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."

I see ;3

A few days later Dr Z called to scedual an apointment to review  results. In the days leading up to his call i was prepaing myself for another go in the capsule.
"We're gonna have to do it agian, huh?" "That wont be nessary. We got everything we need." "The techs told me the images were terriable. I figured we were gonna have to go another round." "Nope" Consultation was set up for the next week.
In the mean time there was work to be done.
There ws one job i did for my 9-5 that put the writing on the wall, it spelt out the words "No mas!
An old ladie in sugarhouse had some female (fruit) trees that were way over due for production prunes, IE they were nasty as all hell. But she did have an Almond tree. Never been in one of those so that was anotherone to notch out the bed post for.
Today i was paired up with "Senior Montanya", better known as Jose. When i returned from the Banx he and i were put together for tree work. He was a hard woring Sum-a-bit-chhhh. Very impresive. We could not understand oneanother to begin with. "This must be the kind of barrier Messner ran into negotiating Everest the first time. This is when i  knighted him the title Sir "Paco Sherpa." The first time i refered to him as Paco Sherpa He got all kinds of Baboon nuts on me!! After about a half hour of fighting through the language barrier and the assurence i was'nt calling him a "Hoetoe" or my bitch, it was a bond/trust that this honkey wont ever talk to "this sherpa" like he was your advarage run of the mill cactus cutting, border hoping mexican.
We started in the tree furthist away, the Almond and worked our way back to the closer ones. The almond went fairly quickly although the blader began doing its thing which inturn caused me to do my thing (drop everything and take cover). Problem was, there was no real cover to be found. Agian a dash for 619 and hauling ass for the closest 7-11. I think Paco was  left on the site like 3 times. 3 times all i could muster was dribbling, made me mad as hell. I would come back get my saddel back on, get back to work and you guessed it."I gotta fucken piss agian!" This time the pice was comming out, no cover be damned! I still tryed to find a place that the old lady could'nt spy my pice at. I ended up in the driveway of all places. Using a trash can to pin myself between the garage door and a mugo pine. The phantom stone dislodged itself and "we got hydrolics!! Elated with releif i failed to see all the pee flooding down the driveway. Or, the neborhood cars going by. Truth be known, I could'nt give a squirt of piss about any o that. My concern was not causing our customer a heart attack. Thank God she did'nt see any of the hooded cobra.
From the Almond tree we moved onto a few Apricot trees. These trees were a little spooky due to the fact they were so close to high voltage power lines. This kept me from actually climbing one of the two labled as such. That left me useing pole tools and a orchard ladder.
When a climber is airborn, communication between Climer and ground control is imparitive. The fact is without a good groudman the "best" climbers may as well be high paid peeping toms. A real good indicator you have excelent ground support is. They have the ability to antisipate the next move to be made and the best way to react to whatever situation they see coming next. Paco Sherpa understood this, that is why i loved to work with him.
So i ended up using an orchard ladder for the Apricots. All my pee breaks had put us behind schedual by an hour or so, so i was making haste. There was just a few cuts left to be made. Getting to these last few cuts was a pain in the ass due to the high voltage passing overhead. I had to place my ladder all off balance to make it happen. This is a common practice that usually includes tying off the top of the ladder when the climber gets there, which i did not. When i got up to the top i realized  i could make these cuts with my eyes closed and so unprotected, went for it. The fist and then with a lunge and up on the tip of my righht boot, the second. Successfuly making the cut, i could feel weakness rush through my core, legs and arms and finely finding its way to my feet and hands.by now i was expecting this and had been able to sorta time the waves and the task. This time i chose poorly by forceing myself to the final cut. Overcome by weakness at the cuting point the ladder started to go over, instictivly i tightened up my grip. This happining many times before, was never a big deal. This was something i could easly self arrest myself outa. Not now. As tight a grip i could muster, seemed almost non-existant and i was headed for certian broken legs and torn forskin as there was barbedwire below. Thank God for the antisipation of Paco Sherpa. were it not for Jose "Paco Sherpa" Flores i would've suffered serious injury. He was able to stop the ladder from colapse alowing me just enough strenth to hold on. Finely able to upright the ladder so i could kinda stumble down backwards to the earth, on my ass.
Jose being the overachever that he is, like myself, prefers to be the "work through luch and get the fuck outa here!" guy. Not on this day he wernt! There were seven trees to be touched, we, had just completed number two and it was basicly lunch time. "I,m so fucked!!" Tacking inventory of the work left to be completed. We had two more Apricots to clean, luckly they were much smaller. Two Cherry trees that weretall as hell and growing between two structures with lots of windows and line drops that provided power to each house. This was the crux of the whole job. Grandma wanted these two trees halfed and done properly. This is where i make lots o money being an expert at rigging, i save alot of headach and time associated with the danger and difficulty in triming, pruning and removing tree types such as those. Then there was a Juniper that needed to be peeled off the home. Finely a Cottonwood growing in the parking strip. It had a massive amount of sucker growth down where the main trunk began its co-domination.
With much reluctance, i trimed out the two remaining Apricots before taking  the Paco protested "launshh!"
Boro's galore for lunch.
 Fear...i believe...live's inside of everybody at some level. It's how we choose to confront it. Or let it confront us. For the last 6 or so months i had been crusading to the MS lands. Headstrong. Charge!!! Jon McClane Yippe KIA Mother Fucker!!like. Im pretty sure Bruce would concur. But that day...My mind was "Okay!! Lets roll!! My body just would not oblige with any enthusiasim. I,never have operated in those conditions, was scared, very scared, afraid. All the other times i was able to reach and tap energy sourses and reserves, that manifest confidence. That counted for so much. It seemed i no longer possesed the Magic required. Mana drain so ta speek. My Wife has at a hundred's of times or another accused me of Sweat shoping my guardian angel's "One of these days Chris they're all go on strike on you!!" she would plead, and she was right. I just chose not to agree. Now, i'll be damned if they (angels) had'nt grabd me by the buck wheats "Got yer attention nowwwww!! DONT WE!" They sure as hell did. Hence all the Boro's And I DID'NT WANT TO CLIMB THOSE CHERRY TREES.
After a few cuts with the 200t and polesaw, i figured i'd save what little energy i had for in the air. The interior was simple enough so to the top it was. Before i could reduce the height, i needed to reduce the width, problem was, i had no fuel lft in me. We handeled the laterals going over windows. It wasnt purdy, no, but it was done. Reducing the height was left. After limb walking/crawling the latterals, it took a pretty serious motavational talk with myself to go after the top. The only thing that alowed me to move or kept me in position was my gear 100%. It also worked agianst me. A couple of times i lowerd myself through a "hole" to go after a cut, not thinking i would have to backtrack and pull myself back up for more cuts. "Piss, Poor , Planing Chris!" In total self disgust. Going to make my way back up, was just not happening, i was so fatigued, so hot,so.....lifeless! Paco was about ready to come and cut me out. Twice this happend and somehow, i just........ willed? myself back out.
The final cut to be made in the Cherrys was top number two. Basic, basic, basic. Tie a rope to it and have Paco pull like hell when the back cut goes in so the top olly's the tree for a simple clean up.
With a small sliver of a facecut and the tag line attached things were ready to roll. Jose, ready at the end of the tag and my saw running at the ready "Tighten up!!" The rope went from slack to tention, Jose ready to pull like hell. Suddenly the wave of weakness began its set. Relizing the gravity of the situation "Back cut!!" I went to make the cut and could not raise the saw. Using two hands and a buch of cuss words, i was able to rsorta place the saw where the backcut was to go. All i had to do was apply pressure and squeeze the throtle. At this moment my legs simply stoped working and i began to sloutch down and cutting at the same time. "Pull Paco!! Pull!! And Paco deliverd. Watching the top clear and land  was the last thing i saw before my boby just went limp and i began to colapse with my trim saw still in hand, fingers still covering the throtle without an engaged chain break. Usually when someting like this happens, the first thing i do is let go of the saw. With things the way they were for me i was unable to do this. When my body came to rest it was with my saw hand with saw in my grip, coming to rest on top of my left arm. How i did,nt cut my arm off is beyond me. Sweat Shop.

I see ;2

As the winter was turning  to spring so to did the work start to make its annual change. Every year it goes like this: By the end of January finances are begining to dwindle, tax returns cant get processed fast enough. When they do get here, they're spent in like, last year! So now the work's gotta pick up "Or we're screwed"' By the last week of Febuary, you've convinced yourself 'Im goin outa buisness!" March gets here and a couple of jobs get sold "Its so slow" you say. Next thing you know, you cant get  shit done fast enough. Before you know it its August and works tapered off. Being that it's me, my crew will have just enough time to tap and shot themselfs out all there funds. Then the fall gets here  and it's back in the saddel.
It was around March i was supposed to go in for an MRi and work was starting to pick up for both buisnesses. Great jobs for Wasatch Urban. I had a loyal clientel rolling, just Beautiful to watch somthing you've put so much love into grow. Suckes when its growing and yer not.
Dr Bob had procured Wasatches sevices. It was this job that would be the last time i would totaly clean up a tree. It was a Honey locust, i was able to move relitively well though. But it was on this job the bladder problem returned. It would feel like i had to pass a stone. I would drop everything i was doing to find anywhere i could to let my pice breath flames and agian a few squirts was all. Go back to what i was doing and the flames would just breath on there own. So i would just have to work through it, smell, wet pants and all. Bengal Blvrd Market being a few streets over was a place i was always at for the Banyo. This is where i would just break down and lose it. "How can i fix this!?" I would plead and sob to myself.
The MRI was a day after Dr Bobs's job was completed. When i showed up at Radiology the Tech "Mr Reid, we have you scedualed for the Marathon, Head, C-spine, T-spine and pelvis. You'll be in there for around 6 hours." I ABOUT SHIT. Then she made some calls. "K i got rid of the pevic section but where still looking at around 4 hours." It was still realy overwhelming. "I dont know how im gonna stay still for 4 hours." Pissing or snhiting myself  in the capsule was a very real fear. I was also experencing involintary twitches all the time. (spasims)
This MRI was a nightmare. I made it 45 minutes and then the spasims began. Small ones at first, sudden twiches at first. The tech would chime in on the Black crows, "Chris we need you to stay as still as possible." "Man, in sorry, i'll try to do better."
Then it went from subtle to wild. A leg would just kick, or an arm would spaz the same way. Agian a Tech would interupt the tunes, this time a woman, "Chris you need to stay still" Frustation in her voice "Im so sorry, im trying" About 20 more minutes went by, agian my body started doing the spaz thing "Chris!! You got to stay still!!" this time i could hear anger "Im tryig!!" You fuckn bitch i mutterd under mybreath. "There is no point in you even being here ifb your gonna move around like you are!!" "Lady" waterworks began, "Im doing everything possible to fucken stay still" sobbing "I dont fuken know how to stop!! Dont you fucken people understand!!? If i could, i fucken would bitch!!!" I roared. Aint life grand returned to the head set for about 20 seconds. This time a dude chimed back over Widespread "What can i do to help you. i was burning up inside that thing. "Im burning up in here." He paused the cycle, ejected me from the capsul, came out and pulled the sheets off me " Calm down Chris just do the best you can to stay still man." "IM sorry im loosing it, i don't know how to stop this.." Trying to gain control of myself. "You never should have been scedualed for all this at once. And you probibly should have had some valume to keep those spazums down. We have twenty more minutes and then i inject you with some contrast ink, we,re almost done. Can you hang in there?" "I can, i dont know about the rest of me....?" "Ok here we go" and inserted me back into the capsul. From that point i still had spazums but not near what they were.
With every thing complete, the capsul spit me back out once agian and dude returned to yank the ink line out of my arm. It was then that i realized that i was just saturated with sweat. When i came out of  the chamber i was looking for that voice that just got me livid as all hell. She was nowhere to be seen. "Thats right..run that bitch outa here..."  I do alot of muttering. Guy told me my doctor would be intouch in a week to scedual results.
 Agian another non life or death situation that left me feeling as though i owened the definition to the word pussy. It was a hard one to swallow. Thank god i was alone.

IIIIIIiiii see your eyes

After dianoses, i suppose Dr Ren's observation of me being Cavaler was pretty accurate. Because all there was was Ms, Me and Cavaler. My attitude twords adversity  has always been, in one way or another, confrotational. It has been a very hard lesson for me to learn to "Pick your battles wisely" People would tell me from time to time "You cant win them all" My reply, altough not always verbal, amounted to "Buuullshit!" it cost me a carrier,relationships, loves, friends and family, although, of all the things i've lost, the worst being myself. For without it none of those other things mean shit. A struggle indeed.
Still not quite grasping the magnitude of what Mutipal sclrosis was. To me it ment difficulty walking, climbing, cuting, lifting.....peeing, shiting, fucking. All of which could be remidyed with steroids. Very dangerous out look.
Sex with MS was a blessing...for her. Lots o work for me. ".Extra" chewing gum for her. The regular 45 second orgasim was on strike, which ment more time in th saddel, which unbeknownst to me ment down time and recovery. Atleast i was able to get us.....er...her off, with her wanting more and me a "Dead fuck" respectively...of course. It's not that i could'nt get off, it just wasn't anything like the sexual Tyranasaurus i am!
However, it was Cavaler that got me up and to work everyday, it got me to the bar stools and dreamers 50% percent of what i was (still alot). It kept me running bids for both companys. It kept my resentment of all these afflictions and my embers glowing red. I was determined to make MS conform to me and not me to it. Another way i would acomplish this was with ridicule. For some of  the symptoms, the disese and for myself.
One example of this was the first few times i had to "make the unit swallow the sword" (cath) I just could not believe i was putting a 12" tube down my pice!! After the stunt was preformed "I amaze myself, i need to you tube this shit!!" This is how i would share my great feat with the bartop at the drink. Or threatn to get on the bartop and preform the helicopter with cath inserted. A few times i would start putting cocktail straws together. Someone would yell down the bar "Hey Chris!? What the hell you doin man!? I would keep on task and reply "I gotta piss bad!! I left my "rig" at home. Im gonna McGruber it." To which i got many different reactions. I found this absolutely halarious. One time i jumped down from the bar with my imposter sword in hand and headed for the banyo. Some started tripn out, one guy started to jump off his stool to persue "I gotta see this shit!"

So wont cha ;4

We got into see Dr Z about two weeks after the ER visit. We met yet another Dr at this appointment. Dr Ren. It was now time to get the drugs. Gabapentin, baclifen, anti depressants pills to help me pee, pills to help me sleep pills pills pills pills pills. I was givin a list of differnt kinds of MS spicific Auto immune Drugs and told to "choose one" withn exception to a drug called Tysabri. It was explained to me thatTysabri is more or less the "big gun" in the MS world. "We generally use that drug if the others dont work. There are risks with Tysabri." That left me a few other alternatives .
A drug called Avonex is an IM (Inter muscular) shot 'You administer to yourself." There was another drug called Rebif "It's a sub cutanius shot you also self administer every other day." There was a couple others that wernt even discused. It was really quite odd "pick one"  How in the hell was i supposed to know which one to use. The Dr's were a little reluctant to help me pick one. It was decided Rebif would be the best for me. Dr Ren made the comment that "Youve gotta be the most cavaler patient ive ever met. Usually people are having a break down and crying. You got this fearless attitude." Ignorence i suppose. Looking back it's the best attitude i could have had. They also scedualed another MRI a few months down the line.
For the next few months Ms and i engaged in battle. My will versus a chicken shit alement created by a Condesending  Creator.
And for awhile it was to work as usual. Or as best as i could. Like i sayed there was a grip of symptoms to deal with. I could go on and on with those. Defience it seems was part of the mold i was sent to this earth with. Made my handelers mad as hell, had this not been apart of my spirit i would have been a true bitch to my new cell mate named Sclrosis (scares).