Little Grey Cells, Little White Spots

In every life there comes a point when falling down goes from funny to not funny. I think I'm well into not-funny, but others may disagree. I'm also predisposed to falling. Just one more way that gravity is no friend of mine.

Walls just jump out in front of me. I have my own personal earthquakes. My feet seem to form attachments to certain spots of floor and don't want to leave. I really can't remember the last time I didn't have a bruise or six somewhere on my body turning my see-through white skin to various shades of black, blue, purple, and greenish yellow.

Most recently I fell at work. The important thing to remember about this fall is that I did it at the intersection of hallways in full view of the waiting room and I was wearing a skirt. I think it's important to entertain as many people at a time as possible.

I was walking and talking with my acting supervisor at the time. He turned down the hall to our offices. My right leg turned, but my left leg went on strike. I went right down. He turned and looked down at me and asked, "Did you mean to do that?" I, of course, told him that I did and asked him for a hand up. (I wonder what it says about me that my supervisor would think I might just sit down in the hall like that, mid-step.)

Of course, just falling wasn't enough. I had to fill out a detailed report about doing it. What could I say? I fell. No, I didn't trip. There was no ice, banana peal, nor piano wire stretched across the hallway. I just fell down. I didn't break anything. My body was pretty sore the next couple of days, though not as sore as my pride.

So I have colorful bruises. One friend (a good one, evidently) asked if I was being beaten. So I told him about the little white spots on my brain. I didn't used to tell people I have M.S. because it's really no one else's business. I didn't want people to think I was weak or defective or something. But lately I've realized that people are likely to think I'm drunk or high or being beaten up regularly. So I tell them.

I think it's important to be able to joke about a disease that rusts my brain, don't you? I mean what could be funnier than losing my ability to function physically? Oh, yeah, there's that possibility that it will screw with my vision and cognitive functioning, too. Yeah. That's a scream.

So for me, falling doesn't really seem all that funny. But I'll joke about it because I can't seem to find a middle ground between laughing about it and wanting to sit and cry or punch a wall. I reckon I've got lots of time to sit and cry later. And if I tried to punch the wall, I'd probably miss and fall again anyway.