10:33 p.m. | 2004-07-15 I�m Veering, Once Again, To The Left. I don�t mean that politically. I mean that literally. It�s the damn fibro � I honestly can�t walk straight. I start straight but then quite distinctly veer to the left. Well, it�s distinct to the people watching. I only notice when I hit a wall. Which, of course, always surprises me. You think I�d learn. I�m just a mess. Totally. Spasms, migraines, nosebleeds, useless limbs� all that stuff. That stuff? I kinda ignore. Albeit, I attempt not to do any of that stuff in public. Which would be really great if I didn�t have to go to work everyday. Mostly, it�s very painful and very, very embarrassing. And, quite honestly, hard to explain. For example, it�s easier to explain the veering when it�s political and not physical. When it�s physical, well, you look like you have a problem. One that involves, um, perhaps alcohol and/or [illegal] drugs. But what I hate more is Cognitive Impairment and it�s sidekick, Super Bitch. Imagine listing to the left with spastic and/or useless limbs and acting completely stupid while snipping at others. With unfocused eyes because you can�t see shit. Then, having a spontaneous nosebleed. Yeah. Blood everywhere really doesn�t help. Nor is it easy to explain. I really, really don�t ever want to know what the casual observer or even my coworkers think of me. Really. Because I am obviously FUCKED UP. That much I know. And really, they all know I have some sort of disorder but only one person is familiar with it. They don�t know that it comes with boatloads or, for me, 3 whole pages of symptoms. They know it involves muscles and pain. That�s pretty much it. But, oh, there is so much more going on. At any given moment, I could be experiencing 5-25 different symptoms at the same time, not counting any side effects due to all the medications. They don�t know about the meds either. Their offers of aspirin are proof of that. They are all well-intended, kind and pretty forgiving. I�m grateful for that. However, I still don�t even want to know what they think. I would rather just stay secluded when I flare up, but that damn pesky job (that I am so truly GRATEFUL for) requires that I drag my sorry ass up into the office. And, frankly, it�s kinda funny sometimes. As a person who loves to laugh, I find humor in almost any way that I can. It keeps me alive. I wasn�t laughing at all the other day when I yelled at NewBoss� but it�s funny now. Fortunately, we both think that it was. Seriously? Um� total, unfiltered insubordination. With a dash of sass. Big dose of sass. Huge. It was like this. (NewBoss:) Good morning. Here�s your file. I just need a couple of changes and a transitional sentence. That�s all. (CI:) Uh, okay. I made the changes noted. However, the need for a transitional sentence escaped my comprehension. Needless to say, I was in a huge amount of pain and totally bitchy. Here�s what happened. (CI:) Hey, NewBoss. I don�t understand what you�re asking for. (NB:) You need a transitional sentence here. (CI:) For what? There�s fucking (heh) headers and whatnot. What the fuck (heh) are you talking about? I don�t GET IT. What the fuck (heh) do you want from me? What? (NB:) (Very calmly � to his credit.) I need a sentence that tells me how this ties into to that. (CI:) WHAT? That�s like asking why a red crayon is labeled red. (NB:) Are you okay? I ignored that question, of course, because I can�t stand it when people ask me how I�m doing when I�m in pain. Plus, they wouldn�t really like the answer. Honestly. When you�re fine, you�re fine; when you�re not, you�re not. Don�t ask me about the �not� times. Seriously. Anyway, he immediately wrote the sentence for me � which is good because I wasn�t gonna because a red crayon doesn't need to be labeled as such � and gave me my file back. I made that change and life continued. I apologized, he accepted and we both laughed. Later, he admitted that I can be succinct when need be. That�s been a debate. He complains that I�m long-winded in my work. I counter with the argument that I�m only that way because he wants to know EVERYTHING. That�s true. I am long-winded but it�s at his hand. He used to doubt that. Now he doesn�t. your thoughts? seed flower