Belated Happy World MS Day! (In Which I Give Tips for Surviving MS)

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On Being An Only: In Which I Examine Life As the Sole Disabled Person in the Room

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A nice/terrible thing about living with MS is that it's often invisible. As mentioned in previous blogs, the occasional incontinence mishap can be a private hell, which is indeed a hell but is at least private. Fatigue is similar. A common complaint of people with MS is people saying, "But you look so good!" If you're vain like me, you tend to focus on the "look so good!" bit. Still, when others focus on the outside, the inside feels diminished. Disregarded. And that can hurt. In some ways, it was a relief when I began using a cane regularly. It's a sign to the outside world that says, "Hey, this person is different." The general public doesn't always notice that sign, but, even when I'm not shown the courtesy I'd like, when something goes wrong--a dropped glass, a stumble--folks see the cane and think "well, sure." I've moved with an M-acceSsory* for a long time, and I've often thought about how I am perceived. ...
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Stumbling Towards Ecstasy: In Which I Say Orgasm A Lot

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I learned about sex under the geodesic monkey bars at A. Brian Merry Elementary School in the first grade. My friend Brandy* stood amid a rapt group of girls, telling us what she's read in a book she found in her parents' bedroom. I was shocked. Surely no one would ever do that. Surely my parents would never do that. Ew ew ew. I got over it relatively quickly. In middle school an article in Glamour led me to my first, accidental orgasm, and, once I got over the initial shock (because, really, who is prepared for that first one?), I was a fan. No need to go into details here--I sorted out what worked for me and happily took things from there. As I got older, articles about women that were unable to achieve orgasm would cross my path occasionally and I'd wonder who these poor people were, thinking fondly of my bedtime triple from the previous night. Even the fumblings of inexperienced boys could usually get me where I wanted to be. In college I joked that if you looked at...
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A View from the Trough: In Which I Contradict the Notion That I Am an Inspiration

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Two months ago, a knot developed in my right lower back, just above my glutes. There it has stayed in spite of massages, heating pads, and stretching. Bending over both hurts and is a bit dangerous, so I've stopped doing it. Dropped things remain dropped until Neal retrieves them. Portrait of the artist after getting her own breakfast plate. I am a mess. There is shit all over my house. Each room has two to four items on the floor -- discarded clothes, a rogue noodle, an eyebrow comb, a tampon that leapt from its cabinet like a story from the "It happened to me!" section of YM magazine, etc. As I type, I wear a bra attached by a single hook (which took four attempts). I pulled my hoodie on backwards initially, leaving me briefly blind and disoriented. My legs ache. It's a soft ache, humming along my IT bands and pulsing quietly in my calves and ass. I'm no stranger to MS-related discomfort, but I'm not used to hurting. Walking is awkwarder tha...
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