Right, that's exactly it. I'm not thrilled to be sick, but I was already sick. Actually, before the diagnosis I was figuring that I would just be like this--or worse--for the rest of my life. Now it occurs to me there's a chance I'll get better. I have felt much better mentally since the diagnosis, though I know I will hit other big bumps in the road...I even know that diagnoses can be taken away. And with MG you never know what's ahead.

The other thing is that a diagnosis banishes the fearful specter of not being believed. And though none of my doctors has suggested such a thing, in the back of my mind I've always been afraid I'd be told it was all in my head, or that my problem was psychological, or that I was exaggerating. I think everyone here understands that fear, and I know some of you have had to face it. It's my worst nightmare. I also think the people who see me regularly, like my neighbors, must really wonder what's up, because sometimes I'm normal, and sometimes I can hardly stand.

I had my son drive me to the convenience store and we got the makings of rootbeer floats to celebrate. You know I'm worn out when having my son, who has a learner's permit, drive is easier than driving myself. Ho boy.

Abby