joe collins

Morning cup of coffee... My backyard is filled with the warmth of the sun, the crisp blue sky covering a flowing Mojave River, and the roar of acceptance, once again, screaming through my head like a sick joke. I took the opinion of a young dedicated Neurologist, and went for a second opinion, sacrificing my body, to more testing. I told the Docs, anything that might stop the madness, I was game, even if I had to lick a frogs ass. The new doc requested a ganglioside or basal ganglia antibodies test, and then that female dog "Hope" showed up with a couple markers, that may explain my body's failing muscles, to a treatable MMN autoimmune disease. A treatment was ordered, and the frogs arrived at my house, with bottles of Octogam 10. I'm now 4 months in on the "frog piss" void of any tangible decrease, in the 'Welcome' gifts I keep receiving from my close friend, Grim. "Hope" started packing up her crap yesterday, threatening to leave me for good. We have a clinic day next month, to discuss a possible divorce settlement. Next on my dance card, the EMG, the doctors game of "Operation" and I'm wearing a blazing red nose. It's been a year since I almost touched the ceiling in the Docs office. I'm hoping atrophy, and the big stick I bring, tones down the electrifying experience. Lately, my days have been filled with beautiful memories, colors, sounds and smells, from little moments of my life. All I have to do is look at beauty around me, and I'm transported back in time, to endless lost memories, a self prescribed medication for my soul. It's not over till it's over...