The Curmudgeon’s bad days are coming closer together, rougher, and faster.  Yesterday was bad enough to make me want to pack up my van, grab the dogs, and run.  Other solutions passed through my brain too.  Not one of them was anything I’d act on, but I can’t lie and say they weren’t thought of at least once.

     If anyone tells you there is help available out there, only believe it if you have barrels of money.  For those of us living a tad above the poverty level, it’s another whole world. 

     While trying to help him, I threw my back out again.  Managed to scream at him like a harridan and hate myself for it. 

     He needs me kind, calm, and loving but I can’t seem to get to that place any more.  I’m over tired, over stressed, and I don’t know what all.  I don’t like myself very much at the moment.

     No one was home in the neighborhood and he didn’t want me to call 911 for help.  I managed to find my neighbor’s youngest son and he tried to give us a hand. 

     This is secondary progressive MS folks.  It doesn’t get any better, it only gets worse.

      You all have a good one.  I’m going to have a glass of wine or a dirty vodka martini.