One of the things you hear a lot about when you're becoming familiar with MS is that fatigue is one of the most debilitating aspects of the disease. The stories are true, as it turns out. There are days when I never quite seem to wake up. It's as if I get stuck in that just-woke-up-and-still-groggy phase of the day. Having enough sleep doesn't seem to matter - I can sleep for 8, 9, or 12 hours and still be stuck in that phase. As with so many neurological symptoms, we don't quite have a vocabulary to describe it. It's a feeling of being tired, yes, but it's not a normal feeling of being tired. There are at least two kinds - the "I want to go back to bed" kind and the "I'm plenty alert, it just takes way too much energy to lift my arm" kind. And there are nuances to both.
When I've talked about how it manifests with me to friends, they respond with alarm. What, it's a bad idea to rest my eyes when stopped in traffic? It's not as if I'm actually driving with my eyes closed (hardly ever).
Enter Provigil. My neurologist mentioned it to me as a possibility back in June, and said that if I decided I needed it I could just call it in, wouldn't need an appointment or anything. I resisted for half a year, but at my appointment a few days ago, I went ahead and asked for the prescription. I had more or less decided I wanted it a little while ago, but when I actually fell asleep at my desk the day before, that cinched it. Wow - what a difference it makes. I've been resistant because I don't like to rely on pharmaceuticals any more than I have to, and I worry about the long-term effects of medication. I'm all too aware that bombarding my body with strong chemicals is a risky proposition, even if they do make me feel better in the short-term.
I haven't lost that awareness, I've just given in. It really does make so many things much easier. Like staying alert while driving, for example. And getting through a day. And getting through a karate class. The second half of last week, I really felt like I was able to actually put some energy into my training, for the first time in I don't know how long.
The side effects aren't bad - dry mouth, a medicated feeling. I can tell I'm on something, and it does feel a little like speed. It's not clear to me whether I have more energy than I did when I was "normal" (not like I've ever been normal - but, you know, not diseased), or if I've just become so accustomed to dragging myself through every day that 'normalcy' now bears an uncanny resemblance to 'speed freak.'
Provigil is not habit-forming, which I take some solace in. From an objective viewpoint, I'd rather not take it. But from an experiential standpoint, it's quite wonderful. For the past 6 months or so I haven't wanted to do much of anything - a perfect vacation, to me, was to stay home on the couch. Except that too much of that inevitably left me feeling depressed. With Provigil I actually feel like going out, spending time with friends, experiencing more of the world. Small tasks like cleaning the kitchen (to say nothing of actually leaving the house) are no longer overwhelming.
So, here I am. I've resigned myself to taking Provigil, at least some of the time. At least I don't have to inject it, and I can skip a day without guilt - neither of which is true for my other drug, the "disease modifying drug" called Copaxone - which will do nothing for my symptoms, but may keep me out of a wheelchair in the long-term.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Oh My God, Y'all, I Wrote a Novel
Thanks to the prodding of a friend of mine, I decided to try my hand at writing fiction this month for the first time in - oh, years. For those of you not in the know, November is NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month (nanowrimo.org if you're interested). The goal is to write a "lengthy work of fiction" totalling at least 50,000 words in a month.
I did it! 50,000 words is a rather short novel, and mine came in around 58 - 59k (depending on whose word count you believe), but still. It's 82 single-spaced pages, with a few page breaks that may one day be chapter breaks. I haven't read it - I mean, I wrote it, and I've read snatches of it to go back and check details that I put in earlier, but I haven't read it from end-to-end yet. And I don't plan to anytime soon. Everything I've read about editing suggests that you should put it down for a while and come back to it when it can be fresh again, so that's my plan. I imagine it will grow quite a bit, since I did a lot of telling rather than showing, and I'm sure there will be further elaborations. There's also a sub-plot I came up with near the end that I'll need to work in earlier in the editing phase, so I have high hopes that it will actually turn out to be novel-length by the time it's all said and done. And, hopefully, publishable. But those chickens, they are not yet hatched.
Of course, it's about karate. But it's also about hauntings and priests and psychotic cowboys.
I think this is the longest work I've ever done. As I recall, my undergraduate thesis was around 100 pages, but it was also in Courier New, which is a typeface that takes up more space than Times New Roman. It's definitely up in the top two, if nothing else.
I did it! 50,000 words is a rather short novel, and mine came in around 58 - 59k (depending on whose word count you believe), but still. It's 82 single-spaced pages, with a few page breaks that may one day be chapter breaks. I haven't read it - I mean, I wrote it, and I've read snatches of it to go back and check details that I put in earlier, but I haven't read it from end-to-end yet. And I don't plan to anytime soon. Everything I've read about editing suggests that you should put it down for a while and come back to it when it can be fresh again, so that's my plan. I imagine it will grow quite a bit, since I did a lot of telling rather than showing, and I'm sure there will be further elaborations. There's also a sub-plot I came up with near the end that I'll need to work in earlier in the editing phase, so I have high hopes that it will actually turn out to be novel-length by the time it's all said and done. And, hopefully, publishable. But those chickens, they are not yet hatched.
Of course, it's about karate. But it's also about hauntings and priests and psychotic cowboys.
I think this is the longest work I've ever done. As I recall, my undergraduate thesis was around 100 pages, but it was also in Courier New, which is a typeface that takes up more space than Times New Roman. It's definitely up in the top two, if nothing else.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Amy's Back in Austin
I got back from Berkeley late Sunday night. I always pay close attention to how I feel when I return home after a trip - I feel like it provides a nice barometer for how I'm feeling about my life in general. I didn't have a window seat on the plane, so I wasn't able to watch the Austin skyline as we approached, so my first feeling of being back was as I walked through the airport.
I love the Austin airport, because instead of anonymous airport-chain stores and Burger Kings, it's got BookPeople, and Amy's Ice Cream, and The Salt Lick - it's a nice little (retail) microcosm of Austin itself. I distinctly remember walking through the airport once and hearing a song by Wendy Colonna - a local musician who I went to college with. And as I walked through on Sunday night, I felt like Austin fit me quite well. Not that I'm a big barbecue fan, necessarily. It's more that Austin, like me, defiantly labels itself "weird" while surrounded by...well, by Dallas and Houston, for starters. By the south generally. And it's proudly progressive in a state (and a region) that is decidedly conservative. We don't have it easy like Northern California, where pretty much half the state agrees with us - you don't have to get far from Austin to be back in Texas, if you get my meaning. And Austin *is* Texas, in the same way that I am a product of my rural Louisiana upbringing. We celebrate our heritage and its uniqueness, while cleaving ferociously to our progressive, weird outlook. Overly romanticized? Maybe. But that's me - and that's Austin, too.
To bring this around to karate, while I was in Berkeley I got to train at Berkeley Seido. It was a lot of fun, even though there was the whole "I don't know any of these people!" discomfort, as well as the "I'm wrapping a black belt around my waist, I must reprezent!" discomfort. One of the gifts of my training is that I can face those fears, even if they are still fears. And to prove that it's a small world after all, as I'm changing into my gi, one of the guys says from over the partition, "You're from Austin? You ever go to the Magnolia Cafe?" Turns out he used to work there, for a short time while he lived in Austin in the early 90s. Too early for him to have been able to train at Sun Dragon (Sun Dragon being all-women back then). Maybe that's why he didn't stick around (he only lived here for about 6 months).
The class was fun. It was smallish - there were two black belts (not counting myself), two blue belts, a yellow belt, and a brown belt - all adults, and a brand new white belt who seemed around 8. I believe she was the daughter of one of the black belts (the one who lived in Austin, in fact). We did a lot of push ups. Then we did some more. Push ups (and ab work) were interspersed with kihon, including some combinations. Then we went through all 10 basic self defenses, and I learned the first advanced self defense, and got to see the 2nd one. W00t! Then kata - first taikioku (black belts: ura), and the Seido kata - through 5, though I only did the first 4. After class we did what was apparently a routine post-class soji, where we each got a towel and wiped the floor, from end to end. And then back. I've seen this done before, but never participated in it. It's a nice tradition.
The gender mix was interesting - the yellow belt was a woman (Karen), from Honbu - visiting but thinking of moving to Berkeley/the Bay Area for a medical residency (she was in her last semester of med school). The brown belt was a woman - she was Senpai Todd's wife (he's the head instructor). And the little girl was a girl. Of course, the whole class was only 7 people, so it's not like it was overwhelmingly male. It was only after the fact that I noticed that all of the women there were either a)visiting, or b)related to one of the men there. I know intellectually that martial arts is male-dominated, but that's so not the case at Sun Dragon that I tend to forget it. And then my primary recent experience of a co-ed dojo is Thousand Waves, which has a strong male contingent, but still a little over half women. I enjoy training with men, and it's not like I think Sun Dragon should still be all-women - I just wish there were as many women as men in the martial arts, and I actually find it surprising that that's not the case. I'm a product of my environment, I guess.
By the way, the title of this entry is a reference to the country song of the same name.
The first two lines of the chorus are:
I bet Amy's back in Austin/
Working at La Zona Rosa Cafe
...I'm not working at La Zona Rosa, which is not a cafe (it's a bar). But they got the first part right...
I love the Austin airport, because instead of anonymous airport-chain stores and Burger Kings, it's got BookPeople, and Amy's Ice Cream, and The Salt Lick - it's a nice little (retail) microcosm of Austin itself. I distinctly remember walking through the airport once and hearing a song by Wendy Colonna - a local musician who I went to college with. And as I walked through on Sunday night, I felt like Austin fit me quite well. Not that I'm a big barbecue fan, necessarily. It's more that Austin, like me, defiantly labels itself "weird" while surrounded by...well, by Dallas and Houston, for starters. By the south generally. And it's proudly progressive in a state (and a region) that is decidedly conservative. We don't have it easy like Northern California, where pretty much half the state agrees with us - you don't have to get far from Austin to be back in Texas, if you get my meaning. And Austin *is* Texas, in the same way that I am a product of my rural Louisiana upbringing. We celebrate our heritage and its uniqueness, while cleaving ferociously to our progressive, weird outlook. Overly romanticized? Maybe. But that's me - and that's Austin, too.
To bring this around to karate, while I was in Berkeley I got to train at Berkeley Seido. It was a lot of fun, even though there was the whole "I don't know any of these people!" discomfort, as well as the "I'm wrapping a black belt around my waist, I must reprezent!" discomfort. One of the gifts of my training is that I can face those fears, even if they are still fears. And to prove that it's a small world after all, as I'm changing into my gi, one of the guys says from over the partition, "You're from Austin? You ever go to the Magnolia Cafe?" Turns out he used to work there, for a short time while he lived in Austin in the early 90s. Too early for him to have been able to train at Sun Dragon (Sun Dragon being all-women back then). Maybe that's why he didn't stick around (he only lived here for about 6 months).
The class was fun. It was smallish - there were two black belts (not counting myself), two blue belts, a yellow belt, and a brown belt - all adults, and a brand new white belt who seemed around 8. I believe she was the daughter of one of the black belts (the one who lived in Austin, in fact). We did a lot of push ups. Then we did some more. Push ups (and ab work) were interspersed with kihon, including some combinations. Then we went through all 10 basic self defenses, and I learned the first advanced self defense, and got to see the 2nd one. W00t! Then kata - first taikioku (black belts: ura), and the Seido kata - through 5, though I only did the first 4. After class we did what was apparently a routine post-class soji, where we each got a towel and wiped the floor, from end to end. And then back. I've seen this done before, but never participated in it. It's a nice tradition.
The gender mix was interesting - the yellow belt was a woman (Karen), from Honbu - visiting but thinking of moving to Berkeley/the Bay Area for a medical residency (she was in her last semester of med school). The brown belt was a woman - she was Senpai Todd's wife (he's the head instructor). And the little girl was a girl. Of course, the whole class was only 7 people, so it's not like it was overwhelmingly male. It was only after the fact that I noticed that all of the women there were either a)visiting, or b)related to one of the men there. I know intellectually that martial arts is male-dominated, but that's so not the case at Sun Dragon that I tend to forget it. And then my primary recent experience of a co-ed dojo is Thousand Waves, which has a strong male contingent, but still a little over half women. I enjoy training with men, and it's not like I think Sun Dragon should still be all-women - I just wish there were as many women as men in the martial arts, and I actually find it surprising that that's not the case. I'm a product of my environment, I guess.
By the way, the title of this entry is a reference to the country song of the same name.
The first two lines of the chorus are:
I bet Amy's back in Austin/
Working at La Zona Rosa Cafe
...I'm not working at La Zona Rosa, which is not a cafe (it's a bar). But they got the first part right...
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Rapides Parish and Me
So, I finally got around to calling today to find how much I was going to be set back for my little run in with the law back when I went to Jena. Turns out that going 56 in a 45 in a construction zone in Rapides Parish will cost you $182. Which is more than I want to pay, of course, but it's a lot less than I feared. I don't think Louisiana is one of those states that actually doubles speeding tickets if you're in a construction zone, it's just higher. I have a sneaking suspicion that had it been in Texas, it would have been closer to $500.
Sometimes being in a place that's been economically depressed since the time of Lincoln has its advantages. Especially when you don't have to live there. Of course, I'm within $50 of paying three times as much rent for my apartment than I did for the (relatively) huge two bedroom house I rented in Natchitoches. But then, that house has probably been condemned by now. It was there that I discovered that dish washing detergent can actually freeze overnight.
One other thing I like about the Louisiana traffic-ticket system: you get 6 weeks to pay your ticket or show up in court. Though I blame that little luxury for the time I spent as a fugitive from the law a couple of years ago when I missed my Houston court date, and ended up having to hire one of those skeevy lawyers that send you mail when you miss a court date and become a fugitive from the law.
Sometimes being in a place that's been economically depressed since the time of Lincoln has its advantages. Especially when you don't have to live there. Of course, I'm within $50 of paying three times as much rent for my apartment than I did for the (relatively) huge two bedroom house I rented in Natchitoches. But then, that house has probably been condemned by now. It was there that I discovered that dish washing detergent can actually freeze overnight.
One other thing I like about the Louisiana traffic-ticket system: you get 6 weeks to pay your ticket or show up in court. Though I blame that little luxury for the time I spent as a fugitive from the law a couple of years ago when I missed my Houston court date, and ended up having to hire one of those skeevy lawyers that send you mail when you miss a court date and become a fugitive from the law.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Big Pharma Wants to Be My Friend, and I Find That Creepy
Yesterday on my way to class, Shared Solutions called me. Shared Solutions is the name of the "support" arm of the company that makes my MS drugs.
Think about that for a minute, and tell me you don't find it sinister. I suppose it's slightly less sinister because MS has no cure, so it's not like they need to worry about keeping me sick. But it still strikes me as somehow very wrong that a company whose main interest in me is that I pay them (or more accurately, my insurance company pays them) $1000+ a month wants to be my buddy.
I'm not bothered by the idea of the 24 hour nurse line - that's useful (at least potentially, I've never used it), and it strikes me as good customer service to provide that. And it doesn't bother me that they encourage their customers to report on odd effects - "post market research," as it's called, is important, since nobody thinks we should wait a lifetime to do a full longitudinal study before releasing drugs to the market, and yet it's important to know the effects of drugs long-term.
But that they call periodically, just to check on me? Creepy. Like, I want my friends in Charleston and San Jose and [wherever Harper is now, I have no idea] to do that, because they're my *friends*. But my drug company? Mind your own, please. I'll call you if I need you.
Think about that for a minute, and tell me you don't find it sinister. I suppose it's slightly less sinister because MS has no cure, so it's not like they need to worry about keeping me sick. But it still strikes me as somehow very wrong that a company whose main interest in me is that I pay them (or more accurately, my insurance company pays them) $1000+ a month wants to be my buddy.
I'm not bothered by the idea of the 24 hour nurse line - that's useful (at least potentially, I've never used it), and it strikes me as good customer service to provide that. And it doesn't bother me that they encourage their customers to report on odd effects - "post market research," as it's called, is important, since nobody thinks we should wait a lifetime to do a full longitudinal study before releasing drugs to the market, and yet it's important to know the effects of drugs long-term.
But that they call periodically, just to check on me? Creepy. Like, I want my friends in Charleston and San Jose and [wherever Harper is now, I have no idea] to do that, because they're my *friends*. But my drug company? Mind your own, please. I'll call you if I need you.
Shodan Test: Done!
So, Saturday happened. For those of you following along, that would be Saturday, October 20th. The day of my shodan test. I suppose my black belt in Kyokushin was also a shodan, but because we didn't observe rank above black belt, it didn't really occur to me to call it that. Also, since we didn't observe the dan system, I wasn't sure what the names of the different dans were. But now I'm hip. And I have a shodan in Seido, which is pretty damn cool. The test was awesome, which is really not a suprise but is good to savor nonethless. I've gushed in various forums already, but what the heck, I'll gush a little bit more here. I am so damn thankful that Sun Dragon exists, and that it's taken the path that it has. It really, truly, makes my life so much better. I know this because I still remember my life pre-Sun Dragon, and not to get too overdramatic about it, but there's really no comparison. It's not a magic pill or a panacea, but it has given me both a wonderful, supportive community and the mental/emotional tools to take better advantage of that community, as well as to just be in the world much more courageously. Oh, and having some modicum of physical prowess is also nice.
Ok, enough of the mush. The test was 5 hours long, which was satisfyingly draining. We were put through our paces starting with basics, and going through self defense, both formal and informal, sparring drills (Yakosokus), kata, and surely lots more than that because that doesn't seem like it could take 5 hours. One of my weaknesses is that I don't tend to remember events, especially emotionally-charged events, all that well. Speaking of emotionally-charged, the test started with an oral portion. During which I cried. I sort of knew I would - I was taken by surprise by my tears at my Sensei's test back in April, but with that experience etched in my memory, I figured it would happen again.
Do I contradict myself? Then I contradict myself. I contain multitudes.
Anyway, yes, I cried, which I don't enjoy because it's embarrassing, and I like to think of myself as being made of sterner stuff. But really I'm a total softie. Which is not entirely bad, I guess, for one's emotional health. Still. I didn't wholly enjoy that part, but at least I was prepared for it.
My mom came to the test, which was good. She'd never seen me train before, much less test. I am not what one would call close to my family (though that's beginning to change a little bit). I think she enjoyed it - she said her favorite part was the board breaking. Oh! There was also a board breaking section. I used a shotei, which is a palm heel (before I started training in the martial arts, it never occurred to me that your palm has a heel just like your foot does). The thing with board breaking is that it's totally a mental thing. Well, not totally, obviously - but the point is that it's not that hard to break a board as long as you commit, but if you go in thinking it's going to hurt or otherwise not sure of your success, you probably won't be able to do it. That also tends to be true with rolling and falling, in my experience. So anyway, when we'd done some breaking in class a couple of weeks prior, I'd had mixed success, mainly because I didn't want to get hurt. This time, though, I sort of figured that it didn't matter if I got hurt, because I was at the test, and if I had an injury afterwards it wasn't that big a deal. Of course, I also knew that I wouldn't hurt myself if I committed, so I wasn't actually scared of it. I was just psyching myself up, but that's how I phrased it in my mind. I broke on the first try, which was gratifying.
There was also a portion where we had to run a gauntlet, with lots of punching and kicking. The gauntlet was made of various karateka holding pads and targets. It wasn't technically hard, since it was free-form, do-whatever-comes-to-mind, but it was perhaps the most tiring section in terms of cardio-vascular demands. It's also the only time I noticed anything MS-related during the test. My left leg started doing its burning/unhappy thing. I grabbed the wall (and at one point, Senpai KJ) to take the weight off of it and let it rest for a few moments, and that subdued it enough that I was able to continue with modifications. So, yay for that.
I could probably go on and on about the test, and might still in future posts, but that's all I'll say for now. The party following was also a bunch of fun. My mom decided not to go, because she didn't particularly feel like being surrounded by people she didn't know, and I can't say I blame her for that. I actually was one of the first to arrive (right around 7) and one of the last to leave (around midnight). That's not all that typical for me, but the people there were just so good to be around, and I felt like celebrating - even if I did a lot of that celebrating sitting down. Rarely has sitting felt so good. It was especially nice to be able to spend time around Sensei Suzanne and Shihan Nancy, since I see both of them rarely - and you know, they kick ass. But it was also just as nice to just be able to hang out with my karateka in a social setting. There used to be more Sun Dragon parties - for a while there, we had pretty much every month covered as far as birthdays went. January was Joy and Mahala, February was Harper, March was Carmel, April was Miriam, May was Beth, June was me. Ok, that's just the first 6 months, after which I guess we all went to bed early until December and KJ's birthday. Now people have moved away, gotten married, stopped training, or otherwise turned boring, for the most part. But I have hope! For Cindy is having a birthday party soon, so maybe this'll start another run (no pressure, Cindy).
Ok, that's all for now.
Ok, enough of the mush. The test was 5 hours long, which was satisfyingly draining. We were put through our paces starting with basics, and going through self defense, both formal and informal, sparring drills (Yakosokus), kata, and surely lots more than that because that doesn't seem like it could take 5 hours. One of my weaknesses is that I don't tend to remember events, especially emotionally-charged events, all that well. Speaking of emotionally-charged, the test started with an oral portion. During which I cried. I sort of knew I would - I was taken by surprise by my tears at my Sensei's test back in April, but with that experience etched in my memory, I figured it would happen again.
Do I contradict myself? Then I contradict myself. I contain multitudes.
Anyway, yes, I cried, which I don't enjoy because it's embarrassing, and I like to think of myself as being made of sterner stuff. But really I'm a total softie. Which is not entirely bad, I guess, for one's emotional health. Still. I didn't wholly enjoy that part, but at least I was prepared for it.
My mom came to the test, which was good. She'd never seen me train before, much less test. I am not what one would call close to my family (though that's beginning to change a little bit). I think she enjoyed it - she said her favorite part was the board breaking. Oh! There was also a board breaking section. I used a shotei, which is a palm heel (before I started training in the martial arts, it never occurred to me that your palm has a heel just like your foot does). The thing with board breaking is that it's totally a mental thing. Well, not totally, obviously - but the point is that it's not that hard to break a board as long as you commit, but if you go in thinking it's going to hurt or otherwise not sure of your success, you probably won't be able to do it. That also tends to be true with rolling and falling, in my experience. So anyway, when we'd done some breaking in class a couple of weeks prior, I'd had mixed success, mainly because I didn't want to get hurt. This time, though, I sort of figured that it didn't matter if I got hurt, because I was at the test, and if I had an injury afterwards it wasn't that big a deal. Of course, I also knew that I wouldn't hurt myself if I committed, so I wasn't actually scared of it. I was just psyching myself up, but that's how I phrased it in my mind. I broke on the first try, which was gratifying.
There was also a portion where we had to run a gauntlet, with lots of punching and kicking. The gauntlet was made of various karateka holding pads and targets. It wasn't technically hard, since it was free-form, do-whatever-comes-to-mind, but it was perhaps the most tiring section in terms of cardio-vascular demands. It's also the only time I noticed anything MS-related during the test. My left leg started doing its burning/unhappy thing. I grabbed the wall (and at one point, Senpai KJ) to take the weight off of it and let it rest for a few moments, and that subdued it enough that I was able to continue with modifications. So, yay for that.
I could probably go on and on about the test, and might still in future posts, but that's all I'll say for now. The party following was also a bunch of fun. My mom decided not to go, because she didn't particularly feel like being surrounded by people she didn't know, and I can't say I blame her for that. I actually was one of the first to arrive (right around 7) and one of the last to leave (around midnight). That's not all that typical for me, but the people there were just so good to be around, and I felt like celebrating - even if I did a lot of that celebrating sitting down. Rarely has sitting felt so good. It was especially nice to be able to spend time around Sensei Suzanne and Shihan Nancy, since I see both of them rarely - and you know, they kick ass. But it was also just as nice to just be able to hang out with my karateka in a social setting. There used to be more Sun Dragon parties - for a while there, we had pretty much every month covered as far as birthdays went. January was Joy and Mahala, February was Harper, March was Carmel, April was Miriam, May was Beth, June was me. Ok, that's just the first 6 months, after which I guess we all went to bed early until December and KJ's birthday. Now people have moved away, gotten married, stopped training, or otherwise turned boring, for the most part. But I have hope! For Cindy is having a birthday party soon, so maybe this'll start another run (no pressure, Cindy).
Ok, that's all for now.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Again with the Mouthing Off
Last night I developed a new-found appreciation for just how good of a shape I'm in. Or was in, until I got sick. Remember how in my last post I said I staved off the cold from the beginning of last week? Turns out, not so much. I was coughing on Friday enough to deepen my voice (I'm sure it was very sexy), and then on Saturday I was full-on miserable. I made it to the 10AM class that I teach, then crawled home and slept for about a zillion hours. Made it to work on Monday for all of about 3 hours. Tuesday was slightly better, and Wednesday I was at work all day!
This, plus my test next Saturday, convinced me that I was in great shape to go back to karate. I made it through the kids' class ok, and the begining of the 6:30 adult class. I worked on the 4th Yakosoku Kumite with Senpai Chad. But by the end of the 6:30 class, I was quite certain I was about to die. It had only been about 40 minutes. Usually I stay for the 7:30 class.
Usually a full 3 hours leaves me tired, but not in the 'mop the floor with me' way. Just 'good workout' tired. Getting out of my car and into my apartment last night was a monumental undertaking, though. I couldn't get over how wiped out I was.
The good news is that I have the 4th Yakosoku more or less memorized. Now I just need to drill the 6th and 7th Kihon Kumites, and the intermediate self defenses, and I think I'm in good shape. Which is good, given that I have 9 days left. Gulp.
In other news, I missed my 3rd injection ever on Tuesday night. I was just so tired, and didn't quite have the will to cause myself the pain. the other two injections I've missed were when I went to Jena, because I brought them with me but later realized that they had been exposed to 100+ degree temperatures sitting in my car all day, so it seemed like a risk to inject them, especially away from home. Also I ended up sleeping at a rest stop, and it just didn't seem right.
Saturday night, I had the most painful injection ever. This was in the throes of my sickness, remember. Man did it suck. It was an upper arm injection, and for some reason the muscle started spasming when I injected. usually, I kind of enjoy muscle spasms. They're neat. But this time it was accompanied by awful, stinging pain that lasted and lasted. I hardly ever curse when I inject anymore, so the steady stream of "fuckfuckfuck" and the grimacing and whatnot made my friend K (who was watching tv with me) rather concerned. I have three theories on why it happened:
1) Cold medicine interaction. I wouldn't expect this, but it was something unusual in my body, so I guess it's a possibility.
2) Injection was too warm. K had been, uh, keeping it warm with his posterior parts (in other words, he was sitting on it). OR
3) I missed the subcutaneous layer and injected into the muscle instead. I injected a little lower on my arm than usual, and it may have been that my subcutaneous layer was thinner there. As it is, it is my cross to bear that my arms and legs are so relatively muscular, which means a more painful injection. Luckily, my stomach and ass do not have this problem. :-/
This, plus my test next Saturday, convinced me that I was in great shape to go back to karate. I made it through the kids' class ok, and the begining of the 6:30 adult class. I worked on the 4th Yakosoku Kumite with Senpai Chad. But by the end of the 6:30 class, I was quite certain I was about to die. It had only been about 40 minutes. Usually I stay for the 7:30 class.
Usually a full 3 hours leaves me tired, but not in the 'mop the floor with me' way. Just 'good workout' tired. Getting out of my car and into my apartment last night was a monumental undertaking, though. I couldn't get over how wiped out I was.
The good news is that I have the 4th Yakosoku more or less memorized. Now I just need to drill the 6th and 7th Kihon Kumites, and the intermediate self defenses, and I think I'm in good shape. Which is good, given that I have 9 days left. Gulp.
In other news, I missed my 3rd injection ever on Tuesday night. I was just so tired, and didn't quite have the will to cause myself the pain. the other two injections I've missed were when I went to Jena, because I brought them with me but later realized that they had been exposed to 100+ degree temperatures sitting in my car all day, so it seemed like a risk to inject them, especially away from home. Also I ended up sleeping at a rest stop, and it just didn't seem right.
Saturday night, I had the most painful injection ever. This was in the throes of my sickness, remember. Man did it suck. It was an upper arm injection, and for some reason the muscle started spasming when I injected. usually, I kind of enjoy muscle spasms. They're neat. But this time it was accompanied by awful, stinging pain that lasted and lasted. I hardly ever curse when I inject anymore, so the steady stream of "fuckfuckfuck" and the grimacing and whatnot made my friend K (who was watching tv with me) rather concerned. I have three theories on why it happened:
1) Cold medicine interaction. I wouldn't expect this, but it was something unusual in my body, so I guess it's a possibility.
2) Injection was too warm. K had been, uh, keeping it warm with his posterior parts (in other words, he was sitting on it). OR
3) I missed the subcutaneous layer and injected into the muscle instead. I injected a little lower on my arm than usual, and it may have been that my subcutaneous layer was thinner there. As it is, it is my cross to bear that my arms and legs are so relatively muscular, which means a more painful injection. Luckily, my stomach and ass do not have this problem. :-/
Friday, October 5, 2007
That's What I Get for Mouthing Off
Right after (so soon after I suspect a supernatural entity with malignant intent must have been paying attention) I posted about having really good energy lately, I got sick, as in with a cold. Focused application of Airborne and icky-but-tasting-faintly-of-raspberry natural immune boosters from People's Pharmacy staved it off for the most part, but needless to say I have not had abundant energy this week.
I wonder, though, if my impending cold was enough to distract my immune system from attacking me and direct it towards, you know, doing what it's supposed to do. It's a theory - one based on only a flimsy piece of anecdotal evidence; so, nothing that would stand up in court. But a theory nonetheless.
One last gripe before I get back to work. I know I'm incredibly lucky to have symptoms as mild as I do, and I really have no room to complain. But I am so tired of not being able to do back kicks, spinning kicks, or hook kicks without almost (or actually) toppling over. These are not easy techniques, which almost makes it worse. If I couldn't do a front kick, that would clearly be because of my disease. But if I can't execute a difficult technique well, is that my disease, or is it just general incompetence? I guess ultimately it doesn't matter, the solution is the same - keep showing up, keep trying, and remember that it's not a race. Nothing to prove, etc. But it's frustrating.
I wonder, though, if my impending cold was enough to distract my immune system from attacking me and direct it towards, you know, doing what it's supposed to do. It's a theory - one based on only a flimsy piece of anecdotal evidence; so, nothing that would stand up in court. But a theory nonetheless.
One last gripe before I get back to work. I know I'm incredibly lucky to have symptoms as mild as I do, and I really have no room to complain. But I am so tired of not being able to do back kicks, spinning kicks, or hook kicks without almost (or actually) toppling over. These are not easy techniques, which almost makes it worse. If I couldn't do a front kick, that would clearly be because of my disease. But if I can't execute a difficult technique well, is that my disease, or is it just general incompetence? I guess ultimately it doesn't matter, the solution is the same - keep showing up, keep trying, and remember that it's not a race. Nothing to prove, etc. But it's frustrating.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Abundant Energy, and the Lack Thereof
One of the hallmarks of MS is the fatigue. You hear a lot that that's the most debilitating symptom. I've definitely experienced my share of fatigue - and, as with so many neurological symptoms, I'm learning that there are different kinds, there are experiences that we don't really have words for. There's the "I just want to sleep for 18 hours" kind of fatigue, and the "I'm not tired, but it takes a whole lot of energy to move" kind of fatigue.
But, for me at least, what MS taketh away it also giveth. I've had periods when I have what feels like really abundant energy. I seem to be entering one now. I had insomnia last night, and didn't get to bed until well after midnight - but I've felt really good all day, and still do. Everything is relative, of course, and it's hard to say if what feels like abundant energy now is actually what I would have considered normal 2 years ago. But I'm not complaining.
Another hallmark of MS is unpredictability - I don't know how long any given period of energy or fatigue will last. I'm just hoping I'm in a period of greater energy come October 20th, which is the date of my Seido black belt test.
But, for me at least, what MS taketh away it also giveth. I've had periods when I have what feels like really abundant energy. I seem to be entering one now. I had insomnia last night, and didn't get to bed until well after midnight - but I've felt really good all day, and still do. Everything is relative, of course, and it's hard to say if what feels like abundant energy now is actually what I would have considered normal 2 years ago. But I'm not complaining.
Another hallmark of MS is unpredictability - I don't know how long any given period of energy or fatigue will last. I'm just hoping I'm in a period of greater energy come October 20th, which is the date of my Seido black belt test.
Friday, September 21, 2007
To Jena and Back
This post will have very little to do with either MS or the martial arts. I'm putting it here because I kind of doubt I'm going to maintain one blog and I'm certainly not going to maintain two. So there you go.
I went to Jena yesterday (I actually left Wednesday evening), to support the so-called "Jena 6." Google it if you don't know the whole story, I've told it enough times now I don't feel like typing it at the moment.
The drive there was uneventful, but it took longer than I expected - I underestimated my need for sleep. I pulled over at the Louisiana State Line around midnight to sleep for a few hours, meaning to get up at 4:30, but decided at 4:30 that 6 was much more reasonable. So I basically spent the night there. By the way, a travel tip for the ultra-cheap traveler - if you want to sleep at rest stops, the state line ones tend to be nicest. Except avoid Tennessee. Like all things Tennessee, it's inhospitable. Anyway, I left the La. State Line around 6AM, and made it to Jena by around 10. This was a lot later than I'd planned - I had originally hoped to get there for 7 when everything started, then would have been ok with 8ish...but 10 it was. Part of the issue, I realized belatedly, was that I was mixing up Alexandria and Lafayette in my mind. Lafayette's only about an hour from Lake Charles, I think Alex is farther. Well, obviously. And Jena's actually about 45 minutes from Alexandria. So the whole thing took longer than I'd thought.
Note for the visitor to Louisiana who wants to be in the know - you abbreviate Alexandria to "Alex" in writing, but you pronounce that "Alec." I don't know why, but that's how everyone does it.
Anyway, got there at 10, boo-hoo, but there was still plenty going on. I had my google maps directions to the park where the rally was allegedly going down, but never used them - as soon as I got into Jena I joined a long line of cars and just followed the crowd from there on out. The crowd, apparently, was at the courthouse. Maybe there were at the park too, I don't know. Really, people were everywhere. Little bitty Jena could not hope to contain the number of people in any well-defined area. I think Jena's population is around 3 thousand - and I heard someone say there were 70,000 protestors there. I really have no idea about the veracity of that, just that it was wall-t0-wall people. Still, if that's even close to right, if it's only 10% right, that's still much larger than the population of the town.
Once there, mainly I just moved through the crowd. I went to the courthouse yard - there were people giving speeches, but I couldn't make out the words. So I walked around and looked around. I ended up spending most of my time watching a guy from Grambling raise money for Mychal Bell's bail. It was very cool - he was clearly not associated with any official organization - he was just a guy, with some friends, who had rented an RV and a PA system, and raised $10K in about an hour to 2 hours. I don't know if he worked for Grambling or what - he wasn't a student, and I don't get the impression that he was faculty either. He wasn't really talking about himself or who he was with or anything, he was much more interested in getting people to give. I don't actually know if he's still associated with Grambling at all, actually. Maybe he just had a shirt from there. I donated some money. My cynical nature wondered briefly if it was going to go where it was supposed to, but everything I read from this guy was that he was, if not legit in the "registered 501c3" way, at least heartfelt and not scamming anyone. Of course, now I read today that Mychal has had bail denied (why? his charges have been vacated! ), so this guy's very practical approach to freeing Mychal Bell apparently has not worked.
When I first arrived in Jena, as I walked up to the main action, I found myself justifying my presence to myself. Why was I here? Why was it so important to me? I think I questioned myself a little once I got there because I realized that almost everyone there was black. And that surprised me, frankly. Not that there was a strong black presence, but that people of other races didn't show up in very large numbers. I'd be surprised if I saw 20 non-black people there. Of course, the crowds were huge, and there were thousands of people I didn't see, but still, the percentage was tiny. And that, I think, says something really unfortunate about us as people. Because it says, "as long as its not our people, we don't mind injustice." Understand here that I'm making generalizations, not about any kind of people (be it race or class or region or what have you), but about ALL people - the human condition. And yes, it is a generalization, which means it's wrong in a lot of specific cases. But generally speaking, we're self-interested. And this is really no surprise, but what saddens me is that we've not yet broadened our definition of self sufficiently to let it encompass all humans. I'm no different here - yes, I protested while white, but it was because my definition of self includes "folks from Louisiana". This will no doubt surprise the very folks from Louisiana that I am in fact related to, but it's true. I felt it during Katrina and Rita, and I felt it when I heard about the Jena 6. When my state is in trouble, either because its weather or its government acts inappropriately, I feel compelled to act. It surprises me, but it's a strong compulsion. So I follow it.
Two signs that struck me - one was held up by a (white) woman I presumed to be a citizen of Jena, as I walked up to the main action. It said, "We are not racist." And I thought to myself, "Well, good for you. Why don't you join us, then? Because what has happened to these kids is plainly racist." And, you know, I bet a lot (maybe even most) of the folks in Jena are not racist, or at least are working very hard not to be. And some of them are. And above and beyond this, the way these kids have been treated is plainly institutional racism, which seems to be able to exist even when, what - personal racism? I don't know what you'd call it - but anyway, it's out of vogue now (if not out of existence), but institutional racism lives on.
The second sign I saw that I loved was carried by a little girl, probably around 8 years old, and it said "God, my mom, and my principal are watching you!" Best. Sign. Ever.
It's love bug season in central Louisiana right now. I don't know if these critters exist elsewhere, so I'll describe them. They're flying insects, mostly black, with a little spot of red on them (probably the abdomen). They're harmless, they don't bite or sting or anything like that. They're called lovebugs a) because of that spot of red, and b) when they mate, they become physically connected - which I suppose is normal and all, but then they stay connected, and fly around like that, in pairs. At certain times of the year they are *everywhere* in Louisiana, which means a lot of them meet their untimely demises upon windshields, and now my windshield is dirty. It occurred to me that I could probably find a tortured metaphor with lovebugs and the Jena 6 but I think I'm going to refrain.
I got pulled over headed out of Jena. The officer told me I had turned left on a red light - I was certain that the light was still green (and in fact that I had an arrow), but I've been wrong before, and in any case was not going to argue. I got my license and proof of insurance out and showed it to him, getting out of the car in the process, thereby displaying my "Free the Jena 6" shirt. I don't know if that had anything to do with my getting off with a warning, but I did and I'm glad. Besides, that made it more convienent to present my license and proof of insurance to the second officer who pulled me over, this time for speeding. I was going 56 in a 45mph zone, which also happens to be a construction zone. So that's not going to be cheap (no warning for me this time). But because it's Louisiana, I have until November to deal with it. So I'm not happy, but I'm not likely to end up with a bench warrant for my arrest again. (long story, uninteresting too).
I don't know if it was bad luck or if I was driving especially poorly or if there were just lots and lots of cops out because of the rally. I kind of suspect the latter. Non-cynically, it just makes sense to have more cops on the road when the road is expected to be so much busier than it ever really is ever. Cynically, what an opportunity to raise some money on the backs of the out-of-towners!
So I drove especially carefully the rest of the way home. I pulled over for a couple of hours of sleep at the Coushatta casino near Kinder, then again right after hitting Columbus and getting on 71 from I-10, and got home - oh, I don't know. Midnight? 1AM? I initially expected to take today off, but woke up around 10 and decided to come into work, where I've even been moderately productive.
And that's my story.
I went to Jena yesterday (I actually left Wednesday evening), to support the so-called "Jena 6." Google it if you don't know the whole story, I've told it enough times now I don't feel like typing it at the moment.
The drive there was uneventful, but it took longer than I expected - I underestimated my need for sleep. I pulled over at the Louisiana State Line around midnight to sleep for a few hours, meaning to get up at 4:30, but decided at 4:30 that 6 was much more reasonable. So I basically spent the night there. By the way, a travel tip for the ultra-cheap traveler - if you want to sleep at rest stops, the state line ones tend to be nicest. Except avoid Tennessee. Like all things Tennessee, it's inhospitable. Anyway, I left the La. State Line around 6AM, and made it to Jena by around 10. This was a lot later than I'd planned - I had originally hoped to get there for 7 when everything started, then would have been ok with 8ish...but 10 it was. Part of the issue, I realized belatedly, was that I was mixing up Alexandria and Lafayette in my mind. Lafayette's only about an hour from Lake Charles, I think Alex is farther. Well, obviously. And Jena's actually about 45 minutes from Alexandria. So the whole thing took longer than I'd thought.
Note for the visitor to Louisiana who wants to be in the know - you abbreviate Alexandria to "Alex" in writing, but you pronounce that "Alec." I don't know why, but that's how everyone does it.
Anyway, got there at 10, boo-hoo, but there was still plenty going on. I had my google maps directions to the park where the rally was allegedly going down, but never used them - as soon as I got into Jena I joined a long line of cars and just followed the crowd from there on out. The crowd, apparently, was at the courthouse. Maybe there were at the park too, I don't know. Really, people were everywhere. Little bitty Jena could not hope to contain the number of people in any well-defined area. I think Jena's population is around 3 thousand - and I heard someone say there were 70,000 protestors there. I really have no idea about the veracity of that, just that it was wall-t0-wall people. Still, if that's even close to right, if it's only 10% right, that's still much larger than the population of the town.
Once there, mainly I just moved through the crowd. I went to the courthouse yard - there were people giving speeches, but I couldn't make out the words. So I walked around and looked around. I ended up spending most of my time watching a guy from Grambling raise money for Mychal Bell's bail. It was very cool - he was clearly not associated with any official organization - he was just a guy, with some friends, who had rented an RV and a PA system, and raised $10K in about an hour to 2 hours. I don't know if he worked for Grambling or what - he wasn't a student, and I don't get the impression that he was faculty either. He wasn't really talking about himself or who he was with or anything, he was much more interested in getting people to give. I don't actually know if he's still associated with Grambling at all, actually. Maybe he just had a shirt from there. I donated some money. My cynical nature wondered briefly if it was going to go where it was supposed to, but everything I read from this guy was that he was, if not legit in the "registered 501c3" way, at least heartfelt and not scamming anyone. Of course, now I read today that Mychal has had bail denied (why? his charges have been vacated! ), so this guy's very practical approach to freeing Mychal Bell apparently has not worked.
When I first arrived in Jena, as I walked up to the main action, I found myself justifying my presence to myself. Why was I here? Why was it so important to me? I think I questioned myself a little once I got there because I realized that almost everyone there was black. And that surprised me, frankly. Not that there was a strong black presence, but that people of other races didn't show up in very large numbers. I'd be surprised if I saw 20 non-black people there. Of course, the crowds were huge, and there were thousands of people I didn't see, but still, the percentage was tiny. And that, I think, says something really unfortunate about us as people. Because it says, "as long as its not our people, we don't mind injustice." Understand here that I'm making generalizations, not about any kind of people (be it race or class or region or what have you), but about ALL people - the human condition. And yes, it is a generalization, which means it's wrong in a lot of specific cases. But generally speaking, we're self-interested. And this is really no surprise, but what saddens me is that we've not yet broadened our definition of self sufficiently to let it encompass all humans. I'm no different here - yes, I protested while white, but it was because my definition of self includes "folks from Louisiana". This will no doubt surprise the very folks from Louisiana that I am in fact related to, but it's true. I felt it during Katrina and Rita, and I felt it when I heard about the Jena 6. When my state is in trouble, either because its weather or its government acts inappropriately, I feel compelled to act. It surprises me, but it's a strong compulsion. So I follow it.
Two signs that struck me - one was held up by a (white) woman I presumed to be a citizen of Jena, as I walked up to the main action. It said, "We are not racist." And I thought to myself, "Well, good for you. Why don't you join us, then? Because what has happened to these kids is plainly racist." And, you know, I bet a lot (maybe even most) of the folks in Jena are not racist, or at least are working very hard not to be. And some of them are. And above and beyond this, the way these kids have been treated is plainly institutional racism, which seems to be able to exist even when, what - personal racism? I don't know what you'd call it - but anyway, it's out of vogue now (if not out of existence), but institutional racism lives on.
The second sign I saw that I loved was carried by a little girl, probably around 8 years old, and it said "God, my mom, and my principal are watching you!" Best. Sign. Ever.
It's love bug season in central Louisiana right now. I don't know if these critters exist elsewhere, so I'll describe them. They're flying insects, mostly black, with a little spot of red on them (probably the abdomen). They're harmless, they don't bite or sting or anything like that. They're called lovebugs a) because of that spot of red, and b) when they mate, they become physically connected - which I suppose is normal and all, but then they stay connected, and fly around like that, in pairs. At certain times of the year they are *everywhere* in Louisiana, which means a lot of them meet their untimely demises upon windshields, and now my windshield is dirty. It occurred to me that I could probably find a tortured metaphor with lovebugs and the Jena 6 but I think I'm going to refrain.
I got pulled over headed out of Jena. The officer told me I had turned left on a red light - I was certain that the light was still green (and in fact that I had an arrow), but I've been wrong before, and in any case was not going to argue. I got my license and proof of insurance out and showed it to him, getting out of the car in the process, thereby displaying my "Free the Jena 6" shirt. I don't know if that had anything to do with my getting off with a warning, but I did and I'm glad. Besides, that made it more convienent to present my license and proof of insurance to the second officer who pulled me over, this time for speeding. I was going 56 in a 45mph zone, which also happens to be a construction zone. So that's not going to be cheap (no warning for me this time). But because it's Louisiana, I have until November to deal with it. So I'm not happy, but I'm not likely to end up with a bench warrant for my arrest again. (long story, uninteresting too).
I don't know if it was bad luck or if I was driving especially poorly or if there were just lots and lots of cops out because of the rally. I kind of suspect the latter. Non-cynically, it just makes sense to have more cops on the road when the road is expected to be so much busier than it ever really is ever. Cynically, what an opportunity to raise some money on the backs of the out-of-towners!
So I drove especially carefully the rest of the way home. I pulled over for a couple of hours of sleep at the Coushatta casino near Kinder, then again right after hitting Columbus and getting on 71 from I-10, and got home - oh, I don't know. Midnight? 1AM? I initially expected to take today off, but woke up around 10 and decided to come into work, where I've even been moderately productive.
And that's my story.
Friday, September 14, 2007
My 32 Year Old Body as a 16 Year Old
I am both seriously annoyed and very grateful that my current MS symptoms (and really, all of them so far) feel very dramatic, yet look either totally invisible or nearly so. For example, at this moment in time my feet are numb, my legs are tingling, and if I look down, my L'hermitte's (read: more tingling) extends through my legs and left arm. I also have numbness in my lower torso, which I don't actually feel at the moment but which becomes apparent anytime I poke myself (which is often, in that scab-picking way). External signs: none. Even when walking or otherwise moving about vigorously, nobody can really tell. After about 200 kicks, my form deteriorates and at some point I go for a wall to add some balance so I can maintain some modicum of technique - but whose kicks *don't* deteriorate somewhat around the 200 mark?
This is gratifying for obvious reasons - I really do prefer to move about under my own power and remain upright as much as possible. Ok, that last part's a lie. What is true is that I prefer to remain upright when I mean to be upright - which may not be all that often, really, but that's sort of beside the point.
What's annoying, though, is that I feel like my body is going through this teen angst period where it's all "NOBODY KNOWS MY PAIN" and writing bad poetry and doodling mildly disturbing things in its notebook, but not actually letting on that there's anything wrong. I feel like I should explain for it, sometimes - "my body is really quite messed up only nobody can tell, and you should care - dunno why, but you just should."
But then I feel like a dork, so I refrain.
This is gratifying for obvious reasons - I really do prefer to move about under my own power and remain upright as much as possible. Ok, that last part's a lie. What is true is that I prefer to remain upright when I mean to be upright - which may not be all that often, really, but that's sort of beside the point.
What's annoying, though, is that I feel like my body is going through this teen angst period where it's all "NOBODY KNOWS MY PAIN" and writing bad poetry and doodling mildly disturbing things in its notebook, but not actually letting on that there's anything wrong. I feel like I should explain for it, sometimes - "my body is really quite messed up only nobody can tell, and you should care - dunno why, but you just should."
But then I feel like a dork, so I refrain.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Hello, World!
The uncomfortable thing about setting up a blog using blogger is that you're forced the confront the trail of dusty, unused blogs sitting idle on your internet shelf. I had grand visions of setting up a WordPress installation on my personal site (which, speaking of sitting idle on the internet shelf...), but I decided to go for absurdly easy set-up, indead of just the regular kind of ease.
So. Anyway. The reason I think I might actually stick with this blog, against all prior evidence, is that I actually have a topic! Earlier this year, I got diagnosed with MS. I'm also an avid martial artist, and a less-avid social dancer. Most of what I hear about folks with MS falls into one of two camps:
1) Woe is me, I'm stuck in a wheelchair, life is bad.
2) Wee! I don't even know I have it!
I belong to neither of those camps. I haven't been symptom-free yet, since I started having symptoms about two years ago. At the same time, I'm not debilitated. I'm annoyed, sure. But that's really the worst of it (knock wood, etc). So I thought I might have something unique to add.
Plus, MS is funny. No, really. Example 1: you know how it's a ball of laughs to stick tape on the bottom of a cat's feet and watch them freak out? It works with humans, too. And you don't even need tape, in my case. I don't know how many times today i've looked at the bottom of my feet, searching in vain for what I'd stepped on that was sticking to the bottom of my feet.
Nothing there. I do take it more calmly than most cats, though.
Ok, enough for now. I don't want to overdo it on my first time out...
So. Anyway. The reason I think I might actually stick with this blog, against all prior evidence, is that I actually have a topic! Earlier this year, I got diagnosed with MS. I'm also an avid martial artist, and a less-avid social dancer. Most of what I hear about folks with MS falls into one of two camps:
1) Woe is me, I'm stuck in a wheelchair, life is bad.
2) Wee! I don't even know I have it!
I belong to neither of those camps. I haven't been symptom-free yet, since I started having symptoms about two years ago. At the same time, I'm not debilitated. I'm annoyed, sure. But that's really the worst of it (knock wood, etc). So I thought I might have something unique to add.
Plus, MS is funny. No, really. Example 1: you know how it's a ball of laughs to stick tape on the bottom of a cat's feet and watch them freak out? It works with humans, too. And you don't even need tape, in my case. I don't know how many times today i've looked at the bottom of my feet, searching in vain for what I'd stepped on that was sticking to the bottom of my feet.
Nothing there. I do take it more calmly than most cats, though.
Ok, enough for now. I don't want to overdo it on my first time out...
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