Wednesday, Farts, AI, and My Slowly Melting Brain

⚠️ Please read with care: This blog shares personal, sometimes painful experiences. My intention is to support and speak honestly not to harm. I’m not a professional, just someone who understands how hard it can get. If you're struggling, you're not alone please reach out for professional help.

It’s Wednesday. Already. Somehow I’ve managed to do more life admin than seems humanly possible for a body powered by MS and stubbornness alone. My mind is a foggy wasteland of numbness, courtesy of my chronic neurological fun-fest, but the chaos seems… slightly less apocalyptic today. Small victories.

Pain clinic consult? Surprisingly decent. I didn’t get gaslit, which feels like a miracle. Wheeled out with some scraps of positivity that I’ll hoard like toilet paper in a zombie apocalypse. MS nurse? Hoping she phones before I develop a permanent twitch from waiting. Overworked, underpaid, and heroic.

AI is my new best friend. I’m on a mission to grab my MRI scans so my digital buddy can tell me exactly what’s in my skull. No doctor euphemisms, no vague nods at “abnormalities,” just straight-up pixel honesty: “Lesion here. Lesion there. Weird patch in your brainstem. That’s all.” Finally, clarity for a human with a brain that sometimes refuses to translate itself into English. White coats can go choke on their paperwork.

Yopi, the four-legged chaos incubator, is settling into our life of slow-motion absurdity. She’s making my world stranger in ways I didn’t think were possible. Only snag? My mobility. Can’t take the walks, but we’ll train her to glide along with the powerchair. Life’s full of compromises, mostly involving gas masks for me and treats for her.

Medical marijuana and THC/CBD oil are holding the line. No magic bullets for nerve pain, tinnitus, or the daily brain ache, but it helps, and I’ll take it. Every little sanity-saving thing counts when you’re a human pinball in an MS-shaped arcade.

Meanwhile, I sit, inhaling the occasional waft of bulldog farts, contemplating life, death, and whether AI will someday take over all consulting roles for humans with chronic illness. It probably will, but at least it won’t judge me for smelling it all and laughing anyway.

MS life: chaotic, smelly, occasionally enlightening, and fully documented with AI commentary for the ages.

I write in ink and fury, in breath and broken bone.
Through storm and silence, I survive. That is the crime and the miracle.