Holiday Memories And A Little Magic

"Freedom is nothing else but a chance to be better."
-Albert Camus

I've always tried to take my kids to see fireworks on the 4th.
But with last summer being my first with MS, and it being the hottest summer in existence (atleast to me) we didn't make it and I can't tell you how sad I was to miss it.
When I was a little girl, my parents would always take me to the next town over to the festivities at this huge park. They had carnival rides, food vendors, and an orchestra that would play patriotic music while you waited for it to get dark enough for the fireworks to start.
I always knew it was time when my mom would lay out my favorite old quilt on the grass and my father would say "Ok boogitt (that was his nickname for me because I loved to dance or "boogie", if you will) it's time to get ready." Then he and I would lay down on the quilt and stare up at the sky.
When the fireworks started, it looked like they were bursting right over our heads. My favorites were the ones that had the little sparkles that would rain down and they always looked like they were going to land right on us.
Two years ago, the summer before my diagnosis, I took my monkeys to my hometown for the holiday and we went to the same park and, when it came time for the fireworks to start, I remembered what I used to do with my dad and I decided to do the same thing with my kids.
They didn't understand what we were doing until the first firework burst in the sky and it looked like it was sparking right above our heads, just for us. After two or three fireworks had gone off, the oldest monkey turned her head towards me (but still keeping her eyes on the sky, just in case) and whispered "Momma! I had no idea you could do magic!!"
I didn't know if they would remember that night, that would probably seem so long ago in "kid years" but, this morning, when I told them we were going to go see fireworks, both girls got so excited and the center monkey said to me "Can you do that thing with the magic again, momma? Please?!?!?" I can't even put into words how happy it made me that they remembered that night the way I do.
I hope all of you enjoy your holiday in any way you can.
I just have one request.
No matter what you do today, stay safe, take care of yourselves, and don't forget to add a little magic.
Happy 4th of July!

I Guess It's Been A While....

It seems a little funny to me that I started this blog as a form of therapy to help me deal with my journey down the winding road of MS, and yet, when it gets rough the last thing I feel like doing is writing about it.

I've made some decisions over the last few months that I feel were the best for me.
First of all, I decided to stop taking the antidepressant that I was put on the same day I was diagnosed.
I was taking Effexor XR 75 mgs, two a day, which adds up to 150 mgs.
Now, I'm not going to bash antidepressants because, honestly, I don't know how I would have made it through the first six months, hell even the first year, after my diagnosis without them. They made me numb and during those times, numbness was very welcome.
After I hit my year mark, even though I was feeling better physically at times, mentally I was in a very negative place. Pessimism has never really been my thing, you know?
But more than that, even though I wasn't "depressed", I also noticed that I wasn't anything else either. I was never happy or excited, I didn't look forward to things the way I used to. I was just here, a body on the floor, going through the motions but never truly experiencing any of it.
I couldn't make decisions for myself, even about simple things like what to make for dinner. I would stand in front of the freezer, door open, staring blankly at nothing and then I always ended up texting The Hubs to ask him what he wanted for dinner.
I decided that it was time for me to see how I was without the anti's.
I honestly felt like I was wandering into something unknown. I didn't know myself with MS without the numbness.
I wish I had taken a picture of The Hubs' and my MS specialist's faces when I told them at one of my appointments that I was going to quit taking the Effexor. My specialist said "Oh, it's not working? I'll write you a script for something better then."
Then I sprung it on them.."No they aren't working but, for now, my plan is to wean off of the Effexor and then see how I am without antidepressants."
{SILENCE}This picture is almost perfect because this is basically the expression on both of their faces.
They both tried to talk me out of it but, for the first time in over a year, I had made a decision and I was sticking with it. The ironic thing, atleast to me, is that they feel they should watch me like a ticking bomb now since I've stopped them. I didn't say it but I thought "You should have been watching before, when I was still on them." But I didn't think it was neccessary to draw unwanted attention to myself.
I started weaning myself off of them, hoping that if I did it slowly I wouldn't go through withdrawal from them. It didn't work and the withdrawal was awful!
For two and a half weeks I couldn't keep any food down, I was in the most intense pain that went throughout my entire body, and I didn't have the energy to do anything. I also lost 22 pounds in those two and a half weeks. That was rough.
But I stayed strong and kept myself focussed on the end goal: I wanted to have feelings again. I wanted to see if any of my old self still existed inside of my body.
And eight days in, I knew it was going to be worth it.
I was getting the girls ready for school one morning and the oldest monkey did something goofy and it made me laugh. Both of them stopped what they were doing and stared at me like I had grown horns. When I asked them what was wrong, the oldest monkey replied "You haven't laughed like that in a long time!" and the center monkey followed up with "That was a real laugh, not like when you're doing a fake laugh just to make us happy!"
I didn't know what to say but my mind went insane. I started thinking things like "I thought I was doing great at playing the role of a real person but they knew anyway. What have I been giving them all this time?"
And now, six weeks free of them, I feel better than I have in a long, long time.
That's not to say I haven't had my bad moments but, honestly, who doesn't have them? They're a part of life, whether we like it or not, right?
Honestly, I'll gladly welcome those bad moments if it means that they will be followed up by some really great ones too.
And, on the brighter side, I've found that some of the "Original Me" is still in here and she's been dying to get out.
Go figure....

UN-Happy Anniversary To Me

Today is my "One Year Anniversary".

Exactly one year ago today, I had my life turned upside down by a diagnosis I didn't expect and an illness I will never understand.

I don't know if any of you have ever had this happen, but last week I was sitting in the waiting room of my neurologist's office, flipping through a magazine that was older than my youngest child, when I saw an article that asked:

"What Is Your Idea Of Bliss?"

Out of the blue, something happened that hasn't happened to me since I was 16 and had great plans of being a world known author, all of these things and ideas rushed to my head and I needed to write them down RIGHT NOW because they were things I didn't want to forget.

Bitten by the "Writing Bug".

I grabbed the little journal that I always carry with me, just in case and started writing.

And with this being an important day and all, I thought I would share what I wrote with you. I hope you enjoy it.

My Bliss

If you had asked me what my idea of "Bliss" was one year ago, I would have looked at you-

My hair falling out of my sloppy "Mom Bun", my faded shirt covered in baby drool and ketchup fingerprints, my jeans faded and extremely worn in- I would have replied, after a yawn from being up too late the night before with a sick child and awoken way too early by the other child, who is not sick and very full of energy- that my idea of Bliss would be:

"A day spent in a spa that has a never ending supply of chocolate. A day spent far away from the kids and their constant chaos, far from the responsibilities that come with life as a stay-at-home mother and a wife/homemaker to my husband.

Of course, I wasn't planning on TODAY.

I didn't expect a today where my world would be turned upside down by an illness and a disease I didn't understand.

I was diagnosed with MS and had to learn how to deal with being a "disabled person" and still being a mother/wife.

Now, my idea of Bliss would not only include the endless supply of chocolate, it would also include a day where I had the energy to take my kids to the park and climbs around on the jungle gym with them.

Bliss would be an evening where I felt well enough to go on a "date night" with my husband, where we would go to our favorite restaurant and order the Chocolate Brownie with Peanut Butter Ice Cream dessert.

Bliss would be not having to ever set foot inside a doctors office again or ever needing another medication for as long as I live.

Bliss would be being able to make plans with a friend and actually committing to them ahead of time because I don't have to worry about how I'm going to feel in a week.

Bliss would be having my daughter look at me with confidence and excitement because I told her that we were "going to go shopping and get mani/pedis on Saturday" instead of looking at me with apprehension and worry that I might not be able to see well enough to drive us or not have the energy to get out of bed at all.

My idea of Bliss is now to fight MS. A disease I am now well-educated on but still don't understand so that I can be a part of my life instead of being stuck in the bleachers as a spectator.

I want to live a full life.

A life that others wouldn't know the feeling of living unless they experienced it.

Bliss would be a life filled with laughter, love, and family.

Bliss would be a life filled with energy and adventure.

Bliss would be a day spent in a shirt covered in baby drool and ketchup stains.

Bliss would be a night spent being up too late taking care of a sick child and then waking too early by a child full of energy and excitement about living another day.

And, of course, Bliss would be a never ending supply of chocolate.

-Tracy

Memories.....Oh and Happy Turkey Day!

I'm sorry I've been MIA lately on this blog. I guess I'm in sort of a funk and I don't want to keep moaning on and on about it and chase you all away, you know? I've kind of grown to like you little boogers and I wouldn't want you to run away because of me being...well..funky.
I don't know if I told you all about how we're in the finishing touches of a huge home renovation. Did I tell you? I can't remember..
Ok, so we're in the finishing touches of a huge home renovation, there happy?
And the other day, we were moving totes in from the garage and the hubs gave me the most dreadful job of going through all of the stuff that I had hoarded in them. (I happen to be a bit of a hoarder. I come from a long line of them. My grandmother use to serve stuff in plastic butter bowls from, like, 1950)
So, there I am, going through the totes. No big deal.
And then I started finding some things that kind of hit me.
Like all of the kids scrap books that I've made them. Pictures of me being very young and very pregnant. Me as a young mom with two tiny baby monkeys born so close together that everyone thought they were twins. Pictures of me and the hubs before marriage and babies and home mortgages.
Then he brought in, and this is going to sound really stupid, but it was the final straw.
He brought in my pink golf bag.
See, the hubs loves to golf. Would do it everyday if there weren't this pain in his side called "work".
One weekend, two years ago, he had plans to go golfing but his buddy cancelled on him. The hubs looked like someone has shot his puppy. He just looked so sad. So, I offered to go. I don't remember if I was thinking that he would say "Thanks, but no" or "Okay, get in the car!" but he took me up on the offer. I had never been golfing in my life. I had seen a golf coarse and I've seen golfers play on TV so I thought it would be no big deal.
We played 18 holes, I wrecked the golf cart twice before he said I wasn't allowed to drive anymore, and it turns out that I'm one of those people who can whack at that ball with all of my might and it will only go like twenty feet. But the cool thing was, he didn't care. We had a great time, laughing and just being relaxed and hanging out. It was a great day.
After that, I started recieving gifts for no reason.
First came a huge box that contained my brand new pink golf bag.
Then I got some "girlie golf clubs" as he called them.
Then I got some pink, pearly golf balls.
We started golfing together as often as we could. And every time, it was a great time.
But then this summer came and there was no golfing.
I was too sick and he felt too guilty to go.
And I really missed it. I missed us together on the golf coarse.
So, that's why the funk rolled in.

But, in other news, as I'm sure you all already know, tomorrow is Thanksgiving. A day where we worship the turkey, football, and gigantic floats in parades. I hope you all enjoy your day!
Happy Thanksgiving To All!!!

Here Are Some Things I Do Remember

I'll warn you all now, this one might not be funny. I'm feeling a little...what's the word? Maudlin? Not depressed really, just, well, blah.

My therapist, whom I love dearly, has given me the task of journeling again. So far, only random things have been written down but last night I started writing about the things I remembered about myself before MS moved in and I thought that I would share a few of them with you.

Here goes:

Things I Remember About Myself Before MS

I remember laughter, I remembering enjoying the feeling. I remember the hubs and I laughing together a lot.

What I can't remember is the last time I actually laughed. I mean truly, unabashedly laughed. Sure there have been times when I've done a "ha ha" to make someone think that I thought whatever they were telling me was funny, but I can't remember the last time I laughed and meant it.

Smiling is another thing I remember.

Sure, I smile now but it's not a genuine smile with feelings behind it.

No, now the smiles are used to put everyone else around me at ease.

I see the look on someone else's face and I know that they need some sort of assurance that, even thought I feel like I've been hit by a truck who then backed over me and hit me again, all is right with the world.

So, I wake up those old, rusty smile muscles and give them the best smile I've got in me.

And you can see their shoulders become lighter. All is now right in the world. Their world anyways. My world is still turned upside down.

That's one of the things that I have found so interesting about this disease.

Since being diagnosed eight months ago, I've spent a majority of that time assuring everyone else that it will all be okay.

What I really feel like doing is throwing a full on, two year old, body thrown to the floor, feet kicking, arms swinging, screaming at the top of my lungs, temper tantrum. But then someone might knowthat everything is not okay, right?

Another thing I remember, back in my "Super Mom" days, going non-stop all day, volunteering all day at school, dance classes, girl scout meetings, etc. and when I finally to bed, I would climb in between the silky sheets and just breathe.

I loved that feeling. The contentment and happiness to get into my bed. I would even say, either to my husband or to no one at all "God, I love this bed!" sigh....

I now hate my bed.

When fatigue set in and then came the exacerbations, I was forced to spend so much time in my bed, alone, away from my family who were downstairs going on with life. I grew to hate that very same bed, with those very same silky sheets. I wanted to join my family. I wanted to fill my chair for family dinner. Hell, I wanted to cook the meal for family dinner, but my body wouldn't let me.

I would lay there, in that bed, alone, and yell to an empty room "I HATE THIS BED!!" Then I would go on to add "And for that matter, I'm starting to hate my body! What kind of a body just decides to just STOP WORKING???"

Another thing I remember is being able to actually remember. I didn't need to make millions of lists and post it notes just to get through the day. I could remember an entire grocery list in my head. Now, if I have to go to the store for one thing, say coffee beans, I have to write it down! One thing!

I'm starting to feel like a child again who shouldn't be trusted on their own. I push myself too far, I can't remember to turn off the oven (that actually has not happened yet by the way) and honestly, I'm a bit of a mess. Maybe I need a nanny.

So, there you have it. Just a few of the things I remember about me and life before MS came to live in my body. Do you all remember anything?

I'm Still Alive And Kickin'..Well, Maybe Not Kicking Exactly...

Ok, all of you fellow "veteran" MS people, I have one question for you (actually, I could pelt you with questions until your eyes roll back in your head). Are you ready for my one question?

Does this first year of never ending crap ever stop? Is there a light at the end of my tunnel or is that a train coming straight at me??

Yes, I realise now that those were two questions but they're grouped together into a cluster for one answer.

Ugh...

I just do not get this whole disease! And, to be honest, I'm pissed at it all the same!

I didn't want to turn this post into a whiny, woes me, I must be the only person on earth dealing with this so everyone must feel sorry for me post.

I guess that I should have made some sort of disclaimer when you all started showing up so that you wouldn't be disappointed. Something like:

**Warning:This person is NOT always funny! In fact, sometimes she's rather bland and whiny!

I guess that I was hoping that the first doctor, the one who diagnosed me, would be right. That I would start the Rebif injections and start popping the Provigil and I would instantly be right back to my old self.

Now I'm worried that "my old self" may be a goner.

Let's talk about something else....lalalala..I know!

Ooh! I forgot to tell you all that I got my "new ride"!

That's right, I am now the proud owner of a scooter. But I have to tell you, I'm a bit dangerous on the thing. Seriously! As in I've had it for two days and I've already put a few scuffs on it from running in to stuff. Nothing major and nothing was broken.

The picture here is kind of what it looks like except for I got four wheels instead of three. I wouldn't want any tipping over happening!

We did have two "near hit and runs" happen though.

The first one happened when the Scooter Store guy was still here, teaching me how to use the new ride. He told me to get in the chair so that he could "measure me" (which we all know what that means right? That's right, I'm still hot! Oh, that wasn't what you were thinking?) So I got in the chair and then the wee monkey decided that he needed to climb in too. So, I'm sitting there, the littlest monkey in my lap, and this guy is behind me "measuring me" *wink wink* when the little monkey decides that we're going to go for a drive. In reverse.

I tried to explain all of this to the guy but I'm pretty sure that he left here thinking it was me.

The second happened when The Hubs decided that he was going to take it for a spin. He was like a chipmunk on crack on that thing!

The first thing he figured out was how to crank up the speed all the way up and then he just started going around all over the place. Then he would yell "How do you stop??" I would say "Take your finger off the gas thingy!" and he's say "Where is it?" as he was nearing mowing me over. After a few minutes I figured out that the best thing for me to do was to round up the kids and get us all to higher, non-scooter friendly ground and wait until he had his fun.
Of course, I am a little disappointed in a few things. The first would be the sissy "horn" they put on it. They can call it a horn but I would have better luck pulling one of the kids hair to get them to yell than I would with that horn. It's highly disappointing.
Also, there isn't a lot of room for my flames. I was really looking forward to having flames painted on it. But as you can tell from the picture, the red doesn't cover a whole lot.
And the tires are teeny tiny! Where am I going to find rims to find those teeny tiny tires? Maybe the wee man has some cool ones on a Hot Wheels car around here.
But the most disappointing thing about it is the fact that it's mine.
Before I had kids and a hubs, I had a boyfriend who had taught me how to drive a Harley by myself. I was told that it was "HOT" to see a chick driving her own hog.
But try as I may, this scooter will never be a hog. But then again, I'm not that young chick anymore either so I guess we're even.

Hey, Where Did Everybody Go?

I've started to notice that a lot of my friends are starting to disappear. It's like this widespread epidemic!
From a medical point of view, I knew that my life was going to change when I was diagnosed with MS seven months ago. Hell, it had already started changing before I was diagnosed. I was worried about things like losing the ability to walk and see. I was worried about how I would go on to be a stay at home mom if I could barely take care of myself. I still worry about that now.
My MIL told me that she has a friend with MS and he says that it stands for "Many Surprises" and I think that's pretty fitting. Atleast in my case, I never know how I'm going to wake up one day to the next.
What I didn't expect to change was how people who knew me before MS would start to look at me differently. They talked to me in a different way. I had some who would try to help out by asking me everything about MS and then I had some who figured that they would just ignore it all together.
The thing was..I used to be a pretty fun person to be around. I loved to laugh and most of the words that came out of my mouth had a sarcastic tone to them. But suddenly, to my friends, I'm this broken, fragile little person who can't be toyed with.
I've had some that have stopped calling all together. Two of my closest friends used to call everyday and we could spend hours on the phone. Now I haven't heard from either one of them in months.
But I will say, I have found some funny sides to this kind of thing.
The hubs has a Great Aunt who is in her 90's and lives in Connecticut. She's a very interesting lady, spent her life working for the FBI but she won't tell you what she did, at 80 she wanted a new car (new car to her meant used car new to her) but the one she wanted was a stick shift so she taught herself how to drive it. She's never been married or have any children and she's not exactly the kind of person to pity someone.
During a phone call, my MIL was talking to her and Aunt said "So where is Tracy? Is she around, could I talk to her?" My MIL told her that I had just gone upstairs to use the bathroom. Aunt did this tisk, tisk noise and said "Oh that poor thing."
When I got on the phone I said "I know, right? You'd think that they could fix something! I mean, I have MS and I still have to go pee..where's the justice in that?"

See, I'm still me.
The thing is, I'm a little more dangerous now. Think about it. Most of the time I use a cane. The cane is long. One time, the hubs said something and I wanted to hit him but he was out of reach so I whacked him with the cane. The hubs says that the cane hurts.
And I just found out yesterday that I'm getting my motorized scooter. Just think of the damage I'll be able to do to someone with that puppy! And I can double it if I hold the cane while driving the scooter. No one is safe!

I'm not saying that it doesn't hurt that these people have disappeared from my life or some of the ones who have stayed look at me differently. I'm just hoping that if I keep showing them that I'm still here, they'll get it. And the ones that are gone, I guess they were in my life as long as they were supposed to be, right?

Can I Turn A Kick To The Ego Into A Hot Ride?

I went to see my neurologist at the University of Georgetown last Wednesday and, for the most part, it was actually a very productive meeting.

Since I'm still managing to trip over air a lot of the time, he sent me home with an order for a four wheeled walker with the seat thingy built in (and yes "seat thingy" is not the proper term but you're in Tracy Land now so that is what it's called) and another order for a motorized cart. While I understand that I probably, maybe, definately need these things, it's still a bit of a kick to the ego, you know? Cause there's nothing sexier than a 30 year old woman yelling at her children from her motorized cart.

Or something like this could happen, which for me is very likely:

You would just have to imagine a younger woman with great shoes and an awesome handbag instead of the purple sweater thing that woman is wearing but our facial expression would probably be the same.
My brother has already offered to put some big tires and rims on it for me. And he does have a friend who does auto painting so I could have him paint it pink and maybe put some flames on it or something. That's just a few of the advantages of living in West Virginia. People know how important it is for your vehicle to not only look good but to be prepared for any unexpected off roading trips. I'd also like a horn for it that's really loud, unlike the ones they have on the scooters at places like Target. They claim it's a horn but all it does it a tiny little "beep".

I think this one would suit me pretty well. Not only would it say "Hey, I'm a badass" when not in use, but it also claims to be extremely loud. I bet I could clear an entire department store out with one blow from this puppy.

Although, I found this picture of a walker here that might work out for me:

That thing is ready for an off road adventure anytime. And just look at those shiny rims. Honestly though, I hate this. I had a moment where, as I was sitting in the doctors office and he and my husband were talking about how badly I needed this things, and I found myself thinking "When in the hell did this become my life?" I keep hoping that this is some kind of bad, really bad, terrible, horrible, awful, realistic nightmare that I'll wake up from soon and all of this will be gone. I'll tell myself "It was just a dream" and I'll get out of bed without any pain and I'll go in the kitchen and fix my coffee and not have to take ten fricking pills and I'll go about my day the way I used to.

I guess I'm just having a "poor me" kind of day. I've never asked "Why me?" I know there's no rhyme or reason to why I got MS and I wouldn't wish it upon anyone else in the world.

I guess there are just days where I don't feel up to fighting the monster.

This One Is Gonna Be An Angry One...Just Thought I Would Warn You

I'm a bit aggrivated...not the right word...miffed? No...mad...getting closer...

Ok, I am way kind of definately, whole heartedly PISSED OFF!

And what am I pissed off at? This mother frippin disease that shows it's ugly head when I least expect it, making my body defy me, let me down, disappoint me in ways ones body should never do.

Let me try to make some sort of sense out of my ramblings for you.

Think of what you do, say, on an average morning from the moment you wake up to the second you walk out the door to work, take your kids to school, go to Dunkin Donuts and then come home and eat two dozen jelly filled donuts, whatever it is you do.

Now, imagine it with these little gems added in:

1. You husband, wife, gay lover (there is NOTHING wrong with that), dogs, children, etc. has to come and tell you to get out of bed about fifty times after the alarm has gone off for twenty five minutes waking everyone up in the house but you because of all the meds you have to take for you illness.

2. You finally get up, still in a fog from the meds, and have to get everyone dressed, pack lunches, fix hair, feed the monkeys, and get them out the door and into the super mini van before 7:15 a.m. to get them to school on time.

Add in the fact that your right leg really doesn't work so you're dragging it behind you like the Hunchback of Notre Dame and you have to bring your cane with you everywhere you go.

It's all enough to make even the most sane of people go crazy. And as I'm sure you all have figured out by now, I am not one of the most sane of people.

One of my main problems is that I'm stubborn. Really stubborn. To the point of being stupid.

For so long, I have fought this illness and the limitations it's put on me.

I have what my therapist calls a case of the "I shoulds".

I should be able to carry a laundry basket up the twelve steep farmhouse steps and put it away.

I should be able to go back up the stairs to get my own clothes.

I should be able to clean the house, make dinner, make it through the day without a damn nap, go to the grocery store, volunteer at the school, go on the school field trips with my kids.

I should, I should, I should.

In turn, I end up exhausting myself and just plain screwing myself.

Friday had been a crazy day. I took the kids to school, came home and put away loads of laundry that had been sitting there taunting me, bathed the littlest monkey, showered myself, and then had to get back in the car and drive and hour to two doctors appointments for myself. Then it was off to the pharmacy and I made it back in town just in time to surprise the girls by picking them up from school instead of them having to take the bus home.

Busy day. No nap. My butt was kicked.

But did I stop? Oh no. I was being the supermom.

There was dinner to be made, homework to be done, baths to give.

The hubs kept telling me "Don't over do it. Sit down if you need to, I can take over whenever you need me to."

In my head I thought "Oh, you're very sweet, but I've got this. I should be able to do this."

By the time all of the things were done, I was exhausted. I had overdone it. I refused help when I should have said "Oh God, yes please!"

But by this time, my stubborn self kicked in and said "Just one more trip up the stairs for your pj's and then you can relax. On more trip up those stairs. It's only 12 stairs."

I made it up the stairs but by the time I got there my muscles in my legs were weak and shaking. But I didn't stop, oh no, I kept going. And that's when it happened.

My body said "Ok lady, enough!" And I fell.

It wasn't a big fall. I was coming out of the bathroom and fell on a part of the floor that is waiting for carpet. I fell to my knees and skinned them pretty good, hit my arm and my head on the wall, added a few new bruises to the collection that I have going, and really beat up my pride.

The hubs came running up the stairs, he knew what had happened. And he found me there, in the floor like I had landed, crying like a little baby. I wasn't crying because I was hurt physically, I was crying because of the "I shoulds".

In a way, when the hubs got there, it was kind of funny. He kept going between asking me if I was ok and yelling at me for pushing myself and not asking for the help that I so needed.

It was:

Are you ok? God that was a loud one!

WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS TO YOURSELF?? YOU JUST KEEP PUSHING!

But are you ok? Is anything broken? Are you bleeding anywhere?

WHY DIDN'T YOU ASK ME TO GET YOUR CLOTHES? YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO CLIMB THE STAIRS! I WAS RIGHT HERE!

But seriously, are you ok? God you scared the shit out of me! Are you ok?

He ended up going to get my pj's and I ended up sliding on my butt back down the twelve stairs that I had just climbed up.

Remember when you were a little kid and you'd slide down the stairs on your butt? I used to do it at my grandparents house all the time. Thump thump thump. Then I'd run back up and do it again. It was so much fun.

Now, as an adult, not so much. Now, I feel every thump through my entire body, it gives me an atomic wedgie, and I wasn't doing if for fun, I was doing it because I couldn't walk myself back down.

This is what MS has done to me and my body. My body and I are no longer on the same team.

Thank you MS.

Maybe I should get one of these put in the house. I wonder if my insurance would pay for that?

Sometimes You Just Gotta Do It, Even If Spite Is The Only Reason

Before MS showed up and changed my life, I used to do a lot of things. One of my favorite things was baking. I used to bake all the time. Seriously. I was one of those people who went to Costco, the bulk food heaven on earth, and bought the ginormous bags of flour, sugar, and chocolate chips.
I remember one time, as we were leaving Costco with my baking purchases, the guy at the door who checks your receipt said "Oh, you have a lot of baking stuff. You must have a baking business." I smiled politely and said "Nope, I'm just one of those people who is contributing to the ever growing obesity population in the country." Then I took my reciept, left the man standing there with a blank look on his face, and pushed my cart full of baking goods to the car.
Since the MS monster decided to show it's ugly face, one of my main problems has been fatigue. I've had months pass the I don't remember because I slept through them. Almost literally.
Today, I decided that I was no longer going to cower in the face of the monster. I was going to bake something if it killed me! I figured it wouldn't hurt me since i've lost almost 100 lbs. because of the meds the doctor has me on. I want a homemade cookie damnitt!
That's what I did too. I baked almost three dozen chocolate chip cookies. Remember the kind your mom or grandmother used to make that you knew you couldn't buy in any store because these were made with love? That's the ones I made.
So, I did it. I'm exhausted now, but I did it. The way I look at it is, sometimes, you've just got to do it, even if the only reason you've got is spite.