deem it a good idea togo downstairs, ending up along with a humpty dumpty tumble, at the bottom on my crown. Real quiet like! Back and forth, back and forth, banyo to coutch, coutch to banyo.
At times it would feel so hot, hot enough to strip down to my stones, pull off all the blankets and let the "sweat" evaporate only to have it turn to ice upon interacting withe air.
Other times there was a whole colony of ants tunneling around to different parts of my body. They nver seemed hungy, just intent on seperating every square inch of skin from my musculskeletal frame.
One of the final evenings befor my trip i got my booger hooks on a bottle of Beam. Doin what i would normaly do, drink, strait from the bottle. Knowing fullwell it was The single WORST thing i could do. I was so sick of having toworry about...everything! Everywhere i looked for info, or all the different folks i asked, or wouldld offer advise to me was making my head spin. Everything i did was causing my MS to be more sever. Food was huge. No Salt,sugar, glutin or any of the shit put in most food. If it had fuckin ingredence i did'nt dare eat it for fear that it might make me piss my pants or shit my pants or suffer vision issues or lose more feeling in my legs or hands or dick. I was so tierd and so frusterated and so angry. And like myself, went to the whiskie mart. By the time i got home i had already made my ritual chug a third smoke a few drive, thus, "waaas feeelin fuuuckn resennntful as fuck man." My bro Duane showed up around half way into the bottle. Thats about the time the rest of my family came home. The wife, not wanting to deal with it, demanded we leave. In my efforts to oblige i first went to take a leak.
Getting infront of the toilet i whiped ot the pice and began to pee. Then, my right leg gave out, then the left and fell into the shower curtan proceeding to tear the whole thing down. It all ended with me in the tub wraped in plastic pissing all over myself and soaking it all up at the same time. My whole lower body was out of order. Somehow, i made it out of the banyo without any serious trama...this time
Striping off the piss soaked clothes was another nightmare, hitting walls and carpet was puttin me in the red. After actualy getting my pants on i made my way to the front porch for a Boro. Sitting down in the chair, whiskie in hand. my blood pressure began to elevate right along side my temper. Thats when Duane came "You ready to roll man?" "Lets get the fuck outa here!" Getting to my feet and back on my ass agian, over and over and over. I began cursing at God, getting loud and yelling, on like attempt number twenty the waterwrks began agian and in defience i flung myself out of the chair. "Whoa Reid!! what the fuck you doing man!?" Catching me before i hit the ground. Sobing i broke down once agian "I dont want this anymore!! I just want it all to end." "Reid dont, dont do this man!" setting me back in the chair "Im not bad enough for this shit man!" Embracing me further "Reid, your one of the badest motherfuckers i know!...." "I just want it to be over!!" "Dont do this man, you can hang, comon man lets get outa here. "Your gonna have to grab my shoes for me." He had to tie them too

I see ;4

People (neabors, friends and family) I assume, were doing things for my family and i. Calling consistantly and comming by to offer a hand , motivation, encouragement. Some realizing the aii encompasing implications, were rounding me up new clients and jobs. I am so still very touched and greatfull.
The things happening to me were so innumerable. All i coud do is concintrate on the "few" that were  imedeate to my most basic functions.
At my 9-5 they had things so fucked up. Being on our third branch manager in six weeks was quite the  hoot. A pool was began on how long the current one would last.
All the discontent had me wanting to walk so bad but stood fast and continued to fight this.."Nothing" that was so intent, it seemed, on tearing apart my existence.
A hugeb problem, with new Management came a new and "better way of  working smarter not harder." Corse the new bosses knew shit about what there job was, so firing and hiring became the consistant way of buisness. This caused all kinds of issues for the Maintence department.
 Paco sent back to cutting grass and i was assigned  a new helper everyday. A new hire, hell, they wernt even Greenhorn,s, they were nohorns! But i tryed to be as positive as i could and "leed by example" even though i just wanted to see the world burn. My example' i dont tnink, was sending a very good message. Try and try i just could not preform the way i had grown accutomed and demanded. Pride was someting i was a fanatic with when it came to completeing a job. Overkill. When i rang the door bell "It was on!" put in a berry blend, and it did'nt stop untill the blowers came out and i was putting an invoice in the hand of my "mark". With help that woun't catch the drift of draging a pile to the chipper, coming from as far as a backyard! With maaaybe 4 sticks in hand was madding!!  Usually causing me to be more aggesive with motivational technique. They could get with the program or take a taxi. Now, i had no choice but to run a "kinder gentler" program. I was'nt about to demand the most out of anyone what with me stagering everywhere and barely able to even stand. Yet these jobs had to be completed. Lets give some of these guys some credit for recognizing my dilema and moving/working the best they knew how. Ofcourse i got a couple of taxi worthy folks, "just grin and be greatful as hell" i would tell myself.
On the other hand deeming my bosses as "completely full of shit and totaly incompitant" worked on my behalf. I would get sent to damn near Idaho " i protested for a job thats "sevenhundred peso's?" Obeying the order i would have normalylobbyed against, impeding my production for two days. Getting there to find out exacly as i suspected "gossly under fuckin bid" . Two days for sevenhundred bucks was just not gonna happen after the first 14 hour day. But that DID make for 8 hoursb of DRIVE time that i wasnt about to lick in the mouth. From that point on, which wasnt very long , i was able to take advantage of the underbid job excuse on particularly labor intensive jobs. Not that there were many of them.
The closer my neurologist appointment got the more anytype of endurance or strenth began to just.....vanish. Unable to gain any or enough sleep.
When i smoked a Boro i found out my lips on the left side of my face refused to hold a smoke. Take it a step further
Fellas learn that being able to spit like a cannon, is a right of passage. Years and years of refining a skill that to my knoledge, the Military does'nt have a program for. The howlitser in my arsenal was now droling logies on to my boots, in my beard, shirt and pants. My tounge would not roll on the left side nor would my lips hold pressure required to launch a projectile succesfuly.
On one occation i was watching my 1 1/2 year old Noah. We were watching the tv and he was laying down on the floor having a bottle. I cant recall what i was getting up for but i stood up out of my lazy boy to head for the kitchin i think. Went to begin walking and nmy legs just froze, they would not move! This threw my balance off and i began to lean right twords my baby boy. It was as if i had become a tree and someone like myself was at my feet with a saw and put a face cut sighted right for Noah and was in the middle of the back cut, and like the trees, i began to fell. It all went so slow mo. I tryed in vain to change my trajectory or take a step but seemed all for not. Falling, all i remember was a set of big blue eyes suckin down his bottle checkin me out.
When i hit i was still screaming, the big blue eyes were as focused as ever and still content with his bottle. I missed him by like hairs. This episode SCARED LIFE OUT OF ME and i began to seriously wonder if it was safe for me to be at home with my family.
I developed a pretty good hitch in my step. My left leg began to drag when i would walk, it would'nt work from the knee down. From my hip down to my knee function was very limited.
MY mind waas begining to get very hot very quick. As if i wasnt already a hot head. My sons, at that time, had no way of possibly grasping what i was wrestling with and so the sibling rivalry and fighting REALY chaped my ass.  I would come unglued and get VERY loud with them.
Pane levals began to elivate substantily. Understanding what pills did and using them on a consistiant basis, i was learing, became very important. I had misunderstood thinking that Baclifin was for pain. When its actualy for spazums. Not only that, once you begin tacking Baclifin your body sortan becomes addicted to it and will spaz if it dont get its feel. Sometimes i would eat 1 in the morning, three in the afternoon and nun at night. Sometimess nun at all for the day. Doing this i think caused my spasims to exadgerate.
I still had'nt been introduced to anything for pain so i was still abusing Advil eating 5 or 6 of em at once every 4 or so hours. This is when what i refer to as evening walks" started. Staying seated for to long began to scare me, fearing (like elephants do) i might not get up after being down. In my case for to long, i would stager around. Through the entry way then the living room to the kitchen into the backroom and back to the entry way, then over agian, all night sometimes.
Consutation day came and to Dr Zs office we went. As he walked in the room i could see some papers in his grip. "Hello Mr and Mrs Reid." Taking a paer and placing infront of me "After looking at your MRI we need to switch you from Rebiff to Tysabri. The contrast dye showed us alot of activity which means what we are currently doing is not working." The paper infront of me was information  on Tysabri. That it was a infusion (IV) that was done once a month. And amonst some other things, that one in one thousand have died so far in connection to the drug. "Those are some tuff odds." We also filled out some financial help applications. Some insurance companeys wont cover it. I think it was called the care progra, i think. Tysabri is seven thousad dollars! monthly and thats just for the drug.
There was one more thing. "We need you to stop the rebiff and be clean of it for two weeks, before we start the new treatment. "That means, im having an attack and i have to do two weeks unmedicated! YOU GOTTA BE SHITIN ME."