Okay - I'm going to get all grumpy on you, so bear with me. Patience is indeed a virtue, and an absolute necessity when dealing with this disease, but there are times I feel far from patient. There are times I want to rail against the fates, tear my hair and rend my garments, to get classical. It's impatience with a dash of "why me" thrown in, which could easily escalate into a pity party. I get this way when my major daily triumphs are getting dressed mostly on my own and being able to open a freaking applesauce cup. How did I get to this place? Then I think back three months, to when this all started. Three months. That's it, and I'm already undergoing treatment. People go through years and years of this before getting help and being diagnosed and finding the right combo of meds for relief. How do they do it without going mad? I stop and do a quick assessment of how I feel right at this moment and compare it to May 12th, my lowest point thus far, and realize there is no comparison. I really have come a long way, in this short time.
So suck it up, Chiquita; time to get virtuous again.