I founded the Carnival of MS Bloggers in 2007 to connect the growing MS Blogging Community. My vision was to become the central hub where bloggers could find each other and to feature a collection of independent patient voices.

As larger MS organizations have also begun to feature patient voices on their own websites in recent years, the Carnival of MS Bloggers is no longer the single driving force in serving this wonderful community. For that we should all be grateful.

Thank you for continuing to support me in this one-person labor of love over the years. As of now, I will be taking a break from hosting the Carnival of MS Bloggers.

Please feel free to continue to email me to alert me to new MS blogs to add to the comprehensive MS Blogging Community index.

Sincerely,
Lisa Emrich

MS Bloggers A-D

MS Bloggers E-L

MS Bloggers M

MS Bloggers N-S

MS Bloggers T-Z

MS Caregivers and Loved Ones

Labels

Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Carnival of MS Bloggers #152

Welcome to the Carnival of MS Bloggers, a monthly compendium of thoughts and experiences shared by those living with multiple sclerosis.

Special Announcement:

Our blogger friend Judy Mercado of Peace on the Journey has published her inspiring and expressive haikus and poems in her new book Peace on the Journey: Poems which is available in paperback and Kindle editions.

Peace on the Journey: Poems
Editorial Reviews

“For those struggling with chronic illness, loss of a loved one, or any major life challenge, the Peace on the Journey poems affirm that one can still choose to smile and resolutely renew life. In facing hardship honestly but tempering it with hope, these healing poems light a path out of despair.”

—Dr. Joan Barice

“In deceptively simple seventeen-syllable nuggets, these poems convey a complexity of emotion and perspective that quite often transcends the limits of language. They are nuggets of shared humanity that find their mark squarely in the heart and soul. Sometimes in whispers, sometimes in shouts, Judith Mercado’s words resonate with wisdom and truth, and grace the reader with intimacy, honesty and understanding.”

—Marc Stecker, Wheelchair Kamikaze

Book Description

The poems explore the theme of renewal in the face of adversity. Influenced by the haiku form, this collection offers a poem a day
for a year, though one can easily start on any page and progress in any order. Peace on the Journey is enrolled in Amazon’s Matchbook program. This means that if you already purchased the print edition in the past (or purchase one now), the Kindle price is reduced by 50%. Ten percent of net book proceeds will be donated to the Myelin Repair Foundation.

May my poems illumine your journey.

~ Judy


by Andrea of MS Changed My Life

We had no idea what curve balls the MS was going to throw our way, but we had the
basics: avoid heat, overexertion, and stress. I had been teaching 2nd grade for 4 years, so I was well established at my school.  I informed my principal of the situation when I returned from my maternity leave. I had asked her to not say anything to anyone else. From the beginning I just didn’t want people to see the disease when they looked at me. I wanted them to see me, not the MS. I don’t like for people to feel sorry for me or pity me. I never have. I handle what’s been given to me and move on with life. At any rate, I entered my 5th year of teaching that fall. I did tell some of my fellow teammates that if they see me stumbling through the halls, it was not because anyone had finally pushed me over the edge to cause me to drink at school. :)

That school year came and went without a hiccup. I regained the feeling in my legs about 8 weeks after the whole episode began. We’d done lots of reading about MS being passed on to children, and we found that our children would have a slightly higher chance of developing MS than “regular” children. Mine wasn’t a genetic issue. No one else in my family has it. I’m #4 of 6 kids, have 9 cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents, but I was the “lucky” one. We felt that it would not be a reckless or careless decision to have another child. I’d had absolutely no issues after that 8 week numbness in 2004, and I’d had a wonderful first pregnancy and delivery – other than going into pre-term labor as a result of our first pug passing away in my arms in the car on our way to the emergency vet. We are crazy pug people; 4 pugs and 2 cats. Pretty awful experience losing our little buddy. Our son was born 3.5 weeks early, but he was 7 lbs. 7 oz. and was perfectly healthy. We agreed that it was time for another little one.

My husband felt that it was also time for him to do what he could to support the MS Society by participating in the Cox MS Atlanta cycling weekend by riding 100 miles over 2 days. He signed up and raised money for the MS Society. It was obviously a charity event, but leave it to my husband to still make sure he crossed the line first. Our son and I raced to the finish (from home) to greet him. He finished so early that we missed his actual crossing of the finish line, but we were there soon after. That’s my guy! Forever in my corner.
Curtis’ first MS charity ride – September, 2005


This concludes the 152nd edition of the Carnival.  The next Carnival of MS Bloggers will be hosted here on March 6, 2014. Please remember to submit a post (via email) from your blog of which you are particularly proud, or which you simply want to share, by noon on Tuesday, October 1, 2013.

Thursday, July 19, 2012

Carnival of MS Bloggers #119

Welcome to the Carnival of MS Bloggers, a bi-weekly compendium of thoughts and experiences shared by those living with multiple sclerosis.

MS Poetry and Public Profiles

by Janie at PasstheMSplease

I really miss my left leg
It’s been so good to me
It seems that it has run its course
It’s dead as it can be.

I know I ask a lot of it
Through each and every day
I thought that I was good to it
I don’t know what else to say.

I know I bumped it into chairs
The walls, the desks, the drawers
But lately we have done just fine
And stayed off the cold, hard floors.

Maybe I have asked too much
To try and walk like others
But I have not one single time
Been jealous of another’s.

I love you, I can tell you now
‘Though you seem not to care
Although this love is with the left
A love I have to share.

I hope that your vacation time
Will be short and you’ll return
Please don’t stay long, and hurry back
For your presence I still yearn.

And so until that happy day
I’ll hobble on one leg
Please hurry home, I miss you so
I really HATE to beg!!!!

by Stax at Multiple Sclerosis & Me

i hadda preface this post by giving a little history.  I guess that most people are somewhat curious, so alot of times, i'll be out and about and someone will ask me what happened or what's wrong.  Other times, the question is "did u have foot surgery, or did you hurt your leg?"  When i'm asked those type of questions, my standard answer is, "I wish i had surgery (or was injured) because that would mean that i'll heal...no, i have Multiple Sclerosis," and the conversation will either stop there (sometimes, i can tell that the person is a little embarrassed (maybe because they wished they weren't so fas - not that it bothers me?) or go on.

so...Saturday was a boatride on Lake Lanier.  We are in the middle of a heatwave - the high was 106 degrees, so even though i was feeling somewhat alright (sitting in AC in the car), my body was not.  J carried me to the boat - as the people in the south say, "Bless his heart" because it wasn't a short walk (he actually split the distance in 2 and took a lil rest in between) and then even when we got on the boat, KI took me up the stairs - i'm still a little unsure of how he made that happen.  so in other words, ALL the passengers knew that obviously, there was something "wrong" with me. 

Anyhoo, so we set up my chair and get situated and i'm sitting trying to get cool and this chick comes up to me an introduces herself and the conversation goes like this:

blah blah blah
Chick, "So...did you have back surgery?  what's wrong?"
Me, my standard answer, "no (remember my little history)...I have Mulitple Sclerosis" (I always say the whole thing because i'm not sure how many people actually know what MS is)
chick (really enthusiastically): "Wonderful!!!"  
Me (in my head): eh?  really?? u not serious are u???  out loud: (not a damn thing - good thing too)  I think i was a little taken aback

she then went on to talk about how it was great that i was out and enjoying the boatride and "taking a wine" as only i can and it was refreshing to see that i wasn't letting it keep me back.  oh, okay...thanks :-)  but i just couldn't believe it when the 1st word out of her mouth after being told that i have MS was, "WONDERFUL".  LOL - i had to give her a bligh after she continued.

by Laura at Inside MyStory

Did anyone else catch the recent chat on Fox News about Ann Romney, and her Multiple Sclerosis? Normally I would not watch Fox News, but we were staying with friends on a trip and they had their television tuned to Sunday House Call.

Of course I paused to listen to this story because of the topic, and they included a brief part of an interview they had done earlier in June with Ann Romney. I know she has come under much criticism recently about her portrayal of MS, the resources available to her, and all the other baggage that comes with being a high profile public personality. I have nothing to say about her personally, because that is a lesson I learned very quickly with MS – we are all so different but yet the same in living with this disease. I hope her MS stays in remission forever, just like I wish well for every one out there who lives with this MonSter, and this blog is not about her.

What I do want to talk about is this glaring example of how little some medical experts know about MS and the way it is portrayed in the media. Up first for this report was Dr. Marc Siegel, an internal medicine doctor and associate professor at New York University (NYU) Medical School. He was also the person who did a lengthy sit-down interview with her in mid-June about her MS.

In his brief few minutes of air time, there were several points he made that had me screaming “no!!!!!.” He talked about the disease modifying therapies available and said they all have serious risks including Lemtrada, which causes problems with platelets and that another MS drug causes encephalitis. For the record, Lemtrada is not available to us even though the idea of a few IV treatments and then skipping it for a year is appealing; Lemtrada has only recently been delivered to the U.S. Federal Drug Administration and it’s European counterpoint for approval.

Encephalitis from an MS drug? I am guessing Dr. Siegel was referring to progressive multifocal leukoencephalitis that is a rare but documented problem with Tysabri. He threw the phrase out there in association with treatment that makes it sound like a regular problem, and I wish if he was going to throw these possible complications with treatment out there, he would take a moment to discuss the risk /benefit decision we all face.

It wasn’t enough that he was misleading and spreading fear about the drugs. He then went on to talk about Ann Romney’s use of horseback riding for her therapy and talked about the value of the LOVE between a horse and its rider. He said nothing about the therapeutic value of RIDING a horse. Hippotherapy is an approved therapy for many different disorders; for people with MS, the movement of riding a horse mimics the human walking motions and improves core stability. The body responds to riding a horse with improved balance, stronger core muscles and can even reduce spasticity. Just like petting a dog will lower blood pressure, there probably is a benefit to bonding with a horse, but the therapeutic value for people with MS is much more than love.

The female anchor of the program did interject that “horses are magical” and maybe that’s my problem- if I just believed more in magic and got a pony, my MS would disappear.

More than once, Dr. Siegel mentioned how Ann Romney has beat MS. Wow, that’s an impressive statement because the last I checked, no one has beat MS- we merely learn to live with it. He also credited her faith and being strong as the key to her beating MS. I can’t help but wonder how that makes the many people with MS who I know who haven’t beat MS, despite being strong and faithful.

Perhaps the most confounding statement Dr. Siegel made was that often the best decision to make for patients is to not treat their MS, and that it is often better to wait because of the side effects of the MS drugs. A louder scream comes from me on this one…… argh!!! The most recent recommendations of the MS Consortium of Research Centers (MSCRC) and the FDA approved guidelines for these drugs, is to treat people with MS immediately with their first symptoms – clinically isolated syndrome (CIS) is recognized as the first sign that a person may later develop MS. The earlier the treatment is begun, the better the odds that the disease progression can be slowed. If a person is beyond CIS and has MS, it would be unthinkable to not offer that patient a treatment option.

The second doctor to speak about Ann Romney’s MS, was David Samadi, MD, also from New York, who is the “Chief of Robotics and Minimally Invasive Surgery at Mount Sinai School of Medicine,” according to the Fox website. I had hoped that this doctor would present solid information on MS, but at the time I did not know his credentials or I wouldn’t have held that hope. MS is far removed from the black and white world of robotic medicine.

Dr. Samadi stated that MS is diagnosed by the evidence of plaques showing on MRI’s and through the analysis of the cerebral spinal fluid (CSF) from a lumbar puncture. He completely ignores the documented fact that not all CSF will be positive and about 15% of people with MS have negative lumbar punctures. The same is true for the MRI imaging – it is very much possible to have MS and not have visible lesions. There are a number of factors that go into this, including low powered MRI’s, incorrect MRI software application, or radiologists misreading the MRI images. There is growing evidence that MS lesions/plaques are not confined to the brain’s white matter and may be lurking in the gray matter as well. High powered MRI imaging is being used to see if perhaps this is where MS hides in the early stages. He said nothing about the clinical neurological exam or the role the patient’s history plays in the diagnostic process.

He echoed Dr. Seigel’s view that Ann Romney is a strong woman and because of that and her faith, she has her MS in control and she should be a role model for the rest of us living with MS. Unfortunately few of us have her resources so it is somewhat difficult to shadow her coping style.

As a final note, he proclaimed that since she only has Relapsing Remitting MS, she just has the mild type of MS and she will do well. Can you hear me letting loose with a primal scream at the TV at this point? Obviously he doesn’t know the statistics of how many people with RRMS will move on to secondary progressive MS (SPMS) and accumulating disability.

If you want to practice your very own screams at the screen, you can view the Fox News discussion at
http://video.foxnews.com/v/1714450639001/ann-romneys-battle-with-multiple-sclerosis/?playlist_id=930909755001

This is not the first and probably not the last time, where the talking heads on TV will get it wrong explaining Multiple Sclerosis. Dr. Nancy Snyderman , the Today Show medical expert, usually makes me scream at the TV as well; most recently she told viewers that men having MS is rare. But what should we expect from a doctor trained in oncology or these other doctors who deal with robots and internal medicine rather than neurology? They may be wonderful in their own fields, but they need to not present themselves as experts on a topic that they haven’t mastered, and judging from the false statements they make, maybe they even skipped the neurology rotation in med school.

Would it be too much to ask the networks to invite a real expert to explain MS? At least neurologists understand that living with MS is more complex than having religious faith, just wishing it to go away, and loving a horse.

This concludes the 119th edition of the Carnival.  The next Carnival of MS Bloggers will be hosted here on August 2, 2012. Please remember to submit a post (via email) from your blog of which you are particularly proud, or which you simply want to share, by noon on Tuesday, July 31, 2012.

Thank you.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Carnival of MS Bloggers #111

Welcome to the Carnival of MS Bloggers, a bi-weekly compendium of thoughts and experiences shared by those living with multiple sclerosis.
Coping, Cognitive Issues, and Social Security
NEUTRALIZED
by Maris Mohr

I think I woke up this morning,

or did I sleep at all? . . .

The mirror reflects empty space –

nothing to reveal my wondering gaze.

Even in a room full of occupied seats

I feel unconnected to everything

Drifting ~~~~ between what I think

I want, need

Ending misunderstood, rejected

Feeling dejected, facing a raging wall of

why it can't be

Giving in, my oblivion strengthless

Arguing on no longer in my core

Knowing there's no point in disrupting

MY equilibrium, OUR harmony

Neutral being the safest gear for my survival. . .

© Maris B. Mohr
22.3.2012


by CJ of my MonSter stories

Unlike a bad dream, it doesn't come only when I'm sleeping, it doesn't go away when daylight comes, and even when my mind is occupied with hundreds of other thoughts and I'm busy with the "stuff" of living, working, and trying to care for my family, it lurks about and, without warning, it attacks, disrupting my cognitive and physical functioning, oftentimes bringing everything to a sudden screeching halt.

The problems are real, the pain is real, the symptoms are real...even if you can't see them.  Unlike a common cold or minor injury, it doesn't happen and then get all better and go away.  The nerve pain that accompanies an attack is excruciating and unlike any other type of pain.  If you've ever had a bad toothache, just try to imagine that type of pain occurring in any other part of your body.  It can affect any body part or function at any time for any length of time.  The numbness, tingling, and weakness that often occur can mimic signs of a stroke and can be very frightening and debilitating.

I'm thankful that, at least for now, I have the relapsing-remitting type, where the MonSter attacks and one or more areas of cognitive and/or pyhsical functioning is affected for a period of time, then gradually resolves, although often not completely, so that I'm left with some residual pain or loss of function.  Some of the symptoms I've had include vision problems and eye pain, vertigo and imbalance, difficulty walking, confusion, disorientation, difficulty processing information, slowed thinking, difficulty with speech,  memory loss, numbness/tingling/weakness, burning sensations, spasms, reduced fine motor skills such as writing, unexplainable indescribable fatigue that can strike and suddenly render me immobile, pain - including what I describe as extreme "lightning bolt" type pain that takes my breath away and can make me collapse onto the floor.

Please understand, although altering lifestyle and making some changes can help, these cannot cure MS.  Rest is not a cure.  Less stress is not a cure.  More vitamins or supplements is not a cure.  Better weather is not a cure.  Currently there is no cure.  There are several treatments being used that seem to slow down the progression of the disease and/or reduce the severity of the attacks.  In my opinion, most of the treatments that are being used are experimental at best.

It is my hope that by writing about my own personal experiences, readers will have a better understanding of MS, and some might also better understand me as a person and perhaps have just a little more tolerance and compassion.  I would not wish this MonSter on anyone, but MS is no respecter of persons; it could choose you or one of your loved ones next.


by CJ of my MonSter stories

Most folks in the "civilized" world are familiar with the objects in the above photograph. And most people would not find the objects the least bit intimidating or frightening. I've never had a problem with them...until yesterday. You see, yesterday I was feeling a little "off" from the time I awoke and got out of bed. I was a little unsteady on my feet, and I noticed I was having some difficulty keeping my thoughts together and I was having trouble making even the smallest decisions.

After taking much longer than usual to make my bed, put a load of laundry in the washer, eat breakfast, and wash dishes, I knew I needed to get a shower and get dressed. But I was a little leery of trying to stand long enough to finish my shower, so I decided it might be best if I just took a bath instead.

Well, everything was going along okay and it actually felt good to soak for a few minutes after bathing. The problem arose when I decided it was time for me to get out of the tub. I sat and stared in front of me at those shiny silvery objects that are shown in the photograph....it seemed like it was for an hour, although it was perhaps only four or five minutes. As I sat and stared, I became a little frightened as well as frustrated...because I could not remember what I needed to do in order to drain the water from the tub.

No, I haven't suffered a traumatic brain injury...no, I don't have Alzheimer's disease (as far as I know)...no, I didn't have a stroke, etc. I was having an acute attack of my brain "short-circuiting", something that happens to me fairly frequently as a result of having MS (multiple sclerosis). These particular episodes usually don't last very long, but I do have some permanent long-term as well as some short-term memory loss. The attacks can occur at any time, but tend to be more frequent if I am fatigued, emotionally, or mentally stressed, too hot, too cold, or have any type of illness going on. This is just one of the many symptoms I have with this cursed disease.

Why am I telling you this? Because I want to help you understand what is happening to me...why I am constantly keeping lists or a journal, why I sometimes seem to be staring blankly into space, why it sometimes takes me longer than you think it should to answer a question or complete a simple task, why I say "no" or "not now", or "I can't" a lot more often than I used to. On the outside I may look "fine", but on the inside I am often a "tangled mess of misfirings and disconnected electrical impulses".

So, if you can accept me as I am with all the changes that are now happening and doubtless will continue to take place (unless there is a miraculous cure), I welcome you into my life. If not...if it frightens you or it's too much for you to bother with or handle...then you will probably become suddenly silent, quickly disappear, walk out, or just slowly back away as many others have already done. Either way, I thank you for listening to me.


by Laura of Shine the Divine

On Tuesday I met the bogeyman

she’s a thirty-something woman
thick dark hair cascades across her shoulders
surprisingly strong on her frame
strong enough to carry the weight of
God knows how many wounded stories.

Glasses shield kind brown eyes
from luckless tales that pour across
her utilitarian metal desk dripping
gushing onto her young loving lap
day after
day after
day
I wonder
what’s her story?

Anger, frustration, sadness, grief, expressed through sarcasm, I admit this is where I am sometimes, sometimes lately. Sometimes it gets a little crowded, a little ugly and uncomfortable in my mind. I’m aware that this tumult is happening, arising from fear, from disappointment. I recognize these emotions for what they are and see what is inside, what is outside, what is changing, oh everything is always changing and that is a comfort. But still, I get lost in myself sometimes. I momentarily forget that it isn’t all about me, well of course not. Life is about US, and so much more. I know this, I do, and still some days, some days lately, I lose my way; tense, snarky, suffocating thoughts spin round and round and choke me, filling my throat with words I should NOT say, come out garbled anyway, until I finally remember; just exhale and listen. I hear my own agitation ricochet, a pinball ringing bells, lighting lights, through a maze of words, words, words, so much noise in this dark cave my mind can become, points I score are pointless, they only create more tension so that I must release the spring-loaded thoughts; just exhale. I inhale fully and then exhale again, a deep sigh of forgiveness. Compassion, love gratitude, rush in with a tide of tears. I’m only human. And only human is enough. It is all I know how to be. It is all that I am, that we are. And yes this is about US, a story told from my perspective on a particular day, but as I said, it isn’t all about me, not really; this is a story about life, it is about all of us, and so much more.
Inhale…

First timer at the Social Security office; my mind chasing its own tail, looking at all the other people in the waiting area, anger flashed “What am I doing HERE?” My husband went up and took a ticket. We sat listening to the numbers being called, a grayed—where is the hand sanitizer, I know it is in my purse somewhere—kind of space. The ticket made me think “bingo hall,” not that I’ve ever been in one, but I’d never been in a Social Security office either. Three rows of chairs lined up, linked together, no tables —was our number "A34" lucky??? And a large silent TV with S.S. info-mercials, alternating English/Spanish subtitles, a continuous "easy-listening" garageband music loop that I was certain was playing subliminal messages ("get out while you still can") or would put me in a coma from utter repetitive boredom ('irritating-listening" for me). All the while denial, that sleeping dragon stirred —“I don't belong here with these three pony tailed, war vets, these two mothers with runny nosed toddlers wrapped around their plump legginged legs —round eyed cuties playing peek-a-boo with the strange looking lady with the freakish uncontrollable random head shake in the fold up wheelchair (could easily be mistaken for an oversized umbrella stroller), the old man who looks so tired and doesn't seem to understand what the annoyed woman in the cut-out window keeps repeating to him (repetition a common theme in the room), the twenty-something kid who couldn’t possibly have showered today or washed his jeans in at least a month if ever. It wasn't that crowded —and then one little girl forgot to be shy and started talking to her Mamma about her cell phone (her mother's, but she was pretending to be grown-up), and I heard my toddler voice. My MS impaired toddler voice thrown ventriloquist style escaping through her tiny rosebud lips. Maybe she was two and a half, three tops; she was easier to understand than me, the lady with the freakish uncontrollable random head shake in the fold up wheelchair (could easily be mistaken for an oversized umbrella stroller) —and tears leaked out of my eyes, slid down my face, rained on my jeans, softening them so seeds of compassion could embed themselves in my soul-soil; tender blossoms of love at the ready, just below the surface.

I am every single one of these individuals. They are me; we are ONE. We are all living life, decaying hollowed hallowed tree trunk people, silvered, surviving through challenges we didn't expect. We are humans who need help. I am a human who needs help. I worked for as long as I could, except when my kids were really small. I can't any more. Not outside our home. I do what I can when my voice allows over the phone, I'm a good listener. I create meditation podcasts that I offer for free, because it is a struggle for all of us living with chronic illness first to be able to get to a class, second to be able to afford it, and if someone has a little extra to donate, that's great, I appreciate it but don't really expect it.

I paid into the system, pray into heaven right here, the Holy Essence residing in my heart. With our first child about to go to college in the fall, and the high cost of medical care, our family, needs income from me too. We are a multi-illness health insurance company’s worst nightmare family, and arch enemies apparently considering all the headachy “NO we still don’t have any other health insurance than yours. NO our 15 year old daughter doesn’t have her own top secret health insurance coverage beyond what we her parents provide through your company. What do you mean you will cover the injectable medication but not the syringe and we need a separate prescription for the syringe that you won’t pay for? How exactly am I supposed to give this medication to my wife that she was supposed to have last weekend but you didn’t send it until now-sans freakin’ syringe???” phone calls. These are just a few highlights from this past week’s health insurance shenanigans. I'm sure this is familiar to many of you too.

I hope that my Social Security Disability Insurance application won't be rejected. And I understand that it might be. That happens to a lot of SSDI applicants. People I know, and they have to drop their dignity again, go down to the dingy office in their city or town again, and sometimes a third time again; months and months and months of waiting to be judged "sick enough" and deserving of the money that they paid into this failing system. It has been three years since my official diagnosis; four years since I was last able to actually go to work. So for all of my family members and friends who have been telling me to go do this thing (“its so easy, they’ll help you, I’ll drive you, you are entitled”) I did it. I pulled together the courage, swallowed my pride and with my husband pushing my chariot rolled through the damn door. Ironically one of the blue electric handicap accessibility door buttons didn't work, so one of the vets opened the last door into the building for us. Was it a sign?? No, this happens all the time.

You see, I wanted to believe that I would get better, be able to drive, work again at a real job. For the past three years I really, really wanted to believe that, but remission for me is like the tree bark in the photo. Mostly I'm still standing, I even look good some days, but there are missing pieces in the myelin that is supposed to protect my nerves and carry messages from brain to muscles and vital organs, and I'm not going to be how I was. I think I lived through THOSE remission years already, and now there is too much damage to repair after new lesions form or old ones get bigger. So, Ok, I get it. It isn't going to happen. That part of my life is over. Done. Gone. This is how it is today. Tomorrow will be different. And so it goes.
On Tuesday I met the bogeyman
she’s a thirty-something woman
thick dark hair cascades across her shoulders
surprisingly strong on her frame
strong enough to carry the weight of
God knows how many wounded stories.

Glasses shield kind brown eyes
from luckless tales that pour across
her utilitarian metal desk dripping
gushing onto her young loving lap
day after
day after
day
I wonder
what’s her story?
I left heart broken with grief swirled into twisted relief. Not bitter, not sweet, metallic; perhaps that’s the taste of it? I don’t know how long we’ll wait, if I’m sick enough to qualify for benefits. What strange words to write in the same sentence, “sick enough" - "qualify" - "benefits.” But the first part of the deed is done.

We went out for Indian food at my favorite buffet to "celebrate" this big step toward fuller acceptance of our shared life. We were hungry and it is on the way home. The waitress gave me her chai recipe (I didn’t know until I complimented her on how much I love it, drinking my second cup, that she is the one who makes it); hers is the best in town. If only I could walk downstairs, I'd make myself another cup. I think we have the ingredients. Chai in Hebrew means Life.

I am ever so grateful for the beautiful souls surrounding me in that waiting room, softening my own soul-soil, planting seeds of love, grateful for the bogeyWOman who helped me release my fear through her kind demeanor (because that is what pride often is, fear hiding behind pretentiousness.) Here's to Chai, just as it is, Holy and torn through with gaping holes, difficult and suffused with kindness, imperfect and whole. This is our story.



This concludes the 111st edition of the Carnival.  The next Carnival of MS Bloggers will be hosted here on April 12, 2012. Please remember to submit a post (via email) from your blog of which you are particularly proud, or which you simply want to share, by noon on Tuesday, April 10, 2012.

Thank you.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Carnival of MS Bloggers #105

Welcome to the Carnival of MS Bloggers, a bi-weekly compendium of thoughts and experiences shared by those living with multiple sclerosis.

Strength, Hope, and Forgiveness in the New Year

by Kate Wolfe-Jenson of Dancing with Monsters

Whether it's forgiving myself or someone else, I've discovered it's a practice.
I love practice. Have I mentioned that before? Forgiveness is built into practice.
  1. I plan to do something. (Intention)
  2. I make an effort to do it. (Action)
  3. It doesn't go the way I think it "should" go. (Judgment)
  4. I let go of my ideas about what should have happened. (Mercy)
  5. I reset or re-envision my intention. (Resilience)
  6. Repeat.
Watching myself around forgiveness, I have found an unfortunate tendency to get stuck on step three.

I judge. I try to let go, but it really shouldn't have gone the way it did and it's really not my fault, but if I'd only done it differently

The image that came to mind is of carrying around a stone. I set it down for seconds and then, compulsively pick it up again.

Forgiveness becomes a practice of letting it go and letting it go and letting it go.


What Race Will you Win?
by Dee Dee Vickers

Some days my MS body feels okay -
but other days, in the bed I want to stay.
But get out of bed is a must for me,
cause if I don’t, that’s where I’ll always be.

One side of my left leg doesn’t feel right,
and the right side feels really tight.
But do a few stretches before I arise,
and once I’m up, each day is a surprise.

What challenges will I face walking the pool?
At least 30 minutes of workout is always my rule.
Then home to shower, and “put on my face;”
And now I am ready for the next big race.

Run a race, I think not for me;
but other challenges I soon will see
Paint a picture, arrange flowers in a vase,–
write a poem – these I consider to be my “race.”

We all have a different “races” we face each day;
but stay in bed, those races won’t come our way.
So stiff on one side, ache on the other,
but think of the “miles” we have still to cover.

Yes, it all comes when the sun peeks in at us
and no matter the ills, “just don’t make a fuss…”
The world is our canvas to paint on each day
So get out of bed and be on your way!

Dee Dee Vickers
Georgetown, Texas
January 5. 2012


by Natalie of Sunny, With A Chance Of Clouds


To protect a mind too fragile.
And determined by those misguided,
There is a purity that should remain unaffected.
If innocence and love could be spared.

And even though good intentions are meant,
The disadvantage comes to the one.

To become shielded,
Is no escape from that which can not be erased.
One shielded remains confused.
And is convinced truth must be avoided.

One shielded remains convinced...
A running away from any hints of truth is a benefit.

Unfortunate are those forever troubled.
Running away to shelter themselves,
A lie to comfort.
When truth is not enough,
Or which truth hurts too much?


by Marc Stecker of Wheelchair Kamikaze

A strongman forearm.
One of the great paradoxes of dealing with MS: it's a disease one of whose hallmark symptoms is weakness, yet it demands the utmost strength from those dealing with it. From the psychological impact of the debilitating nature of the disease itself, to the shifting landscape of compromises and adjustments the patient must make in an attempt to maintain some semblance of normalcy, to the frustrations of dealing with an often maddening medical infrastructure, to the well-intentioned but misguided efforts of friends and family, to the sometimes heart wrenching indifference of the world at large, MS presents hurdles and challenges that require a measure of fortitude, grit, and endurance that most suffering from it never imagined they possessed. And yet as a group MS patients soldier on, displaying quiet courage and the hearts of lions.

Those suffering from the relapsing forms of the disease must deal with an illness ever lurking in the background, waiting to strike once again and leave them reeling. When each new attack finally subsides, often left behind are lingering symptoms, some weakness here, a little cognitive dysfunction there, distressing calling cards serving as permanent reminders that, despite all outward appearances, trouble resides within. Patients bestowed with the wonderfulness of progressive disease get to experience the pleasure of watching themselves circle the drain, day by day, month by month, year by year. Like the gradual shortening of days from July to December, the change barely noticeable on a daily basis but quite dramatic over the long haul, the disease creeps along an almost imperceptible pace, molehills becoming mountains with the passage of time. The slow but steady drip of the disease can lull one into to a false sense of security, until the guttural realization strikes that some physical action done without a thought only last year has now become cumbersome at best, impossible at worst. Yes, you can't be too strong.

Despite the obvious mettle needed to meet such challenges, many patients castigate themselves for their inability to withstand the ravages of the disease, disgusted with the fact that sheer force of will cannot beat back the onrushing tides. I have a close MS friend who every day fights through crippling spasticity so excruciating it often literally brings him to his knees but still manages, using a variety of disability aids and mobility devices, to put in his day at the office, sometimes forced to drive by using his arm to physically lift his leg on and off the gas and brake pedals (not recommended, by the way), compelled by his overwhelming desire to provide for his family and not give in to the disease. By day's end he can barely make it back into his house and onto the couch, scarcely able to lift his head, but instead of acknowledging his extraordinary efforts, he beats himself up over his perceived lack of toughness, his powerlessness to simply put a stop to the beast that so insistently ravages his body.

I recognize this same tendency in many of the patients I'm in contact with, and at times in myself. I put off the purchase of a power wheelchair for far too long, unwilling to acknowledge my tremendously obvious need because of the complicated psychological interplay of ego, self-image, and sensitivity to how I might be perceived. I sentenced myself to house arrest in a foolhardy effort to maintain an inner illusion of strength, when in fact true strength was only achieved when I finally gave in and reconciled myself to my need and situation. In a kind of mental jujitsu, what I thought was strength was actually weakness, and in turn, the very symbol of weakness, the wheelchair, became testament to a moment of strength when I finally let go and accepted my new normal. Yes, you can't be too strong.

Apart from the strength needed to deal with the disease itself, navigating through the labyrinthine and often counterintuitive tendencies of the modern medicine machine can test the determination of even the most valiant among us. Instead of making things easier on those suffering from chronic disease, it sometimes seems like the deck has been intentionally stacked against us. Trying to make sense of the never ending stream of research and theories about the disease can be mindbending. MS is autoimmune! MS is infectious! MS is caused by faulty veins! It's all the fault of genetics, toxins, vitamin deficiencies, dietary imbalances! Why not throw in out of balance humors, or unfortunate astrological alignments? Does anybody know what the frack they're talking about? What seems crystal-clear one minute is thrown into doubt the next. Up is down, down is up, and all the while I still can't use my right arm and leg, dammit!

The human tendency to become emotionally wedded to a particular idea or orthodoxy often pits patients against patients, in never-ending circular arguments that ultimately may only serve those who are all too willing to make a buck from our compromised circumstances. We must deal with pharmaceutical companies mandated to be more concerned with the bottom line then with patient well-being, and with doctors who are very often under their sway. Never is it more evident that modern medicine is a business than when you realize that most of the MS research news is reported on the financial pages of the newspaper. Desperately searching for something, anything to hang our hope on, we can be easy prey for practitioners of "alternative" medicine, who may be charlatans or saviors, often indistinguishable when cloaked in the fog of the ongoing battle and blinded by increasingly desperate circumstances. The constant clutter of contradictory and conflicting information can seem impenetrable, yet precisely because of this information overload it is imperative that we attempt to keep ourselves informed and clear headed, in order to self advocate in an environment that demands it. Yes, you can't be too strong.

We suffer through the indignities heaped upon us by miserly insurance companies and incompetent practitioners. Can there be a more surreal experience than having to fight with an insurance company drone to try to get an approval for a drug that has the potential to kill you? When I finally capitulated and agreed that I needed a wheelchair, I was greeted by wheelchair vendors who quite blatantly tried to pawn off products that obviously did not suit my circumstances but would do the most to fatten their commission checks, and by insurance company rules and regulations clearly designed to win a battle of attrition in the expectation that a needful patient will simply weary of the fight and take whatever is offered. In order to get a chair with qualities that would enable it to hold up under the rigors of the streets of NYC, I had to repeatedly appeal insurance company decisions, and to whom do those appeals go? Why, the very same insurance company, of course! After months of constant screaming battles, and with the help of the physical therapy staff at my neurologists office, I was finally granted an approval for the appropriate chair, a device the thought of which, at the time, left me slightly nauseated. It might have been easier to try to part the Red Sea.

In closing, I'll relate a story that another dear MS friend of mine recently told me. She requires home health aides to help her through the day, and a few weeks ago asked one to fix her a can of soup. My friend directed the man to the cupboard that contained the soup can, and to a drawer that held a good old-fashioned manual can opener, the kind that clamps to the edge of the can and then opens it  through the action of the user twisting a rotating handle. The aide picked up the contraption and held it in his hands, stupefied. Somehow, this middle-aged man had never before even seen such a can opener, a device I believe I learned how to use when I was about five years old. In startled disbelief, my friend had to instruct the aide, in step-by-step fashion, exactly how to operate the befuddling instrument. When he was done, the aide explained to my severely disabled friend that being a home health aide was only his "hobby", and that he was a financial planner by profession! Given the bang up job the financial wizards have done with the world's economy, it's little wonder a manual can opener fell far outside this man's power of comprehension. Geez, you think the guy might be better off taking up birdwatching or stamp collecting, benign pastimes in which his gaps in rudimentary knowledge might not negatively impact the day of a sick person?

Honestly, you can't be too strong…


This concludes the 105th edition of the Carnival.  The next Carnival of MS Bloggers will be hosted here on January 19, 2012. Please remember to submit a post (via email) from your blog of which you are particularly proud, or which you simply want to share, by noon on Tuesday, January 17, 2012.

Thank you.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Carnival of MS Bloggers #100

Welcome to the Carnival of MS Bloggers, a bi-weekly compendium of thoughts and experiences shared by those living with multiple sclerosis.

Living Fiercely, Sexy Limps, S and M or MS?, Acceptance

by silver lining of ladeedah-msandlife

My first thought when I got diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in March was, how am I going to tell my mom - my loving, high blood-pressured, easy to stress out mom? I want to keep her calm and her blood pressure low.

She knows I have medical stuff going on, I had to cancel my Spring Break plans to go home because the doctors said I am not fully diagnosed although it looks like M.S. and I'm not medicated also travel can be stressful on M.S. They want to do another MRI. So she's waiting for more medical answers about what's going on with me. Then I got the final diagnosis.

I was nervous about telling her. She's gonna be shocked and upset, it doesn't run in the family. This will be weird news and difficult to share.

One thing about MS it messes up my memory and I get words mixed up often. I told a friend the doctor prescribed me Aveeno. After her laughing hysterically she corrected me, “Aveeno is bath soap, you mean Avonex.”

When I did tell my mom I was prepared with a friends suggestion to tell her all the help that's provided and the good things. That will help keep her calm. My friend and I practiced and I got to a point where I felt that my delivery of the news would go well. I call her. Deep breath, I can do this. I had a pleasant, calm tone, made fun small talk for awhile and then decided I was ready to calmly tell her.

“Now I finally know why I'm tired all the time and keep running into walls. I've been diagnosed with S&M”...shocked I realized what I said.

The mind has the ability to go 100 miles an hour in analyzing, calculating, weighing ratio's, outcomes and carefully planning how to get through a crash landing like this. The mind can think multidimensional novel chapters in nanoseconds. I ran through several options of how to correct what I said without drawing attention to it upsetting my Southern Christian, quiet mom who sings in the church choir.

Gosh, out of all the people I make this mess up to. She was so quiet about it I thought, whew, she doesn't know what S&M is. I decided to correct it by saying the things I practiced with my friend and end the sentence correctly in same calm tone rather than correcting my mistake which would bring attention to it and then having to talk about cognitive challenges with M.S.

So I continue, “and it's OK. There are support groups, community and lots of help with ” [remember, remember, think, M&S runs through my head, then I mentally run through it again dropping the &. ] “M.S.” It's amazing I could do that much thinking while saying the sentence, so no pause before saying the word. I said it smoothly.

Now what can I tell her next, oh the books I have read about M.S. “There are many informative books at the library that talk about cures, treatments and living life with it.” Then suddenly I remember a scene from the original 9-5 movie when the newly divorced character played by Jane Fonda sees her x husband and to show how much she's changed and is a different woman, she states “...now I'm into M&M's,” not really knowing what she's talking about.

Remembering this scene makes me want to laugh. I feel it in my throat like a slight vibration, I swallow and try to suppress it. In the suppression of laughter and continuing to speak my voice gets tight and a little higher pitched. I can feel the tickle of laughter tempting my throat as I try to continue with my calm soothing attempt and say, “there are friends, people to call and web sties.” My voice is noticeable different. What if she thinks I'm really upset and about to cry. Darn my plan to keep her and me at this point calm is not going as smoothly as I practiced with my friend. Trying to suppress the laughter causes me stress, telling her I have MS is stressful and stress is bad for M&M's...I mean M.S.

OK reclaim my calmness and confidence that this is going OK.

“My life isn't over, it's just changing. It will be OK.”


by Mary K. Mennenga

To see the person
Who isn't willing to quit or given up
On living life, hope and love
Life is about
Making the most out of what I've got to work with
It's not about what I can no longer do
Instead it's learning new ways of working within the limitations
Living life has brought to all of us
Pride is a force that will need to be dealt with
It's one of the things that can defeat anyone
Remember I'm are still in control of my choices
Will I make mistakes of course that's how most learning gets done!
All I ask is your understanding that
If the reason you're helping is because you think you have to?
That kind of support feels more like pity to me
Instead of being something you want to do with me

Honestly pity is just another form of guilt
That has nothing to do with me


by Kim Dolce of Doc, It Hurts When I Do This...

Long before we girls leave the crib, we sense that boys watch the way we move.

Once we become ambulatory the game intensifies. Puberty attaches language to this preoccupation as girls learn whether guys are leg men, butt-watchers, or hypnotized by hips. In adulthood, women discover the power to influence an admirer with a simple movement. We choreograph our own signature dance. Fully in control of our youthful bodies, we emulate the panther, the gazelle, our favorite Motown group, or in a goofy moment, a decrepit great uncle.

Developing MS is a real game-changer. When I added foot drop to my choreography, I felt clumsy and unattractive. Augmenting my routine with a cane was the finishing blow; a cane did well by Fred Astaire and July Garland, but I don’t sing “Swanee” or tap dance on ceilings. I gave up on grace and worried about tripping or falling. My dance morphed from jazzy Gwen Verdon to Chevy Chase doing Gerald Ford. Convinced that men observed this with either sympathy or disgust, I abandoned my desire to be desired.

One day, I noticed my husband, Mark, standing behind me beaming lasciviously.

“What are you looking at, you silly man,” I asked.

“You,” he said. “I love the way you walk.”

“Limp,” I corrected, “I don’t really just walk anymore.”

“It’s a geisha two-step,” he observed. “You take these feminine little mincing steps and then swing one hip. It makes your butt look great. You’re so hot.”

I peered suspiciously at his face, searching for irony. But he was still looking at my ass with that unmistakable gaze of desire.

He seemed to sense my overall low opinion of my physical affect in society. “I see how men look at you when we’re out in public,” he went on. “They can’t take their eyes off you. I know how men think, honey. You don’t even see it—and that’s the beauty of you.”

The geisha two-step. I do still have a dance. Maybe not the one I was hoping for, but it’ll do.


from erin jennifer griffin

after a rough week my friend, Lori, reminded me about patience today.

I realized this morning that I have been denying patience with myself.

a lot.

all the time, in fact.

Lori says “the opposite of patience is anger.”

that caught my attention. fast. goosebumps.

I started mulling this over and realized that I have been angry at my body for most of my life: there has always been something wrong with some thing God gave me.

I can count on both hands and feet the number of things I don’t like. from my nose to my toes.

and now, there’s even greater reason to lash out at my physical body: it hurts, it buzzes, it won’t move the way it used to move…or the way I want it to move.

my body is fighting back. at me. finally. and in a big way.

wow.

need to do something about this. my husband always asks me how I can see beauty in everything, everyone around me, in people I don’t even know, but not in myself?

I don’t have a good answer anymore.

intentions for the week: become my own thought watcher. interrupt when necessary. rest until it’s time to play. play until it’s time to rest. repeat. get out of God’s business.


by Nadja at Living! With MS

I still vividly remember a time during the first year after I was diagnosed where life was colorless-- all just a bunch of "what ifs" and struggle to survive. I also remember talking one day with my then husband, and realizing that I no longer had any real dreams or desires. Everything I did was somehow based in fear. I worked so I could pay my bills. I rested so I could be well enough to work, and I fought tooth and nail just to keep what I had--continually wondering if it was even worth the cost to my physical and mental health. He asked me about my bucket list and I was painfully aware that I didn't even have one.

Fast forward three years from that moment... I find myself in an entirely different state of mind. I work to live, but i don't live to work. I still work hard but I am prioritizing my activities. It can be all work all the time so now I go to aerial dance and fantasize about joining the circus. I have stopped saying no to every invitation and every activity outside of my job. I am about to turn 35 and I have a bucket list that is alive and well. My new priority, having fun doing things I love.

Last night I crossed a new item off my bucket list when I performed my first aerial dance routine. When I came home and looked at the photos, I told my roommate, "I look fierce." I love feeling like a bad ass :) If MS has taught me nothing else, "Carpe Diem."


This concludes the 100th edition of the Carnival.

The next Carnival of MS Bloggers will be hosted here on November 10, 2011. Please remember to submit a post (via email) from your blog of which you are particularly proud, or which you simply want to share, by noon on Tuesday, November 8, 2011.

Thank you.

Thursday, September 1, 2011

Carnival of MS Bloggers #96

Welcome to the Carnival of MS Bloggers, a bi-weekly compendium of thoughts and experiences shared by those living with multiple sclerosis.

The Hurricane which is MS
by Mary K. Mennenga

When what you can do is stolen from you
The mix of emotions felt are different for each person
That learns their life and all plans made
May need to be changed or at least need a lot of adjusting
The future has become a question mark
What hasn't changed is your heart, spirit and love for life
Your not one to give up or quit when things get tough
Learning it's name M.S. gave you a power over it
Because you knew what it could and would do
M.S. didn't know the kind of fighter you are
You knew the fight was against M.S.
Not you!
What it took wasn't who you are only what you could do
You are much more than just that
Knowledge is a powerful tool when the fighting must be done from the inside out
Having limits isn't something you've had to deal with until now
Handling this isn't easy when it changes
One day you can the next your body fails it's not your fault
You know what the real reason is and it's not you
Getting people to understand does not always happen
Now all plan's made are tentative to limit misunderstandings
This is when we see how strong you are as you battle M.S.
Yet you still manage to take care of the people who love you
Of course you may not see it that way, your looking outward
We are looking in seeing your heart
That is the most amazing part of you being you


by Gracie's Mum

August is usually the hottest of the summer months in Halifax. This year though, with the rainiest and coldest summer in years, we’re only just now seeing August in its true form.

The warm August winds, although great for drying clothes hung on the line, means only one other thing: the Atlantic hurricane season is upon us.

The most famous of them all to hit Halifax was 2003’s Juan.

With only days to go until our wedding, my sisters got on a plane, before the closure of the airport and made it to Ontario just narrowly escaping Juan’s wrath.

The worst hurricane to hit the Canadian Atlantic coast, Juan was responsible for acres upon acres of damage and destruction, including major natural landmarks, provincial parks, and for the death of a rescue worker.

There have been several hurricanes since we have lived here. In fact the year we did move here there was what seemed to be one after the other after the other.

And although there weren’t many that hit land, last year was still no exception.

In August of last year we were walloped by a doozy that left us without power for 2 days.

Not terrible if you are in the city, but in the country, when you have a well supplying your water and the well pump runs on electricity, you better have remembered to fill the bath tub with water to assist in the flushing of the toilet. Also, it doesn’t hurt to fill up on bottled water for not only drinking but brushing teeth. And forget about showering, you just get used to sponging yourself down with tepid bottled water.

Good times.

By the second day of eating all the dairy we could handle in advance of it spoiling in the powerless fridge, we gave up and went out to the pub for food since they were one of the few with power in our area.

As we drove around we saw downed trees, power and cable lines and a lot of debris strew over the streets and yards.

It wasn’t the worst of storms but it was a big one that’s for sure.

Hurricanes, although everyone is aware of the season, are for the most part unpredictable.

Yes, you know if one is barrelling toward you, yes you know how fast it’s approaching and we all know there is even a measuring system to predict its strength and force.

And we know that they’re given names and because of that we’re able to remember how bad some of them have been.

But none the less, the actual damage is unpredictable.

Nobody ever knows if the spindly tree in the back yard that should have been cut down years ago will find itself slamming into your roof or front window. Nobody ever knows how high and damaging the waves will be this time. And no one knows how long the power will be out and if they have enough supplies in case the effects of the storm last a really long time.

And nobody knows why this time they were hit or why they were spared.

Living with MS is much like hurricane season.

All year long.

Nobody knows why some people develop MS while others don’t. Nobody knows why some people have mild cases of relapse-remitting that remain in remission for years.

Nobody knows why some people have faster cycling forms of relapse-remitting. Nobody knows why some with relapse-remitting graduate to Secondary Progressive and others don’t. And nobody knows why some people develop Primary progressive right off the bat.

And nobody has the cure.

And even more importantly, those with any form of MS have no idea when or where the next attack will come and what damage will be left in its wake.

Much like hurricane season, many will be ready and prepared only to be relieved from time to time when not much of anything has happened at all.

Many will face a wrath of nature that no amount of planning could have ever prepared them for.

So what do people who live in the path of hurricanes do?

They live, they breathe, they hunker down for the long haul, they rebuild if necessary only to do it all again.

But very few move away out of fear.

They adapt or die.

So, while I start making longer grocery lists that include canned goods, bottles of water, batteries and candles I am confident in the fact that I too am as prepared as I will let myself be for the next one, which has every chance of being the big one.

And when and if it comes I have but one thing to say.

You better bring it ‘cause you’ve met your match this time.


by Gracie's Mum

It’s been a long road.

Bumps, hills, sheer drop offs, delays, missed connections, unbearable traffic, and even more unbearable road rage.

And then, then it got a little swear-y.

I’ve been on this road for almost 5 years and a new road is just around the corner.

In October I will go back to work. And my list of goals that I made, what seems like a lifetime ago, in the hospital after my MS diagnosis, will finally be completed.

I have not returned to work since my departure in March 2010.

That is a lifetime ago.

And since going off my first Disease Modifying Drug in preparation for the switch to the new drug I will be taking, I can’t even describe how amazing I have been feeling.

Even in the early weeks of going from three injections a week down to two I noticed a difference in my levels of fatigue, stamina and endurance. Then I switched to once a week, the difference again was incredible. Now, it has been two weeks of being entirely free of that drug and I feel absolutely incredible.

On top of that, I have a house designed to conserve my energy.

I won’t say I feel back to my old self, because I don’t even remember what that felt like.

It’s been a long time.

I have an amazing amount of energy, but not only that, I have confidence where I had none only mere months ago.

A confidence to allow myself to really be me. To live with MS, but to live in spite of it as well.

I’ve found myself daydreaming about long lost goals, finding an increased passion in old hobbies and a want and desire, not because I have to, but because I want and desire, to plan for the future.

To plan daytrips, weekend getaways, family gatherings, parties, and get-togethers with friends.

To reunite myself with my graduate studies, to finish my program and apply what I’ve learned to my current and future career goals.

To have future career goals.

Because I have confidence that my energy levels will not fail me as miserably as they have before.

For years, my head-down-plough-through-this mantra that I rehearsed every minute of every day, no longer seems entirely valid. I won’t forget it, but it’s up there on the shelf that we put things we no longer need right now, but might need one day sooner or later.

I know that I will have MS for the rest of my life.

I know what MS can do without medication to divert its course.

I know now how one of those medications made me feel.

And I have learned from that experience.

I will try different cocktails of medication, exercise, and homeopathic remedies for the rest of my MS ridden life in order to keep this good feeling going.

I need this and my family really needs me back to being me.

And that I can see her, smiling back at me in the mirror, is almost too good to be true.

But to know, to believe that it is true, is even better.

Have a wonderful weekend!


by Nicole of My New Normals

Doc Office
I see a neurologist to manage my multiple sclerosis. Even though I’ve had this ghastly disease for 11 years now, going to the doctor’s office always leaves me feeing down and depressed. I’m not entirely sure what I expected the doctor to say at this visit, but it was the same old stuff.

Sitting in the waiting room I kept thinking that MS wasn’t in my plans. Those thoughts would usually make me a blubbering idiot. But this time, I remembered some of my own words. I remembered the wonderful comments and support I’ve received both here and from family and friends.

I said before, I am never quite sure what the doctor will say. But that’s a lie. The feeling that I was misdiagnosed is always running in my heart and I thought he’d know. I secretly thought he’d feel that same vibe and would shower a little hope on me. After all, I thought only 2/3rds of the multiple sclerosis population ends up in a wheelchair? What happened to that? I told these statistics to my husband Tommy and he said, “You’re special and make the wheelchair look good.” It’s kind of lame, but I’m a sucker for compliments of any kind.

I thought people, who start out with visual disturbances, like I did, generally do well or at least don’t end up in a wheelchair? What happened to that? Again, all Tommy said was, “You’re special.”

I thought black Americans didn’t generally get this? Well, the gigs up. I’m black and I got it and yes you don’t have to say it I already know I’m special.
Mighty Mouse

 I read an article where Multiple Sclerosis Was Successfully Reversed In Mice. Too bad I’m not a mouse.

AAAGGHHHHHHHH!

Somehow, I feel better but I still need a drink!





by Chris Tatevosian

Book Excerpt:

When I was struggling, my mood was one of nastiness.  All my actions had become hidden agendas.  My anger and nastiness developed into a learned technique for achieving my hidden agenda.  At one point during my marriage I recall my wife saying that she tried to do everything to please me in an attempt to avoid upsetting me.  Of course, she told me this so that I would be sympathetic and understanding.  As a result, I thought I was being more understanding, but I had also learned that expressing anger was a way of getting what I wanted from her.  I was guilty of angrily expressing frustration and hardship likely resulting from the embarrassment of my physical losses such as strength, energy, and simple motor skills.  Furthering this problem were the larger culprits: my mental and emotional losses, the loss of my self-esteem, and the development of cognitive difficulties.  This behavior became the norm.  In my mind I didn’t recognize my relationship-damaging and selfish behavior because my personal struggle to function was all-consuming of both my mental and physical strength.  I mean, come on, every simple daily task like tying my sneaker, standing up in the shower or holding an eating utensil became an embarrassing struggle.

Whether we want to admit it or not, the damage to our own egos can cause much anger.  Unfortunately, much of it is misplaced anger, and who is the unfortunate recipient of that anger?  I’ll take “my wife” for $500, Alex.  If someone, somehow, had been able to help me recognize I was acting that way so that I could have changed my behavior and stepped out of that “it’s all about me” fog, my marriage might still be intact today.  Having a chronic illness or disability is horrible, tragic, and unfair.  If you surround yourself in that fog of misery and self-pity, you may just be involved in a tragic accident, the result of which will be the tragic loss of your relationship, marriage or family.


This concludes the 96th edition of the Carnival.

The next Carnival of MS Bloggers will be hosted here on September 15, 2011. Please remember to submit a post (via email) from your blog of which you are particularly proud, or which you simply want to share, by noon on Tuesday, September 13, 2011.

Thank you.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Carnival of MS Bloggers #93

Welcome to the Carnival of MS Bloggers, a bi-weekly compendium of thoughts and experiences shared by those living with multiple sclerosis.

Humility and Grief, Neuro Ourselves

by Laura of Shine the Divine

Small Stone:
Some mornings it seems the tub is filled with an equal measure of clear water and tears. They trickle down my cheeks becoming one with the bath as I imagine a former joy that is now impossible. I see myself stepping out, drying off, dressing (that I can currently do) and taking a walk through the quiet neighborhood before anyone else is awake; wheelchair and assistance free.

More pebbles in the river of my mind:
The loss of independence seems unbearable at times. Asking my daughters to push me up and down the hills of our neighborhood in my wheelchair feels like begging. It is hot. They don’t want to get up early while it is cool. They are teenagers. My belly aches, my jaw tightens, as embarrassment seeps into the hole where pride struggles to stay planted. I weep into the water, knowing that I must ask for help to go outside in the oppressive summer heat if I want fresh air (not that it is any different in the cooler months, I still can’t manage the chair by myself on the hills).

Then I contemplate all those in the world whose suffering is far greater than mine will ever be. A flicker of shame is sparked briefly, until compassion pours into the craggy spaces tangled with conflicting thoughts and emotions, nourishing the roots of dignity grafted to pride, transforming self-pity to acceptance, opening to lovingkindness for all beings.

You think you are done grieving, until a new wave washes over you. So it is, so it is. I meet the sadness with a gentle hug, arms wrapped around legs, hands resting on opposite shoulders, forehead on knees, grateful I can still bend into this posture of humility. This flexibility that still remains is a gift, I know. I am grateful.


by Judy of Peace Be With You


Unexpected task
having to research and find
my own solutions.

Some will remind me
I did not attend med school
and am no expert.

Here is the problem.
Experts themselves lack answers.
Whom do I turn to?


by TickledPink at Gilenya and Me

With all of the other medical issues going on I decided to take advantage of the fact that my Medically Needy Share of Cost had been met and try to get an appointment with my new neuro, Dr. Silliman, at Shands Jacksonville Neurology Department. He had been the lead investigator in my TRANSFORMS clinical trial and was very familiar with me.

I didn't have a neuro outside the study (long story; last neuro had a stroke) and I had sort of been leaning on the trial to do all the neuro-esque stuff to me and catch anything that needed catching. In the trial I was poked and prodded and tested to the brink of insanity every three months.

It had now been 5 months since the study completed on Jan. 20, 2011.

So I called a couple weeks ago and got the person in charge of scheduling. She says "can you come at 3:20pm on June 23rd? It's the ONLY appointment he's got left for this month." And my answer is "of COURSE I'll be there! Put me down for it."

So I plan my trip accordingly. It's a 1.5 - 2 hr. drive to get there depending on how you go (I take the long scenic SLOW route as opposed to I-95 which scares me to death.) and I made sure to work in a planned stop to JoAnne's Fabric store so I could feed my new addiction - sewing clothes for my granddaughter. I also planned to stop for something to eat at Crispers which was on the way and has really tasty soups and sandwiches. (I had the Citrus Chicken Wrap <-- totally awesome!).

I spent the morning coloring my hair so I didn't have to wear my "Please don't feed the Skunk Woman" shirt, and I was out of the house right on time at 1:15.
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Geeze, I started this post quite a while ago (June 25th and it's now July 14th) and probably don't remember what all happened now to finish it. I need to stop starting stuff and not finishing it! I bet I'm ADD (but there I go on another tangent.... oo! a butterfly!.... what was I saying?)
================================================================
Anyhoo, to get to the point (was there one other than the main one about what I ate for lunch?) I get there and was signing in and they are looking at me all curious like from behind the counter. I notice the waiting room is empty. It's 3:15 in the afternoon. I ask which sheet is the one to sign in on for Dr. Silliman since there is a whole line of clipboards on the counter.

The ladies exchange glances that tell me they are bracing for the Angry Patient Response that they both know is coming. She asks for my name and tells me to come sit at the chair in front of her desk like letting me sit in the comfy chair will make what she's about to tell me all better.

I sit down and she starts clackity clacking on the keyboard doing stuff with that number pad over on the right that I never ever use. I hate when they do that because I can't figure out what they're up to. Then she stops suddenly and said, "You were bumped."

I say "Huh? Nobody told ME!"

She said "They didn't call you?"

"NO!"

"Is your contact phone blah blah blah?"

"YES! And I didn't get a call"

"Hmmmm" (long awkward pause).

Me: "Look, I just drove for 2 hours to get here and I'm not leaving until someone sees me. I was told this was his last slot for the month and my share of cost is met and it's the end of the month practically so I guess you need to find another neuro who can squeeze me in."

(she makes that "eeesh" face, upside down smile thing with open mouth that suggests that might not be too easy)

"See, he had his schedule cleared for this afternoon because graduation is today." (I keep forgetting it's  a teaching hospital).

"Yeah, well that's fine but it would have been nice to KNOW 2 hours ago before I wasted my day and thirty bucks in gas."

I sat down again (having stood up when I became irate) and said "I'll wait here until you get something figured out because I'm not leaving until I see a neuro."

She left and came back about 15 min later telling me Dr. Nameaslongasyourarm would see me and whisked me away down a maze of hallways that ended up looking awfully familiar. The spot I ended up in was one of the exam rooms over on the Research side where I always went during the trial. I was "home" and immediately felt comfortable.

I saw a guy in a white lab coat who seemed a little unsure of stuff I was telling him. I was guessing it was due to the fact that I'd been on Gilenya for nearly 4 years while it's only been approved since last September. I was thinking maybe the doctors who weren't involved in the study aren't as well versed in the stuff. Either that or they put a lab coat on the janitor and told him to wing it. Turns out the truth was somewhere in the middle. He was a resident. When he brought up my MRIs on the computer and had my initial one from the study side by side with the latest one from Jan 2011, I started asking questions he couldn't answer. Then he starts whapping me with that rubber mallet and when he hit my left knee I kicked him.

I didn't meant to kick him, but shouldn't a neuro who is examining an MS patient have sense enough to stand to the side when testing their reflexes?? He abruptly left the room. Wow. What a wuss. I only kicked him in the shin. It wasn't like I nailed him in the privates or something.

He returns with another guy in a lab coat who seems a whole heck of a lot more at ease with himself and confident. He shakes my hand and introduces himself as Dr. Somebodyelsewhosenameiforget. He takes the mallet from the first guy and gives me a whack. Immediately I could tell he knew what he was doing. He stood off to the side as my leg flew up as if to launch the winning field goal.

He turns to the janitor and says "You're right! Her reflexes ARE brisk!"

Then he taps me all over, watches me walk, and looks in my eyes. This is when he said "I see some optic pallor more prominent in the right eye than left."

Whoa! Back the truck up! I have never had an MS related issue with my eyes so the way he said it, like it should be no surprise, surprised me.

Of course I had to come home and google it. I'm not buying what he's selling though because none of the real eye exams by the neuro ophthalmologist ever revealed any issues whatsoever, so this guy with a pen light and no dilation drops isn't about to intimidate me. I don't care what he thinks he sees.

Speaking of what he saw, he also looked at my side by side MRI scans and got them to sync so that he could scroll through matching image slices like seeing my brain melt away from the top down and compare things. He stopped at one point to teach the janitor/resident about Black Holes. Apparently I have one. News to me.

A Black Hole is where MS has done so much damage that not only is all the myelin all gone but so are the axons it was meant to protect. Total nerve annihilation. He did say that it was so small I probably didn't even have any noticeable symptoms from it.

They did a blood draw after my prompting and a little researching on their smart phones once I mentioned that in the trial they did blood work every 3 months especially since there can be elevated liver enzymes. No mention of any eye exam, PFT or any other test that was so common place during the study.

I left there feeling a little less confident about my eyesight and my brain, but decided they may not know what they're talking about. I'll wait until I get to see the neuro I'd intended to see. I was told to make a 3 month follow up with him.

The day after my appointment I got a phone call. It was a courtesy call to let me know I was getting bumped... from my appointment the day before. Duh.


This concludes the 93rd edition of the Carnival.

The next Carnival of MS Bloggers will be hosted here on August 4, 2011. Please remember to submit a post (via email) from your blog of which you are particularly proud, or which you simply want to share, by noon on Tuesday, August 2, 2011.

Thank you.