Working with Bell's Palsy

I'm having a rather no good dirty rotten bad day today. Yesterday too, for that matter.

Being at work with Bell's Palsy is interesting. First, you have to explain to everyone what happened to you. No, you didn't sleep on your face wrong, and no, you haven't had a stroke. What you have is caused by a virus, and while the virus may be contagious, the palsy isn't.

Then, being at work within the 48 hour of onset window you have to deal with your worsening condition.

You go to the bathroom several times to cry. You cry because your eye hurts because it can't blink, it is dry, it is sore from you manually blinking it, and you don't want to wear your patch. You cry because it is getting harder and harder to speak around the palsy (you try saying Yom Kippur with the palsy!). You are having to be slower and more deliberate with your speech. You are fully embarassed. You walk down the hall with your head down hoping people won't look at you or speak to you or smile at you, but when they do, you have to tell the story all over again. Or just ignore the look of confusion and walk on. You cry because you just spent 30 minutes sucking your lunch through a straw, and now you've stressed out your face and the palsy seems worse, if that is possible. You cry because earlier you thought maybe your face responded when you told it to smile, but it is a phantom smile. You can't smile, you can only twist your face into something so horrible no one can tell you are smiling.

I'm thinking that maybe I should switch to 8 hour days until I can blink again. But 10 hour days are what kept me sane in this job, and I'll cry for that too, if it happens.

Please, please let the neurologist allow me to exercise. Otherwise send me straight to a mental health care professional, because the end of the rope is neigh.