These Hands Of Mine…

…And This Is 3 Day, Also.

My Hands Continue To Twitch.

There’s Nothing I Can Do About Them.

I’ve Tried Everything I Can Think To Do, Soooooo…

…I’ll Be Making A Doctor’s Appointment.

The Days Of Limited Use Are Plenty For Me.

My Legs Continue To Jump.

They Continue To Move Without My Consent.

I Can Hardly Walk.

My Legs Don’t Want To Move Like They Should.

I Simply Don’t Know What’s Wrong.

You’d Laugh If You Knew How Long It Took Me To Type This.

Me….

…The Person Who Types 100WMP.

Not Today.

I’m Lucky To Be Typing At All.

Something Ain’t Right.

And I Don’t Know What.

The Onset Is What’s Scary.

I Went From Zero…

…To Less That Zero….

…And I Did It In Just A Few Days.

Y’all Know I Don’t Have  A Grand Self-Image…

…And This Is Just Making It All The Worse.

I’m Falling Apart.

In Front Of My Face…

…I Continue To Fall Apart.

My Hands Don’t Work…

…My Legs Don’t Work…

…I Haven’t Even Tried The Rest Of Me, Thought I Expect They Don’t Work Either.

I Can’t Maintain Concentration.

Focus.

My Attention-Span Is Next To Nothing.

I’m Screwed-Up, My Peeps.

I Don’t Know What’s Up.

I Have Several Theories.

But Nothing Concrete.

And It’s Affecting My Plans.

There’s Someone I Was Planning To Rescue For The Weekend…

…But That Was Scrapped.

I’m Pissing A Lot Of People Off..

I Promise In All Sincerity I Can’t Help What’s Going On.

The Last Thing I Want To Do Is Anger My Friends.

But That’s What’s Happening.

My Friends Deserve Better Than What I Can Provide Them.

They Deserve Another Friend That Can Kick-It With Them.

That Can Spend Time With Them As Needed.

I Can’t Do Shit.

I Can Hardly Make My Way Down The Hallway.

And My Hands…

…My Hands Are Basically Useless.

It’s Taken Me 30-Minutes, Or So, To Type This Much.

Hunt And Peck.

Hunt And Peck.

It’s Killing Me.

I Just Wish I Knew What Was Wrong With Me.

I Want To Type As I Did.

To Write As I Did.

Neither Is Happening.

Thank Christ I’m Not A Ball-Player.

I’d Be On The Disabled-List.

And I’d Be There For No Good Goddamn Reason.

Silly Hands.

Silly Hands.

It’s Mainly My Left Hand.

It’s All Over The Place.

The Right Side Is A Bit Impaired…

…But The Left Side Is Useless.

I Just Don’t Know, My Peeps.

I Haven’t The Foggiest.

My Body Function’s Like It’s Had A Stroke.

Except For It Being Wide-Spread…

…That Would Be My First Guess.

My Meds Did Not Help.

Rest Did Not Help.

So, I Continue My Rest…

…In The Hopes That Will Keep It A Bay.

I Don’t Know If It Willl Or Nothing…

…But It’s What I Have To Work-With…

…To Work-On.

Wish Me Continued Success.

Any Success.

Success.

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6 responses to “These Hands Of Mine…

  1. Hang in there, Brad! You’ll be back to 100wpm in no time! I’m sure you feel like our friend Tony Clifton right now but the doctors will get things figured out for you.

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  2. This sounds oh so familiar. It’s a good thing that you are going to a doctor. Ask them to explore “Functional Movement Disorders”. It may not be what you have, but I recognise a lot of the things mentioned in your last few posts. It took my doctors 18 months to get to this point so if it can be any help to you, I am happy to share. Because it sucks not being able to control your own body. Good luck with it all and I wish you continued success.

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  3. Wow! You type 100 wpm? I once tested out at 76 wpm, and I don’t think I’ve gotten any faster. My mom could type insanely fast. I don’t remember exactly what the figure was, and don’t want to accidentally exaggerate it (I don’t understand why people do that when something is already superlative–I have a friend who is 6’6. He tells everybody he’s 6’8. Why?), but I recall it was well north of 100.

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    • I’ve Tested Over 100WPM On Three Different Occasions.
      101, 103, 104.
      So If Someone Says “How Fast Can You Type?” I Generally Respond With “Eh, ’bout A Hundred Or So.” 😉

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