...that's what I feel like, a sourpuss. Being sick just takes me to a dark & gloomy place. Staring out the same windows day after day, seasons shifting...blah! At times it actually feels like I'm living in a perpetual Groundhog Day existence. The only time I'm social is my weekly meetings with the physical therapist & various doctors appointments. Oh, & let's not forget the early mornings at the gym - if, & only if I can muster up the energy for it. Everything revolves around those meetings, even the grocery shopping & of course the occasional kidnapping by my mother. Who I must admit is impressively impulsive at times. Yesterday she took me back to the place I was raised, the only place in the world I feel like I'm home at. Loads have changed... But driving around in the picturesque streets, seeing the stairs I used to sit & stuff my face with hundreds of popsickles over the years & visiting one of the beaches we wasted time on triggered my memories & nourished my soul for a few moments. Wish that everyday could be like that. Made me think though... This whole "suffer in silence" thing is such a double edged sword. Cause of my aversion against peoples pity, my approach to being sick is: What people see is usually what I want them to see...smiles, no worries, strength & even grace. But the truth is that most of the time I just want to scream in anguish, & some days my whole body trembles uncontrollably cause of the pain within, there are times that I can't recall the name of ordinary household items & there isn't a day that goes by that I don't cry. My son might get met with bloodshot eyes when he comes home from school, but he knows why & he kisses me on the head & that's that. No pity, just an acceptance for what is. I got a rare disease to deal with, not an imminent appointment with Death... I leave the shearing of my life-thread entirely in the hands of Fate. But between here & there I'm not going to sit idle by anymore.