Don't mind if I fall apart, there's more room in a broken heart (Carley Simon)

Stuck in this temporarily broken down body, disobedient to my whims of being an active, hyperactive perfectionist, I set out to explore the secret ways of overcoming the "critical period", convinced above all that it can't last forever, yet not knowing at all how long it would decide to last.

I have to admit I had a hard time accepting my condition and submitting to its limitations. I kept forgetting that I had to go back to the drawing board and restructure my routines and ways of facing the world and life itself to live with a body that looked like mine on the outside, but which had become independent and foreign and unresponsive in a major degree. Basics like brushing teeth or combing hair, getting in or out of bed, getting dressed or undressed, eating or drinking, all became worth the development of intricate and creative strategies or simply finding someone willing to do them for me.  Quite a challenge to the proud soul of someone who, until now and despite the previous MG crises, still was convinced she could do it all.