“We all live in a house on fire, no fire department to call; no way out, just the upstairs window to look out of while the fire burns the house down with us trapped, locked in it.” ~ Tennessee Williams

My head is haunted. Daydreams and fantasies control my thoughts. It’s maddening. Can’t believe what I’m experiencing. Diagnoses doesn’t seem real. Thought my doctor was blowing smoke. But he was right. MRI set my reality a blaze.

Now I’m on my hands and knees gathering up the ruins. Digging in the ashes. Searching through the cinders and debris for any remains. Preoccupied. Can’t focus on everyday task. Because I’m fighting for a cure. Battling my own body as it rubs two sticks together. Scorching my soul. An arsonist burning down everything I’ve built.

Making me unrecognizable. I’m different now. Reborn every day. A new person. I barely remember the first me. My life goals are a moving target. My purpose constantly changes. Ambitions are linked to my circumstance.

Continually falling down rabbit holes. Hoping sanity doesn’t abandon me. Wishing I could go back to pre-diagnoses and make the clock tick slower. But every day is spring forward daylight savings.

Husband used to take me to the mall and tell me, “Get whatever.”

Now he takes me to doctor appointments and says, “We need the mall money to cover the co-pay.”

Pills for breakfast. Anxiety for lunch. World swirling out of control. Driving around dead man’s curve. Trying to keep my thoughts straight.

Chasing rainbows at night. Wishing on imaginary stars. Praying for a cure with no side effects. Living in a pit I did not dig. Feeling like I’ve lost everything but hope. Turning people off because I keep talking about pain. They want me to hold my tongue. Well, hold my beer because I have just begun.

Nancy Reagan told me to just say no. But I need that dope. I ingest those toxins just to make it through the day so I can feel normal. It stops the seizures, calms the lesions and keeps the other symptoms at bay.

Steroids. Prednisone. I’ve done it so many times. For so many years. Osteoporosis runs through my body.

Red buckets filled with old needles sit on the floor in the back of my closet. Arms baring the evidence of early multiple sclerosis. Skin damaged where I used to poke myself. Searching for good health. Sore fingers. Sore shoulders. Sore stomach. Before oral options. But no more. Now pill popping is all the rage.

Happy most of the time. But my situation can be draining. And in the hours before chaos, my life feels like a movie. Except that it’s not. It’s real.

Besides you can’t hold me responsible. MS is to blame. And yes, I will admit, I am annoyed. Upset because I didn’t get to choose. Seeing red. Illness just appeared out of the blue. Got me thinking about waving the white flag. Forcing me to flee.

Now I’m trying to escape through the crawl space of my house as my surroundings simmer from the heat. Witnessing a demolition. Watching multiple sclerosis start little fires everywhere in my life.