Pacing myself for one event quietly erased everything else

Last week, I promised a friend I’d drive her to a surgery. It wasn’t my appointment, but anyone living with myasthenia gravis (MG) knows that showing up for anything requires its own kind of preparation. I spent three days doing what I’ve learned to do before any major commitment: resting, banking energy, using my BiPAP, and trimming my activity down to the bare minimum so I wouldn’t accidentally overspend. I saw the notifications and reminders pop up, but I kept telling myself I’d handle them later. And then later never came.

It wasn’t until the day my weekly column should have published that I realized I had missed the deadline entirely. Not because I didn’t care or because I forgot, but because the act of pacing for one important event had quietly consumed the scaffolding that keeps the rest of my life upright. Long‑range pacing drains more than physical energy. It drains attention, executive function, and the ability to return to tasks that were temporarily set aside. When I’m pacing for something days away, my world shrinks into a tunnel. The anchor event becomes the only point of reference, and everything else fades into background static.

Notifications become interruptions instead of prompts. Reminders feel irrelevant because they don’t fit inside the pacing tunnel. Deadlines lose their meaning because my internal clock is focused on one date only. Tasks I parked slip out of view. It’s never intentional, but it is the neurological and physical reality of MG: conserving energy requires narrowing focus, and narrowing focus means other obligations fall away, even the ones we care deeply about.

There’s another layer to this: I wasn’t pacing for a fun outing or a personal goal. I was pacing to show up for someone I care about, to finally be the helper and not the helpee. That emotional weight shifts the internal priority system. Obligation to others overrides obligation to self. Preventing a crash during the event becomes more important than preventing one afterward.

I wanted — no, needed — to be reliable and present, and in doing so, I unintentionally let my own responsibilities slide. MG forces choices we don’t always realize we’re making.

Recommended Reading

Sept. 16, 2026 News by Patricia Inacio, PhD

Blood T-cell marker may help flag MG recurrence after thymectomy

When the tools stop working, and how we adapt

People may often assume that reminders, apps, alarms, and calendars are enough to keep things from slipping through the cracks. And for me, usually they are. But those tools rely on one thing: the cognitive bandwidth to respond to them. During long‑range pacing, that bandwidth disappears. It’s not that the tools fail per se, but that they become incompatible with the mode our bodies force us into.

I dismissed notifications because responding felt like an energy risk. I ignored reminders because they didn’t fit inside the pacing tunnel. I didn’t check my calendar because it required a level of engagement I didn’t have.

I’m learning to build systems that anticipate this tunnel. This is the first time in a long time that I was so hyper-focused that everything else fell to the wayside. I need a post‑event check‑in that helps me look for what slipped without judgment. A parking lot list gives me a place to park tasks without committing to them so they don’t disappear. I believe that artificial intelligence is a tool that, when used appropriately, can truly help bridge gaps like what I experienced.

My husband would say that missing my column wasn’t a failure, but I think it was. It was a system failure that highlighted areas I can improve. It was a reflection of how MG reshapes time, attention, and obligation. It reminded me that even the best planning systems can collapse under the weight of long‑range pacing. And it gave me a chance to name something many of us experience but rarely articulate: Sometimes the act of preparing for one important moment quietly costs us the rest of the week.

Note: Myasthenia Gravis News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Myasthenia Gravis News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to myasthenia gravis.