Sleepy Blogger Embraces Life and Takes Rests

Oprah just said, among many other bits of advice, to be responsible for all the energy you bring into another's life and your own. Good-bye Oprah TV show, and good-night to everyone.
May you always have sweet dreams.

Betty Garrett a Classic on Film, TV, and Forever

The other day I felt "lacking." So, I did what any reasonable person would do---I began reading my peep's blogs. On one of my favorite's--"Here in the Hills," there was a post about the author's friend's birthday and how much she was missed. It included the date of a series of movies showing on Turner Classics which would present her friend, Betty Garrett.

One of those actor's names which sound familiar, but you can't quite place them I watched the 6 or so movies all day long, what a marvelous treat. (Loved seeing the original MGM lion!) Betty Garrett is one of those "working actors" who you see everywhere, on Broadway, in films and TV. Depending on your age, you recognize them from different eras.

Betty starred opposite Frank Sinatra in a couple of hit movies. She also had a role on Grey's Anatomy and won a Golden Globe for a turn on "All in the Family." In February she passed away at age 91. Betty was one of those working actresses I always dreamed of being. Her dancing ability far outshines mine. Those were the days when actors had to sing and dance too!

The best thing about Betty was how sweet she was as a woman, a friend. Her smiles were contagious, her comedic timing impeccable. (And she went to high school in Tacoma, Washington!) It is hard to find the whole package these days. Sadly, her career was side-tracked by the House Un-American Activities Committee fiasco during the 1950s, when her actor husband, Larry Parks, gave testimony and named names, leading to spot on the Hollywood Black List. (Such a devastating and pathetic time in our history.)

Still she remained upbeat and cheerful until the end. When I watched her movies ("On the Town," "Take Me Out to the Ball Game," "Neptune's Daughter," and my favorite "My Sister Eileen," I was looking at a talent from today (mentioned in my previous post) and seeing them later at my own age, until their death. My conclusion is what I have always believed: people don't change much at their core.

I don't need to see Lady Gaga at 54. I have seen Cher at 60, same thing. Talent is talent and as long as one lives it does not disappear. Health may slow us or stop us, but we remain pretty much just who we were in kindergarten. To me, I find comfort in knowing that. All the people who have entered my life are known to me, as much as they allow. I have been blessed.

Something about watching all of Betty Garrett's movies, seeing her on my friend's blog, celebrating her successes and mourning her final curtain call, made me feel full. Perhaps the actress in me was feeling sorry for myself the other day; but, I am only 54 and my chance may be ahead.

Okay, Betty, I am waiting for the mail to bring my book, "Betty Garrett and Other Songs: A Life on Stage Screen," any day now! Authors and Actors do live on forever, don't they?

Lady Gaga on SNL Left Me Lacking

After watching Lady Gaga on Saturday Night Live, I had two grinding thoughts. 1.) People call her the second coming of Madonna, well, I must strongly disagree because Madonna never had the talent, the voice, that LG has. 2.) I will never be alive to see her preform when she is my age.

That second thought sort of crushed me. She would be younger than Ellen and Ellen can still dance, just imagine what Gaga will do. Look at Cher. It made me feel old and lacking.

Now, I am not sure in what I feel lacking of. Time? I've already had 54 years, more than many. I often think about where in life my mother or great-aunt Violet was during my age. My mom was living with Aunt Violet in Mom's house. (Living together would continue until illness forced them apart.) Aunt Violet had lost many of her friends to death by then. In her life she had accomplished many things she wanted to and was very content. My mom was restless and still unfulfilled in many ways. Her job had taken an upswing, finally she was promoted, getting her due, then she was offered an early leave and she jumped at it. Aunt Vi loved to work. My mom hated to work. My mom was free of raising her children, free of her job, but she felt lacking.

Aunt Vi at my age, 54, was happily working in retail, owned a house she loved with enough room for several apartments to hold relatives. (Which they almost always did.) She was driving on trips often. Playing games with family, old and young, holding her famous holiday parties. She lacked nothing. She was healthy, vibrant, and had lots of fun with many friends and family.

Maybe it is the MS that makes me feel as I do. If I could still drive like Aunt Vi, what fun I would have! If I was still working at the job I loved, there would be no worries about money. I would have my books finished long ago.

Whenever I asked Aunt Vi about getting old, "You'll never live long enough to see the moon landed on." She would laugh her full-bodied don't be foolish laugh, and say, "I'm not old! That is a long way off!" (old age)

Why don't I feel that way? My neighbors average ages are 85, my Bridge players are 98, 98, and 99! Shouldn't I feel very young? (With their glares and smirks and words, they remind I am.)

A view of a lake, the love of my life, a new couch---what am I lacking!? How dare I?

Lady Gaga is a rare talent, and so young. I suppose if they found a cure for MS, "...ready in a decade..." I would also feel lacking. Perhaps it is the lack of who I could be in 30 years if I were 24 now.

Mixed Feelings About Oprah

When did I stop idolizing Oprah? I think it started after her weight loss journey and consequent regaining of most of that wagon of lard.

Having dealt with a weight problem myself, I knew there was ONLY one way to health: eat healthy food, eat less, exercise, drink lots of water. No big secret. After Oprah did her crash diet, began spouting her Oprah reasons how everyone can do the same thing, in fact ENCOURAGING people to join her, she lost my respect. Over the years I have seen many people go down that road. They are fat, they lose weight, they preach to others how to do what they did, what book to buy that held the keys to the perfect diet. I would just shake my head and wait until they gained the pounds back they had lost, and more, only to watch them eat crow.

There was a group of women at my job who decided to lose weight together. I had to spend hours, and I honestly mean HOURS every day listening to them talk about what they were doing and EATING that day, the night before, etc.

At that point I realized another sure way that diets fail: people TALK too much about food. If you are talking about it, then you are THINKING about it and that it the beginning of the end. Those women talked about food every hour. I have learned to stop thinking about food, ignore all food commercials on TV, all ads in publications. I treat food as medicine and NEVER as a "treat." I was fed in an unhealthy way as a child and my brain had to be rewired. But, like a recovered alcoholic---my brain has the paths and I know I must be vigilant.

It is the preaching I hate. Will Oprah buy, for those people in her audience, all the expensive organic foods she ate during her diet? Will she pay for a private chef as she had? No. For all her talk about how Maya Angelou and Dr. Phil helped her find her true self (Can any of us call them on speed dial like she can? No.) , I doubt she will find her true self for a very long time because she is in denial.

Oprah is a rich person with every advantage the rest of us will never have. She wants to SEE herself as "one of us" who just hasn't made it yet because we haven't evolved to her place on higher ground. Oprah, you worked hard and got some breaks. You got lucky. The majority of the people in this world will never get those breaks or be that lucky, no matter how righteous and emotionally together they are. That's just life. You are not one of us.

Oprah is celebrating her send-off with her rich, lucky friends. Tom Hanks will tell you he got lucky. Tom Cruise will preach. The world is full of both types of people. The preachers are usually the most unhappiest, most lost, of the two. I have never seen that to fail. Ever wonder why after all her years, Oprah has only one "real friend?" I wonder. With all the millions of people she has access to, ONE? Really? And Stedman, explain that one to me. If he is so self-confidant why WOULDN'T he marry her? Really? (That is as flimsy as Brad and Angelina not marrying until everyone can--oh, oh, oh, sure, well, if you WANTED to marry then you would be moving mountains to get a Federal law passed allowing gay marriage, BRAD&!!)

Oprah made a telling statement on her show with Chaz Bono recently, she said something about not understanding how a bisexual could love a man inside a woman's body. She made a face to a response of "I never loved a woman until ___ came along." Oprah acted like she had never heard that before. Her face twisting into that, "I don't understand," look of hers. Well, Oprah, Anne Heche sat right there and spoke those EXACT same words about Ellen. Did you learn nothing from that? Maybe you should read up on bisexuality. Or do you think you need to express what you think your audience might be thinking?

So, O lost me. I only tune in when there is a topic of great interest to me. All the "I pulled myself back from the brink," and big star interviews, those have ceased to hold my interest. I read enough about people who fight illness and misfortune and find an inner strength they didn't know they had. The book club thing NEVER interested me.

What I love about Oprah, and always will, is how she has inspired woman of color to "go for it." And how she has inspired many people to think about life in new ways, try new things. And how she was there after Phil Donahue left. Donahue really opened doors, got into controversies, and he spoke my liberal-minded language. (Oh, thanks O, for backing Obama like that.)

Well, Blogger just posted this before I was done! The power of O...
O has become a machine now. I miss the first O. But OWN will live on as will the many donations of time and money O has made.

Doomsday: Sometimes a Door is Just a Door

6:35PM Pacific Time---I am still here. And I still know a door when I see one.

When I Meet God May 21st

OK, you busted me. I have been too busy to post. I arranged a date for that new non-wheel chair friendly park's city council member to be a guest speaker at my retirement community. Yesterday was our bi-monthly resident council meeting (I am the president) and I had to provide earthquake preparedness brochures, plus give a brief talk on that topic, along with the other council business. (We are collecting money for bird seed, Bingo needs more players, the Hospitality Committee needs more members, you know--business.)

Seattle has had sun, that is to say sun that shines upon us, for the last several days so I have been out in it as much as possible. (Vit D--the cure fore all things...now.)

The emails my mother sent to me since 2001 have needed some attention. I've been sorting them. Lots of memories from my mom to sort.

Game nights kept be occupied, but I am really cutting back because my writing has suffered. Reading a few new books took up a couple of days. It is very difficult to write without reading. At least my MS brain needs both these days.

Face Book sucked up some time, really cutting back on that.

OK, you busted me. I didn't feel like blogging. I'm afraid I'm losing my mojo. Alas.

Well, OKAY! The truth is tomorrow, May 21st, I was told is the rapture and I'm going to Hell. Sooo, I need to leave some love notes before I go, hug some friends, smoke a cigarette---I'm headed for Hell anyway. I must prepare what I need to say to God. He has allowed too many innocent people to live in Hell on earth. I want answers!

So, nice knowing you, and maybe we will meet on "the other side."

Happy Birthday, MS, Whatever.

Just came back from the loo, looking at my Greenpeace calendar and thinking, "May 15...that is some date...what is it?" Back at my computer, looking over diaries and preparing to write---It's my MS BIRTHDAY! 21 years ago I heard those infamous words, "You have MS."

People have, over the years, told me it is my MS "anniversary." No, I pronounced May 15 my MS birthday to make it seem not so horrible. A day to party, have treats and presents, and this is what I followed for about 15 years...then I started forgetting. Much like today. Now it is more: "Eh."

MS no longer is something horrible or something to party about. It just is.

My diaries ask, in 1990, "Where will I be in 5 years? In 10? Will I ever need a wheel chair? Will I be dead?" Then in 1995 "I'm going to be okay! I can do this." In 1996: "I survived ovarian cancer so far and my MS is still okay. I can do this." By 2000: "Life is getting so hard. How much longer can I keep working? Will I be able to park the scooter forever soon? Or..."

Today I didn't even keep a dairy this year. The first year I haven't in almost 3 decades. I want to see how I will feel without a year to look back at. My feeling at this moment is: 21 years. Can't walk. Can't even stand much. Yet I feel so hopeful and healthy. Am I kidding myself? Never dreamed I'd be in an assisted living home at age 54. Where will I be in 10 years? My money is running out. I'll only be 64. I don't think there will be a cure or repair for me in my lifetime. Maybe the year before I die---the irony that has been my life. My mom was right so far, "We will always be close, but never get our dreams." Pathetic. Oh, well, life is what it is.

Girls Who Want to be Cowboys

My older brother was into Roy Rogers. He even had an "autographed" picture from him. I loved my horse rocker (?)---now what were those toys called...calling Dr. Ebay! Why am I posting this? It seems I am having some post mid-life crisis and really into Gunsmoke TV show.

Playing cowboy was a favorite past time of mine when I was little. I put a blanket over a cardboard table and that was my tent. I had cowboy boots, a rifle, check out that leather (Could it really have been leather?) holster, but I never shot Indians, just bad guys who hurt women and children. My own small son (a stuffed Smokey the Bear) needed lots of protecting after his mother passed away in childbirth.

My village adults forced the hat back in a more girlie pose, but believe me it went back in place fast after the "click." Sorry you didn't get the girlie girl you wanted, Mom. But, you took it like a man.

Rude Bridge Players. Should I Shut Up and Play?

Somebody asked me early this morning (I should say that is when I got into my emails.) "How are things going?" Well, very fine, thank you, okay, terrific actually, and then there is Bridge night.

Yes, I am harping on this again. I am ashamed that it bothers me at all. I am thinking what bothers me is that I must keep quiet about my true feelings and can't tell off some of these 90 year-olds. Perhaps you remember how I told off 80 or 90-something, Ruth and after she died a few months later, well, I missed her in the world. Hopefully, I have learned a lesson and will just roll with the punches thrown at me this time. Not my style though, ah, such is life.

Also yesterday another resident here accused me of being "self-indulgent" in my conversing during dunner. O-kay-eee. uh, nobody else was talking and I was trying to be entertaining since our usual talkative dinner was off sailing. Without him the four of us left are pretty quiet and dull. With him there we laugh and talk and have a wonderful time. The accusing resident only stops by for dinner about once a month. Again, just seems disrespectful and I must be politely quiet to such remarks.

Bridge started out as a lark, I always wanted to learn to play, now, it has become interesting to me---a challenge. The rules are extensive and I have not memorized them all yet. Those I play with have played for decades. I have played three or four games now. The main players INVITED me to join them, encouraged me to learn...I have come back from Bridge night swearing I will NEVER play again, then I tell myself not to let one or two people ruin my fun with the other five.

What do you think? Does being 98 give you a pass to be rude?

And yes, in the scheme of things, as bad as my life COULD be and HAS been, I am doing great.

Diagnosis Gute Schicksal with Multiple Sclerosis

One day during my annual appointment with my much loved neurologist of 14 years, he said to me, "You have guteschicksal."

My heart skipped a beat. MS, ovarian cancer, now THIS? (Whatever THIS was---it sounded pretty bad and it wasn't spoken with a smile.)

With trepidation I asked, "I have what?"

"Gutesksall"

"What is that?"

"It means 'to have good fate' in German," he said, now with a smile.

True enough, I was doing okay with my MS and had survived the cancer scare.

Fast forward about 7 years. I couldn't remember the German word he had said and I needed it for one of the stories I was writing. I asked the good doctor what that German word was that meant to have good fate. He looked at me like I was crazy. "I don't know German," he told me.

SERIOUSLY? Had I dreamed it all? Was HE crazy or was I? The word was growing fuzzier and fuzzier in my memory, but the exact day he said it was a clear picture in my brain. So, from that year on I asked every German person I came across, "What is the German word for 'to have good fate."

I asked two women born in Germany, German spoken exclusively in their homes---no idea. In fact I was told that there is no word in German that translates to "fate." There is a word for destiny, but not fate. They ran some possibilities past me, nope, I would know it when I heard it.

Some 16 years after that mysterious German word was said to me, by a Dr. who denies he knows any German or ever said that (I asked him year after year.), here I live in an assisted living/retirement community. One table near mine in the dining room is heavy with German speaking residents. So, I asked them. JACK POT!!

Not only were they from Germany, but they were educators and knew the language VERY WELL. After they discussed my question, and pondered my story, they said: "Um eine gute schicksal." That was it! Gute schicksal. Good fate.

All these years I thought I was crazy or dreamed it. The doctor denied he ever KNEW any German. Was HE lying? How could I dream in German? Any guesses?

Alzheimer's Hasn't Taken My Mom from Me

My mom and I have always been close, but we never were are good fit. I've written about my youth with her in previous posts, so I won't bore you with all the details. Above photo is my mom at age 50.

My mom is one of the kindest people I have ever known, gentle to a fault. She lost her own mother before she turned 16 and her life was never the same. Her dreams became fuzzy. Her desires more desperate. But one thing never changed: She wanted to be a mom. That happened shortly after she married, two boys barely a year apart. Then her beloved betrayed her as the marriage began to unravel. The day I was born, 8 years after my brothers, her beloved wore a chain from his long time mistress around his neck when he visited her in the hospital and the marriage was over. She never loved like that again.

Her spirit was broken and I think it never was repaired. But, at least she had her children and soon after her boys married she would have grandchildren, but both boys would divorce and eventually she would never see her 6 grandchildren anymore. I only saw my mom cry twice, but I am certain she cried many tears of loss. I can tear up just thinking about her lonely life and all her losses...but she always put on a happy face.

On Saturday I phoned her at the Alzheimer's Unit of the nursing home she resides at. Her voice was happy and sounded just like the mom I knew when I was age 5 to 50. She and I look alike, though I am taller. We both laugh easily with each other. Neither of us complain about our lot in life. We both will tell you we are happy. My hands look like hers at 50. My hair has never been as dark or curly as hers, but just as thick. Both of us would prefer to skip parties and church. Neither of us can swim or draw.

What I loved about her I dedicated myself to embracing, what I hated I dedicated myself to staying as far away from as possible. The hated aspects were few and pretty insignificant--her shyness, her insecurity around people, her lack of cleanliness, her blind acceptance that one should mind their own business at all costs and her belief that much is impossible.

The loved aspects are her kindness, non-judgemental (except when it came to her son's mates) attitude toward others, her acceptance and interest in differences, her childlike grasping of life. I am easily entertained and find wonder in the simple things. She never spoke of politics to anyone but me, and we stood together as Democrats in the GOP stronghold of Indiana. We had ERA bumper stickers and she encouraged me to become the president, "...one day." I told her she should go back to college, "...one day."

Mom and I were a team. We shared our secret thoughts. We had adventures. I thought we would always be together, until I turned 15.

Yesterday, for the first time, unprompted, my mom said, "I love you." I asked if she knew who I was. "DIANE!" Score. I really didn't want to die before I heard her say it. I will replay her voice saying that, again and again and again.

Happy Mother's Day!

MS Awareness Topic Wins Prize in Slovakia

I was honored to participate in a paper done by a student in Slovakia. She utilised this blog and my personal two cents, along with several others, to write what became an award winning paper about life with MS, emphasising the needs of doctors to better address their MS patient's whole-body/life concerns.


Many thanks to Lenka Docekalova for thinking of people with multiple sclerosis in the topic choice of her paper! She interviewed several people across the world and I am thrilled to report that she won first place with her paper. My partner has roots in Slovakia and it was a pleasure to help with Lenka's project.

CONGRATULATIONS LENKA!

Bring MS to People, Accessible Taxi, Seattle's Real Grey's Anatomy Location

Yesterday I decided at 7am that I wanted to GO OUT! Now, usually that is no big deal, unless you are bunking with Bernie Madoff. If you live alone with multiple sclerosis and you can't walk or stand, well, it is a big deal. A few years ago it was a bigger deal. That was when taxi cabs were not wheel chair accessible. Being the dutiful disability activist I consider myself, I set my goal on fixing that problem. Who says you can't fight city hall? (Re: the photos--The Cab Co. was called Orange Cab, my shorts are orange--just got them day before, and that is an old red MS HOPE bracelet I'm wearing.)

Well, I learned a lot about my city and taxi cab companies here in the Seattle area, more than I ever wanted to know. Phone calls were my starting point. The cab companies were rude, insensitive, and mostly hung up on me as fast as they could. The city regulates our cabs and the two camps seem to bicker quite a bit. Many improvements have been established by the city, all good for the consumer. But on my issue, after weeks of searching through red tape and ignorance, the city was as rude and insensitive as the cab companies. Sharper was their blow of "not important enough" because I was a city employee who paid a large percentage of her paycheck on private "cabulance" rides, when a short taxi ride would have cost me five dollars. I never imagined who would stick up for me. Can you guess?

"They should have cabs that are wheel chair adaptable! It is an outrage!" said the cab driver who was dropping my partner off at her doctor's office. My partner was pained by my fight and constant beat-downs. She would lament about it to all the cab drivers whenever should could. It sounded like the drivers were all for it. The plot was thickening and my allies were forming. I can honestly say that without the support of unknown cab drivers, Seattle would probably not have accessible cabs today. I thank them every chance I get. Still, the city was not on board.

I tried veiled threats of lawsuits, ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) and all, finally after years of chipping away, a letter arrived stating that a committee would be formed to look inti the matter and did I want to join. It was signed by a woman I had had some particularly harsh words with. It was hard to believe she wanted to see me, and her actions indicated she didn't.

The meetings were to be held at 7pm-9pm, during the week. The county access vans stopped running before 9, how was I supposed to get there? She caught me with the Catch-22.

One day, after I was pretty wore down, I got the word that one cab company serving Seattle now had ONE accessible van. Seriously? Yeah, city had to see if anyone would be interested. Then, "Not enough interested." I countered with, (and I'll clean up the language) "How the Hell is anyone who NEEDS this service supposed to KNOW it exists?

Fast forward past more fights, letters, emails, phone calls, and today we have a fleet of FORTY-FIVE accessible taxi cabs! The wait time has been cut from "90 minutes to an whenever" to a normal 15 minutes. And maybe more companies offer the service. But yesterday was the first day I tried it. Excellent and Hip Hip Hooray!

Seattle was finally showing off yesterday, with the sun spotlighting all its beauty. How to make the most out of this new freedom? My caregiver/friend was due at 8am, yeah, that was enough time to make up a few signs. Off we both headed for downtown Seattle and the location where the TV show Grey's Anatomy shoots its "outside the hospital" scenes, especially where the medic helicopter flies in.

That location really exists, just like it looks on Grey's Anatomy, with my work building in the background. Puget Sound is also visible from there, but I wasn't tall enough for that shot.

Just as we pulled up a red helicopter was flying in and landed before we could unload---what a great picture that would have been. Harborview (Not Seattle Grace) is the name of our grade-A trauma center and we are all familiar with the sight of their helicopters, which signal someone has been seriously hurt. If you ever find yourself in one, at least you are in the best company possible. (And Seattle medics are way more handsome than McDreamy!) We got one photo of a copter on the pad.

This is how I do "MS Awareness." No special day or month is needed, just me and just you. If you really want to help our cause, never let a chance go by to bring up the issues people don't think enough about. I am not the "activist" I once was, but there is always SOMETHING I can do. I'm already planning my next stop---outside the Pike Place Market, on the corner of the tall building I once lived in. THOUSANDS of tourists from around the world walk past every day in the summer. Perfect.

Notice that I have my game face on. You see, all the shiny magazines filled with MS drug ads will show laughing, smiling faces of people with MS! MS? LET'S PARTY! I suddenly feel like climbing a MOUNTAIN, SKIING--Woo Hoo!! Yeah, no, that's not going to be MY message.

MS is making me pay every day and here is your reality check.

To Sum Up MS

Hi. I know I have a MS blog, so I guess I should write about MS once in awhile. YAAAWWNN.
Sorry, the topic bores me to death. Well, not to death, but to not write. I mean, I FEEL like every post is about me and my MS. In fact, that is kind of my point: life goes on.

You get MS. You still work or retire. You still play with friends and toys. You still watch TV, movies, the birds outside your window. You still go to concerts, explore the planet, read books, have sex, buy stuff, make plans, get angry, get happy, sad, bored, excited---in other words, life goes on. Maybe you will be in a car crash. Maybe you will get cancer. Maybe you will start a blog or volunteer at a homeless shelter. Who knows? Life goes on.

The LAST thing I have ever wanted to do was dwell on the fact that I have multiple sclerosis. Never saw it coming, a chronic, progressive disease with no cure; not ME. Nobody in my family ever had to deal with such a thing. At the age of 30, I was finally feeling I was on my way! Had a good job, love of my life, lived in city I adored, had friends--what? Me worry?

Yeah, so while I certainly didn't see MS coming, here it is. On Face Book there are many MANY newly (I say less than 2 years) diagnosed MSers, and I am shocked at what they have to say.
So much fear. So much misinformation. And the ANGER! I hear it through their words, again and again, "JUST MAKE IT GO AWAY!" Really? That's how you're going to ride this horse?
WHOA!

My head just shakes and I feel bad for them. I want to shout, "IT DOESN'T GET ANY EASIER! EMBRACE! EMBRACE!" But, I know they can't hear my words right now. They see me as 'giving up' and 'giving in' to MS. If I tell them I was where they are, I had those symptoms too, I don't know--it's as if there are only two things they want to hear (( )) which I learned means hugs OR here is what you can do to end your MS.

Many of their Face Book pages speak (?) of nothing but their MS. I can't imagine such a life. I would indeed become depressed. When I was first diagnosed in 1990, the word in the medical community was that a cure was soon to be. Oh, and in meantime, looky here---new drugs to slow the inevitable progression! Yeah! Joy Joy Happy Happy, much like the CCSVIers (the new/old idea that MS is a vascular malfunction and can easily be corrected with some vein surgery---unproven, so FDA won't buy in and insurance won't pay; in Canada the are practically rioting to get it approved) the "cure" or at least "fix" is right around the corner. Right.

Fast forward 21 years and MS still is a part of me. A PART of me, but I am the sum of ALL my parts and MS doesn't get to rule the others!

Shortly after my co-workers learned I had MS, one woman, the only other lesbian there, (WHO, by the way, despised me for not being "lesbian enough," AGAIN, like that PART of me should rule the others!) said to me, "I feel so sorry for you with two strikes against you. Being a lesbian AND disabled," then she nonchalantly sauntered away. Gees, I didn't even have a cane yet!

My big-time symptoms started my first week on my job with the city of Seattle. I LOVED that job. That job was a huge part of me and still is a part of me; I'd rather write about IT every day than MS. But, my love or lack of love for all my parts still don't give them the right to rule the sum of me!

I fell in love with a young woman of 22, who I escorted to the ER after meeting her for less than a day, never dreaming she would battle illness all her life and mine. Illness was foreign to me. I had only been to a hospital once before and never for more than a few hours---crash course time---living with illness would become a part of my life. BUT JUST A PART.

Woody Allen said something like, "I don't mind dying, I just don't want to be there when it happens." And a Face Book woman with MS said, "I want to cancel my subscription."
Well, yeah, we can all pretty much agree with such sentiments, but the reality is---here we are. Woody thinks a lot about dying. It too is a part of me, just as my birth was---beginning to end, we have to sum it all up. I wouldn't like me much if I had only one part. BORING.

In summation (Am I the only on suddenly feeling hungry for dim sum?), if you, my readers, can't see my MS between the lines of every post, then you aren't looking hard enough.

WE GOT BIN LADEN!

OBAMA OBAMA OBAMA