I’d been experiencing an intermittent “mystery” illness for some time: weak, foggy, unsteady, slow, and sluggish, I would stumble and lurch, lose my balance, lean against a wall or sink into a chair, sit and put my head in my hands. It happened usually in the morning and then would disappear in a couple of hours.

Earlier that week I was having digital problems, but finally Verizon recognized that my new smart phone was defective and had ordered a new one for me; and Best Buy had looked at my laptop’s power problem and made a few adjustments that might work. I was feeling good. Next day the computer worked for a few hours and then died. I’d have to order a new one, and in order to keep up with my web obligations I needed it as soon as possible.

In the morning the full consequences hit me: I had no computer, no files, and no access to the Internet except through my wife’s 10 year old XP desktop. Lying sick on the couch with my unfamiliar smart phone, I tried to research and order a laptop I could get by the next day. My GOD, that was maddening. I don't swear, right? But this time the air was dark blue. I was encountering a self I had never met. I burst into tears. My wife asked, “Are you depressed?” “No, I’m FRUSTRATED!”

I did order a new computer and it came the next day, but the first restore from backup failed to complete after 30 hours, and in the next one files were missing, including some which were very important to me. But I had work to do, so I forged ahead.

Then my email failed, or almost: it was intermittent. Three support techs offered the same solution, which didn’t work. But I still had occasional access, so I abandoned that particular problem for the moment.

About ten years ago I was diagnosed with myoclonus, a movement disorder like hiccups, but which can affect the whole body and is quite a bit more serious. It’s intermittent and usually relatively bearable, but the following night, at bedtime, it was worse than it had ever been: continuous jerking for some twenty minutes. I fell asleep, exhausted.

The very next night, as I was watching TV, the myoclonus started up again and got worse and worse until I was having 15-20 violent jerks a minute, as well as the twisting, writhing motions called athetosis. Strange thing: I could just lie there and watch it; my consciousness and alertness were not affected. No pain, just the pounding and being thrown about. The worst contortions lasted about 10-15 minutes and the entire episode about two hours, with some letups where I could walk around and even try to do things. The myoclonus came back in force at bedtime, but eventually I got to sleep okay. The episode was WAY scary. I cried again, this time from FEAR.

It so happened I had an EEG scheduled two days later, for the mystery illness. Part of that process involves a camera and microphone. As they settled me in, I was having some mild myoclonic jerks, but when the EEG started the jerks intensified, worse than the time before. Of course the staff observed it all. Later that day I got a call: the EEG was fine; and the clinic was scheduling an appointment for me at the university with a movement disorders neurologist. That made me happy; I hoped the specialist would find something, because in such a case bad news is good news: there may be a treatment and, even if not, I prefer to know.

But then, when I went back to my attempts to restore my system, I spilled tea on the computer keyboard. Back to Best Buy. The keyboard was inoperable. My new computer was worthless. I cried, I wailed, I sobbed. DESPAIR.

Rousing myself from inaction, I tried again to get the email problem fixed. I got no satisfaction from an unpleasant, unhelpful tech, but when I asked to speak with the supervisor he not only came to the phone, he spent more than an hour with me trying to resolve the issues; but we failed. Then, unexpectedly, I lost access to the web itself. The manager sent a technician to my home who fixed the access problem in a few minutes. But still I had only intermittent email.

The next day I was fitted out for a 30-day heart monitor. This too was part of the investigation into the causes of my mystery illness. Maybe this would tell us the root cause of the symptoms. Bad news is good news. I cried because I could begin to HOPE.

With hope I could relax. It felt like the crisis, if not my problems, was over. It was Thursday, the day of the week I enjoy most. I felt okay. Back home, looking around with fresh eyes, I noticed on my bookshelf several books of poetry I hadn’t touched for years. I thumbed through the pages and read several old favorites. The world was somehow solid again. I cried with GRATITUDE.

During this time I was hypomanic. Mania is characterized by higher than normal energy; I believe it gave me a boost I might not have had during this crisis.