BITE ME I

I've been wallowing in my latest relapse for about 9 months now. That may not be the correct term for the unending pain in my left arm and perhaps I should just call it an exacerbation. About 6 years ago, before my diagnosis, I had a similar occurrence in my right arm. At the time they called it a Frozen Shoulder, and sent me off to Physical Therapy. They call it therapy. I call it torture! There really wasn't much to this activity. First the problem area is warmed up by a wee bag of pop corn that is warmed up in a microwave to just short of the popping point then it is applied to the aching area. After this warm up you partake of some stretching exercises, which become more intense at each successive visit to the clinic, but really you perform these exercises all by yourself. The staff just cheer you on, or scold you, periodically. After you've gone through your paces you get a massage. Very nice!

Last summer, when I went to my Doctor to complain about the pain in my left arm, I was told there was nothing they could do about it because it was the MS. I guess I am in their bad books because I have refused to endure one of, no make that any of, the CRAB medications. As I told my doctor, I am in my 50's and I have just been diagnosed with MS. If I were 20, 30, or even 40, I would seriously consider taking this line of treatment, but at this stage of my life I am not at all interested in depressing my immune system, or in depressing my life. At 50 something I am not depressed, I am actually a happy person. Crazy, but happy. Being over the hill has it's advantages.

If you follow my blog you might remember my post of Sept. 19, 2005, about electromagnetics and my problem Towncar which is not pictured above. The download process, which connects that particular picture in my computer to this blog, was taking way too long and making me nervous so I cut it off. Of course, because of that car, my current car is devoid of any cushy attributes, i.e., it doesn't have power windows. This has been a further pain in my left arm, as I want to drive with my window down now that the weather has cooled. So I endure the occassional pangs of pain and roll my window down anyway. So, I find myself missing all those bells and whistles, aka, cushy attributes. And my next car may have a few decadent virtues.

By the way, I have been doing my own version of the torture chamber and it is slowly improving the movement in my arm. I do the warm up in my morning shower. Then I get the cane that my husband needed 12 years ago when he had a herniated disk. I use the cane and do repitions to push the arm up, and to pull it back and forth behind me. The only thing I am missing is the massage. Things could be worse. Thank goodness it has never interfered with my ability to type. I know that I am one of the lucky ones. As my Mother used to say "Stubborn as a mule, and strong as a bull. "

BITE ME II

The whole reason that I came up with that heading in the first place was to talk about my self cannibalistic tendencies.

When I moved to Southern California the air was dry and my lips kept drying up. There were these big flaky bits hanging off them. I would succomb to the 'nibble this' siren and make them disappear. I never wore lipstick or any other makeup. As a teen I heard that it was made from pigs fat and that was a turn off. It really tasted awful as well. After a few winters of enduring flaky lips peeling off my face, I discovered that I could handle Blistex and that it does a decent job of keeping them pliable.

There has been a hangnail dangling from one of my fingers for about a week now. It beckons to me. Come on, bite me. Make your finger look pretty again. It has been a lifelong habit. An odd method of grooming I must admit. But I am standing firm in declining the call of the 'nibble this' siren. And I wonder if the process that is causing my own immune system to attack the myelin around my nerves could in any way have been created by this past self cannibalism.