Taking MS to Jury Duty

Recognize:

MS and I went to jury duty today.  Jury duty at County court.  Which is in a busy city.  With parking garages and parallel parking.  And lots of one way streets and lanes that randomly end with little notice.  Don't forget functional railroad tracks.

I don't know about you, but one of my biggest coping strategies - developed over the course of 14 very stubborn years of living with ms - is "habit".  Like a Wonder Twin power, if you will.  For instance, I grew up in the area in which I reside.  I park in the same row at the grocery store and the gym so that I don't lose my car.  If I can't find a spot in that row?  I leave.  I know about how far the restrooms are at any place I go, which translates into knowing exactly how long I can (or can't) hold it.  Ya heard?

Take me out of my little town, my office, my grocery store, or my gym?  Well, let's just talk it out...

Google said today's drive would take 43 minutes, so I left 1hour and 15 minutes ahead of my arrival time.  What Google didn't account for was sun glare, road construction, school buses, and the fact that every single person in the world was driving to work at that hour, though none were in any particular hurry.

While that brightly shining sun poses difficulty for each and every one of us on a morning commute, it (along with any extreme brightness or darkness) borders disaster for me.  The reality is?  My eyes do not adjust very well since the flare of the early 2000's.  By the time I reached the city, about 5 minutes after I was due to report for duty, I could only see a few letters on the street signs.  I was so busy trying to solve the Wheel of Fortune puzzle at each intersection that I didn't notice the lane closure up ahead.  At that point, I had 2 choices...#1) be even later, due to the miles of cars who got the memo and were actually in the correct lane...or #2) get back in touch with my inner drag racer.

#2 ;-)

Parking garage was next.  Fellow ms'ers with eyes like mine!  What's the most exciting thing we can do when our eyes are seeing nothing but white spots?  If you said, "drive into darkness!"...you are on my level!!!  By God's grace, and only that, did I get my car into a space.  I parked on a floor that was fairly empty so that I didn't risk putting black pinstripes down the sides of any fellow motorists.

Fast forward to entering the courthouse, where the elderly security guard with the gruff tone was barking at us to put our car keys and cell phones in the bowls prior to placing our purses on the conveyor belt.  As I approached, I couldn't help but feel that it was my duty to not just be considered a juror, but to make this guy smile.  So I said, in all my outward snark, "where are you goin' (with my keys and phone)?"  To which he stopped, stared, threw me a half smile, and said, "to hell, maybe!"

Winning :-)

From there, I had to be escorted to the marshalling room (because I still had the ginormous white spots in my eyes a la flash bulb and could not read).  Apparently, I was walking directly into a court room and that sort of thing is frowned upon.  A very sweet attorney saw my near-tastrophe and guided me to safety.

My eyesight slooowwwwly returned in the marshalling room, where facebook kept me company and a select few jurors pointed and laughed at/with me for my interactions with the security officer, or maybe for the fact that I needed to be taken to the proper room, or maybe because I decided that a bottle of water did not qualify under the "no food or beverage allowed in this room" designation, but I didn't want to get into trouble, so I concealed it in my purse and drank it that way.  Because come on.  That ms thing that randomly grabs me by the throat makes me kinda thirsty.

:::another perfect opportunity for the "I'm not drunk, I have MS" t-shirt:::

The rest of the day was rather uneventful.  Thank You, Jesus.  Until it was time to leave.

The parking garage?  Yeah, about that.  I never looked to see which floor I was on, so I had to stop the elevator at each floor, get out, walk up to where my car would have been, had it been the proper floor...rinse and repeat.

I finally found my car, but the spaces that were open on each side of me?  Weren't anymore.  Not only that, but I was parked in...both cars over their lines and within approximately 6 inches of my car.  No matter.  The diagonal parking made it possible for me to squeeze into the one rear door.  I began utilizing this strange combination of twisting and pushing and pulling and stuffing myself into the slim opening of the rear door.  All I could think of was that time I got my head stuck in the wrought iron railing when I was a child.  Mom had to put Blue Bonnet margarine on my ears.  How embarrassing it would be to get stuck in my own car door - and not by the ears?  I doubted that anyone at the security booth would have butter, and I was positive I wouldn't want it if they did.  Alas, despite my laughter and resulting weakness, I found enough leg strength to push myself through the door.  That's when I realized I was not alone.  A woman had witnessed my sheer brilliance and...cheered for me.

I don't know what to say, people.  I just keep it classy ;-)

I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried.  Thus the title of my blog.

Be well, friends!

Getting Back on The Horse

That awkward moment when.................

...you wake up at 6:30am with a burst of energy and drag a laundry basket full of towels that you can't see over the top of down 2 sets of stairs and get those in the washer and then come upstairs and unload the dishwasher and get the coffee on and preheat the oven for hash brown potato patties and whip the eggs up in a bowel for french toast and....you bend your head down to test your body to see whether or not today is another day of hanging out with your BFF, L'hermitte...but he isn't there.  Neither is the gaggle of spiders that had been crawling all over you.  And that little guy with the sharp object?  Nope, he's not hanging out on your left shin anymore.  The belt around your neck is gone, just like the vice in your chest.  And you must have kicked your blanket of depression off the bed at some point last night, because it's not tangled up all around you.

I had that awkward moment this morning.  And yes.  That's pretty much what a single thought sounds like in my 200mph mind.

I suppose I can consider this flare gone, at least for this moment in time?  Looking back, I realize it had been around for a few months.  I tried everything that my medicinally challenged body can do to speed the "get outta here already" process along, but failed those as well.  I ate and drank my dark berries.  I switched from coffee to green tea + honey (GASP!).  I tried, desperately, to exercise.  For the first time in 14yrs of life with this very unwelcomed guest, exercise seemed to make matters worse.  Walking hurt. A lot.  Riding a stationary bike was better, but made everything vibrate before going numb.  I couldn't recover for days and, by recover, I don't mean "let's do that again".  It was more like "let's just sit nice and still".

Just this week, someone at work had asked if I'd lost weight.  I politely smiled, thanked her, and said I hadn't noticed.  Total lie.  I haven't lost weight, but I've certainly lost a great deal of tone and strength.  As complimentary as she intended to be was as hard as her kind comment hit me.  I'm so used to an invisible disease and I've always liked it that way.  Looking fine on the outside and fighting an inner war suits me just fine.  But now, someone saw that my clothes aren't hanging off of me in the same way.  What looks like weight loss?  Is atrophy.

I came to the conclusion, while slouched like a blob in my desk chair, that this may just be my new "normal".  MS-y, depressed-y, fluffy, saggy, and kinda weak.  I had a lengthy conversation with God, which went pretty well, considering the fact that I was totally content with my pity party.  As a result, I was reminded of all my "can do"s.  My thoughts moved from my MS-y limitations to my family, friends, and the amazing stuff my kids are doing...all that they're becoming.  I knew my weekend would be stellar.  Breakfast with a friend!  A special Saturday night worship service!  Hang-out time with my daughter!  My son's playoff hockey games!  I realized that I have too much to look forward to...too much to give thanks for...and there's simply not enough time to feel depressed-y about some atrophy.  And that it's okay not to accessorize my work attire with necklaces.  Because with that belt-across-my throat sensation, I'd rather throw a necklace than wear it.

See?  I got over myself.  With the Lord's help :-)

But?  I suppose waking up this way means it may be safe to try and get back on the horse.  I'll definitely need a stool and lots of handles with which to drag myself back on, but...I suppose trying is the only option...


Be well, friends!

Follow Up to "What's On My Mind" - our son's healing

I had such an overwhelming response to my last post that I thought I'd do a quick follow up :-)

(thank you, really...)

My son went to the dance.  Well, maybe we should refer to it as "the sit and talk", because that's what he said he did.  And you know?  He *loved* sitting and talking with his beautiful friend.

...yet another thing he struggled to do years ago.  Hold conversations with peers.

In fact, he and I will occasionally joke about the one instance, during social story homework, where his inner sarcasm peeked through.  It nearly caused me to wreck my car with both of us in it.

The story:

When did a mother (who worked a full-time-plus-over-time job, not-to-mention-dragging-MS-around) squeeze a portion of that homework in?  On our 45 min drives home from therapy appts.  I would slide the bottom of the ginormous packet under my thigh, quickly look down at it to read, and send a question his way.  Exhausted...he would process, sometimes longer than others, and present his answer.  We would then discuss whether or not that was the best response.  I recited the following question:

me:  "Can a hot dog be angry?"

:::one miss-i-pp-i...two miss-i-pp-i.................twelve miss-i-pp-i:::

me:  "Bud, did you hear me?  Can. a. hot. dog. be. angry."

him:  "...yes."

What?

I was shocked.  Stunned.  Trying to think of ways to help him understand that hot dogs did not have emotion, though maybe they should?  Who are we to judge?  I stared into my rearview mirror with mind blown wonder...and drove off the road.  But.  Once I got the car back on asphalt, removed my heart from my throat, and regrouped...I mirror checked once more.  I saw his face, pointed out his window toward the beautiful scenery we were blessed with on these appts, and saw something even more beautiful.  His smile.

me:  "so you're kidding?"

him:  "...yes.  What kind of question is that?"

me:  "dude..."

While his struggles are behind him and I give the Lord all praise and glory for every ounce of healing, I can see the abundant blessings that came out of the journey.  The hours he spent with therapists at that facility gave me hours of hermit time in their chapel.  I didn't fit in with the other moms who clipped coupons for hours on end and talked about their homemaking responsibilities.  They just reminded me of who I wasn't, so I went to hang out with my Lord...where I always fit in.  Another blessing is the very close relationship my son and I have.  He will not hesitate to talk through things he is experiencing as a teenager.  To 'check himself', if you will.  He is all the more in tune with the emotions of others.  He is empathetic, nearly to a fault.  Most importantly, he recognizes the Lord's hand in his life.

Some of you have asked what therapies we did that helped.  We had done many, but the program that helped bring about his healing was through The Family Hope Center:

http://www.familyhopecenter.org/

I'm not saying it's quick, easy, or the cure-all for everyone...I'm saying it worked for us.  In addition, certain facets of the program helped restore function to my left side after a particularly evil flare.  Thankfully, help and/or healing come in so many packages and God is the ultimate multi-tasker.
 

The money shot:

And this is the limit:

Be blessed, friends :-)


Romans 8:28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

What's On My Mind? Just a random sampling...

The 'book' is always prompting..."What's on your mind?"

'course, the first thing I think of when I see that sentence is, "holes?"

BWAHAHAHA!

:::shameless ms joke:::

In all honesty, what's on my mind is...

...how there's so much heavy stuff going on right now for so many amazing friends.

I'm. talkin'. HEAVY.


You know what that's like, right?  When your nightly conversation with the Lord starts off with tears.  And you find yourself blasting right past the praises and just simply muttering..."Lord, where are You in this?"

That was me this weekend.  Head feeling as if it was 152lbs, sinking down into Pillow (capitalized, because my pillow is proper), tired and sore eyes closing.  Body buzzing.  Electric shocks in shins.  Gigantic MS hug across chest wall.  I decided that I was done talking after that one, simple sentence.  I was so over it.

With eyes closed, I began to 'see' things play out on the back of my lids.  Things that had happened over the course of the week.

I saw hurting friends smiling as they greeted each other with hugs.  The teary smile of a friend who received a home-cooked meal from someone who knew they could use a break.  The joy in a friend's face as they tucked a surprise grocery gift card into an envelope and contemplated just how to plant it anonymously for a friend who's fallen on hard times.  I saw a kid choose meekness when she had every right to make a different choice, and I heard the way her behavior affected the hearts of the grown ups who witnessed it.  I saw my daughter's smile as she informed me that she hasn't had to take her rx meds for the inflammatory condition she's battled for 3 very long, very difficult years.  Apparently, she's not in pain anymore.

not. in. pain. ANYMORE.

Wait.  What?  For real?  You're amazing.  Seriously.

(that was me to God...)

I opened my eyes for a second and noticed my son's outfit hanging on the closet door.  It's for his first school dance.

Ordinarily, this may not be something a mother would get emo over?  But it's totally emo for me.  I closed my eyes again and the replay of his earlier struggles began.  The hospital rooms.  The diagnoses.  The lengthy list of "you need to face the fact that he'll never be..." 's.  The years of intense therapies.  The people we formed life-long relationships with along the way.  The blessing of the Lord's provision when we ran out of money.  This boy's astounding perseverance.  And his full and complete healing...

I see it, Lord.  I see the pictures in my mind.  I recall holding his hands, staring into his gaze, and assuring him that, "I know you're in there...and I'm going to get you out".  I recall my collapse, totally not to be blamed on MS, when he announced to me that "somebody lifted the clouds!"  The achievement of milestones began.  His medical file sits on my desk, covered in dust.  We don't need to travel with it anymore.  Not since the pediatrician stared at me in disbelief and penned the following word:

"recovered"

Anyway, he's going to the dance.  And yes, that's a banana phone he's talking on.  Because he's funny, that's why.

...that's what's on my mind.  The understanding that heavy things happen, but the assurance that blessings are everywhere throughout them all.  The promise that God is in full control.  The peace that comes from that knowledge.

Thanks, Lord, for giving me the play-by-play of my thoughts for just this past week.  Maybe this is why the husband can't get on my level, because when I look at him and ask him what he's thinking?  The answer truly is...

"nuthin'."


Be well, friends :-)

Sunday Morning Flares

Sunday mornings are always times of great reflection.  The house is quiet.  The coffee is steaming.  And my 'Elevation Worship' Pandora station is on...just loud enough to where I can hear the words.

My mind - yes, the 200mph one - gears up for the service we'll head off to. And the fun things we'll do as a family, even if that means simply watching tv together. Basically, Sundays are my favorite days :-)

...which is probably why this Sunday started out a little too sappy for the likes of me.

See, I've got this pesky flare that doesn't want to let go quite yet.  I have to say ms is definitely an interesting condition.  I mean, not everyone can say they have stabbing pains in their shins, vibrations in their feet, electric shocks in their face...and could seriously just sleep through every bit of that.  MS is the condition that loves me back.  Why just last night, I got a hug from it - in my chest.  I stood there for a moment and wondered if that squeezy pain was cardiac in nature, because I never felt that near my heart before.  But?  I decided I was too tired to go to the hospital.  I literally thought in my mind, "if this is a major medical emergency, I'm seriously too tired to have it."  This.  This is what 2 weeks worth of constant-yet-random pains will do to my mental capacity.

You all feel me.

Fast forward to Sunday morning.  Today, the present tense.  First day of fall - or 'autumn' for the proper folks - my favorite season.  Steaming coffee.  Gentle, chilly breeze outside.  But...I'm worn down by these shooting pains.  Feeling so over it all.  Bending my head down to see if the L'hermittes sign is any better.  Meh.  Maybe a little, it all blends together right now.  Feeling annoyed.  Actually, feeling like I don't have much tolerance left.  Asking God when this will be over with because it's not fitting very well into my life.  Asking if I can please hurt tomorrow in lieu of today, because COME ON!  Sunday is my favorite day!  Click 'play' on the worship station and try to focus my mind on what's most important.  And hear the following:

"...all who hurt with nothing left, will know that You are holy.  And all will sing out hallelujah!"

Enter that awkward moment when you try to fight the fact that your eyes are doing that waterish thing.  Sniffling.  Swallow down that giant lump in throat.  I'm so not crying...until I hear:

"Shout it.  Go on and scream it from the mountains.  Go on and tell it to the masses.  That He is God..."

Enter full on tears.  Staring down into coffee, quickly looking up so as not to get tears in it and water down the caffeine.  Finding that, suddenly, I have a little more 'tolerance'.  I realize that today is going to be another painful day.  But in a few minutes, my family will be awake and carrying on about their morning with no idea that mommy was absolutely and completely losing her stuff just before they came downstairs.  The basset hound knew, because he tried to lay on my foot and I was all, "seriously???  Do you not know I have a knife in that ankle and my foot is vibrating like a lawn mower?"  Poor dog.  Looking at me as if I'm an extra special kind of crazy.

:::deep breath:::

I will sing it in my heart.  He is God.  He is my strength and my comfort.  I can do all things through Him...

And now I'm called to settle a disagreement between my kids.  See?  I really don't have time to devote to medical issues.


Be blessed, people.  Know that I lift all of us up when I ask the Lord for a little extra measure of physical tolerance today.  Because I do...

 

My kids.  Oh how I treasure them...

Sometimes, I wish others could see what I see in them.  Or know what I know of them.

Like how my very quiet and shy daughter wakes up early every single day so that she can help with housework.  What she doesn't finish in the morning, she takes care of when she gets home from school.  No one knows this, because she never complains about it.  To her, it's simply a humble, loving service to her mother.

Like how my outgoing, charming son reaches for my hand every time we're walking somewhere together.  He's taken on mocking stares and has had comments thrown his way for it.  "Mama's boy" and assorted jokes about how he should "be a man".  He doesn't care.  He smiles at me, reaches out and says, "gimme that hand".  It's not that some of those comments don't sting a little...it's just that he puts me before himself.

What I see in my kids is resiliency, strength, and perseverance.

They've seen me fall.  Bad.  They've witnessed the nasty reactions to my shots.  They've watched me go through flares.  They've wondered why I was blinking repeatedly and not realized it was all because I couldn't see them very well.  They've experienced my intense struggles with knock down/drag out migraines.  They've heard me sliding myself down the stairs in the middle of the night in the attempts to drive myself to the ER.

What I know of my kids is their compassion and their strong faith in the Lord.

Because each time they've seen me fall, they've come to see if I was alright. Each time they saw me flat on my back after taking a shot, they sat with me in support.  Each time I've come down with a migraine, they've tucked me into bed.  My son even gave me his most prized, stuffed dinosaur from his days of toddlerhood during a particularly nasty migraine.  It's name is "The Headache Dinosaur" and it takes away my pain.  Why?  Because my son said it does.  That's why.  And, as he places my Headache Dinosaur next to me with each headache, he always says, "God will get you through this..."

Sometimes, others do catch a glimpse of what I see in them.  What I know of them.

Like when someone tells me about a beautiful lesson my daughter prepared for discussion during a chapel event at school.  And how she has chosen specific scriptures to share with her classmates as reminders of God's love and faithfulness.

:::I cry:::

Like when a coach tells us that our son was referred to as "everybody's favorite player" during his hockey draft.  And his skills are not at all what they're referring to.  Or how a mother of an opposing, female soccer player tells me that my son is a gentleman, because he softened his play as they both battled for the ball.

:::I cry:::

Because that.  That is the kind of man we are striving to raise.  Let's face it, the recreational soccer league is really just not that important in the grand scheme of life.  The way he conducts himself is.


Keep shining the light of Christ in all you do, kids.  Do it all to His glory.  No matter what this crazy life throws at you...at all of us in this family...at anyone who may come across this silly post..."God will get you through this".  Whatever "this" may be.

He's got it.  He never fails.  Never.

That Phrase - "Let Whatever You Do Today Be Enough"

I'm really fighting with this:

Because I'm sitting here, comfortably nestled in my desk chair, fuzzy cat next to me, watching dust bunnies frolic under the gentle breezes of...the ceiling fan.

"Let whatever you do today be enough"

To say my house could use a good cleaning is like saying the inside of a 50yr old chimney could use a little dusting.  It's an understatement of ridiculous proportions. And the lawn?  That's standing slightly above my ankles.

"Let whatever you do today be enough?"

I don't know what constitutes 'enough'.  I find myself searching for the things I've done today to see if they measure up to some magic line.  I mean, I did get out of bed.  I dragged a brush through my hair and across my teeth - different brushes.  I went to work for a few hours and got a bunch o' stuff done.  I even put food in the microwave and called it 'lunch'. Because lately...lunch is a victory.  I often don't feel like stopping whatever it is I'm doing at work to dislodge myself from my chair, go to the mini fridge, remove it, unwrap it, and eat it.  See how many steps that requires?  On weekends, it's worse.  I don't feel like stopping the nothing that I'm doing to even prepare it.  I'm so over it.  Lunch, that is.

"Let whatever you do today be enough???"

You are not helping, little phrase that keeps replaying in my mind.  My husband, that guy who works 6 days a week (and has for the past 14 years), will be home in 3 hours.  Yet, here I sit...observing moving conglomerations of animal hair in their natural habitat - as if I'm writing a piece for Nat'l Geographic.  Mind you, the husband won't even notice the house or the grass.  I think he's so blinded by my fabulousity that...no, let me be real...he's just too exhausted to notice by Saturday evening.  And my kids?  They do so much already.  While their friends are enjoying fun things...my kids are doing dishes, helping with laundry, taking care of our pets, and writing grocery lists that I consistently forget to take with me.  I'm seriously glad that they're too old to write those "What I Did This Summer" reports in school...  

Hmpf.  Certainly looks like a gorgeous day out there.  So why is it that all I wanna do is carry this cat up to my bedroom, plop him on the corner of my pillow, lay down, and read my bible?

Maybe because that's 'enough'.  For today, anyway.