Great Expectations.

Before I start writing this, let me put a pre-emptive statement out there - especially for my anonymous friend who writes such heartfelt comments - I'd really love to address you by name one day. This is not a "poor me" pity post. Far from it. It's an "I'm kind of struggling right now with everyone else along in my cohort but that's where we're supposed to be maybe...." I'm not quite sure what it is, but it's not a pity party. That I know for sure.

Walking in the halls and sitting in the classrooms of the writing program, there are framed posters of collages of book covers of books published by graduates of the program. Seventies, eighties, nineties. Who knew that the Jennifer Aniston movie "The Object of My Affection" was based on a book from an alum? Not me. "Clockers?" Nope. Then there's the more literary ones, like the one about Rwanda, "We Wish to Inform you that Tomorrow We will Be Killed With Our Families." Then there are the quiet ones I've read and loved: "Ithaka," "The Cure for Grief," "Atmospheric Disturbances," and Alexandra Styron's book about her father. Depending on the mood I'm in, these can be either inspiring and reassuring, or they can be mocking and pressuring.
To whom much is given, much is expected. I know this well. And I usually don't disappoint. I have faith - ridiculous, blind, wondrous, childlike, full-fledged faith - that this decision was a good one. This was actually maybe the first decision in my entire life that I made completely on blind faith. And the first day I hold a review copy of my book in my hands, I'll run my fingers over the cover and remember the anguish and nervousness of finally accepting the ofer and the naysayers telling me it was a mistake. If it's a JK Rowling blockbuster, awesome. If it's a quieter, cult-like followed book, great. But no one can take it away from me. Even if one person reads it.

It's just hard to remember that when you're in the muck of reading 3 books this week that you haven't even looked at, critiquing workshop pieces and getting yours ready, figuring out what your thesis is really going to look like, applying for jobs and summer writing conferences, paying medical bills, and dealing with this damn tremor. I just have to *breathe.* In. Out. In. Out. Repeat on a continuous basis.

20 Under 40, live.

I'm taking a science writing class this semester, which I am very excited about. Each week we read a book, talk about it for the first hour, and then the second hour, the author comes and we get to ask him/her questions about writing the book, the book itself, the process, etc. Our first author came today. The book was on superstring theory and hidden dimensions and it all went over my head, but Rivka assured me this was the hardest book we'd read all semester.

Rivka is our teacher. She is one of the reasons I am so excited about the class. Besides her artist-hipster clothes that would look ridiculous on me but somehow fit together perfectly on her, she was picked as one of the The New Yorker's "20 Under 40" in 2010. Other people picked were Chris Adrian, Tea Obrecht, Nell Freudenberger, ZZ Packer, Karen Russell, Sarah Shun-lien Bynum, Dinaw Mengestu, and Wells Tower. Columbia MFA graduates accounted for a fifth of the people chosen, only surpassed by Iowa. I remember reading about Rivka in Time Out New York - she caught my eye because something about her father being Israeli maybe? I don't remember, but I do remember reading that not only did she have her MFA, but also her MD. Turns out she didn't really like medicine, but that's not my story to tell. I know they're all fiction writers, and they don't really do things like this for nonfiction writers, but goddamn, what an accomplishment, no? I remember getting off the phone with the person who called me to let me know I got into Columbia, running upstairs, and picking the book of the 20 Under 40 and thinking, holyshitholyshitholyshit. But anyway. Let me just say this: she is down to earth, very cool, but not untouchable cool. She was in school with Nellie, which is also neat. She is just one of those people whom I want to sit down and ask, how do you get this way? How do you pick out your clothes and combine them? Because I don't think I could pull it off. Her book is called Atmospheric Disturbances, and I know I read it years ago, but I need a refresher. I always like reading books that my teachers have written so I get a better sense of them.

For next week we have to read a graphic novel about Marie Curie, which should be very awesome. This is one of those classes where I realize how lucky and blessed I am, and how thankful I took this risk to be here.

shakin' it up.

I just saw the Parkinson's/Movement Disorder specialist yesterday, after months of seeing the MS doctor (who is wonderful), and they basically came to the same conclusion: it's Essential Tremor, or ET. It's getting a little worse. It's spread to my legs, which is rare in ET, but can happen. Sometimes I feel my lips tremble but I'm not sure if it's in my head. ET typically strikes the hands, then moves up to arms, head, mouth, and voice. ET is a progressive neurological conditon, and usually strikes those 65 and older, although - surprise - young people can get it, too. There is no cure. Usually it runs in families, but not in mine. Doctors are very candid with patients - tremor is the hardest thing to treat. It usually isn't effective.
The top line medicines for it are the beta-blocker propranolol and the drug primidone, both of which did not help. Now we are on gabapentin (Neurontin) three times a day, with klonopin twice a day, and we are slowly upping the Neurontin to see if that works. After that, there's only Topamax. There IS one doctor in the city, at Mt.Sinai, who can prescribe an experimental drug - Xyrem - and its active ingredient is GHB. Yes, you read that right. GHB, the date rape drug. Roofies. In small doses, apparently it calms tremors. But because it is so tightly federally controlled, only certain doctors running the program can prescribe it. I looked it up - first of all, it's over $2,000 a month. Second, the side effects don't seem worh it. So I'm not considering that as an option.

I'm not going to lie. Everyone's like, oh, thank goodness it's not PD or MS. Well, I appreciate the sentiment, I really do - but if it were one of those, at least we'd have a treatment plan. With this, we're just like, okay, up the meds, see if it works, if we add Topamax and it still fails, you're shit outta luck. At least for now.
If I sound bitter or angry, I am. Two years ago I was training for a triathlon, and now I can't even run up and down steps. I am the girl everyone goes around when walking down subway steps, because I am the one holding onto the railing and taking each step slowly. I've learned to wait until the crowd subsides and then walk down. I'm tired all the time. I can't write longhand, which I love. I mean, I can, but it tires me out and it looks like chicken scratch, which only angers me more.

So with the help of Pura Vida bracelets, I am making a custom bracelet whose proceeds will be given to the NYU MS center, the NYU Center for Parkinson's and Movement Disorders, and the International Essential Tremor Foundation. They'll be coming in in a few weeks, and if you're interested, let me know. I'll be selling them for $5 and all proceeds go to the organizations. The string colors will be purple, white, black, lime green, and gray.

Yesterday, after my appointment, I felt hopeless. Like I only had a few more chances to deal with this tremor that has hijacked my life. I went to Brother Jimmy's BBQ (which claims to be Carolina BBQ)  and ordered a beer and a Cheerwine float, along with hush puppies and pulled BBQ chicken with cornbread and fries. And another beer. And then I came home and went to the store and got Mike's Hard Lemonade. I drank three and proceeded to pass out on my bed. This is not typical behavior,  but really, what are you supposed to do? I wallowed in it for one day and now I'm taking action.

I am a person who has been athletic all her life. This has seriously impacted me. It's also impacted my cognitive abilities a tiny bit to the point where I need to take notes when I read to remember things, and whereas it used to take me a day or two to finish a book, I need all week. It is incredibly disheartening. It used to be called "benign essential tremor," but they realized that it was anything but benign. So Google it, ask me questions, buy a bracelet.....millions of people suffeer from ET, and we deserve a cure just like any of the cancers. Or at least more medication options.