Exile

Yes, exile.

Dealing with a NMD is tragic. Friends and family either leave or are pushed away. The exact reason doesn’t really matter. The result is the same — isolation. I can see various reasons for this. A rapid isolation can be accomplished when the doctor orders you leave your job that you love and furthermore, must stay at home. Due to work restrictions set forth in FMLA, STD and LTD, you can’t talk to your co-workers. Which is great, unless you love your coworkers.

I loved the coworkers at my final job. I felt that aside from the time I was in the military, that I was in a team and we could do anything. We were the Desktop Development Engineers at a large hospital system. We were responsible for all programs used and the operating system’s health of almost 22,000 endpoints. I loved my team. I loved my job.I feel that the rapid decent into disability coupled with the restrictions on talking to my former coworkers was rude and inappropriate. I miss each and every one of them.

However, the isolation doesn’t end there. My wife fusses me every time I make an assumption. They are usually wrong. The assumption my large RCC family would support me on the descent into the maelstrom was definitely a fraudulent assumption. One of the symptoms I have, and many others that have neurological issues is the innate ability to piss people off. It is easy to do. Not pissing them off is very hard..

The problem with the logic of the assumption is that when you don’t understand what is going on in your body, you cannot assume that other people will accept it. They will make assumptions as well. Sometimes, those assumptions are that you are faking so you can collect benefits.That last one stings. I was a workaholic from the time I was married, in college, then military, more college (with honors), teaching then leading the biggest conversion of computers from one operating system to another in the countries history. Lazy? Me? No. I used to idolize lazy people. Wishing I could be like them. My muscles wouldn’t let me stop. Wouldn’t let me rest. My coworkers called me an animal because I could stay with a crisis for 36 hours before collapsing. Unfortunately, I did that too often.

So, there you have it, a workaholic with a building NMD. The pain gets so extreme that all you want to do is sleep, and you can’t because your muscles stay active. So you must work. People try to interact with you while you are trying to immerse yourself in work to hide from the pain. You are short with them. You don’t engage in family activities because you grimace all the time and you hurt. You snap at them when all you want if for them to love you and hold you and walk with you through your own personal valley of death.

You are branded a liar because hurting that much 24/7 just is not possible.

The chasm grows and you are left alone.

Isolated, you are left alone to reflect. No one is guilty. No one is innocent. Soldier on.