33 missed calls?

I’d rather think of that as indicator of how in-demand I am rather than my ignoring the outside world.

Today went by so fast and I can hardly remember what I did.  I think dishes, laundry, and writing, which was difficult.  I think it’s because of the chocohol.  I’ve had something like this before, on different medications, but it was diagnosed as psychogenic non-epileptic seizure disorder.

It feels like an icicle is piercing your brain and there’s ice water running through your veins.  You twitch.  You stumble.

It’s hard to read or write, your hands will unceremoniously slam the keyboard.  You sometimes forget words or you’ll start talking and forget where you were going.  You stuttter.  You slur.

Without warning you drop whatever you’re holding, which is fine when you’re holding, say, a, cotton ball, but less okay when you’re holding, say, your cell phone or, maybe, a priceless Faberge egg filled with scalding hot coffee.

You get that feeling you get when you fall in a dream and it’s like an electric shock.

I can’t say it’s the chocohol for sure but I have a feeling it is and that Dr. G is going to want to do something about it.  

I'm not fussed.  This is one of the aspects of being sick that I file in the “exceptionally annoying” folder rather than the “tormenting” folder.  

It's pretty childish but I'm just so sick of complaining to my doctors.  Since I graduated it's been one thing after another.  I know, I probably shouldn't write these symptoms off right away if there's a chance it could end up in the "preventable fatality" folder.  

I’m just glad I can cross PNESD off my list.  I have enough diagnoses to last me a lifetime.