Living with PML

         PML, (progressive multi-focal leukoencephalopathy,) is a disease of the white matter of the brain, caused by a virus infection (polyomavirus JC) that targets cells that make myelin—the material that insulates nerve cells. In other words, a rare, sometimes fatal brain infection. HIV, [another virus,] by affecting my immune system, likely opened the door. By all rights, I should already be dead, but I'm obviously still alive.

Seventeen years ago I was left with a debilitating nervous disorder—I could no longer walk. (My balance or equilibrium is nil.)

Though as a chef, I was an animal and constantly on the move. Had to be. Contending with large banquets, conventions, catering and hundreds of employees to feed in a 24 hour operation is no easy task. But I loved teaching the most. All by example.

As the name suggests, my condition is inevitably progressing. As a virus, it can lay dormant for decades, as it did with me. How long to live? Who knows. I just take it one day at a time.

Writing is one of the best ways to keep my never stopping, always busy mind from wandering into the easy disparity of doom and gloom.

On a sad side note, I want to share with you a little bit about my current roomie, who I'll call Mr. X.

Mr. X is a true simpleton. A dullard. He's two years younger, (53,) than myself, (55,) but has the stamina of a seventy or even ninety year old. Because he does everything one-handed, (the other is too busy holding up his pants,) nothing ever comes out correct or complete. More like a complete disaster.

He disgustingly force farts all the time, as if it's funny. He has to tell me what he's either just done or is going to do as if it's some magnificent accomplishment. Any piddly task is extremely strenuous and thoroughly exhausting! He wonders why he's always tired. With a steady diet consisting of chips, soda, Ranch dressing, chocolate milk, pudding, energy drinks, coffee, and total junk food in general, it's no wonder. Precious water is out of the question. He's picky.

He always thinks something is broken with himself or his cell phone, but knows nothing about it or how to use it. Much less a healthy human body. He's constantly missing important appointments because of his carelessness. (Dare I say ignorance? Nah, by this time, it can only be plain stupidity.)

Maalox and Pepto bismol are not heart medications and both are recommended to be shaken well before use. He just drinks them straight from the bottle, thinking them to be some magic elixir.

And he's always digging in either his crotch or butt crack. He goes through two, three rolls of toilet paper a day. I gave him a Tums. When I told him they were 1,000 milligrams, it scared him.

Any doctor worth his salt would easily certify him as mentally incompetent. For his own good.

He claims to have graduated high school with some college. If this is the case, (which I'm highly sceptical of either,) it says a lot about the sorry state of our educational system in this country.

I hate to say it, but I think he's beyond help. Too far gone. Frankly, I'm surprised he's made it in life this far. As they say down south, "Bless his heart."