Running Into 'Old Me' - a story about hangin' w/ms at the gym...

I joined a gym over the weekend. That, in itself, is an entire blog post. Anyway, with 'walking season' a few months away and my slow morph into 'cubicle body' - to match my cubicle job - I got pretty desperate.  A willing friend and a 'guest pass' later...I'm a member ;-)

Anyway,

The gym. A place I called 'home' from the time I was about 15 until...well...you know. Holes in places one should not have them. Oh how I loved the gym. I loved to push myself to the very limit in endurance and strength! One of my favorite things about college was the fact that athletic practices required me to be in the gym twice per day. Twice! And come on, the boys were cute! In fact, I ended up running into the cute boy who became my husband years later...in the gym!

The gym is different now. I can't just hop onto any ol' machine and do the exercises. Those that cause my spinal cord to move around too much, like the stair stepper, the arc trainer, and the elliptical? Cause my feet to go numb and my legs to tingle. But I feel quite blessed for the ability to walk in, perch upon a stationary bike, and ride. That's what I do. Ride...ride...ride...and I love it...

Last night, I felt rather energetic after my bike ride and decided to try out some arm strengthening machines. I adjusted everything - just like I remembered from years ago. I sat down and breathed deeply - just like I remembered from long ago. I did the exercises until I was completely exhausted - just like I remembered from long ago! I got up from the machine and everything started spinning. I grabbed onto the top of the seat to steady myself and allowed my body to settle down a bit. When my vision cleared, I found myself staring (totally didn't mean it!) directly at...'Old Me'?

'Old Me' was a young lady sporting a college softball t-shirt. Similar in build to mine circa the early 90's. Same hair color, same off-center pony tail I used to wear, lifting the same really heavy weights I used to lift. Yep - just like I remembered from long ago.

Old me. Sometimes I miss her.

I moved on to the next arm machine, set it up, grabbed onto the handles and...started to tear up? Crying? IN. THE. GYM? I wiped my face against my arms, one after the next, as I pulled up on the handles, but the tears just kept coming. Thoughts bombarded me. I must have replayed about 65 "remember when you used to be able to..."'s in my mind. I even caught the reflection of Old Me in the shiny wall. I knew I couldn't walk from the machine ALLLLLLLLLL the way across the gym floor to the bathroom, because clearly the bulk of the crowd would have noticed my red face and tears. So? I sat with my face against my arm and prayed to the Lord, asking that He help me dry those stupid tears. The song that played next on my i-Thingie, which my son fully stocked with all sorts of music, was called "Fill Me Up" by Jesus Culture.

I felt as if the Lord had an arm around me in that moment. My tears and sorrow for yesteryear stopped. Yes, things are different now. My abilities have changed. But...

But God has filled me up with an awareness of His love for me. He doesn't love me any less for my abilities or otherwise. He simply loves me. My kids don't love me any less for my abilities or otherwise. They simply love me. Same goes for my grandmother, my parents, and my dear husband. If I carry in 15 bags of groceries or none, it doesn't matter. If I'm able to work until I'm of retirement age or not, it doesn't matter. None of what I 'do'...or don't 'do'...matters.

I. AM. LOVED.

...and then I proceeded to get up from that machine and trip, because I was dizzy, catching myself against a really, really hard bar on the bottom of the seat.

Good thing I no longer need to be concerned about cute boys and whether or not they just saw that. No no...you see, I can come home to my own cute boy, tell him all about it, and be laughed at.

It's good to be loved...

2012 - A Year In Review

Hey...did you guys know that this year is almost over?

No, seriously.

I know, right?

I kept wondering why people on fb were summarizing 365 days into witty, paragraphical stati. And then I wrote today's date.  Proverbial 2x4?  Meet head.

Because I can't quite remember all of 2012 (thanks for that, ms+age+perimenopause...a trifecta that I unaffectionately refer to as "The Carousel of Hormonal Hell"), I cheated and reviewed prior blog posts.  Here's what I found:

In 2012...

My husband suffered the devastation of a cold. My eyes threw temper tantrums. My ear decided it didn't feel like hearing. Grocery shopping continued to be an athletic contest. I had regular visits from my ol' friends, anxiety and intermittent depression. I never know if ms is to blame, or if it's yet another byproduct of the Carousel. And speaking of...perimenopause stunk for the however-many-eth year in a row.  It seems as if 'waking-up-at-2am-to-find-my-heart-on-the-ceiling' has morphed into 'can't-find-my-keys-that-are-in-my-hand' and 'can't-find-my-sunglasses-that-are-on-my-head'.

Tell me, menopausal/ms-having friends.  Does this get better once I graduate perimenopause and move into all out menopause?  Come on.  Give me something to look forward to.  And tell me there's a little more glory in it for me than simply graduating from Always to Depends.

Meh. Either way...

Spousal colds, temperamental eyes and ears, and ol' friends aside, 2012 was a year of change:

- I lost a job.  BUT, I got a new one!
- I don't have the opportunity to serve students any longer (and I don't think I'll ever stop missing that). BUT, I do have the opportunity to serve in different ways!
- I didn't get to stay home this summer with my kids, turn 50 shades of tan, and walk every day.  BUT, I didn't have to go to the dermatologist AND I got to participate in the MS Challenge Walk!

It's all cause for humble reflection.

Though this crazy life and even more crazy disease throw changes my way, the Lord's promises remain the same. He makes all things work together for my good. Not just the preferable things.

All. Things.

Though I can't really find the good in perimenopause, but...maybe if we can help each other laugh at it?  Maybe THAT'S the good?  Rhetorical...

Wishing you all a most blessed 2013!  

When MS Gets Agitated

The very word says it all, doesn't it?

"Agitate". Could be the phonemic structure of the 'dj' sound followed by the crisp 't' sounds that make a slight grinding sensation on some tiny nerve in my head. Like a nail file. Or something.

Over the past few weeks, I really don't like the way I've been 'feeling'. It's nothing that I'd traditionally be able to pinpoint, because I've run the full inventory. I can see just fine, aside from a slightly annoying nystagmus when reading tiny font. Mobility's good. Hearing's on point. Cognition is solid. Even the ol' bladder is holding it's own - pun intended. I give thanks to the Lord each day for these blessings and take none for granted.

So what's the problem? Well, it's taken a few weeks and at least 3 combustions for me to finally figure it out:  Agitation.

A new source of noise has been added to my work environment. It isn't a loud or shrill noise. You know what it reminds me of? A particular sound an Occupational Therapist I worked with used in small group therapy sessions for children with neurological differences. She would play a track of a man's monotone voice, which spoke a series of words that did not form sentences, at low to mid-range volume. She would then ask the children to play games together, answer educational questions, etc. They would become highly agitated...not by the games or her questions, but by trying to function through the nonsensical recording she used as background noise. Her answer to my question of what the goal of her treatment was in using this method? "To help them overcome their agitation in social situations." To which I said, "in what social situation is there an intermittent, monotone, nonsensical, sound occurring while you're trying to complete a task?" She said, "you'd be surprised!" We had a good laugh over it, and I have to say she was totally right...I am surprised.

I am mentally fatigued by the time I get home, not due to the work I perform, but due to this noise. By the end of the day, I'm ready to combust. By the end of the week? I combust. Sometimes, it's happened in front of others. And it makes me feel absolutely awful. I repeat: Absolutely. Awful.

I don't want to be this person. For years prior, I've been referred to as the 'most patient person', possessing that 'of a saint'. Where'd that go, for goodness sake? Because by Wednesday, the 'saint' has left the building.

But you know how we roll - those of us with super cool neurology - we compensate! So that's what I'm going to focus on. Compensating. Coping. Not combusting. Because people can't possibly understand the mechanisms behind a combustion...and it just makes me look like...a bad person. I'm not that. I don't want to be that. Ever. I want to reflect Christ in all I do. I consciously strive toward that goal each day. And I can't be like Him if I'm ready to slam my face into my monitor by 1pm.

Note to self:  Slamming face into monitor ≠ portraying the woman I am in Christ.

I think I'm going to try a sound machine with white noise. And if that doesn't work...

I'll put on a face mask and go for it?

Taking MS to The Voting Booth

Election Day!  What a beautiful privilege 'the right to vote' is.

Tonight, I decided to take my son along with me to experience it in all its glory. You see, most kids his age would give anything to meet their favorite athlete or musician. My son? Wants to meet our local District Attorney, our State Representative, and folks in Washington. He's all government - all the time. He was beyond thrilled as he excitedly perched himself in the passenger's seat and stared ahead in wonder as we turned the corner and saw...this:

Initially, I joked that it appeared as if we were in a parade, but I was wrong. Parades MOVE. This? Did not. My bladder called. I didn't answer...

About half an hour later, my son and I traded 'sitting in the car' for 'standing out in the cold parking lot'. Emphasis on 'cold' and 'standing' as in 'standing completely still'. MS decided to show up to the party.

Fantastic.

Summer is not nearly as difficult for me as winter (or super cold autumn). When I get cold - cold enough to shiver - I begin to vibrate. If I dare to look down at the feet I eventually cannot feel, I get that uncomfortable cascade of electrical short circuitry through my legs and ankles. So there I was...standing in the cold parking lot, vibrating-but-not-feeling, praying to God that I would not trip or fall in the cattle chute-esque line, again ignoring the call from my bladder, asking God to help me *not* pee in line ('cause I keep it classy!) when, all of the sudden...

My son took my hand and said, "wow...you're freezin', Mom! Let me have your hands. I'm warm."

Ever since he was little, he just knew. And, though he's now a teenager...he still knows.

Pressing the buttons was fun when my finger decided to twitch each time I extended it. Thankfully, the buttons were far apart and I simply bent my finger and pressed the selections with my knuckle.

I'm home and comfortably nestled under blankets. I'm still vibrating, still keeping my head nice and level so as not to incur unwanted electricity, and still regaining feeling in my feet...but I cast my vote with my son at my side.

Add this night to the list of things that MS can't take away.

- my God
- my faith
- the love of my family
- experiencing the genuine care in my son's face as he warmed my hands


...rock it out:

 

I = MS Challenge Walker

You're lookin' at a woman who has participated in the 2012 MS Challenge Walk!!!

Wait...

Okay, now you've seen her.

There she is (goodness gracious, let me stop speaking in the 3rd person) all bundled up in 4 layers of top clothing (it was 27 degrees at the start), a baseball hat, and 'credentials' that were given to me under the guise of 'this serves as your meal ticket'. My name and address were on it, as well as an emergency contact. I was also required to have photo ID and my health insurance card on my person. Meal ticket credentials? No. Information that helps someone to notify my family that I'm in a trauma center - and who will be covering the bill for my care? More like it.

Oh, and those white wires aren't attached to any sort of cardiac monitor or anything...those were from my iHat :-)

The scenery was stunning. While I was the only 'individual' walker, meaning I didn't have a team, I knew full well Who was walking with me the entire time.

There was a point at which I was having a tough time of things. Basically, my foot no longer wished to move in an upward fashion. I kept scuffing my toes as I meandered along, walking more like Mr. Heavyfoot with each step. A kind fellow walker had suggested I use a stick. A stick? I've never used any sort of mobility aid before, but my life-long mantra has always been...

I'll try anything...twice!

(historically, that mantra has gotten me into a loooooooooot of trouble...)

I found new freedom in my walkin' stick! Until I came to the point of the path where the 'shoulder' was...not.  Because 'shoulder' provides ample space in which to pull a car over. 'Shoulder' gives you a comfortable place to walk. 'Shoulder' contains enough surface area in which to fall and not be smooshed by oncoming traffic. No no, friends. I had arrived at...'wrist':

'Wrist' meant that my walking stick was in the lane of 50mph traffic. And, if I switched hands so that stick was safe, my right foot wasn't. Choices.....

It wasn't that several of the wonderful volunteers didn't offer to give me a ride, because they did. But I needed to do this, because I had put my mind to it. I'm stubborn like that.

(historically, that mantra has ALSO gotten me into a looooooooooot of trouble...)

There was a point at which my body gave up. I became ill. I was afraid I may not be able to continue...but greater is He that is in me (insert smiley face emoticon with a tear). I made it to a rest stop, where the volunteers helped me to put my feet up, fed me protein bars, and kept a steady flow of gatorade coming my way. They talked with me about everything from the economy to sports to what ms looks like in my life. Eventually (like an hour or so later), my legs came back and I was able to continue on!  May God bless them for their warm hospitality...

It's those things which I'll remember most - the hospitable moments. The conversations with the volunteers in which we'd end up talking about God. That time I was asking God for help, because I knew I couldn't make it to the next rest stop without losing bladder control...and I couldn't feel my feet, because they were frozen. A woman came out of a restaurant and said, "honey! Do you need to use the bathroom or warm up? I have coffee on!"

...not kidding.

In fact, I could really summarize this entire experience as one big retreat with God. All those training walks? All those conversations with the Lord - both silent and aloud? All that physical pain and illness to push through? Drew me close and kept me near Him. 

It may have appeared to others as if I was walking as the only 'individual' participant, but I was there with a team. They were in my phone...and He was right next to me. There were times it was overwhelming. Times I felt like I really couldn't go on, but those text messages would come (love you, Debbie!) at just the right times, giving me the encouragement and scripture verses I needed to keep moving. 

And then I saw this:

But it still didn't mean I had it in the bag. 'Cause I couldn't feel this:

...which is why I took a picture of it for myself ;-)

It was the longest mile of my entire life. Seriously. And when I couldn't make sense of the fact that my legs were STILL moving, because I couldn't feel anything but numbness and pain (ms'ers understand that you can feel both at the same time...ha!), I saw the finish line up ahead:

...and then a particular song came on iHat, in perfect timing.  'Overcome' by Jeremy Camp.  And I cried. A lot. Let me rephrase that.

A. LOT.

Thank You, Lord, for walking with me. Thank you, Debbie, for 'walking' with me through every mile via cell phone. Thank you, family, friends, and church family for making this dream a possibility, and for your encouraging messages.

Most of all - many thanks to my sweetest, dearest husband, for picking me up from the event. No matter what circumstances have stood before us, between us, or ahead of us...he has supported me. I often joke that he got the raw end of that 'in sickness and in health' vow, but he insists he really doesn't feel that way. In fact, he hugged me and said - through equally sobby tears - "I'm so proud of you!"

Who's the most blessed woman ever?

Me.

Can't wait for 2013!!!

There's No Crying In MS!

In fact, one of my biggest mantras has always been:

I won't cry over it, because it doesn't deserve my tears!

I'm talking about voluntary tears here, not the pseudobulbar kind ;-)

In any case, I went grocery shopping this week. While that, in itself, is enough to make any of us cry, I really haven't ever been brought to tears over it. This time was different.

MS has been toying around with my emotions again. I find myself constantly having to lift these thoughts and feelings up the Lord, asking Him to show me what is legit and what is not. This is the first week of school for my now-high-schooler and my in-the-middle-of-middle-schooler. My kids are growing up. I'm missing my previous students and coworkers. I'm also missing things I've never missed, like my kids' athletic events. I know, I know...99% of working moms are in this boat with me. It's just something I'll need to get used to and I will, but not before it's done hurting for a little. The saving grace is that I'm not hard-pressed to see my abundant blessings through these changes:-)

In any case, I was contemplating 'the meaning of it all' whilst hurrying through the store (wanted to get home to my kids) and overheated myself...because I happened to need nearly every item ever packaged for resale throughout the store on this particular grocery run. To top it off? The 35ct case of bottled water my husband wrote on the top of my list. In capitals. "WATER!!!"

WHAT. EVER. HONEY.

By the time I got to the checkout, I was dizzy, physically exhausted, and my eyesight was dancing around a la nystagmus. I loaded the contents of my cart onto the belt and nearly fell over from the 58 repetitions of 'down/up/down/up'. I caught myself by clutching onto the side of the counter and thought I pulled it off well, but the woman behind me noticed, which caused her to keep a close eye on me the rest of the transaction. From the sideways looks she gave, it was clear to me that she assumed I came to the store straight from happy hour.

As luck would have it, there was no bagger at the end of the line and I knew that I was in no shape to do it. I decided I needed to take control of the situation...I told the cashier..."I have MS. I need help. I need someone to bag up my stuff."

:::anyone who knows me? Knows how huge it was for me to ask for help:::

The woman behind me relaxed her eyes from the 'I can't believe this drunk woman is in front of me' to 'I want to help this woman' gaze. She offered to follow me out and put my things into my car, but I had already played my 'I Need Help' card for the day. I'm too prideful to play more than one, you see. I thanked her and told her how much I appreciated it, but I would be alright. I lied.

Made it to my car by resting the weight of my entire torso on the handle of my cart. I used my key-operated, automatic lift gate feature for the 1st time in years and gave thanks for my husband, who only allowed me to buy this car because of that feature. As I leaned on my car and cart, slowly hoisting bags to and fro, I began to feel sorry for myself.

WHAT???

Yeah, I did. And that totally allowed those ugly thoughts to come rushing forth. The tears started. And fell. But I still kept slowly placing bags in my car. Hiding behind my opened liftgate and darkened windows so that no one could see the insane, crying woman. I thought to myself, "ugh...I hate having ms! This sucks!!!" And the floodgates opened. I was 'ugly crying'. I knew it was time to take action...

I battled the tears with praises to the Lord. Stuff like: "thank You, Lord, for these groceries for which I am floating a check to pay for" and "thank You, Lord, for the family I am taking them home to" and "thank You for the home You enable us to keep" and "thank You for the job I have just come from" and "thank You for loving me the way You do".  For loving me the way He does.  Unconditionally. Through every moment of 'up', but especially through every moment of 'down'.

The tears eventually dried up. My shirt? Took a little while longer. But maybe 2 complete sobfests in 13yrs isn't so wrong, especially if I'm led to praise the Lord in the midst of them. Because come on, I think we can all agree that ms does suck.

But He is faithful. I thank Him for that :-)

Breakin' Stuff...

I never mean to, but I break stuff.

A stapler. Plastic utensils. Eggs (casualty of untimely hand tremor). The handle from my washing machine. A button on my shirt. The clasp of my necklace. The wheel from the mower deck of my lawn tractor.

:::the what?::: 

This:

"See Deere go.  

Go Deere go! 

Uh oh. 

Deere hit rock. 

Bad rock, bad rock!"  (Dick and Jane called, they want their story back)

A girl who was feeling slightly "vertigo" should have "vertistopped" prior to climbing onto the tractor and taking it for a spin 'round the ol' yard.  Why?  'Cause she needed to look down to judge the distance between self and rock.  Vertigo doesn't like to look down. Rock won.

I was instantly embarrassed. My first thought? Get a picture, because my church family eagerly anticipates my lawn adventures and THIS most definitely qualifies.  My second thought, and I'm just going to come out and admit this, was:  "Can I fix this before he (husband) gets home?"

So I put the rock back:

After careful inspection, I noticed the wheel had been welded on, therefore erasing any chance of self-repair...so I stuffed it into my cupholder. 

I continued on, mowing sans mower deck support wheel, while entertaining several potential explanations against my husband's probable responses:

• "I didn't see that rock" = 'why were you mowing if you couldn't see?' 
• "I misjudged" = 'why were you mowing if you couldn't judge yourself in space?'
• "I wasn't paying attention" = 'why weren't you paying attention while mowing?'
• "it SO was not there!" = 'rocks don't move...did you take some old neurontin or something?  And if so, did you not learn your lesson the first time you mowed on neurontin?'

Truth was, I really didn't judge it properly. I mean, I saw it? But more in 'side view mirror' terminology.  And that looks like this:

But this story has a happy ending. I posted the pictures of my debacle on facebook in order to share a laugh with my friends. Within minutes, offers of help appeared. And before the sun went down, I had a repaired mower deck, freshly painted welds, and sharpened blades (woo!) snugly affixed upon the belly of my tractor. What did it cost me? Just a hug. And the hug was actually a gift to me.

The 'body of Christ' is a powerful thing and I thank God that I am just a tiny part of it. They say the words "one another" are mentioned over 50 times in the New Testament. 

I believe that :-)