Think about THIS!

We are in modern times, yet we still cling to archaic methodology. Bad for me. I may be living in the past but I certainly don't relish the fact that the medical profession shares my interests.
You say I'm wrong? The current philosophy subscribed by the powers that be in medicine is as blinded as the ancient ritualists who letted blood for centuries before learning the ridiculous nature of such idiocy. Today, the market is loaded with drugs designed to help symptoms by creating a plethora of side affects worse than the malaise being treated, yet marijuana is vilified and illegal even as it has helped many, including me, with no side affects at all. Virtually every legally prescribed narcotic can kill you. The only way weed can kill you is if you catch fire, easily avoided if you eat funny brownies.
If I hadn't contracted ALS, my view on pot, specifically, and medicine in general would have been much more conservative. As I view it all living a life of the condemned, the truth is easy to see. They have nothing for me because they may not investigate outside of their box, they may not cross the line of propriety chalked by the system in which they are entrenched, they must not remove the blinders that narrow their view despite all that surrounds them, questions begging answers.
Oh, God! Medicine is a religion! Shit!
Read me again. You can't miss it. The similarities are astounding.
I need someone to corroborate my hypothesis. I sincerely believe I'm on to something here.
The religious dogma that permeates faith is identical to that which is the most crippling disease infiltrating modern western medicine.
There is no defense for the roadway view of religion or medicine. Neither cares to change direction even if most questions will remain unanswered upon the route traveled. A simple look around would open both minds and doors to the real world, chock full of remedy and solution.

Don't mind me, I just needed to vent against everything over structured. Any construct cast in stone lacks the flexibility to become malleable enough to realize the questions answered in the REAL world.
When did we lose the ability to be impressionable?
Am I just nuts or is there something out there we don't understand about US?

Crappola

More on my condition. In my case, less is more. Less of me is becoming a tradition of sorts. Less of this dangblasted eyegaze shinola is what I need!
This IS ridiculous. Goodbye.

No title is acceptable

This is Wednesday, I am Tracy. Tomorrow promises to be Thursday and I promise to still be Tracy.
      Though I wither, I remain me.
      Though I am speechless, I speak volumes.
      I am a still cairn, messaging direction.
      I raise nothing but spirit.
      My opinions run rampant.
      Idle time is my brother.
     
      I occasionally delve into subjects politic, finding always reams of unadulterated vitriolic condemnation laced with hatred and degredatory insult. Veiled racism, homophobia and cultural depravity, ignorance driven by isolationism and blinded illiteracy courted by familial misguidance rules a vast cacophony of destructive stalwarts bent on political desecration.
      Luckily, the only outlet for such drivel is facebook, which was never designed for intelligent debate (although sometimes intelligence does break through), or a blog, exampled by this tirade........

Brief

No post today.

Cold, hard reality

Lets face facts. My struggles to stay ahead of the debilitating progression of ALS are many. In some ways I'm faring better and these positives find themselves at the forefront of publications and discussions while the less popular and less discussed detriments are ignored.
      My body is continuing to waste away. I can easily identify the two bones in each of my forearms because the muscles are entirely gone and my skin wrinkles and folds like a loose chamois draping curtain rods. My upper arms have withered and slunk below my shoulders, dive bombing to bone, leaving my complex elbow joint to lumber huge and ugly. My legs are putting up a fight, but even so they are losing mass. My thighs are thinning and narrowing as muscle melts. A sway is developing from groin to knee, more prominent on my left leg. My calves are deteriorating and weakening. Despite all of my therapies, no muscle is replacing that which has disappeared. My back and neck and gut is weakened.
      I find it easier to eat lately. I am generally less depressed. My mind remains as sharp as a Tic-Tac. I am happier than a year ago. You figure it out. I'm just in this for the fun.

Prolific..... Too?

Today is Friday and I am relatively content to sit in front of my Tobii and create turmoil on Facebook, albeit in a more pedestrian, less narcissistic way, hoping to pave the dirty path for intelligent conversation rather than perpetualizing colonic bickering.
      I can only speak for myself. Who am I trying to fool? I can only speak TO myself, often clueless as to what I'm saying, certain to misinterpret what I'm saying due to the fact that I'm a poor listener under any circumstances.
     If I had only listened to my wife all these years, I mightn't've (hey, a double contraction! Is that legal? If not, I just invented it!) found myself in the present predicament.
      A note: to date, I have nearly 90,000 hits on my blog. When I reach 100,000, I plan to print every post I have written on this site since July of 2011, over 400 posts and over a hundred thousand words. It will be interesting to see how my outlook has changed having gone from concept and prediction to development and fruition along the ALS Super Highway. Stay tuned.

All aboard!

What is ALS. Do you remember? Did you ever know? Does anybody know? Why is there no cure? If ALS is incurable, then why is anybody trying to find one? The word 'incurable' can be compared to 'unattainable' and in the comparison lies the core strength of negativity, futility, even hopelessness. Impacting this barrage of defeatist structure upon the already maligned and miserable sufferer guarantees a greater struggle against what have now been defined as insurmountable odds.
     ALS. Simply put, an error message put forth by the brain allows an overproduction of glutimate to short circuit and eventually drown upper motor neuron cells responsible for carrying information to voluntary muscle cells throughout the body, at first bombarding then with too much information and eventually killing them when the motor neuron dies and all information ceases.
      ALS within me seems to ebb and flow. There was a time when my freight train to disaster was chugging hard and moving fast. My decline was frightful and depressing. Today I see a struggle for the locomotive as it crawls upward, slowly, possibly losing traction and slipping backwards on occasion, losing grip...... On the track, on me......
      Metaphor always trumps simile. ALS is a train ride. Sometimes too fast, in some instances too slow, always too real. My ebb and flow is not really to and fro, more up and down, a rollercoaster of symptoms, emotions, pains and gains, a seemingly endless test of endurance and resolve.
     ALS takes away my speech, my movement, my breath. Doctors and diagnoses take away hope. But not from me...... I keep dragging my feet as that train struggles up the grade, my heels dug deep. The caboose is my friend as I pull this sonofabitch off the tracks. Let's see it take me now!