Mark's Pages

January 7, 2004:

Trembling. Subtle or not-so-subtle spasm of the muscles beneath the skin. Originally so faint I called it "tingling", later so obvious that my friend could feel it with her hand on my leg. Legs, feet, hands, arms, the small of the back, sometimes the chest, more recently and oddly the skin between nose and upper lip. Somewhat ameliorated by posture, but not really.

Dizziness. Slight vertigo when moving the head; then at its most extreme, the world slowly spinning counter-clockwise, as though I needed to move my head to compensate. It was the alarmed look on my friends' faces just before my forehead konked the table which clued me in to the fact that I actually had done so.

Flushing. Sometimes merely the sensation of heat rising beneath the skin of the face; other times the full-on red devil mug, like sunburn or embarrassment. Often the skin of my body is so hot it's like touching burning metal; yet my internal temperature is normal.

Fluttering eyelids, like a character in a Pete Townsend song. Stuttering, ditto.

"Seizures", or "episodes", or "attacks", depending which doctor you talk to. Abdominal cramps like gallstone attacks, or maybe they are gallstone attacks, the experts can't agree. Overnight in the ER with a headful of demerol, or morphine, or whatever you suggest, depending on the doctor of the moment. Anything you like, except an answer.

Diarrhea, dehydration, low blood potassium, bloating, blood where there shouldn't be. Weight loss. Occasional sharp, burning sensation beneath the skin, right-side abdomen about belt level. Just once on the left.

Fatigue. The feeling of never enough sleep. So much so that in moments of greatest peace, for instance alone with my closest friend on her couch watching TV, there's the very real tendency to nod out, my head on her shoulder, no matter how restfully I'd slept the night before.

Pallid, not to say pasty. The exhausted skin of someone in chronic pain, as though it were too much effort for pigment to form.