Birds sing. Bees sting. I have MS.

I have MS.  It's a fact of life.  Birds sing.  Bees sting.  I have MS.

There are several types of MS.  Fortunately mine is a type that is normally pretty quiet.

I treat my illness with what is called a "disease modifying drug".  

The drug requires I take injections three times a week.  

The injections themselves are not painful.  

The medication entering my body hurts like the dickens.  

It's a short-lived pain so I count myself lucky.  

I must admit though that during the short-lived times I have been known to curse like a sailor.

There's really nothing nice that can be said about MS.  

It is a brutal disease that lurks in the crevices of the body just waiting to show its ugly head.

It affects each of its victims differently.  

Some are luckier than others.

I myself am one of the lucky ones.

I am aware of this.

However, when it does show itself the results can be devastating.

Or somewhat of an inconvenience.

Or somewhere in between.  

You just never know.

My disease is currently active but by looking at me you wouldn't know.

Recent MRI's show no new lesions.

But inside; inside my body is telling the tale. 

Because of existing damage; or possibly a new lesion too small to be seen by MRI, the disease is currently having its way with me.

It causes me to be weak and sometimes feel like I'm walking in quick sand.

It causes me to stumble and sometimes fall.

It causes me to ache deep inside.

To be unsteady, dizzy and sometimes a little confused.

It causes me to lose control.

I must admit that's the hard part.  Let's be honest.  We all want control.  Especially of our own body.

I remind myself every day; sometimes more often than once, how lucky I am.

After all, I have a disease that can be somewhat controlled by medication.

I am mobile and can walk.

I have my eye site.

My pain is manageable.

I could not ask for a more caring or understanding husband.

The list goes on and on.

It's a fact.  I am blessed beyond measure.

Unfortunately there are those brief moments when all that flies out the window and I want and need to wallow in my frustration.

Times like now when I take a few minutes and allow my fingers to fly; fast and furious, spilling my heart to myself and to the semi-anonymity of the blog world.

Sure, a few people I know will read this.  Hopefully they will allow me my few minutes of self pity and love me anyway.

What is more important is that maybe someone else who is experiencing their own difficult time will stumble upon my little pity party and realize they are not alone.

Truth is - we all have difficult times.  We all have our own burdens to bare.

They may not be brought on by illness.  They could brought on by the loss of a job, a troubled marriage or even a disappointment.

Difficult times are a part of life and sometimes the best thing we can do for ourselves is to take a few minutes and wallow in them.

But only a few minutes.  That's right; allow yourself a short pity party then get up, dust yourself off and get on with it.

Identify something that gives your spirit a pick-me-up and do it.

Take a walk, pray, cook, lose yourself in music or like me spill your heart on paper.

In the time it has taken me to write these words my burden feels a little lighter.

There are no new revelations here but having an outlet to express myself brightens my heart, clears my mind and brings all my blessings to the light.

Cheaper Than Therapy...

Those hazy, lazy days of summer are upon us and, as for me, I've been laying low.

I've recovered from my bout with optic neuritis but as a result of that flare-up my doc decided it was time for a change in therapy. Bye-bye Avonex. Hello Rebif.

Life with Avonex was really pretty simple. A single injection given once a week by The Señor. It rarely hurt.

Rebif on the other hand seems to be a whole 'nutha animal. Three injections per week given by the Señor if he is available and by moi if he is traveling. Oh, and this stuff hurts-like-the-dickens every single time. After a little research I learned that the hurts-like-the-dickens part is just part of life with Rebif and that I can expect it from now on.

Subjecting myself to extreme pain three times a week is not/nor has ever been on my bucket list. For the record, I don't see me learning to like it. With that said, I am thankful to have access to the drug & thankful that it has proven to be very effective. I also know there are others who experience much worst pain on a daily basis every day of their life. I know I am very blessed.

However, those things said, I still don't have to like it.

So, dear reader, thanks for "listening" to my little pity party. I actually feel much better putting these thoughts in to words.

Writing...it's so much cheaper than therapy.

Coming Out Of The Fog...

I have to admit that my rather twisted sense of humor comes in handy during times of stress. I can usually come up with some smart$%$ thought or comment to help take the edge off what is otherwise a difficult moment. With that said, here's a couple of rather off centered humorous moments from the past few weeks.

My Mom, Nella and I are in search of a Party City.

Nella: Driving in DFW traffic without a clue where she is going.

Me: Riding in the passenger seat attempting to provide Nella with directions. I say, I think you turn right in to this parking lot. There should be a Lowe's and a Bed, Bath and Beyond.

Mom: There's a Lowes.

Nella: I don't see a Bed, Bath and Beyond or a Party City.

Me: You girls do realize this is the closest you'll probably ever come to "the blind leading the blind"?

The three of us break out in to hysterical laughter.

Then there's the day when after starring at the computer screen, the TV, the iPhone and even my own face in the mirror only to see a blob of colors with basically no meaning or lines of definition and all I could think of was the old movie Dazed and Confused and hunky Matthew McConaughey's character Wooderson; all laid back and cool, as he said "all right, all right, all right". I was "dazed and confused" but it was definitely not "all right".

I'm truly coming out of a fog. A fog known by those with Multiple Sclerosis as Optic Neuritis. And yes, the term "dazed and confused" has taken on a whole new meaning since I've had it.

Definition: Optic Neuritis - inflammation of the optic nerve which may cause a complete or total loss of vision. In some cases it is permanent.

I was very lucky as I did not lose total vision in either eye. After five steroid infusions and three weeks of "fog" the vision in my right eye is basically back to normal. The vision in my left eye is on its way. All I need is a little time and patience. Some days everything seems almost normal. Some days it is not. The doctor says this is to be expected. Time is the only cure.

I read a Pinterest item a while back that asked something along the line of what if God took away tomorrow everything that you didn't thank Him for today. This episode has really made me stop and think about that. I have always taken my senses for granted. I had honestly never given an ounce of thought to what a blessing they are. Let me tell you, they are priceless.

While "in the fog" I couldn't help but think about what life would be like if the fog were to never lift. I never once believed that it wouldn't but, being human, there were times it entered my mind. The idea terrified me. Although the Senór assured me it wasn't shallow I felt guilty worrying over what I thought were shallow things. I couldn't use the computer - I couldn't play Words With Friends - I couldn't drive - I couldn't read - I couldn't watch TV. I tried to be strong but, I'll just admit it, there were a few pity parties.

I am so thankful to the good Lord for my improvement and for the medical care that is available to me.

I am thankful for the Senór who has the patience of Job and never ceases to amaze me with his kindness, understanding and compassion.

I am thankful for my family and friends who support me with their love and understanding in both the good and the bad times.

I am thankful that once again I am able to clearly see each of them and the beauty of this earth that is God's creation.

I am thankful that I have been reminded of my blessings and to be thankful for each and every one of them every time I go to God in prayer.

It Doesn't Have Me...

I am one of the approximately 400,000 people in the United States and 2.5 million people world-wide who have been diagnosed by a doctor to have Multiple Sclerosis.

This elite club is not one I ever wished to join but, like it or not, I am now a lifetime member.

I must say that I am one of the club's most fortunate. I live in the United States and therefore have access to fabulous health care. I have a top-notch Neurologist who actually hears what I say. I am able to have an MRI when there are questions about the progress of my disease. I have access to a disease modifying drug that works for me and the most fabulous husband a girl could ever wish for who injects that medication in to my leg every week whether I'm overjoyed by the idea or not.

My MS has been quite for the past three years. Oh sure, on occasion it reminds me that its there with its buzzing and tingling and numbness and burning-pain but I have experienced no blurred or double vision, no blindness, no paralysis or spasticity, no loss of memory or speech issues. If there is such a thing as a blessed MS patient then I'm your girl.

For a few weeks now I have experienced some symptoms that made the doctor question the progress of my illness. He ordered MRI's and within five days I was lying in the tube. (Without getting on my political soap box I will tell you that this would not be an option if I lived in a country where there is socialized medicine.)

As the time for the MRI approached I tried to prepare myself for the results. After all, the likelihood of no new lesions over a three year period seemed pretty remote. I admit that even with my little internal pep talks I was still quiet apprehensive to get the results.

But guess what?

To quote one of my favorite sayings,

"I Have MS - It Doesn't Have Me".

The MRI's show no new lesions on either my brain or my spine and the existing lesions are much improved since the last MRI's.

Thank you Lord! Thank you Avonex! Thank you Senor!

We are fighting the good fight - and we are winning!