Mimicking MS

It is possible that the biggest neurological nightmare is being referred to a neurologist who specializes in cardiology, practices in one state while living in another, and masters the art of confusion with no conclusion. In other words: This New Guy.

My first appointment left me yearning for a do-over. He heard not a word I spoke, so I simply wanted to go back and eloquently, through a mega-phone, blurt out the highlight symptoms for him to take notice.

The second appointment wrapped me in a state of total confusion. When I exited the Stanford Neurology Clinic 18 months ago, everything made sense. All signs, symptoms, and MRI images were consistent with Multiple Sclerosis. I was shocked at the diagnosis, yet found peace. I rejoiced, having finally learned the source of my many ailments from a group of doctors who obviously took care with me.

But, This New Guy approach was sassy, rude, and indecisive, telling me lesions (spots) revealed last April were probably just from diabetes. I assured him I am not diabetic. He said, "Yes you are; it says in your chart that your insurance mailed you diabetic information." No, my insurance did no such thing (are you looking at the right chart?). The only information ever mailed to me was a denial for the repeat MRI because it was coded improperly (by This New Guy). "Well then, they are because of your high blood pressure." I do not have high blood pressure. He snapped, "You did today!" That is correct. It was slightly elevated to 130/80-ish because my pain level sloped up to 7 on the scale (and then you shouted at me). But pressure today would not account for spots that have been panging my brain for 18 months. "I guess it's fibromyalgia." I guess not (it does NOT create lesions on the brain). 

Even my blood draws proved clean, with the exception of low Vitamin D (also consistent with MS). His marked confusion was confusing his own confusion.

This New Guy finally coded properly and, during our third appointment, the updated MRI revealed more spots. One, in particular, he admitted was again specific to MS.

During my fourth appointment, he said, "It used to be when any new spots showed up, doctors confirmed it as MS." Yet, he does not buy into such line of thinking because my spinal fluid appears clean. So, I questioned, "Then, what's causing all the lesions with my symptoms (reminding him of cognitive fog, fatigue, frequent urination, tremors, breathing/swallowing difficulty, loss of fine motor skill, gait changes...the list continues)?" He checked a few reflex responses, observed my struggle to gracefully walk the hallway, then literally scratched his head and produced no answer. We already ruled out diabetes and high blood pressure. We established fibromyalgia does not progress, nor does it cause spots. He mentioned the possibility of carpel tunnel syndrome. Seriously...?!? Even though the majority of my spots are consistent with MS, his last resort was to say they are from severe chronic migraine headaches, which I have endured since reaching puberty. 

Yup. He's a quack. Never before have I heard such nonsense, but at least he threw me a bone to chew.

After humbling my pouting to take a more pro-active stance, I researched all sorts of stuff from This New Guy patient reviews to migraine headaches. I discovered that recent studies DO suggest migraine with aura (my kind) CAN cause white brain matter lesions. However, it is not evident they cause the multiple symptoms I experience. 

Excerpts from the article White Matter Lesions in Migraine by Timothy C. Hain, MD, Chicago IL., May 2016:

 "Hamedani...(2013) suggested that [lesions] are...not especially progressive in adults..."

"These can be and often are confused with white matter lesions due to multiple sclerosis..."

"We have seen several patients in whom we believe MS was misdiagnosed, based on observation of white matter lesions."

"While these lesions can appear alarming in persons with migraine...generally they are not associated with any neurological disturbance. According to many authors, the clinical significance of these lesions in migraine is unclear (Evans 2003; Dahlof 2005; Bashir et al, 2014). This was also the conclusion of Palm-Meinders et al (2012), who reported that there is no cognitive decline."

Since I have progressive lesions and cognitive decline, along with neurological disturbance, it appears chronic migraine is not the sole criminal in my case...or is it?

An article in the Neurology journal (2013) claims "the researchers found that people with migraines ran a higher risk of brain lesions, abnormalities in brain white matter, and altered brain volume. The latter two have been associated with...multiple sclerosis..."

The billion-dollar question then: are my lesions migraine mimicking MS, or are they MS mimicking migraine?

The idea that migraine lesions may be mimicking MS symptoms is curiously real to me. So many puzzling questions to disect and scatter-brained answers to piece together. Aren't white matter lesions still lesions, regardless of the mechanism causing them...? Shouldn't there be concern as to what the short- and long-term effects of such lesions are...? Is a Swiss cheese brain fully functional...?

Oddly, This New Guy may or may not be on to something. So, I won't fire him just yet (even though his reviews were less than stellar). At the close of our last appointment, he said, "Let's just see where this goes," then prescribed a medication (topamax) for me to try. My final resort is to settle on what makes sense and for now accept that I have both: MS with lesions causing debilitating symptoms AND chronic migraine with white matter lesions.

With an ice-cold can of Coca~Cola and a six week follow-up scheduled, I will allow time to eventually solve this mystery. Until then, I will continue to be an antiquated neurological scribble who loves to color.

Silence, To Honor

Yarn Work

Since committing to making an altar cloth, I temporarily set aside the lace project to hone my basic crochet skills. I have been doing plenty of yarn work the past few weeks that will all be donated to the refugee center in Boise: soft, warm afghans (for children) and extra thick pot holders (to accompany kitchen cooking sets). I also crafted a chunky cowl scarf for my oldest daughter.

The angle and speed with which I stitch does not seem to compromise fine motor ability, so maneuvering the hook has been therapeutic for my "silly" hands. Ultimately, my crochet time has been a super fun venture, boosting my skill ego while bringing me one step closer to a finished altar cloth.

Body Tremors

Last night will be pegged as one of the worst episodes in the history of my body tremors.

It was a slow, but steady pace of being on my feet all day long: the usual morning shower, a journey to the library, grocery shopping, play time with my kindergartener, light house cleaning, a special Family Home Evening where the missionaries came over and helped grill up some delicious grub and then we played a couple rounds of Kinect Sports bowling. The day drew to a close with some Level 1 Easy reading. As I helped my kinderboy find sight words on each page, my own sight fled. My left eye went blank. Scary! I automatically cleaned my glasses, hoping it was just a dirty lens. It was not. Fortunately, the black-out was brief, and sight restored.

After prayers and good-night squishies, I cozied on my own bed with a big sigh of relief. Immediately, the adventures of the day took their toll in the form of uncontrollable shivers, shakes, tremors, and twitches from head to toe, for near an eternity. I finally stumbled to the couch and cued some old Seinfeld episodes to occupy my mind. At one point during the tremors, I could only yawn to keep my breathing consistent. I feared I would pass out otherwise.

Eventually, I awoke. Not sure if I actually did pass out or if the body tremors wore me to complete exhaustion. Needless to say, I am feeling like an antiquated neurological scribble again today.

Spinal Tap

Here I am, just chilling in my bed, waiting for the spinal tap-induced headache to dissipate (think I'll watch "This is Spinal Tap" to continue with the day's theme...ha~ha!). The doctor instructed, "lay flat and give it a couple hours; no activity today." Wise advice. Any upright movement immediately increases pressure on my brain and invites an intense pain I have not experienced in three decades.

The last lumbar puncture I had was in conjunction with a myelogram, and both were performed with highly archaic flair. I swore I'd never do it again. But advances in technology made this go-around more comfortable. I was even able to crack a few jokes during the procedure. And through the course of conversation with medical staff, I now have "Wayne's World! Wayne's World!" tapping my brain.

I'm not sure which pain in the brain is more unbearable...

My MS Odyssey

I survived another wild launch into a 3T MRI machine, only to return in T minus two hours (and some loose minutes).

Tight spaces, such as that of a tubular MRI machine, are usually no bother to me. But when a bulky face mask is required as part of the apparatus for stabilization during testing in that confined space, my heartbeat skyrockets at a rapid pace. No amount of consolation to myself--taking deep, oxygenated breaths or calmly reminding myself that I AM a super hero--stops panic from over-riding relaxation within the initial five minutes. Hence, it has become prudent for the neurologist to prescribe a generous dose of Xanax to sustain me during the 2-hour imaging procedure.

This week was no different. The little blue pill temporarily became my best friend, my saving grace, as I prepared to enter the cold, loud imaging shuttle.

Fortunately, I had friendly technicians who successfully inserted my IV on first attempt, surrounded my ears with familiar sounds of classic 80's rock, secured my arms against the machine walls with cozy padding, and covered my body in a toasty warm blankie. The only thing missing was a pink binky.

Somewhere around the midway point I briefly dozed off, startled myself with a quick jolt, then apologized for the unnecessary snort. I was assured it did nothing to hinder the images, thankfully. Once ejected from the dark abyss, back into reality, my stomach demanded a Smashburger combo, which I nearly inhaled from starvation.

Later, the neurologist and I reviewed my updated MRI report. Although my spinal cord looks good, more "spots" exposed themselves on my brain: a couple of them appear consistent with severe migraine, while yet another is of major concern to Multiple Sclerosis.

Progression in time and space warrant the scheduling of another spinal tap, a procedure which, the first time, bruised my entire lumbar spine and twisted my dreams into nightmares. I am somewhat hesitant to do it again (especially since I have to refrain from taking any pain relievers), but understand the necessity for it.

As with all things, I will embrace the obstacles life encounters and enjoy the ride along my own personal MS odyssey...

My Life According to Def Leppard

Def Leppard is my all-time favorite band. Ever. But, somehow our paths never managed to cross, so I have waited over three decades to see a live performance. Still, I continued as a loyal fan, hopeful that one day we would meet. A while back, I posted a fun note on Facebook about My Life According to Def Leppard. I share here:

1. Are you male or female?
"21st Century Sha La La La Girl"

2. Describe yourself:
"Two Steps Behind"

3. How do you feel?
"Excitable"

4. Describe where you currently live:
"Hello America"

5. If you could go anywhere, where would you go?
"Back in Your Face"

6. Your favorite form of transportation:
"Rocket"

7. Your best friend:
"Miss You in a Heartbeat"

8. Your favorite color is:
"White Lightning"

9. What's the weather like?
"High 'N' Dry"

10.  Favorite time of day:
"Only After Dark"

11. If your life was a TV show, what would it be called?
"Hysteria"

12. What is life to you?
"Unbelievable"

13. Your current relationship:
"Love and Affection"

14. Looking for:
"Truth?"

15. Wouldn't mind:
"All I Want is Everything"

16. Your fear:
"Billy's Got a Gun"

17. What is the best advice you have to give?
"Stand Up (Kick Love into Motion)

18. If you could change your name, you would change it to:
"Lady Strange"

19. Thought for the day:
"Rock, Rock ('Til You Drop)

20. How I would like to die:
"Turn to Dust"

21. My motto:
"Action! Not Words"

The answers remain the same, but one question still begs: Do you wanna get ROCKED...?!?
"Yeah!"

And I FINALLY did!!!

Thank you, Def Leppard, for performing an AMAZING concert (opened first by Tesla, then REO Speedwagon)!  The repercussions of immobility, nerve twitching, and full-body muscle throbbing today were worth EVERY moment I shared dancing and singing with you at Taco Bell Arena in Boise on Wednesday night!

Consider my Bucket List checked.

One Stitch at a Time

Sister Rose, an elderly lady I visit teach, recently inspired me with an altar cloth she hand-made for the Boise Temple. It was a cloth crocheted of delicate lace and fine workmanship. Her skill impulsively motivated me to challenge myself.

Years ago, while casted from knee to toes after reconstructive foot surgery, I was taught to crochet afghans with yarn to stave boredom of being confined to a velvet-upholstered recliner. I learned a few basic stitches and have since made several blankets from simple patterns, but never have I attempted anything as beautiful as the cloth Sister Rose created. As we sat in her living room, admiring the details of her masterpiece and discussing the Meridian Temple opening next year, I boldly exclaimed, "I want to make one!"

Wait. What did I say...?!? With excited conviction, I brought home a white skein of fine 20 thread--a weight I have never used before--and determined to make a sacred cloth for the House of the Lord.

Seriously. What was I thinking...?!?

I have humbly come to realize my crochet skills went unnoticed for too long and are extremely subpar. But, I also remember my patriarchal blessing mentions my hands being blessed; that they will do what they are told to do. This is especially interesting, considering my dwindling fine motor abilities due to Multiple Sclerosis. The Lord's promises are sure, and with Him all things are possible. He blessed me with a basic knowledge of the crochet realm, and I know through my consistent effort (armed with various sizes of steel needles, some You Tube instruction, and extreme patience), the Lord will bless my hands to sustain their ability.

For a righteous purpose, I practiced a beginning granny square. Now I am tackling my "forward chain-pull apart-forward chain" process of the unfamiliar and intricate lace pattern, taking it one stitch at a time...so, in time, I will be able to exclaim, "I made one!"

Not Always Family-friendly

While reading an interesting article on one man's battle with limitations from Multiple Sclerosis that I wanted to share, the foul language stopped me from posting it. Why use such crude words to get the point across in formal writing? Then, it hit me. I faced the honest truth that MS is not always family-friendly. When viewed from the inner crevices of a victim's mind, the effects of MS are often a corrupt, gruesome, and distorted excuse for being human.

*sigh*

A Color Full Experience

There is a colorful word in the English language that I have become markedly familiar with: experience.  Embracing the white end of positive, grazing the dark end of negative, and richoceting betwixt the colorful myriad which spans the distance extremes, my life has truly been a color full spectrum.

Yet, when it comes to job hunting as an antiquated neurological scribble, the one repetitive requirement where none of mine applies in the current work force: experience.

And the color quickly fades into the background of irony...

An Interesting Connection: Bell's Palsy Tied to Multiple Sclerosis ?

For me, there has been a curious correlation between Bell's Palsy and Multiple Sclerosis. I recall biting into a Carl's Jr. hamburger...the tang of the special sauce...the immediate tingling across my lips...the burning in my tongue...the lingering taste of metal. Later, an excruciating pain shot through my right ear and across my jawline, as if someone stabbed my eardrum with a javelin. The following morning, while brushing my teeth, the side of my mouth completely froze. I could not rinse or spit; my eye refused to close; the right side of my face paralyzed from forehead to shoulder top. Oddly, the stabbing pain simultaneously dimmed as the paralysis spiked. Diagnosis: Bell's Palsy.

An urgent care visit left me with an explanation that severe inflammation was apparently compressing the cranial nerve which controls facial muscle functions. The steroid therapy would hopefully help tame the symptoms, which could last anywhere from weeks to months. Within three weeks, the paralysis ended and I was able to retire my sexy, black pirate eye patch.

That was roughly 14 years ago. Looking back, I realize the tingling down my cheeks and around my lips and the burning in my tongue that I experience now each day appears to be a magnified extension of my initial episode. The symptoms never truly subsided, only progressed.

In the linked study below on Peripheral (Seventh) Nerve Palsy, "Fukazawa and colleagues reported facial palsy as first symptom of MS in 4.7% of 107 patients with MS." Hmmm. So, it is not too radical for me to question if Bell's Palsy was my first (unidentified) symptom of Multiple Sclerosis.

An interestingly mysterious connection...

https://www.karger.com/Article/FullText/443681

Day 6: On Wings of Reflection

My time spent along the East Coast in New York City is now a pleasant memory. I hopped a plane out of LaGuardia this morning and routed through St. Paul/Minneapolis to land back in Boise, just in time for dinner. My legs are still in tact, but the aches from the zillion miles of walking are beginning to pique and lend way to mobility complications. A series of migraine auras, which inevitably lead to grinding heaches, has randomly ensued.

On wings of reflection, the two things I loved about visiting New York:
1) The collision of fiction with reality; being able to stand in landmarks made famous through books, movies, sit-coms, and other forms of media.
2) My familiarity with the insomnia of a city that never sleeps.

On wings of reflection, a few things I noticed about New Yorkers:
1) No one Bluetooths; they only use dangling ear buds and talk through the mouth piece.
2) Everyone eats fries with miniscule pitchforks, instead of their fingers.
3) Despite the diverse population, everyone I encountered was beyond friendly. That was an unexpected bonus.

On wings of reflection, it is now back to the reality of being a West Coast gal...who has Multiple Sclerosis.

Day 5: Silent Noise

I am grateful for tender mercies of the Sabbath Day. A day of rest can help silence the noise of chronic burning, tingling, throbbing pains, and prepare me to face the week ahead.

The Brooklyn Bridge is such a massive structure and masterful work of intricate art. I caught myself soaking in the landscape and history as I walked through its breezy majesty that I only captured one quick photo, but my mind is flooded with memories.

Wall Street. The New York Stock Exchange, Federal Hall where George Washington was sworn in as the first President of the United States, and Trinity Church were points of interest and quick touring.

The World Trade Center. The Memorial and the 9/11 Museum were powerful reminders that America will not bow to terrorism. Photographs were not allowed to be taken throughout the majority of the exhibit, but the walls were filled with quotes, recordings, artifacts, and video of the 2,977 unsung heroes that existed on that horrific day. One such man was simply Bandana. He put a red bandana over his mouth to prevent smoke inhilation, took some people to safety, then went back in the failing building to find others needing rescue. When his body was later found, survivors confirmed it was the same man who saved them. The silent noise in that museum was completely humbling. It puts my complaints about Multiple Sclerosis into perspective.

The Staten Island Ferry paced at a good clip through the harbor, and offered some beautiful views of the city scape and Lady Liberty.

I searched high and low through Little Italy to find spumoni ice cream, but had to settle for the world's most delicious cannoli at Ferrara. I'll take that.

Day 4: R & R

After attending morning services at The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints third floor chapel, it was time to hail an Uber and give three cheers for New York style Rest & Relaxation...

Day 3: The Only Thing

Sleep did not fail me last night. I got about four hours worth, and am grateful I felt rested for about an hour afterward...if. Coney Island, Brighton Beach, and Brooklyn were the agenda for today via the NYC Subway F train.

Coney Island. The Cyclone, built in 1927, is a deceptively innocent and wildly fast ride, not for the faint of heart. I'm still waiting for my stomach to find me. I rode as a single rider and nearly flew over the side of my coaster car on the turn landing the first steep drop. No joke. I am a known thrill-seeker, and have mastered modern roller coasters like Tatsu and V2: Vertical Velocity. But the thrill stops here. Scary WOW!

The only thing I have ever wanted to visit Coney Island for: Nathan's Famous hot dog. It did not disappoint.

The New York Aquarium is under major construction after the damage it sustained from Hurricane Sandy, but viewing the few exhibits currently open made it a great way to celebrate World Oceans Day.

The Russian flair of Brighton Beach/Brooklyn remained reminiscent of the yesterdays (circa 1986).

I walked several miles of solid, but uneven, ground around Brooklyn. The air was hot and damp while temperatures quickly crept, but the breeze off the Atlantic Ocean circulated enough cool air to sustain my afternoon energy. Thankfully.

The instant I came up the 42nd Street Subway stairwell and stepped onto Manhattan pavement again, the stagnant humidity settled between lines of high rises stifled my breathing. It felt like I was suffocating. The only thing I could do was stop, double-over (say a quick prayer for help), and force deep, slow breaths. Eventually, a breeze, with a hint of cool refreshment, came through Bryant Park behind the library so I was able to walk the remaining few blocks to my hotel.

My body is completely exhausted from that unexpected episode. It also put a tiny glitch in evening plans. But, at least I have cold air circulating through my hotel room to cool my nerves. Right now, that is the only thing I need.

Day 2: Time And Time Again

After attempting to sleep through what seemed like hours of warm electric waves pulsating through my body from head to toe, it was time to face the glare of a rising sun, peering through my 29th floor Marriott Hotel room window, and greet a New York Friday morning.

Time Square. Time and time again, I've watched all the hype on TV and cheered in anticipation for Dick Clark to ring in each new year. But, I'm sorry folks, the ball that drops is small. I giggled, then shook my head in utter disappointment.

Swatch. A classic Swiss time-telling device which has become all but obsolete on the West Coast. When I told my kids I had a giant watch as my wall clock during my early years of college, they never believed such an item exists. Now I have proof from the Swatch shop wall.

The Manhattan LDS Temple provided a valuable time of quiet solitude from the hustle of New York City streets and a spiritual boost from the bustle of my own personal life struggles.

Central Park (on foot this time) was the prime location to people-watch and see bridges made famous by movies, but I mostly wasted time taking obligatory duck-face selfies.

Tea Time at the Russian Tea Room. The serene ambiance, the sophisticated young Russian waiter, and a delicious stroganoff meal (which melted like chocolate mousse cake in my mouth) created an exquisite fine dining experience.

School of Rock at Winter Garden Theater was, quite simply, rocked an amazing performance!

There is always time for a sample of chocolate before calling it a night. After walking another 50 something blocks today--about half of that in a pair of adorable black heels--I actually deserve it. [wink]

I am always unsure what the consequences of today will be tomorrow, physically speaking. Yet, time and time again I tell myself that the adventure outweighs the cost of pain.

Day 1: Fasten My Seatbelt

Today I embarked on a journey I have dreamt of taking my entire life: scale the sights of New York City. My excitement, sprinkled with fear, has me curious how my Multiple Sclerosis will handle the task of walking along the loud, crowded streets under hot temperatures and high humidity. Only time will reveal.

Until then, staring down the plane seat in front of me, I will heed the sound advice to sit back, fasten my seat belt, and taste The Big Apple adventure!

CONTINUATION:

With less than a 30 minute lay-over, there was absolutely no time to browse the St. Paul/Minneapolis airport after landing. Arriving at the tail end of Gate F16 required a brisk walk through three concourses to clear the departure for LaGuardia at Gate C8. Barely had time for a quick potty break before boarding, but it could not be compromised (whew!). Fastened in my seat belt for the second time, I took a couple deep breaths, then giggled at the world's tiniest pretzel sitting on my snack tray.

Why, thank you!

Fastened for the third time in my first New York taxi seat belt. What a thrill!

First site to see, after eating a slice of New York pizza from The Original Little Italy on 42nd Street in Manhattan, was my own personal slice of heaven, also known as The New York Public Library (NYPL). The declaration etched in the granite above the Beauty and Truth fountain on the face of the extraordinary building really resonated with me, "But above all things, truth beareth away the victory." Ahhh. So, beautiful; so full of truth.

An underlying theme of "Ghostbusters" actually guided my ventures today. The movie oozes New York sentiment. The iconic opening scene takes place in the Rose Reading Room of NYPL. I was prepared to hike three flights of countless marble stairs to spend quality time gazing in amazement at the detailed architecture. Unfortunately, that room and the Bill Blass Public Catalog Room are currently closed for restoration.

Refusing to step away too disappointed (not even possible), I scoured the Lionel Pincus and Princess Firyal Map Division, thumbed through geneological records in the Milstein Division, then bought a few trinkets in the gift shop.

The Upper West Side tower where Dana (Gatekeeper) and Louis (Keymaster) live in the movie was visible during a carriage ride through Central Park. Then, I was so intrigued hearing the real history of Tavern on the Green that I failed to get a snapshot of it. *sigh*

Day one is drawing to a close. The city never sleeps, and rarely do I. My nostrils smell fried nerves and my legs are nearing the border of cramping. With walking several hours at a fast, steady pace across the distance of a lengthy airport, up numerous flights of stairs, and over 50 uneven city block sidewalks, my foot drop kicked in as I rounded the corner to the hotel. But, tonight I chose not to fasten my seat belt because it will take more than one stumble on the edge of a broken cement slab to keep me from taking another bite of The Big Apple and moving about the cabin.

(The Day After) World MS Day

I failed to post my two cent blog in honor of World MS Day (yesterday). The theme this year was Independence. And that is exactly what I was doing: enjoying what limited independence remains within me.

I walked down the road to visit with an older widow who shared some inspiring conversation; I helped my youngest daughter move furniture; I ate a Ham and Swiss sub at the new Blimpie in town; I grocery shopped; I accompanied my children to the park, then treated them to a Baskin-Robbins ice cream afterward; and I watched a late-night movie with my family. All good things. But, my favorite part of the day was engaging in some physical activity.

What may seem light to most is now a grave challenge for me: playing tennis. Summer recreation programs in my youth taught me the basics. And through the years I have come to appreciate the simplicity of a casual match (I even took a tennis class in college). But the past couple weeks have actually proven how empowering playing tennis can be for my psyche. Who knew?

Each game begins with my undivided attention. My concentration is focused. I backhand, I forehand, I shuffle here, I zip over there, I scurry across the court to make contact; I am in the zone. I win a few, but mostly lose. Scores don't matter. Not anymore.

My oldest son is a true athlete on the baseball field, but he is the super champ maneuvering across the court from me. His skill level increases while mine rapidly decreases. Yet, his patience with me knows no bounds. I am notably the laughing stock, so my success on the court is measured in giggles.

Tennis is downright fun!

By the end of the set, I am stumbling over my own feet, sizzling from every synapse, and slurring my words. The cog-fog is immeasurable. Guaranteed, I will twitch through the night, plus have difficulty walking or breathing the day after. But the time spent with fine company on the court is worth every crippling result.

And that, my friends, is a game, set, match.

Fried Nerves

Quite often, I smell wood burning. Whether I am chilling at home, playing at the park, or riding in my car on a road trip, I smell wood burning as if I'm sitting alongside a blazing campfire. It can get rather bothersome. Oddly, no other person smells it. And since there is no smoke, no fire, no wood burning among my external surroundings to account for it, I can only conclude the explanation to be internal: I am smelling fried nerves.

*sigh*

My Sworn Enemy

Clothing is my sworn enemy. The dreaded thought of slipping my legs inside a pair of denim jeans makes me cringe on buckled knees. The MS itch was something I had only read about, until recently, when I began experiencing first-hand the stinging itch mysteriously creeping along my shins, like a vine crawling up a trellis. It is a neurological reaction with no rhyme, no reason, nor pattern to its flare. No scratch can yet calm it.

An added bonus is the chronic pain throbbing deep within each synovial sac, spanning the stretch of every joint from neck to toe tips, which causes major discomfort when anything touches or brushes against the epidermal layers of my limbs.

Easy-flowing maxi skirts and soft-blend loose shirts tend to rule my wardrobe these days, but I must brainstorm a new line of fashionable apparel which my skin cannot detect. I'll have to brand it MStry Wear...