Let's Do This

This blog exists for two reasons: to encourage me to flex my writing muscles and to share a little about what life MS is like . . . for me, at least. I'll document fun procedures like bladder Botox injections, share some of my Strategies for Success (Neal's coinage, which is accurate but somewhat gag-worthy), review various stores' mobility scooters, and bitch just a little.

A word of warning: there will be candor. If you'd rather think of me as a classy lady who'd never discuss her own bodily functions, please do not follow this blog. (Also, clearly we haven't met.) If you can take the occasional overshare, do join me on this journey. 

The coolest borrowed scooter ever - at Zealandia in Wellington, New Zealand.

Location: Washington, DC, USA

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Totally Not Defying Gravity: In Which We Learn About Life from the Perspective of the Fallen

Image
I fall down. A lot. As you can read here , there are many reasons why people with MS have trouble walking. Me, I experience foot drop on my left side, which causes me to trip over my own feet. My balance isn't great, nor is my energy. All of that plus a habit of moving too fast and pushing too hard means plenty of falling. Usually it’s a simple toe-caught-on-the-uneven sidewalk sort of thing. Or maybe a changed-directions-too-quickly-at-home collapse. Or a it’s-3am-and-I-forgot-our-bedroom-has a-step-in-it spill. (Yes, our bedroom has a step in it. I know, I know.) Whenever/wherever/however I fall, my first thought is always the quickest of body scans before my mind races to witnesses and how to appease them. I spend significantly more time worrying about ensuring that those around me are okay with what has happened and minimizing their embarrassment than I do about my own welfare. Maybe it’s a lady thing. Maybe it’s a Rebecca thing. It’s just what I do. Tuesday morning I wal
Read more

Diagnosis, Part Two (Electric Boogaloo): In Which a Diagnosis *Is* Given (Spoiler: It's MS!)

Image
Special thanks to archivist David Wise for providing me with the primary source material at the end of this post.  The months between my initial appointment with Dr. Van Damme and my diagnosis on April 23, 2004 are largely a blur. I believe I left his cramped, speculum-filled office with a referral to the cleverly-named Neurology Center, conveniently located on the 2100 block of K Street, where I worked. I was assigned to Dr. Wei, an unassuming gentleman who introduced me to the battery of neurological exams I have participated in biannually since then like some sort of frequent, unathletic Olympics. Touch your nose – touch this pen. Does this feel sharp? Stand on one foot (they don’t ask me to do that anymore). Push up with your elbows; don’t let me push down. What number do you see? He also performed a very simple test – running a blunt, pointed instrument along the bottom of my foot – that I later learned was a sign that something was wrong with my central nervou
Read more