To Ponder

Why does the transfer of energy, especially warmth radiated through another person's touch, cause me electric shocks when I am on the verge of twitching?

Six Days In, Three Days Out

It felt like 220 Volts of electricity rapidly surged through the length of my 5'2" stature: the worst episode in months!

After a lengthy hiatus from regular physical exercise, I returned to the West Y for a regimen of cardio activity, combined with alternating days of lower- and upper-body conditioning. Six days in, I reached my target heart rate for the ultimate lipid bake. My breathing stayed smooth and my muscles remained unwearied; I sighed an accomplished relief at workout's end.

Smile.

And then...

(What was suppose to be) a relaxing, hot shower--in preparation for a fine dinner at Pad Thai that same night--sent the bathroom twirling in a vertigo dance of delusion: the heat, the water stream, the slippery soap all swirled into a single entity across the walls as my hands stumbled to turn the shower knob to the "off" position (oh, what irony!).  My struggled breathing, dizziness, and bobbling eyeballs left me in a state of complete exhaustion when my vision finally returned to a blurred focus.

Dinner was delicious, but cluster migraines settled as I remained partially immobile and disconnected from reality for the next three days. Some might argue that I became a permanent fixture on the loft sofa while watching mostly 80's chick-flicks and The Middle episodes (don't judge).

Three days out was simply the calm before a raging storm.

When I returned to the gym yesterday, I purposefully performed an easy, low-impact/low-intensity cardio drill on the treadmill: walk programmed rolling hills, ranging from 2.8-3.2 incline at a 3.0 speed.

Perfect.

(Not).

Lying in bed last night, my internal temperature seemingly dropped as if my nerves took a vacation to the Arctic Tundra. I was ice cold. My body shivered, my teeth chattered, I began to smell fried nerves, and my cognition quickly failed. When my limbs went completely numb, I slowly hobbled down the hallway and retired to the loft sofa once again. I wrapped myself in the security of the super soft MS quilt my aunt made me, then I checked the time on the clock. My body continued to shiver, quiver, and twitch uncontrollably for 40 minutes.

Solely based on my limited knowledge of hyperactivity, I would suspect that I encountered a faux myoclonic seizure.

Fun Summer Days!

It was a fun week with my Li'l Guy! We splashed for hours in the Lakeview Water Park, ate delicious theater popcorn during Dollar Day double feature at Overland Park Cinema, walked the dirt paths to learn about various fish and wildlife at the MK Nature Center, drank ice cold Coca~Cola from a glass bottle to complement our peach tacos at Tin Roof, painted rocks, and giggled...a whole bunch!

But all our fun came with a hefty price of heat exhaustion, nightly body twitches, fatigue and nausea. Ahhh, yes. One must inevitably pay the MS piper.

So. Worth. It.

No Exit Point

My brain activity races at lightening speed, yet the signals are not exactly making it to their designated destinations. They zip, zap, and ricochet around the membrane walls, which makes for highly congested pathways, sending jammed ideas into rapid circular motion. The signals quickly become trapped, with no exit point.

I often picture my brain activity like Clark Griswold in the movie National Lampoon's European Vacation, repeatedly circling the roundabout, "Hey, kids. Look! There's Big Ben! Parliament!" And by sundown, his once calm, chipper demeanor reaches frantic, looney bin status...

World MS Day

"Life with MS" is capricious.  On a daily basis, the legions of lesions which infest my brain offer any painful variation of cognitive function distortion, dampened mobility, and/or skewed fine motor capacity.

I often miss the ability I once possessed to perform as a competitive-level figure skater and skilled pianist. Now I give three cheers if I make it through a 24-hour period without 1) slamming into the wall as I round a corner or 2) dropping everything I try to grasp.

Embracing this new version of me is not a simple task because most days my existence is seemingly refined to being an antiquated neurological scribble.

Difficult Day

The most difficult part of my day (on a physical level) ranges from mid-morning to early evening, but can often include the wee hours, rounding back into the following late night...and everything in between.

Charming Bracelets

In honor of Multiple Sclerosis Awareness, I created a few charm bracelets to display along my left wrist throughout the month of March. One is a bangle, another an orange glass beaded, and lastly a chain with stamped lettering (a new metal working addiction I recently discovered).

When I finished the orange beaded bracelet, something kept swirling around and pinging my brain until I finally realized I made a charm placement mistake. The nagging simply would not end until I sat down and remade it correctly. Now I am able to rest easy.

Making charming bracelets sheds light on two prime points of my life according to MS:

1. Concentration levels are exhausted while utilizing fine motor skills to maneuver small items--such as beads, tools, and charms--because signals sent from my brain to fingers are often disconnected due to permanent nerve damage. Yet, this type of regular Motor Skill Therapy (or, what I term MS Therapy) becomes imperative for me to maintain proper function.
2. Cognitive dysfunction can interfere with even the simplest task, and may take minutes or even days to resolve.

So, I essentially become master of my inadequate "silly hands" with each bracelet I create.

I also discovered that mixing them together is not only adorable, but draws more attention and doubles awareness to Stay MS Strong!

My Constant Companion

"That was scary!" I instantly jumped with a spark that shot up my spine and pierced through my heart. My eyes blinked. Nearly immovable, it took a brief moment for me to realize I was still breathing, still alive. Sleep unsettled, hestitantly I slouched back into the comfort of my pillow and cautiously wound my way to Dreamland.

In the light of day, cognition fogged as I clumsily trampled among familiar mundane motions, yet most remain unremembered.

At last evening, sitting alongside the dinner table, ready to spoon a bite of food, vision compromised as my left eye smeared over with complete blindness.

*Sigh*

Multiple Sclerosis. My constant companion; my common foe.