In a message dated 04/27/2000 8:56:28 PM Eastern Daylight Time,
[log in to unmask] writes:

<< I think if I allowed myself to wallow in my problems, I'd be a basket case.
 Betty, I have FMS and I know how it feels to be exhausted after a shower. If
 I could change anything about the CP, I'd want clear speech.
  >>

Me too Mag -- in fact I have wallowed in my problems from time to time in my
life, and it just makes me feel worse.  It isn't worth it.  I think if you've
had a serious bout with depression and are starting to get better, it's so
very important to make sure you are directing your thoughts properly or the
wallowing thing can happen.  I know this sounds trite, but it really does
make a difference if you force yourself to smile.  Smiling and laughing are
supposed to cause a release of endorphins or some chemical that affects the
mood.

I'm smiling right now and I feel pretty good.  I feel pretty dorkey too,
sitting here smiling at my monitor.

Since the disability, I've discovered that a lot of "feel good" sayings I
previously thought were trite really do have an application.  Perhaps it's
the way they are applied, or the sincerity of the person who is dishing them
out to you.

When I had the kick off meeting for my children's program in '98, I had
prepared a lecture presentation and folders of handouts for everyone.  In the
folders I included two pencils and one pen that had this saying:  "Success is
a journey, not a destination."  Man, that statement really meant something to
me, and it does still.

I understand that FMS can be very hard to cope with.  I don't really
understand it but I've read that it can really interrupt your life.  I'm very
sorry you're having to deal with that.  There doesn't seem to be much
knowledge in the medical community about how to help people with FMS either,
unless I'm reading the wrong stuff.  Is it as misunderstood as I keep hearing
Mag?

I started having speech problems last fall, and it's taken me several months
to get used to it.  I used to be able to talk very fast, and this was a bit
of a hassle to get used to.  My tongue feels so thick, it's like the muscles
that control the back of it don't want to work -- it's hard to explain.  It's
not bad by any stretch until I get very tired or have been talking too long.
Basically, I just had to slow down my speech to compensate.  When this first
started I was biting the back of my tongue a lot when I talked, and it was
sore all the time.  Now I've learned how to talk without doing that, but
sometimes it still happens.

For the most part, I doubt if anyone can even tell now unless I'm really
tired.  I've noticed that when I take pain medication it gets worse too and
I'm taking more of that these days (between me and my Mom, we've had to
reestablish the baseline for "loopy" around here).  But when it's been
noticeably difficult for me to talk, I've found myself apologizing to the
person I'm talking with.  Then they say they don't notice that anything is
wrong.  I don't know if they are being polite or if it really isn't
noticeable.  At times I'm sure it isn't, but other times I know darned well
it is.  It's all related to the fatigue factor.  The more tired I am, the
more difficult it is to talk without biting my tongue.

If anything, it's given me a little more appreciation for people who have
speech problems.  It's not enough to give me a terribly hard time, but enough
to make me more empathetic.

Are people patient if they don't understand something you've said?  I guess
I'm just wondering what the worst thing is about having speech difficulties
-- if it's the speech itself, or the people you interact with during the
course of the day.  I guess this question is for anyone who wants to answer.

Betty (I'm changing my name to curious George.  At least nobody will call me
boobs anymore).