Current mood:	numb
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Some wonder how I "got this way." I'm never quite sure what that exactly means, but I suspect that's because I'm standing too close to see. Anyway, thought I'd fill in some background, while I'm in a "lull" between crises ...

When I was 17 I was in a big car accident. I was asleep in the back seat of a friend's car - me and three guys, barreling down the highway at 3:30 a.m., trying to get home (well, they were - I didn't care where I was, so long as it wasn't home), when a drunk driver passed out, crossed the median, and hit us head on. I was the only survivor, and spent three months in a coma. When I woke up, I had to relearn everything - how to walk and talk, but even what the names of things are. I *knew* the names, but couldn't say them. It's a very weird and frustrating state, especially when you're 17 and normally healthy. I had just bought a new car (I had dropped out of "regular" high school, had a fulltime job and new car - a Triumph Spitfire) and couldn't wait to drive it again. I'm sure it speeded my recovery. I went to high school at night, finished that, and things went on pretty much as before (with my crazy mother and I living together since my dad died when I was 12 and my sister got married at 18). A few months later, I was at work and all of a sudden couldn't breathe. I made it to the nurse's office (I worked in the office part of a warehouse, at Sargent-Welsh Scientific - not sure if they still exist - was a cool place to work as I was "into" biology and spent a lot of time in the labs there), who called an ambulance when she saw me. Back in the hospital - this time from a collapsed lung, suspected as being an aftermath of the accident. They stuck a tube in, I stayed a few days, then the tube came out and I went home.

Two weeks later, the same lung collapsed again. This time the lung specialists suggested I get it operated on, so it won't happen anymore. I agreed, and back in the hospital I went. It was a pretty bad operation, but once out of there, I never again had that lung collapse, so it worked. I had to go back every month for a while to get an xray. But I was back at work and driving my new car - escaping my "home" whenever possible, and saving for my permanent escape.

Since my mom insisted I pay my own hospital bills, I was delayed in moving out. I was nearly 20 when they were paid off, and just so miserable, I vowed to move even if I wasn't "ready." I was dating this guy named Rich. He was Rich, too . He was an adopted only child of wealthy parents, and I knew that if I married him we'd be set up good. He wanted to get married. I really didn't. I just wanted out. But I went along with the engagement, and confided to my best friend, Judy, that I really didn't want to do this. She said to not do it if I thought I would be just as miserable with Rich as I was at home. Two weeks before the wedding, I called it off, and two weeks after that, I was laying in bed, reading, and my entire left side went numb.

It scared the shit out of me. I realized I could still move everything, it's just that my left arm and leg was numb. I drove myself to the ER, where they tried to give me Valium and tell me it was all in my head. Did I mention that I was also an athlete? I was a black belt in martial arts, to which I went for practice 5 nights/week and all day on Saturdays. I wasn't the "hysterical" type. In fact, I think the only thing my mom liked about me was my cool head in emergencies. It's ok - there's even less that I liked about her. I argued with the doctors that something terrible was wrong - that I was not imagining this - but they wouldn't listen. And I was completely confused as to why not.

Following this episode were other episodes. The numbness went away, and appeared again somewhere else months later. Never did my energy reappear, however. I was always tired. I could sleep 12 hours/night and take a 2 hour nap in the afternoon. I finally had to quit my job, and apply for disability (of course I was turned down). There were 2 years of doctor-shopping, before *finally* finding one that knew what was going on. I myself had scoured the bookshelves of Northwestern U, and already knew what was wrong - Multiple Sclerosis - but it sure helped to have a doctor confirm it. See? I wasn't crazy. This doctor, at Northwestern U's teaching hospital, was wonderful (Dr. Bereberg, I miss you). He got personally involved. One day he asked me if I wanted to go on disability. I had taken a part-time job out of desperation for money, but was barely dragging myself there every day. Of course I had had to give up martial arts, and was now stuck in the house with my crazy mother almost all the time.

I really thought god hated me.

Anyway, the disability was put through because this doc knew what to say to them. That was when doctors had some power, before HMO's and the downfall of modern medicine. The drug and insurance companies hadn't taken it over yet...

I was at least getting a monthly check now, and could stop dragging myself to work. But I was so terribly depressed, stuck at home, as my income was way too low to be able to afford a place.

A penpal friend put me in touch with another friend of hers, and Gary and I started writing. Gary lived in California, and after a year of writing nearly every day, came out to meet me. We hit it off in person, and the following year, I frew to California to meet his folks. Gary was Japanese, and his parents were from the "old country," and though they were nice to me (very gracious, matter of fact), I knew that I wasn't quite what they had in mind for their only son. Still, he ended up moving to Illinois. He got a job in a camera store (quite a great photographer, he was), and we moved into an apartment together. After a year, and during one of the coldest winters I remember, Gary told me he just didn't want to stay there, and wanted to go back to California. Note, he did not ask me to follow.

I stayed alone in that apartment for a year, paying the rent somehow, and then Mike moved in. I was good-looking, and was never long without a boyfriend, but I didn't want what most of them wanted - to get married, to be a "couple" in the traditional sense. For one thing, I was too busy battling my health issues to even consider having kids, or whatnot. To make it, I knew my disability wasn't enough - I'd need to find a way to make money, if I wanted to buy a house, etc.

But we were doing ok. Mike got a really good job selling radio advertising, and we bought a car. We were together for over 2 years.

Then one day I came home from somewhere I don't now recall, and the apartment was empty. Mike had asked to use the car that day, and I had taken a cab somewhere. My immediate thought was "Oh my god, we've been robbed!" I called Mike's job, and they said he hadn't come in that day. Oh-oh. So I sat there for about an hour, trying to figure out what was going on, when the phone rang. It was Mike, crying, and he said "I did a terrible thing." I told him to calm down, that everything would be ok (see - cool head in emergencies), and to please tell me what's going on. It didn't make much sense, but Mike had flipped out somehow and cleaned out the apartment, and took our car, too. He didn't plan on coming back, but at the same time, was crying about what a horrid thing it was, he'd just done. I immediately remembered that I'd added his name to my bank account - the one we used to pay the rent and car payments, etc. I called a friend, told him what happened, and he drove me by the bank. The money was still there - whew! I withdrew it, of course, and was called by Mike the next day, him calling me names for w/drawing the money!

Mind you, my grandma had given us the loan for the car, and we were paying her back. It was a new car, and cost 7k (this was in 1982), and she'd given us 5k toward it. We only had 2k in the bank. I asked Mike what he planned to do to pay my grandma back. He said "You figure it out." !! I felt so bad! Here she was, nice enough to trust us, and there was no way for me to pay her back. I gave her the 2k, but she gave it back, saying I should just give her 100.00/mo until I got back on my feet.

Of course, I had to give up the apartment. As fate would have it, the lease was up the following month. I tried to figure out what to do - where could I go? But without a job and with an "income" of about 400.00/mo., there was nowhere to go. I looked at a couple of very depressing apartments in seedy neighbourhoods in Chicago, and just could not bring myself to live there. I was, at heart (and still am in a lot of ways), and North Shore snob. Finally one night my grandma called and said I should move in with her for a while. My grandma lived upstairs from my mom and step-dad, so I *really* didn't want to go back there. There were friends who offered a temporary stay at their places, but I wanted to know where I'd be next week, not just tomorrow. Remember I was also car-less and disabled, so simply didn't have anywhere else to go, but grandma's.

Well, that's enough for now. My eyes hurt. Until next time...