MOTHS OR MYTHS ~ MONSTERS OR MYSTERIES

Once upon a time there was Mothra, convinced by mankind to leave it's home on Infant's Island to save humankind from the unrelenting attacks upon it by Godzilla. Mothra did not survive but died sheltering her eggs from the fiery breath of her reptilian opponent. These eggs went on to become known as mothballs.

Okay, total myth. Well, not even myth. More like Mouse gibberish.

The days of fall are getting colder and darker. A few days ago, as I was entering the basement from the garage on my way up to my apartment, the distinct odour of mothballs invaded my senses. This smell had not hit my nostrils in a very long time and it swept me right back to another time in my childhood where winter was a way of life 6 months of every year. The use of mothballs was a necessity for keeping your woolens from being eaten by moths over the summer storage season. I remember I was led to the discovery of these little white marbles by my own nose. Curious about that smell and hunting it down. I found a shoebox loaded with them in a clothes closet. I remember thinking they were so neat and fun and I started playing with them. Thankfully I don't remember thinking they were edible, but it is entirely possible that this encounter was not my first. It certainly was my first at getting caught playing with them. My Mom, bless her soul, made me part with my newfound treasure and impressed upon me the knowledge that I should not touch them. I have not done so since.


I wondered about my condition and this chemical pesticide. Of course, I wonder about all fumicides and my condition, but this particular one is on my mind as it's infusion of my olfactory nerves transported me to my childhood in a instant.

I went to see my neurologist a couple of months ago. It had been a year and a half since my previous visit. There were really no new issues going on with me. I wanted to discuss my tingle sensations being excited by electrical storms. He said he'd never heard any one else report this. I asked if there had been any insight on whether MS was a disorder or a disease. To my dismay he said it was considered a disease. He then stated that it was thought to be caused by the Guillain-barre virus. Interesting to me that he never said that it was caused by but that it was thought to be caused by this virus. This can be the result of a case of Mononucleosis which is usually linked to the Epstein-Barr virus (EBV), but can also be caused by other organisms such as cytomegalovirus (CMV). I do not believe that I ever had the 'kissing disease' but I do recall spending a lot of time in the 6th grade at home sick. I thought it was bout after bout of tonsillitus though. He went on to check my functionality.

I showed off my tremendous skill at balance by standing on one foot for a longer length of time than he was comfortable with. When his hammer hit below my kneecap I nearly kicked him off his stool. I could see that he was not expecting such movement and was startled. To tell the truth so was I. He then went on in his very diplomatic way to let me know that he thought that I had chosen the correct course of action for me. I asked if there was any kind of statistical data collection for someone like me. That is for someone who refuses to take the treatments that are offered by the neurological professionals. He said, no, there wasn't. That is a giant shame in my opinion. The only statistics to do with MS are for persons who are taking certain immune suppressing drugs or persons who think they are taking those drugs but are getting placebos. What about me? A person who just wants to keep moving by keeping moving. God willing I will not let this thing suppress me. He said that being active is now recommended by the medical community.

So I am not a statistic, but he took copious notes while talking with me. I liked that he was talking with me and not at me. Perhaps I like my neurologist now more than I did before. I am not sure though why I am dismayed at this MS thing now being considered a disease and not a disorder. Perhaps it's because that virus thing is resistant to all we throw at it and therefore feels more hopeless.

There is no such thing as hopeless. There is only hope.

It's time to do the walk.

Be well

AS THE SUN SPITS

I know that the earth got bombarded by a solar flare last Sunday the 1st of August. The electomagnetic pulse seemed to wreak a little havoc with some computer systems. At least the one where I work, the nucleus of which is centered in Minnesota, was down and out for 36 hours. Nobody said why so I am assuming. I am good at assuming. Despite the many times it has done that thing it is noted to do by making an as... out of me, I still carry on the tradition. I'm too old to change now.

Many of my friends have been experiencing unusual times. Aches and pains, highs and lows are running a little more frequently than the norm. It could be the economy, it could be the weather, but I assume it is the sunspots.

Personally my current unusual experience is with tremors. At times it is almost as strong as in Parkinsons. My innards, for which I mean, my nerves are all feeling intesified. My molecules are agitated in a manner akin to boiling. At least that is my sensation.

I know we MSers are supposed to stay out of the heat, but I am a woman who likes to be outside and active too. I have been taking golf lessons. That gets me outside in 90 degree weather with the humidity hovering at 80-90%. Perhaps it's not good for me in one way, but from my perspective it is very good for me. I learn, I move, I conquer exhaustion. There is no better feeling than winning. Well I exagerate, I know there are many better feelings than winning. It is the feeling of overcoming the enemy when the enemy is thyself.

So my tremors are due to sunspots. Call it denial if you will. I will call it joy. Perhaps I will be lucky enough to even see the Northern Lights as they whip across the night sky in phosphorescent splendor. We are to have a meteor shower soon too. My spirit is happy. After all, I am a golden ray of sunshine, allowed to dance upon the earth for a time!

Be well.

The Little Witch

Onwards and upwards, I meander through time. Another memory has escaped the black hole in my brain, thanks to the photo above. It does not have any bearing on the MS thing that I can think of but I'm going to share it anyway.

Back when my young partner in crime and I used to surrepticiously do all things we were told not to do, see post of July 07, 2005, exploring the neighbourhood was mandatory to our gang. I had other friends, but they were much better behaved than myself and so they shied away from our shenanigans. As intrepid explorers we knew all the community so sometimes it was necessary to venture a little further to find new things of interest. So we wandered a few blocks away. We had stayed on the side of the lake drive that we were supposed to in that we were not allowed to cross it to visit the lakeshore. There was a very unusual house with a turret made of stone. We were convinced that a witch must be living in that house. It was thrilling and frightening to be near that house, and we'd creep up to it, getting only as close as we dared to, before hightailing it out of there. I would dream of this house at night and the witch that lived within it. She never came out to catch us and take us inside to put us in her large cooking pot, so I decided that I must also be a witch and was able to protect us.

I can now quite vividly remember as I sat in that rocking chair on my front porch, I was thinking.... I am a witch.

SUMMERTIME FUN

While living in southern California friends and family would often come down from up north for a visit. If they had children with them, Disneyland was a must. I never went there. It is too vast a place and I don't do well in that kind of a space. It is too busy and overwhelming.

However, I can venture into the smaller parks. Ones about the size of a state fair are very suitable to my temperament. Well, a friend and her son were down from Vancouver. They had done the mandatory Disneyland already and this day we went to a 'put put' golf course. E's son was may be 13. He wanted to go on this roller coaster. It had the steepest drop he had ever seen. Nobody wanted to go with him and his mom didn't want him to go alone. So, I always liked the coaster when I was a kid. I volunteered.

We get the front seat. If you are going to ride on the steepest drop you've ever seen you want to be in the front, eh. We are strapped in. The carriage slowly hauls itself up the first incline. Clickity clack, clickity clack. However, I'm not thinking of trains here as we rise. I have come to my senses and have started getting nervous. My father had had a quadruple by pass. My brother has had one as well. My sister has had a bypass too, although hers was not the mega quadruple type. It dawns on me that perhaps I should not be here. I am over the hump in the aging department. I am about to go over the hump on the first rise of this roller coaster. We are cresting the top and the carriage slowly starts pointing us at the horizon, more rapidly now it is starting to point earthward. I swear, we were then into g-force speeds and were as close to vertical descent as I could ever imagine.........we........ SCREAM!!!!!

It was wonderful.

Hot fun in the summertime. It's the very best thing about summer. It is not my favourite season. The other 3 take higher rank on the like scale, but amusement parks (and drive-in movie theaters) make summer all right!

VAMPIRES OF TIME

STUCK IN THE MIDDLE AGAIN

I was visiting over at Erik's site and read an interesting comment by one of his followers. It was about an MSer that the commenter had been socializing with who had the ability to render watches inoperable. This struck a chord with me. I have had that problem for twenty years or so. When I would tell people about how I don't wear a watch because I kill them, they'd look at me strangely. I do then explain that I don't drop them on the floor and jump up and down on them. No, I wear them and they just stop working. Takes about 2-3 weeks and they are rendered helpless. I am certain that most people, whom I have mentioned this to, silently think I'm a lunatic. They would never say that to my face of course, just in case I really am stark raving mad. Who knows what I might do. So consequently, I quit mentioning it. Whenever anyone is talking about watches though I just want to shout this fact out, quietly, in my head. It is not like I can rejuvenate the things either. Replacing the battery gets me another 2-3 weeks of time. It is not cost effective.

I have often felt that I am just sucking the life out of these watches. I have half a dozen or so hanging around in a little display case. Perhaps one day, if my descendants hang on to them long enough, they'll be able to recoup all the money I have spent in trying to make these watches work for me.

So I am stuck in the middle, between the north and south magnetic poles, sucking the life out of watches.

I WAS IN THE RIGHT PLACE

BUT IT MUST HAVE BEEN THE WRONG TIME

I WAS IN THE RIGHT SPACE

BUT IT MUST HAVE BEEN THE WRONG LINE

The MS walk went well. The weather cooperated. The shoes cooperated. My body cooperated. It was a great day. The only thing that went wrong was, upon leaving the event, I took the wrong lane when approaching the interstate and ended up heading north instead of south. Of course, it was a looooooong stretch in that direction before there was an offramp so I could turn around. On my way back south again, my mind wandered some and when I approached the place that I had exited to get to the MS Walk site the first time I became a bubblehead. For a moment it occurred to me that I must be going the wrong way. I mentioned this to my friend and she reminded me that we are now going in the right direction. That provoked a great deal of laughter, which prevented me from dwelling on the inequities of aging, until now! HAHAHA!