tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-141948052024-03-07T04:42:58.001-05:00Say It Isn't Somousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.comBlogger110125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-76755001641730569212020-08-10T13:23:00.002-04:002020-08-10T13:23:36.585-04:00Pandemic Blues within these 4 walls and behind the almost flat screen of security I lose myself. The world once round is now squared off against hyperbole. Back to whence it all began. Shifty shades of obscurity, sheltered behind a mask.mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-19569226448564318692020-03-17T16:01:00.000-04:002020-03-17T16:01:34.267-04:00Granola Bandits Eat This<br />
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<br />I am what I have always referred to as a 'Granola Bandit'. I like oats. I grew up eating oatmeal for breakfast, every day, all winter long. In Montreal, winter lasted 6 months, November to April. Sometimes it snowed in May and one time I remember on June 2nd. That day was unforgettable for me. Girls had to wear uniforms to school. A navy blue tunic, white blouse and knee socks. Come the last month of our school year we could wear what we wanted to. That year, the last month, started on June 2nd. It snowed. I was so disappointed because at that point I was in high school and wanted to wear this cute dress, but was unable to because of the snow.<br /><br />Okay, back to oats. In the summer time we ate boxed cereals, or pop tarts. I didn't really care for either. As a teenager I would make my own breakfast. I started just pouring uncooked rolled oats in a bowl, with a sprinkle of sugar, cover it in milk and start chewing. I thought it was delicious. Almost as good as Pablum, which I loved and can still taste just thinking about it. One morning Mom saw me eating the raw rolled oats and was not happy. She said they weren't good for me. She grew up on a dairy farm and that was what the cows ate. At least that's why I thought she was disturbed by it.<br />
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At age 19, I went off to tour Europe. A friend and I hitchhiked our way through Belgium, Germany, Austria, Italy, and Switzerland. We had visas to visit Czechoslovakia, but our thumbs got us there on May 1st, and they would not let us in on that day...the day they had a big military parade. We also went to Yugoslavia but didn't dare hitchhike across that border so we took a train. Another story could be told about that train ride and the subsequent cruise down the coast line. That part of the journey has nothing to do with eating oats though, so I won't write about that here.<br />
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About 10 days into the tour we made it to Switzerland. Ah, breakfast at a youth hostel and I was served Muesli. Raw oats! Yes, with added fruit and nuts. I was thinking it was my vindication. That I was not amiss for liking to eat raw rolled oats!<br />
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So why am I posting about this now. I had been wondering if it was the eating of these raw oats had anything to do with the onset of Multiple Sclerosis. It seemed to me that eating Muesli was a food mostly eaten by Northern Europeans and MS is a condition mostly attributed to people of that heritage. I did some research which of course leads me nowhere that could possibly tie my thought processes into that choice of food fare.<br /><br />It did however, lead me to a blurb about the term 'granola bandit'. That led me to an old character by the name of Wavy Gravy who was a member of the hippy trippy 60's. His character still survives as does he, but by the 80's he was so irked by the political offerings for President that he held a rally at the White House on November 4th in 1980. And so he created an option for the ballot.<br /><br />Nobody<br />Nobody For President!<br />Nobody's Perfect!<br />Nobody Keeps All Promises!<br />Nobody Should Have That Much Power!<br />Nobody Makes Apple Pie Better Than Mom!<br />
Nobody Will Love You When You're Down And Out!<br />
Who's In Washington Right Now Working To Make The World A Safer Place? Nobody!mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-91488082037867375422019-10-24T20:10:00.001-04:002019-10-24T20:11:55.179-04:00Welcome to My Nightmare<a href="https://p7014689.vo.llnwd.net/e1/media/catalog/product/cache/2a8d341df1aabef95fa418beb77089e8/A/F/AFRO-FOLDING-COMB-234-(COLOURED---OPEN).jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://p7014689.vo.llnwd.net/e1/media/catalog/product/cache/2a8d341df1aabef95fa418beb77089e8/A/F/AFRO-FOLDING-COMB-234-(COLOURED---OPEN).jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
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Waking up in the morning, I first become conscious of an internal stress. As I lie there, making my mind aware that a new day has begun, I feel as still as an inanimate object. My thoughts go to that inevitable place, that seems to await those of us diagnosed with MS. <br />
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I used to have an afro comb. It was like a pitch fork, with 4 prongs about 3 inches long. It collapsed into a compact size for placing in my handbag. The handle, which was split down the middle, would fold back up around the prongs. Split down the middle is another of my MS sensations. The split between the legs divides to allow the nervous system to travel to both feet. Sometimes the sensation of that split, that division of the nerve pathway, extends right up to my neck. That is to say, I can feel the disconnection between the sides, all the way to my cervical spine. Like I was walking on stilts. I am happy to report that sensation is infrequent.<br />
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Back to my afro comb. It was sitting in it's folded position, on my bathroom counter. One of those stink bugs, that my area was overrun with a few years ago, was on its' last legs. They get to a lethargic stage where it seems to lack energy. No more flying into the nightlights like a blind June bug. I don't let the Terminex people into my apartment because I don't care for the idea of subjecting creatures to the fate that awaits me, but perhaps these stink bugs have succumbed to this pesticide elsewhere and have come to end their days with me. Anyway, this particular bug was in that lethargic stage, and I attempted to coerce it onto a piece of paper so I could take it outside. Well, it backed up into the gap that forms between the split of the folded handle. I believed it would exit on its own, if I left it alone. Not to happen, because every time I looked it was still there. If I attempted to poke at it, it only backed in further. It did go outside, but so did my afro comb.<br />
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Perhaps I empathize with that stink bug because one day I may also be unable to move. My mind will continue to create thoughts but I could be trapped in this shell of a body. This is where my thoughts go when I first awake, before I actually move. It is only a minute that passes before I say to myself that I need to get up and move before I can't.<br />
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I guess this could constitute a ghoulish story.<br />
mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-78267087126125757132019-02-24T21:47:00.001-05:002019-02-24T21:47:25.168-05:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I found this article on MS and the sense of smell and I find that I have the exact opposite effect as what is described here. I smell things sooner than others. I react as if certain smells, especially harsh cleaning agents, are poison and my respiratory tract takes a path akin to asthma. I can smell your anti-perspirant deodorant, laundry detergent on your clothing. Others consider these normal smells, but I need to move away if you've used too much of it, otherwise I can't breathe.<br />
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https://multiplesclerosisnewstoday.com/2018/03/19/ms-patients-poorer-sense-of-smell-even-at-early-disease-stages-study/<br />
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<a href="https://multiplesclerosisnewstoday.com/2018/03/19/ms-patients-poorer-sense-of-smell-even-at-early-disease-stages-study/">https://multiplesclerosisnewstoday.com/2018/03/19/ms-patients-poorer-sense-of-smell-even-at-early-disease-stages-study/</a><br />
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Then there is this forum on a condition called Hyperosmia which seems to explain some of it. In my case I don't believe it is a psychological root; I think it's the MS. I do note that it is less severe if I keep my mouth closed, but I also know that the bulk of smell is through the roof of the mouth. Even though I know these things, I still don't think it's a kind of hypochondria.<br />
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https://www.medhelp.org/posts/Neurology/Heightened-sense-of-smell/show/1122589<br />
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Too bad, because I don't take any recommended 'treatments' Neurologists don't study me. Good thing that I study me.<br />
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<br />mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-55484695742445827882019-02-24T21:37:00.001-05:002019-11-21T22:02:19.387-05:00mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-54679843085676796492019-02-08T12:04:00.001-05:002019-11-21T21:59:10.394-05:00PoisonMaybe I misinterpreted the email that I received. I think I started this blog before that Google+ thing, which seems to bear the brunt of the gist of the email. That said, I don't think that was a valid sentence. April will tell me what that brunt means.<br />
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My neighbour is doing laundry. We share a laundry room. My apartment sits right above that room. She uses so much laundry detergent that it's odour seeps into my apartment. The smell fills my nostrils and my lungs fill with liquid that makes it hard to get oxygen. Ain't that a bitch. Normally, I would go outside for air, but I was out earlier and it's below freezing, so I won't go out again. I will grin and bear it. Headache and all.<br />
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I find this reaction my body has to certain chemicals as a reaction to poison. Like a canary, I think I need to scream to the world that these chemicals are bad for all mankind. People seem to accept that cancer is normal. I would disagree. I know populations are booming, information is rampant, but I don't think so many little children should be consumed by cancer. I don't think so many young mother's who haven't even had children yet, should be getting breast cancer. This is not normal. I will not ever accept that this is normal.<br />
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Back before all this started, before I got the diagnosis that brought me here to blogdom, I had known a woman who believed that P&G was a company owned by the devil. She said it's symbol of horns was her proof. I thought her a bit possessed, and was quietly amused by her ramblings. Then they invented Febreez and I'm not so sure she was off the mark. I developed an immediate reaction to this product, similar to my neighbour's laundry detergent, before I knew it was a P&G product. I am affected by many other products in this same way. Those cute little leaf looking air freshener's that dangle from people's car rear view mirrors, Lemon Pledge and Murphy's Oil, were some of the first one's I noticed. Now, I can add scented hand creams and face creams to the mix.<br />
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I scream. I will keep screaming.<br />
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mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-32894930134900798272019-02-01T16:09:00.001-05:002019-02-01T16:09:27.849-05:00Out on a LimbI thought I'd start the new year out by getting back into this blog in a regular fashion. Then, suddenly, it's February. Having a cold in conjunction with brutally cold weather, has really put me in to a slow moving stasis. Too bad I wasn't on a spaceship heading to Mars where gravity does not take such a toll, but it would be even colder there, so never mind.<br /><br />
It would seem that my days here are numbered anyway. According to an email I just received from Google, they are going to shut my blog down. Not just my blog mind you, but every one of those of us who still use this format. I have days in order to figure out how to download my stuff. I have so many years of posts in this venue, even though I got a very late start, so I suppose, I ought to get right on to the figuring out how to save this. I think this is crappy on Google's part. I think they should be giving us more time. Especially now, that Facebook is becoming such a dismal place, rife with thievery and fake everything.<br />
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I'd start going on about the condition my condition is in. That's the whole reason I started this blog. That, and trying to figure out why I have this condition in the first place. However, Google has found it in their heartless hearts to further disable us.<br />
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mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-45600863761859023552018-12-10T13:37:00.000-05:002018-12-10T13:38:26.303-05:00Living in Morse Code<span style="background-color: #ddddee; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">But still they begin</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #ddddee; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">Needles and pins</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #ddddee; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">Because of all my pride</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #ddddee; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">The tears I gotta hide<br /> - The Searchers</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #ddddee; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">Actually, mine have been around for over a year now. Still feels like everything I touch has a surface like terry towels. When my brother came to visit, a rare occasion indeed, and I held his hand, it was at that point when it seemed strangest of all. I had become accustomed to the sensation in my everyday life, but his hand felt more like sandpaper to me. It could be that my mind created that. I love him, but I have always been anti his pro stances. Okay, that probably doesn't make too much sense.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #ddddee; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">Back to my senses, about my sensations. I react to every sensory stimuli to a much greater depth than my friends do. At least those people whom I hang out with. I cannot speak for anyone I don't knock about with. I have an intolerance, which my former doctor referred to it as a chemical intolerance. I can't handle certain scents, especially the ones used in cleaning agents. My laundry detergent must be free and clear. I walk down that aisle in the grocery store holding my breath. If I do breath it in, I will cough like I have the plague. I can smell a skunk long before it hits the olfactory nerves of others. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #ddddee; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">Next there is vision. I have trouble looking at this computer screen. It puts out a vibe, man. It is most noticeable when I'm watching videos when the images are moving fast. If music is involved it can jiggle my senses so bad that I start coughing. I kid you not. At least that's my perception of what happens. It has been proven to me, myself and I, that this is so. This is uncomfortable because I love music. I have 2 guitars. I'm not very good, only read tab music, and pick more than strum. I do invent tunes though. That practice is more soothing. I do have a recourse for enjoying those music videos . It involves getting up and dancing...not looking at the screen images. I can hardly bare holding my phone to my left ear. There is a vibration that becomes similar to pain. My right ear fares better. I much prefer talking with people face to face. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: #ddddee; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #ddddee; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">So that takes care of smell, sight, sound, touch, which leaves only taste. As far as I know that has not been affected, but how can I know. I have never been able to gauge other peoples reactions to taste beyond, yuck or yum. I believe that most of taste is actually related to olfactory senses, that is to say, smell. I do know that I still love to eat food that tastes good. Not much in my diet has changed.<br /><br />There is other oddness to my sensations. The touch is related to my right side only. Sound and vision mostly on my left. Sometimes I feel that the split that separates my left leg from my right leg, extends all the way to my neck, and I feel like some weird walking cartoon character.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #ddddee; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #ddddee; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">I am not taking any treatments. Indeed the neurologist that I was seeing has retired but he told me that unless I was part of a treatment there is no way my disease progression gets studied by the medical profession. This is why I want to document my own perceptions. There is more earlier documentation on the hard drive that belonged to my previous computer. I have the drive but am afraid to link to it believing that it was a virus that killed my former computer and I don't want this one to flip out before it's time, which, according to some, should have already happened.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #ddddee; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">My perceptions of all of these happenings in my body are this. My nerves are raw. The myelin coating is vanishing. The belief that the myelin sheath is a conductor is incorrect. It is merely a shield to protect our nerves from harm. Overstimulation can fry my mind.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #ddddee; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #ddddee; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">That is all for now. I have vented my thoughts.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #ddddee; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">Over and out.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #ddddee; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: #ddddee; font-family: "verdana" , "arial"; font-size: 13.4px; line-height: 19.1429px; text-align: center;">I don't remember how to add a photo.<br />Here comes my 19th nervous breakdown.</span>mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-45814594501985348942017-10-29T16:36:00.001-04:002017-10-29T16:36:59.864-04:00Strange sensationsWell, I still have the pins and needles. Nothing else has happened neurologically but I don't remember this lasting so long, now 3 months, the last time. I have become quite accustomed to it. Though I cannot consider it normal when everything I touch with my right hand feels like a terry cloth bath towel. Then again, when I actually touch a terry cloth towel or a knitted sweater, the sensation is amplified. Strange connection.<br />
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mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-21605924070809621662017-07-27T20:20:00.001-04:002017-07-27T20:20:19.197-04:00Yeah babyIt's good. I'm finally coming to my senses. A cooking splatter leaped from the frying pan to my right forearm. Pain! Whoever thought that sensation would bring me joy! So I'm down to just a little numb and tingly. Everything otherwise is working correctly. Still actively inclined.mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-62041677807925185772017-07-11T20:40:00.001-04:002017-07-11T20:40:17.615-04:00I woke up the other morning with the pins and needles sensation running through my entire right side. It was concerning, but I was able to rule out stroke right away. This happened before, 15 years ago. At the time it was one of the episodes that led to my diagnosis, along with a couple of episodes of sudden blindness in one eye. So I have been here before, but I don't remember how strange it felt. Like the dentist has shot up my right side with novocain. Walking is weird. My leg feels like a wooden stump. Going up the stairs is the usual easy; Coming down the stairs and I swear I even hear a thump. Spooky to say the least. The only thing giving me difficulty is picking up small things like pieces of paper with the fingers on my right hand. I cannot feel them. My toes still wiggle. My motor controls are functioning as normal. Prior to this, I had been bitten by several mosquitoes and fell ill with a mild flu. Also, I had been stressing about something, and I think that was the trigger. The stress is now gone, because this event has made my decision for me. I know this will fade away.<br />
Now would be a good time to pinch me.<br /><br />I write this, just for documentation.mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-29396305032155728042016-07-04T15:41:00.000-04:002016-07-04T15:41:58.456-04:00<b>The 4th of July - Independence Day</b><br /><br />It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. It is our time, and we should celebrate the fact that we do our best to live in a democracy, where it is the people, not the elite few, who make the decisions that govern our country. We must always scrutinize and sometimes right our course. Play today, if you will, but be absolutely diligent tomorrow.<br />
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mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-15998600952344131312016-06-03T10:19:00.001-04:002016-06-03T10:19:48.187-04:00I have not been to my blog in a long while. There are other spaces on the internet that occupy much of my time. Here though, I can say things with relative immunity. That is not just that my relatives are not aware of my blog, but that there is so much preoccupation with the bits, bites and bots in the other place that I feel it is safer to talk of my condition here. It is in fact, the reason I created this blog in the first place.<br />
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It has been 15 years since my first encounter with the trail of terror that became the diagnosis of MS. In looking back, I think the diagnosis was more devastating than the actual condition is. I do not wish to say that the condition doesn't cause great difficulty to many, for I know that it does, but I want to relay that it is not so difficult to many of us.<br />
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My neurologist had told me to research the internet and see the treatments available and to pick one. That brought me here to 'blogland' among other places. I found people here who were undergoing various treatments and having varying results. It seemed to me that many of them were sickened by their treatments. Depression was pretty evident among them. I found something that interested me because it had a 66 percent efficacy. I did not feel that being ill all the time was worth a 1 in 3 chance that it MAY slow down the progression of my condition. Plus this preferred treatment of mine was a once a month infusion, not a daily ritual. I told my neurologist about it. The good doctor had never heard of it but would look into it. Hah, who did the legwork there? Anyway I got a call about a week later saying they would set this treatment up for me. That same day Tysabri was removed from the Market because 3 people had died from PML. I was a little put out by the fact that my choice was no longer an option, and so I opted out of any treatments.<br />
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So 12 years later and I am still walking, talking and engaging in life. My immune system is overactive. I can't handle chemical scents like Febreze, static cling laundry detergents, or those cute little glade air fresheners. I may back away from you if there is something on your person that antogonizes my respiratory tract. There are places where I must leave the building due to toxins in the air. I have decided those things are poison and I am the uncaged canary to show the way.<br />
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There is pain in certain muscles that intensify then ease with a rhythm that I think I can correlate to activity and/or diet. I still do Tai Chi. It keeps my left side as able as my right side, and because there is a mind connection to ground that is emphasized in all the movements of Chi Kung, my balance is way better than it was 12 years ago and I can still pick up things with my toes. Well, some things, Socks, I can pick up socks and fling them at my cat.<br />
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I see that a version of the treatment that I was denied in the past is now available, despite the 'may cause PML which usually results in death' and it is being frequently advertised on major TV networks. This implies to me that more and more people are getting this devastating diagnosis. If you decide you need to fight this condition (my internist said it was now considered a disease, but I refuse to accept that, being of sclerated mind and body...because without the mind the body can't function, and my mind is pretty stubborn), if you decide to fight this condition with treatment, I wish you a safe and successful outcome. I want you to know that the best results are offered by a positive outlook on your future.<br />
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Namaste, Shalom, Peace be with you.<br />
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mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-15591500359463025812013-05-20T20:59:00.001-04:002013-05-20T21:00:35.821-04:00<h2>
STRONG LIKE BULL</h2>
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So, I haven't been here in quite a while. My browser wasn't compatible. Even though I am, as my mother used to say, stubborn as a mule, I changed it. As you can see it took a while.<br />
All is well. That is to say, no change. Now I find myself wanting change, but not on the MS front. More like on the general all round moving on with my life front. I've been here 7 years and I guess I have the seven year itch. Feeling kind of stuck in a rut. At least I'm still capable of moving. After tying up a few matters of stuff and more stuff, I will be able to readjust my direction and blast on out of here. Like a RED BULL.<br />
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<br />mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-76820490199771499942011-11-11T17:04:00.003-05:002011-11-11T17:58:51.316-05:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuis5pY6c7HNhrF_Gb5EV0DrQsyUpfkXS_vnVS1XJkquDh1kYGojpKKQlW7cDY6conQBrgcsmeqg4HI9JhKJnGadNEnGY4reDo-sDLRWfFntoWorkYX3SYfhAmcVixJtQFX9Io/s1600/220px-Mothra_vs_Godzilla_poster.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 220px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 303px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673874212651410450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuis5pY6c7HNhrF_Gb5EV0DrQsyUpfkXS_vnVS1XJkquDh1kYGojpKKQlW7cDY6conQBrgcsmeqg4HI9JhKJnGadNEnGY4reDo-sDLRWfFntoWorkYX3SYfhAmcVixJtQFX9Io/s400/220px-Mothra_vs_Godzilla_poster.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong>MOTHS OR MYTHS ~ MONSTERS OR MYSTERIES</strong></div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>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.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Okay, total myth. Well, not even myth. More like Mouse gibberish.</div><br /><br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br />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.mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-44820262730990055762011-04-09T23:02:00.002-04:002011-04-09T23:48:57.575-04:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9yfAIDzmvRnQfDSbY9XL2BIs1Ho97-u1OFnaeWlRIw_qSLiSq2FXV9Gr06gzBq7jOaE3N36b5hR0iVtgDBxvsAn622M5Pqd9PlRrDFLPTYcrZjbeaZeu0qLxg6NSozKoxpCL6/s1600/when+I+was+your+age.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 299px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5593796824491738210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9yfAIDzmvRnQfDSbY9XL2BIs1Ho97-u1OFnaeWlRIw_qSLiSq2FXV9Gr06gzBq7jOaE3N36b5hR0iVtgDBxvsAn622M5Pqd9PlRrDFLPTYcrZjbeaZeu0qLxg6NSozKoxpCL6/s400/when+I+was+your+age.jpg" /></a> <br /><div>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. </div><br /><div>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.</div><br /><div>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. </div><br /><div>There is no such thing as hopeless. There is only hope.</div><br /><div>It's time to do the walk.</div><br /><div>Be well</div>mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-38209491926857528342010-08-09T20:35:00.004-04:002010-08-09T21:08:07.633-04:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLeL5b6uY9qNuVc58GCAtuNhprYb-Rs3sbm8bY-dwtYFiZArep-R6KYDXi8zp-SGQQX3IaHNC5Vwco9gVsy8lYAnzSDuehGSbkpWGlxeEGHdp1TumF8ifSi_6t-ljuxZF40J32/s1600/Aurora+Borealis.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 261px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503580231128872178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLeL5b6uY9qNuVc58GCAtuNhprYb-Rs3sbm8bY-dwtYFiZArep-R6KYDXi8zp-SGQQX3IaHNC5Vwco9gVsy8lYAnzSDuehGSbkpWGlxeEGHdp1TumF8ifSi_6t-ljuxZF40J32/s400/Aurora+Borealis.jpg" /></a><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:180%;">AS THE SUN SPITS</span></strong></div><div></div><br /><div>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.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>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.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>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. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>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.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>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!</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Be well.</div>mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-67374288312268541142010-07-14T19:07:00.004-04:002010-08-09T21:09:13.679-04:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVCGeiQstiB8ve-zXm_2RTM4cCsezxKXzOvX56h8Q4tu9MIgv5eT5k4gZjEkZ8SO8Pfp8QFaoIWu_AcFqU-gXNJTrY-NgqGILD3fUXrAKoRxyfPxs3Ph-Z0SALT2X1RT6AiZ3_/s1600/me001.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 259px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5493912414308671602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVCGeiQstiB8ve-zXm_2RTM4cCsezxKXzOvX56h8Q4tu9MIgv5eT5k4gZjEkZ8SO8Pfp8QFaoIWu_AcFqU-gXNJTrY-NgqGILD3fUXrAKoRxyfPxs3Ph-Z0SALT2X1RT6AiZ3_/s400/me001.jpg" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong>The Little Witch</strong></span></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>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.</div><br /><div>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. </div><br /><div>I can now quite vividly remember as I sat in that rocking chair on my front porch, I was thinking.... I am a witch.</div>mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-53780044051561264252010-07-01T13:24:00.002-04:002010-07-01T13:53:00.045-04:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXtx4cOe_a5VuANPv97eZ9YG5OGELOn3kVcAd8QIxiQBRjhdhY6_kA4IkuEWz_3B8OuCYKdSR1ixcaVFUmloEc6Zd5-I9Xm5JFY_wgzDctYB452_5D3JolCHB8Cg5598IEa0js/s1600/mary+being+crazy.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 295px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488990501271554722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXtx4cOe_a5VuANPv97eZ9YG5OGELOn3kVcAd8QIxiQBRjhdhY6_kA4IkuEWz_3B8OuCYKdSR1ixcaVFUmloEc6Zd5-I9Xm5JFY_wgzDctYB452_5D3JolCHB8Cg5598IEa0js/s400/mary+being+crazy.jpg" /></a><br /><div>SUMMERTIME FUN</div><br /><div></div>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. <br /><div></div><br />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. <br /><br />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!!!!!<br /><br />It was wonderful.<br /><br />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!mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-81739009269712322322010-05-13T16:35:00.003-04:002010-05-13T17:06:04.782-04:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-EO6E-4EITMmgaQUBNN4PxzSeRM0ZHev3wmhhtj3nlErsEKBPdSIi_7ENdslMKZzpTC5VCGdv-_O1EcqUhFQs7T1OKEQUUOYp1tWYHiQFZYtbXjWWDpjTCFrMcJcZcr9vgsb2/s1600/batman's+bud.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 133px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5470862689161114770" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-EO6E-4EITMmgaQUBNN4PxzSeRM0ZHev3wmhhtj3nlErsEKBPdSIi_7ENdslMKZzpTC5VCGdv-_O1EcqUhFQs7T1OKEQUUOYp1tWYHiQFZYtbXjWWDpjTCFrMcJcZcr9vgsb2/s200/batman's+bud.jpg" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:180%;"><strong>VAMPIRES OF TIME</strong></span><br /></div><div></div><br /><div></div><div>STUCK IN THE MIDDLE AGAIN</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>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.</div><br /><div>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. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>So I am stuck in the middle, between the north and south magnetic poles, sucking the life out of watches.</div>mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-11709898420034378472010-04-29T12:21:00.000-04:002010-04-29T12:44:48.620-04:00<div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyR4DR9bQvt5-MgNkNm-8qtg_M6v6_byjSVFVezAUFNQVMHvc7IGGFyMng7jTfkWt444_fRHiSQcpiIsot0v59zzqXv0YJuDEDtn6WYZOH0XsFh5PyUh3v1P_VvJzcpwwruzig/s1600/GPS.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 142px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465599625148601378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyR4DR9bQvt5-MgNkNm-8qtg_M6v6_byjSVFVezAUFNQVMHvc7IGGFyMng7jTfkWt444_fRHiSQcpiIsot0v59zzqXv0YJuDEDtn6WYZOH0XsFh5PyUh3v1P_VvJzcpwwruzig/s200/GPS.jpg" /></a><br /><br />I WAS IN THE RIGHT PLACE</div><div align="center">BUT IT MUST HAVE BEEN THE WRONG TIME</div><div align="center">I WAS IN THE RIGHT SPACE</div><div align="center">BUT IT MUST HAVE BEEN THE WRONG LINE<br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center">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!</div>mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-75436271103067091942010-03-11T11:56:00.000-05:002010-03-11T12:20:16.593-05:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghXLQbh5ikS8lD_FkMym85dRsmSM04Bak0APQ2iOc8wXmzcRPHq-yAiS7SgMUfaS1JDGA6y0xPT61pp7iZpInr3eNBkRnsv9Gg2qcJUAGgS24TowYoIK3bO2OnAsRhL9lNTskm/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 134px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447426988309411666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghXLQbh5ikS8lD_FkMym85dRsmSM04Bak0APQ2iOc8wXmzcRPHq-yAiS7SgMUfaS1JDGA6y0xPT61pp7iZpInr3eNBkRnsv9Gg2qcJUAGgS24TowYoIK3bO2OnAsRhL9lNTskm/s200/untitled.bmp" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Walk Don't Run</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>As I get ready for the next annual MS walk, it occurs to me that I have been using the same pair of running shoes for the previous 3 years. I also remember a bad case of blisters last year. This year I have been walking with some friends on a fairly regular basis just to get some fresh air and exercise. There has been no pain associated with these outings. Nevertheless, I went out and bought some new running shoes. There are so many to choose from. My niece, who is a jogger, recommended a pair. They have gel, a term for some new fangled cushioning I guess. The first pair I tried on felt like I was walking on rocking chairs. Weird! The second pair felt good The third pair felt good and looked good - I liked the colours - so I purchased them. The following day I put them on to break them in. No, that should be, to break my feet in. I have always had trouble acclimatizing my feet to new shoes. Generally, this would involve several weeks of placing bandaids in the appropriate positions until I had built up callouses. After about an hour in my new footwear, I realized these shoes and my feet were not going to get along. I took them back and exchanged them for the second pair I had tried on. These got the same 'indoor' break in and they remained comfortable the entire time. Eureka. They are really light and very wide, look a bit like 'Clown' shoes, as they have the appearance of having been run over by one of those steam rollers used out on the highways.</div>mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-51080469423936794522010-03-01T22:52:00.000-05:002010-03-01T23:36:46.997-05:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH31P8-HkKx3eWN8iZkyrKC3jU5Kx1JXzkvPv1nIaL9OCHKZEbFq6CRHd9lfNJ7a55Pqt6AA2yTzrLiDRv5eizym1E-JhpVXm1Vv9s9lS14lGLllrEso3J9Ggja8lnFxJK6kPK/s1600-h/new+folder001.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 268px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5443887933590190770" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH31P8-HkKx3eWN8iZkyrKC3jU5Kx1JXzkvPv1nIaL9OCHKZEbFq6CRHd9lfNJ7a55Pqt6AA2yTzrLiDRv5eizym1E-JhpVXm1Vv9s9lS14lGLllrEso3J9Ggja8lnFxJK6kPK/s400/new+folder001.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Wow, this place has changed. I haven't been here in a while and hardly recognize the place. It's been a long, hard winter. Spring is just around the corner and it's time to come out of hibernation. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>It will soon be time to walk the walk for MS research. It does amaze me how it can take so much time and so much money and they don't seem to be able to come up with a solution. I refuse to call it a disease until they find the root cause is a virus. Disorder works for me as this condition seems to have me feeling internally dishevelled. How one half of my body feels all cockamamie in relation to the other side. I look perfectly normal. I feel wierd. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>When I was a young(er) lady, one winter some time ago, okay decades ago, I had this incredibly fashionable "de rigeur" winter coat. I lived in Montreal after all. You had to dress the part. It was a long coat, sort of in the shape of a military officers overcoat. Double breasted gold buttons, full belt around the waist and it extended to just above the ankle. It had a shiny coating that gave it a nice reflective sheen; a kind of film that encased the fabric. Well, this film was not built for the cold and it soon cracked and peeled right off, just like your skin would a few days after that sunburn.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Well, being adventurous, and wanting to get away from that cold, and the FLQ (see Oct 10 2005 post), I went out west. It was like living in the tropics. A decade there and then I went south to California. That is where things started going south for my health too. Before I was ever given a diagnosis, I can remember thinking that something inside my body was crackling like the surface of that coat. I keep thinking about that coat while I was living in a land where 100 degrees was a normal day time temperature. To make a long story short, unlike that short lived coat, it took two years of tests while they ruled out every other possible cause and gave me my diagnosis. I am happy to report that no big change has happened since then. My abilities seem to be normal. I will do the 3 mile walk for the cause. 5 is now out of the question, but not due to MS, rather the lack of practise. I just don't walk as often as I used to. However, I really feel that I should make an effort to do more of it. That old saying "use it or loose it" comes to mind.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>If you can, please walk for the cause. If you can't, please pray for the cause. Let's get to the root of the matter.</div>mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-72333314489181558322009-09-16T15:34:00.000-04:002009-09-16T16:00:24.687-04:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkRgsiOCd-2MrBkSg1o_F1k9lrE8_WMTMIfBjLNKdWbegYeA-nCwTLoE5psFB2LBJC5ruRGtcHONreQ4vK7hU2cF0xM74xm3j_nD0vHfDTQJb0NtZOCgCQKuW6B1uVWaSoabES/s1600-h/Texas+2009011.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382155682750176370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkRgsiOCd-2MrBkSg1o_F1k9lrE8_WMTMIfBjLNKdWbegYeA-nCwTLoE5psFB2LBJC5ruRGtcHONreQ4vK7hU2cF0xM74xm3j_nD0vHfDTQJb0NtZOCgCQKuW6B1uVWaSoabES/s400/Texas+2009011.JPG" /></a><br /><div></div>In Galveston the sidewalk has buckled where the wind tried to blow a tree over. The tree is still there, just leaning out of the picture.<br /><div></div><br /><div> </div><div> </div><div> </div><div>I have done a bit more travelling since my last post. Pittsburgh, Galveston and Houston where my nephew was getting married. The wedding was great and I was glad to be there because there were not many on my side that were able to attend. That is the great trouble with one's family being scattered far and wide. It is, of course, the way it has always been with my kin. We have not got the pioneering spirit out of our systems yet. Still, I love adventure. I could wish to be younger and visit the International Space Station, or perhaps, even Mars! I did get to visit the Johnson Space Center while I was down there in Houston though. On the 40th Anniversary of our landing on the Moon. Wonderful! I also saw Galveston, a town that has been a favorite of mine, and for which I was worried about what remained after Hurricane Ike last year. It is with great relief that I saw the signs of a come back. The old stately homes, the ones that harbor so much history, are not being razed but are being restored. All is well.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>I am back into refining my skills and knowledge as a tax preparer. It seems that I spend more time learning about tax laws than I do preparing tax returns. Many changes happening this year that should be of benefit to those of us (most of us) who are facing hard times. I am also working as a temp now and then, here and there. All is good.</div>mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14194805.post-45544071579794162362009-07-01T09:04:00.000-04:002009-07-01T10:09:06.753-04:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZx3U6qxmAbsHPwX0V_-2RMJsbv3T0RB9kKwbU_kdaBSeHJYFHUv1OV84iBZBQMUmeLobTaLFfDWAQpNfkWqJjwymN8FvUWT0q-sFGsvxfdbCNmN5kwYeoBe-TB8Wourtb7J6S/s1600-h/DSCF0595.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353491098415194754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZx3U6qxmAbsHPwX0V_-2RMJsbv3T0RB9kKwbU_kdaBSeHJYFHUv1OV84iBZBQMUmeLobTaLFfDWAQpNfkWqJjwymN8FvUWT0q-sFGsvxfdbCNmN5kwYeoBe-TB8Wourtb7J6S/s400/DSCF0595.JPG" /></a><br /><br />TRIP INTO THE PAST<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />There was to be a memorial for my dear sister in May and I decided to do the 7 hour drive to get there. Flying would take just as long because it takes an hour just to get to the airport then you wait a couple of hours once your there, yada, yada, yada... At the last minute, relatively speaking, I decided that life is too short and as I did not have a job to rush home to because tax season was over, I was going to make long overdue visits to old friends and family. I especially wanted to see my Mother's sister who was still alive, having survived breast cancer back in the 60's. A miracle that was not part of the belief system of my wonderful sibling. Her memorial was beautiful. Her 4 daughters, all the grandchildren and great grand children were there. She now lies in a plot under a tree beside one of our brothers who predeceased her.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />My second stop was Toronto, a city that I lived in many years ago. A friend previously mentioned as 'Squakinbush' in earlier posts, still lived there. As day to day living can keep us so busy, I had not seen her in many years. She and her husband treated me like royalty. I lacked for nothing. My wish was their command, so we visited the 'Art Gallery', the 2 homes that I occupied while living there, we walked the boardwalk in an area called 'the Beaches', went to the movies and saw 'Startrek'. When it was time for me to head off to Montreal, I was proffered a bag of trail mix, cheese and crackers and an apple to keep me healthy and vitalized. Truly, I can't wait until my next visit. Hopefully they will come my way soon!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Next stop, Montreal. Most of my family had vacated the city where I was born in the early 80's when my father retired, but some were still there. It is still a wonderful city. Big, beautiful and bustling. The only drawback was the traffic. In a city with such a terrific transit system, it is amazing how many people are driving. An activity they do with the intention of getting to their destination as rapidly as they can, at the cost of ignoring anyone else on the road who does not move quite as decisively as themselves, i.e. tourists like me. Still I love them. I stayed with my sister in law who is no longer married to my brother, but hey, I didn't get a divorce from her. We had such a grand time catching up on life. It had been 30 years since my last visit! It was as if all that time had not elapsed. Sisters even still, stauing up all night talking! We only realized how old we had become when trying to function the next day.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:lucida grande;"><strong>AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT!</strong></span><br /><br /><br /><br />Anyway, she had to work the next day, so I went to town taking photographs of all the homes I had lived in during my formative years. Gazing upon one of those homes brought back a memory long since forgotten. I lived there between the ages of 5 and 8. The memory flash was like lightning. In fact it was of Lightning! I was standing just in front of the steps to the entrance, facing the entrance, when I believed that a flash of lightning had just passed between me and the brick wall. At the time I felt very lucky that it missed me. The picture above is the home where this enlinghtning moment occurred.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />This memory was forgotten once again until the other night. I was asleep when I was abruptly woken up by a very loud and sharp crack of thunder. The building was shaken. I was shaken. I realized that the entire left side of my body was tingling, as if all the molecules were excited and moving around like boiling water! At that moment the memory of me standing beside that brick wall staring at my front door grabbed hold of me again. It took about 3 days for that tingling sensation to finally subside. I must use the word subside because in fact that sensation never completely goes away. To date, all of my symtoms related to MS have been located on my left side and I really have to wonder if there is not some connection to this event on a hot summer day back in Montreal!mousehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04333311105331572959noreply@blogger.com0