Crystal Ball Seer at Retirement Home. MS Not a Problem.

My retirement joint had a Halloween party last Friday. No idea why it was on Friday, but I offered up my services as a seer. I had to wait for Aunt Vi's crystal ball to arrive back from Indiana, so my time at the party was short, squeezed in 30 minutes (though I was active for an hour) after the scheduled magician. No idea what a magician has to do with an adult Halloween party, and don't forget these adults average age 85.

The magician (I waited my turn with partner in the lobby and bistro areas...hee hee fun to scare the manager there by hiding and reaching my hand around the corner onto his office window---slowly scraping at the glass!) left the social room a mess with large confetti everywhere. Gees, can't a magic man make his mess disappear? Hmmm Then I began my ball readings.

This ball was given to my very psychic great Aunt Violet by her very psychic sister's daughter. Aunt Vi never had much luck with it, her best show was with cards and calling spirits into objects, like tables, that could communicate in some physical way. I used it once, saw something bad, put it away until last year when I mailed from Seattle to Indiana---to the initial buyers granddaughter. She in turn sent it to our cousin who is more into ESP stuff than either of we are.

The ball still was not doing much, so my expectations were low, but after great-aunt Vi's death at the age of 103 (a year ago?!), I had a feeling recently that I wanted to try the ball. Wow, was I surprised! In a very noisy, too crowded (the people are out of lens shot in photo, but the room was pretty full) room, that darn ball started showing stuff within minutes. Really, I am still amazed. My MS was not in the way at all and the energy among the seniors was powerful.

Without being specific for the sake of those who I read for, there were deep emotional sights, tears, joy at the possible discovery of a lost item, and some deep pain. It all made me remember why I quit reading the ball, and I am ready to mail it back on its way to who knows where. Too intense for me.

Surprisingly, (to ME anyway), everyone chose the crystal ball over cards which can tell fortunes and advise on wishes. One person stayed until everyone else left so she could have her fortune told by the cards too. All were satisfied, all knew what they were being told.

Yes, I allowed two young women to attire me in what one called, "Gypsy," to which I had to keep saying, "My family had no gypsy in it!" Oh, well, Halloween and all.

Enjoy!

Top Ten Misunderstandings About MS

1.) You look perfectly fine, so you are just lazy.

2.) I can do it, so you can too.

3.) If you baby yourself with a cane, then you will just get worse.

4.) MS is a death sentence.

5.) If it's on the Internet, then it must be true, don't need a doctor.

6.) The main goal of The MS Associations is to find a cure.

7.) Nobody will leave me just because I have MS.

8.) Wheelchairs are for wimps.

9.) Anyone with MS will understand all I am dealing with.

10.) MS is no big deal, lots of people have MS and are perfectly fine.

Can you add some more?

In Our Wheelchairs We Dream

Doing Nothing is the Best Medicine

Last night I skipped dining room meal drama and sat in the lobby. It felt GREAT! Just watching people, looking at my surroundings, chatting with some passersby---so relaxing. We don't value doing nothing enough. Too bad.

Scare a Person with a Cane. It's Easy. Fakers.

While I'm thinking of cruel things people say to people with disabilities, and let me clarify something---I did not lose my legs in an accident, and no shark bit off my arms, so please don't compare me to healthy people who are disabled. I am sick. I have a disease so horrible that it has left me disabled and still I am sick. Okay? I am so tired of 1.) People looking down on me because I don't try skiing (for example)---I am SICK. You call in sick when you get a cold? I went to work 40+ hours a week for 18 years--SICK, multiple sclerosis---LOOK IT UP, so, yes, your judging me as weak or just not willing is offensive to me. And 2.) Just because I am sitting in a power chair, that doesn't mean I am all okey-dokey; I AM SICK. (What does she have to be tired about? She just sits around all day!)

My 2nd best friend, a co-worker, and I used to go to Starbuck's for breaks everyday.

The hills of Seattle are straight DOWN, and the sidewalks on a few of those streets are steep with a capital S. When we first moved here, I loved walking up and down the steepest ones. Being an Indiana gal, well, you just don't see too many hills there. (I laugh now at what we used to call a steep street. HA! <---see----) The walk from my office building to Starbuck's was down a somewhat steep hill. As my MS progressed, it became difficult to go downhill, I had to step a bit sideways and use a cane.

One day my 2nd best friend, says, "Let's hurry up."
I say, "I'm going as fast as I can."
She says, "*I* bet I can make you go faster!" and she motions as if she will give me a push.
Not cool. In fact, I never looked at her the same again. She scared me that day. She often made snide remarks about me faking it, but I laughed and excused them as friendly kidding. This was different and plain insensitive, cruel.

Come to think of it, I don't think I ever went on a break with my former 2nd best friend again and all the ugliness I had seen over the years of working with her suddenly came into view with great clarity.

Again, I can't IMAGINE saying such a thing to anyone.

EARN Your Respect, Elders. Cruel Words to Disabled

My caregivers here, at my assisted living home, are many, and vary in experience, understanding of English, and attitude. I'm sure that would be the same in any job. Three I have had since I moved here in 2008. Today one of those was with me when I moved my non-cooperative left leg. Her back was to me, so she missed it, and I was totally not expecting anything so wonderful since I got about three hours of sleep last night.

"I just moved my LEG!" I shouted.

"Huh?" she replied.

"I moved my left leg, my foot moved!"

She looked at me without expression, "Is that special?" (IS THAT SPECIAL???!!!)

The first time it happened my caregiver hoisted my walker (photo is on my blog) with glee!

"You don't know that I can't move my left leg?"

She does a sort of laugh, "No." (I was dumbfounded. She has lifted me daily, was called when I fell and medics came, has been here since day one.)

"Why do you think I can't walk with this walker?" I ask her.

Again the snide laugh, "I don't know."

"You don't know."

"Nope." She walks away.

I sit there saying over and over, "Unbelievable." I say nothing further to her the rest of the hour but "Bye."

What I really wanted to ask was: Am I that common here, you have so many other clients, that my health issues are completely unimportant to you and extremely forgettable? Sigh.

Besides my personal strides (no pun intended) (well, maybe) as of late, my partner has been walking with her walker down to our dining room (a far trip for us)!! She has been doing her own exercises and walking a little longer each day, as is possible. We were sooo excited!

What did a resident here say to her? "I see you are walking. I knew you were faking it."

SERIOUSLY?? Look, I have not always had MS and I have not always been disabled even with MS, and I would NEVER dream of saying such a thing to anyone! What kind of mind thinks like that? This came from what I thought was a sweet 70-80ish old lady, who rarely says a word to us. When I heard that I wanted to drive down with my cane and give her a free colonoscopy.

Adding to this, people here are still confusing me with my partner and vice versa. (We all look alike, you know, gay, wheelchairs, under 65...) and one day when she stood from her chair to get our mail out of the box a fellow resident says, "So you CAN stand up." He had met me a month before and I explained my MS; he has had a stroke. Ever since he saw my partner stand, he gives me a dirty look. SERIOUSLY??

I will never understand what motivates people who must question another's physical limitations. It is none of their business, they are not the health patrol, and have they no empathy?

Oh, the things I would like to say to these people and their failing bodies and minds. (They see themselves as perfectly fit. Uh, you have told me that same thing every day for 6 months now. Why exactly are YOU here again? But no, I have MANNERS.) These people are old enough to know better!

Now, I was used to getting stupid comments at my job from young, healthy people. "Why the gimp stick?" "That scooter looks like fun! Can I try it?" Fortunately, I was around them long enough to see Karma grab them by the, well, grab them. The "gimp stick" commenter ended up on crutches after a skiing accident and what a cry baby! "I'm sorry. Now I know how YOU feel." Really? I don't think so, here is how I feel: I will still be needing a cane long after your leg has healed and you will be the same assh, er, jerk, that you will probably always be.

Ha ha, excuse me, I shouldn't laugh, but the scooter comment guy broke BOTH legs in a car accident and HE apologized, was so nice to me, until he healed and then he was a bigger jerk than before---why? Well, of course, because look at HIM! He suffered and beat his problem while *I* still baby myself with a cane.

Why I thought older, more experienced people would treat us differently is beyond me now. I have dealt with all this for 20 years, my partner does not have callouses yet. Good thing I respect my elders, but I am beginning to wonder why I should.

Advice for Gay Teens

Well, I feel really bad that nobody told me about "Spirit Day" yesterday. I was supposed to wear purple to show support for gay teens and in memory of a gay teen who committed suicide.

Really, I had no idea that life around the states was still so bad for teens. It makes me furious and I DO want to help. It's just that there are so MANY "Days" and "colors"---I thought purple was for Alzheimer's.

So I was watching Ellen about 4PMish and a knock at my door. It was a staff member here with a package. Ellen was just talking about Spirit Day and as my partner of 32 years answers the door, the staff member says, "You aren't wearing purple! Happy Spirit Day!" Partner just smiles, "Same to you," thinking it is some sporting event thing. Then the staff member tells her "Diane will know about it, she posted it on Face book." (No, she didn't.)

How am I supposed to keep up with all this? I'm not on a Gay Agenda List and as I've mentioned before, my gay friends are few. (Like one, plus his partner) I didn't get on Face book until after 6PM; I'm sure they are all over it there.

AND I just posted about how good luck on it getting better, kids. Okay, so, about turn and let me give some old LGBT person advice to all you teens reading my blog (right): Move to a big city. Seek a job in a gay friendly place. Search for true love, never give up, and if you don't want that search for another who wants what you do. Make life an adventure. Make a list of what makes you happy and start heading that way. Watch Ellen, LOGO channel, Lady Gaga, google gay authors, gay books, study YOU, love YOU, know that the world is not always going to spin your way, but that is true for everyone. And here is something I never knew as a teen---there are MANY of us! You are not alone. (Seriously, move to a big city and I don't mean Salt Lake.)

One last thing: Don't kill yourself. You deserve your life. Most of us have thought about doing it, and you are too important to not be around because when that wonderful moment happens, trust me, you will want to be there. If you feel like killing yourself, call a crisis line--I used to work at one, so many people wish they were 'not'---it is a normal feeling, like wanting to eat gallons of ice cream or win the lottery, just come back to you and to me and to all the thousands of LGBT people who stayed around and are glad they did. As my mother told me many times, "Don't kill yourself." (How did she know??)

And look at how Ellen was treated when she came out---TERRIBLE, but after awhile people came around. Hang tough until you are 18, then come out or move out. And the rest? You will find a way to make it up as you go.

Mistake of Nature Here. I Should Not Have Been.

Flabbergasted, that's what I am. I feel like I am writing crap and people keep reading...is it the everyone poops theme? Okay, so I will continue to explore my shitty life.

As I have said before, my opinion is that I should never have been born. I am a freak of nature, a male trapped inside a female body, my brain forever screwed up. No one used to speak of this, but lately it is getting more attention, thanks to Cher. Yep, I said it. Sorry, Chaz.

While I am happy for Chaz's happiness, the truth is medical science has not figured out how to "fix" us yet; much like my MS. And for most people like me, there will be no "trans" for our gender, due to age, money, and the onset of other pressing health issues. Most of us live in silence, playing spy into the world of the opposite sex. (Funny, I STILL don't understand why women do what they do...) Like that baby born without a brain, maybe that baby gives growth opportunities to others, but if *I* were that baby I would be P-Oed (I can say shitty but not pissed, go figure) that selfish adults were using me. I wonder what the right to lifers think about this? They won't accept me for what I am, but insist I live. A riddle some mind greater than mine must answer.

Then there is the multiple sclerosis. The hits just keep coming! A chronic, progressive disease without a cure and no fix for MY nerve damage in sight. Fun times. Chuck my dreams of being an actress, being a psychologist, being a police officer (you heard me), running a marathon, nope, down the drain without any Draino required.

Oh, well, at least the worst is, oops, throw in cancer---more fun than I can handle! By age 40 I was on a roll. (straight down Mt. Everest) Cancer is a curious thing. There are many people living with cancer, with cancer removed and in remission, but if you have never HAD cancer I will tell you---IT NEVER LEAVES. You know just one itsy bitsy cell can, and statistically one day will, make more cancer in your body. Soooo...like having the wrong body, having MS, having cancer just becomes who you are. Oh, oh, oh, spin it, go ahead--"I may have MS, but MS doesn't have me!" Seriously? Just saying that contradicts the meaning. "I BEAT my cancer!" You BEAT it? Really? Define beat, "To have victory in contest," oh, oh, oh, the cancer was just a contest, I win because I am alive, like a gold medal at the Olympics---but just remember the Olympics come around every 4 years, new contests, and rare that victors repeat again and again, age pretty much stops all that glory. I'm just saying, cancer hangs around, whether in your mind or your yearly doctor appts. FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE. Meanwhile, Bruce Jenner goes on to Botox, riches from endorsements (*I* never got on a box of Wheaties!), so, OK, if you want to spin it, OK, you beat cancer. Sure.

Then there is the love of my life. People feel forced to "cheer" (?) me up with that reminder that I am not in my life alone. Seriously, cash your reality check, she gets a physically screwed up partner, SHE suffers (and I'm not kidding, she SUFFERS) from her OWN diseases, her own DES Daughter, preemie, head-on car crash screwed up body too. Double the fun. Hit the SHARE button. We DO love each other so much that we WISH we didn't have to add our own crap on top of the already crappy pile that neither of us can do anything to change.

The cherry on my sundae is my family and friends. My family unit is dissolved. My mother is lonely in a nursing home 2,500 miles away with Alzheimer's. My closest friends are health compromised too. I live in a retirement home where somebody dies almost weekly. The sirens go right past my window, signalling another neighbor/friend is down for the count. Good times. I am 54, living in a place where the average age is 85, and my money for this luxury establishment (NO, Medicare does NOT pay for these places until I am broke, which looks to be coming way too soon.) is shrinking faster than the U.S. dollar. Yahoo.

So, yes, my life is a mess since the day I was born. Don't cry for me, Brazil, somebody had to get this slice of pie. I could be a starving child in Africa, as my mother would be fast to remind me. Well, MOM, their life sucks. I just happen to state that my life does as well. This COULDN'T have been meant to be. And what comes next? Don't tell me it can't get worse. I have heard that before. HA! Good times.

When Does it Get Better?

The whole "It Gets Better" campaign, aimed at, I believe, gay kids and/or bullied kids, though it is a fine slogan for kids in general since few get out of childhood unscathed by the cruelty of society. I can't recall when I first felt this way, but it was early on, and I just remember all my life WAITING to become an adult. I KNEW my life would get way better once I was free of childhood trappings. I Catcher in the Rye never felt I fit in anywhere. I To Kill a Mocking Bird always wondered how people could be so cruel to one another. And I The Miracle Worker knew one day I would overcome all obstacles.

But if I had to be honest to a kid, I would have to say, "Some things will get better and some things will get worse, probably." I would have to add, "You may never fit in, but that's okay, just be your best you," and "Some obstacles will knock you down, but there are worse places to be than alive on the floor."

Once I phoned my mother and wanted to cry about my lot in life. That is not who I am and my mother is not up to hearing such sadness, but I gave it a shot. She told me, and I'll never forget it (unless I get Alzheimer's, and frankly if I LIVE long enough to get Alzheimer's I will be content that I made it that far, except that I won't know how old I am---vicious circle) "Things will get better."

Well, things only got worse. Had Mom told me that when I was 13, she would have been correct, at least for 5 years. Some people just get more breaks than others. I am happy to be alive and loved. I am happy to live in America and have a roof over my head, clothes, and plenty of food and water. So, while, granted, this post sounds very woe-is-me, I KNOW I should just shut up and sing. But, let's get real, some things will get better and some will get worse. That is called life and it is all we have. (Wow, I'm still bummed out about something, aren't I?)

Really Tired, Bored, and Don't Care

I'm really tired. I'm just dog tired. Too tired to even google why we say "dog tired." (I'm sure I've googled that before.) I'm bored, really bored. I'm really bored and tired. Too tired to read other blogs or post on my own, too tired to get wrapped up in Facebook (only a young Red Bull drinking computer geek could come up with that---and that kind of person would never be my friend.) Too tired to think about where the dang period goes in that previous sentence. Too tired to notice or care that there is no noun in THAT previous sentence. I;m really, really t i r e d.

And I don't care. I really don't care about what Obama does or who Romney prays to or what Cain has been smokin'. I don't care who all is 99 percenting or where in the world is Waldo. Don't care whats for lunch or dinner or who won the football game. Don't care who is sick or from what or what the nuts who said racing big cars at 225MPH around an old, too small track was a good idea for FUN.

I'm tired, bored, and don't care a damn.

Tents in Seattle, Riots in Greece, 99% NOT FOOLS

I just love how the media and wall street pundits wrote off the Occupy Wall Street, 99%, as fools, junkies, and morons; yet now are faced with missing one of the biggest stories and global movements of decades!

I just love how they made it a point to seek out those who were not able to speak eloquently or were a few volts short of 9, to explain what they were doing there; only to later have the air waves filled with the voices of university graduates and those with IQs far above the clouds.

I just love how the 99% were drummed for not having a plan of action immediately, while our own politicians freely run around like chickens with their heads cut off...and they are STILL re-elected! And now within a week, the 99% are not only organized, closing their big bank accounts, flooding credit unions, calling corporations, seeking out "Made in America," but they have gone GLOBAL with more support than I have seen since right after 9-11.

I just love that scene from the movie Network: " All I know is that first you've got to get mad. You've got to say, 'I'm a HUMAN BEING, God damn it! My life has value!' So I want you to get up now. I want you to get up out of your chairs. I want you to get up right now and go to the window, open them and stick your head out and yell-'I'm as mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!' Things have got to change. But first you've got to get mad!"

99% of us are as mad as hell AND WE ARE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT ANYMORE!
CAN YOU HEAR US NOW? DO YOU GET OUR POINT NOW?!

Multiple Sclerosis and Its Effect on ESP or WHERE DID the SPIRITS GO?

Halloween is fast approaching. I agreed to do some ESP readings and spirit callings, here at my retirement home. Am I crazy? Yes, most likely, but my family has a long history of holding seances (look under "Family" label for more posts about my interesting family) and reading fortunes.

Here is the thing, since I was ordained (?) with multiple sclerosis, my psychic abilities have gone downhill. In fact, I seem to have holes in that area, leading me to conclude it really IS all in my head. I used to see spirits weekly, thought no more of them then one might of a piece of dust floating by. Now---not so much.

Every time new research comes out about the brain, I take heed. For some MS-reason my psychic ability has been compromised by this disease. Maybe the MS stops the message from beyond from getting through.

What do you think?

New MS Blog. Get Creative!

I read many new MS blogs every month. Ha ha, when I started blogging there were not so many! Now it is a good thing to have so many to choose from, seeing how everyone's MS is unique, yet somewhere another has gone through just what YOU have. All the same, all different---anyway I just must share this new blog with you because it is exactly what I espouse about living with MS and it is so inviting! I think it will be around a long time.


multiplesclerosisjournalit.blogspot.com


If you express yourself through art, then you will enjoy the look-see!

Bad Things Kids Do. Lipstick Temptation

Really, I was a good kid. There were however, two bad things I did, both of which I carry in my brain to this day.

I suppose technically stealing a penny tootsie roll was the worst. I don't think I ever told anyone before...maybe I'll tell my mom tomorrow. It was Fall and I had a jacket on. I walked to the small drugstore, ice cream counter and all, stood in front of the candy rack, looked at the busy clerk, stuffed a roll in my pocket and walked calmly home.

That roll just glared at me with my mom's eyes. Finally the guilt was too much and with much trepidation I returned the roll to its bin and swiftly left. I was 5 years old.

To MY way of thinking the next fall from grace happened when I was about 8. It seems worse to me because it shows lack of character and plain desire to be mean. I was mad at my brothers. I took my mom's lipstick and sneaked next to our neighbor's always pretty white house. There I ran the bright red lipstick across the white wall as far as I could until my body hit open space.

It was a big deal. The neighbor lady was upset and her husband, a city comptroller or such, swore to find and punish the criminal. I was scared, but played it cool. It blew over and as far as I know I was never suspected. Whew! Got THAT off my chest.

Any kid crimes you need to confess to?

MS Info Surfing, Wear a Vest. Blog? Facebook?

Yes, it has been shown how people are using the Internet more to diagnose their health problems. But, I see a disturbing trend among people with (perhaps) multiple sclerosis--in blogs, on Face book, Twitter, they seem to be self-diagnosing their disease, their stage, their therapy and even their prognosis!

They go on and on about what symptom they have and so many say they are "progressive." Yet, when I ask how long they have had MS or when they were diagnosed, it usually has only been a year or two. SOME do not even have a medical diagnosis, in fact some have not yet seen a neurologist!

So, I have begun keeping track of them and when they remit or their symptoms go away, they say their diet fixed the MS. And even those with an MRI official diagnosis, will attribute a remitting symptom to something other than the disease itself just doing what it does.

Now they KNOW what they are doing because they try to never mention when they were diagnosed. It would be funny, if it were not so sad for meaningful MS research. One person wrote of having progressive MS (FYI: ALL MS is progressive, that is different from the MS STAGE of PMS which is rare and does not waste time.) then suddenly went to a all but cured state and now has symptoms on/off. Sigh.

The misinformation about MS is now exploding all over the Internet. What started as a helpful tool for people with MS, has become a dagger of deception. I'm begging you---see a neurologist, read people's experiences with a grain (or TWO) of salt, and stay close to well known sites like Johns Hopkins or Mayo Clinic or The National MS Society. I am no advocate for their intentions, but their medical info should be based on well researched FACTS.

Just surf the Internet with caution. Brass and Ivory is one of the most MS info-rich blogs I know. Take the rest like mine (at least until you know them well) as what they are---one person's experience. Now, GO! Surf! And watch out for sharks.

Media Doesn't Understand Protesters, Oh REALLY

If I hear another media reporter say the current "Wall St." protesters don't have a unified reason for gathering I think I will burst. Seriously? REALLY?

I suppose it is like the old saying, "If I have to EXPLAIN the joke..."

Let me sum it all up (yeah, the media wants the protesters to have a plan, exit plan, ideas, resolutions, but the give POLITICIANS and CORPORATIONS a pass)---

THE RICH ARE GETTING TOO RICH and THE POOR ARE GETTING TOO POOR and there is no one left in the middle.

Big Dick Menefee and the Tiny Teacher

In middle school (what we used to call in the '70s Junior High) there was a big, tall, blond, handsome, bully named Dick Menefee. I knew him from elementary school, where his reputation as a ner-do-well mean kid proceeded him, but he was not in any of my classes. He was a scary presence and my sense was that low grades or not, the elementary teachers were intent on getting him out of their school. He showed up in my Home Room in 9th grade.

Dick was just a ball of mean. I never saw him without a scowl. I never saw him not looking like he was looking to beat somebody up. He arrived when he felt like it, sat where he wanted, said what he wanted or said nothing at all. It was much discussed that his own father beat him and agreed that prison would be his stop after school. I think he may have felt that way because he certainly made no attempt to learn anything---never read assignments, "F" was his grade of choice, and if he could bother the class in a mean way he would. I felt sorry for him. What horrible things must have been done to him? I just stayed away from him.

This story of Dick, I have been thinking about for some time now, but I couldn't remember one person's name. I thought if I let my brain work on it in its unconscious sleep state, maybe it would grab it, alas, unless it throws it out during this writing, I'll make up a name. That will be sad, because she deserves her due.

One day Dick was screwing around at the back of the class. He was about six feet tall by now, our teacher was about five feet tall...on her tip toes. She was a gray-haired, stick-to-the-rules teacher, for some reason I think her actual class was Latin, but in Home Room (the first check-in class of the day) you got whoever was available. She called out Dick's name, but he didn't answer.

There were snickers from his boys, but the rest of us dared not make a sound. Again she called, again he refused to answer and made a nasty remark aimed at her. Then it happened---the unthinkable.

Miss Hillman put a scowl on HER face and called him up to the front of the class. Well, of course he just laughed and didn't budge.

She stood, all almost four feet and 90lbs. of her, next to her desk and looked right at him. "Come here!" she said, pointing to the floor next to her.

Dick shuffled his large body around, still seated at a desk, his long legs hanging into the isle. "No," he said as cool as snow. The tension in the room was thicker than molasses, and it ran over each of us, putting us all in a mess.

"COME HERE!" (Miss Hilman! Give it up! Save us all!) She crossed her arms. Silence.

There was an audible gasp as Dick rose and slowly moved to the front of the room, where he locked eyes with Miss Hickman and stood next to her.

It was a site I will never forget. Well muscled, tall, Mr. Mean vs. tiny Miss Old Lady, and she wasn't backing down, even though she had to crane her neck to look up and meet his eyes.
"Mr. Menefee, you are expected IN YOUR CHAIR by 8AM. Do you understand?"

I was certain he was going to hit her. I had heard he had struck teachers before, spent time in Juvy Hall even, had a gun, knives...."DO YOU UN DER STAND, MR. MEN E FEE?" she said, but was trembling just a bit.

The sweat was dripping off me when finally he spoke. "Yes."

Still locked in a stare she said, "Now take your seat and don't forget."

The bell, thankfully rang, and we all left the room, off to repeat to our schoolmates what had just happened. The next morning at 8AM, Dick was in his seat. Something shifted in that standoff the day before. For one thing my respect for Miss Hillman grew tenfold, and my respect for Dick Menefee was just beginning. He was like a changed young man. Had no one ever stood up to him before? Was he also impressed by little old lady Miss Hillman's courage? I'll never know for sure, but something happened beyond that moment.

Dick Menefee got noticed by the football coach. He started playing football---very well! That led to his handsome good looks being noticed by the pretty cheerleaders, and then by one of the brightest, shyest, SWEETEST girl in school. They started dating and Dick started smiling. His grades went up and he became one of the nicest guys you would ever want to know. He became popular.

I don't know how his story ended or continued, but I know when a tiny old teacher stood up to him and refused to accept that he was not worth the attempt to talk to. Could she imagine all that she taught us that day? I know it made ME feel more powerful, brave, and most importantly it showed that Dick Menefee was a human being, not a monster.

Maybe it showed him that too.

Secondary Progressive MS, When MS Retires

I used to think secondary progressive MS was the worst thing that could happen to me. I mean, after all, if you start at relapsing remitting, the progression to secondary is the end of the line---all downhill from there. Well, that may be true, but I'm not living it yet. In fact, I feel better than I used to.

Back in 1990, after my initial diagnosis, my hopes were on being that 50% who never would rely on a wheel chair. It seemed, for 15 years, that I had made it! But, alas, here I sit, power chair at my side---always. Oh well, you takes your chances. I refuse to accept the whole "secondary progressive now you are just a downhill headed snowball" thing. Um, I don't roll like that.

In truth, some functions have come back that I thought were gone forever. Plus, there is a certain tranquillity with not waking up each day and finding a relapse starting. As my neurologist asked me 5 years ago, "When was your last relapse?" I couldn't remember, in fact, without all the blog and Face book reading I do, I'd probably have to really think hard to recall what they were like. Much of the uncertainty of MS is now gone. Here I am. Being 54 leaves me with more health issues to worry about than MS.

Like cancer. Had it once, don't want it again. Liver problems. Had them once, don't want them again. Diabetes runs in my mom and a brother (both of whom I look just like), don't want that.
Then there is mom's Alzheimer's---like a shadow that I see every so often, hanging around...certainly don't want that. My point is that MS has crept lower on my health concerns list. Secondary progressive can do that for ya. It has shown certain limitations, but I will always continue to try and erase those. Bottom line: there is so much more I CAN do than I can't do. My focus is clear for the goal of quality of life.

Back in the '90s, I was working at a job I loved, walking hills of Seattle every day, driving, but my quality of life was pretty sucky. I would never have admitted that then, because who KNEW where I might be in 10 years, but now I can say---it was really difficult.

I feel bad for people diagnosed with MS so early now, I do. Those years BEFORE my diagnosis, almost 8, where today a MRI would have pegged me, were terrible and scary. But they passed and newly diagnosed people now seem so freaked out! (As I would have been. I would never have gotten my job with the city that afforded me such great health benefits. I might even have headed back to UGH Indiana. So MANY things I never would have felt able to do, chances I would never have taken.) Without a CURE, early diagnosis just seems more of a trouble maker.

If I found out today that I will get Alzheimer's---what good will it do me? NONE. I already play all the brain strengthening games, eat the healthy foods, exercise; not a future I'm worrying about.

Secondary progressive MS. SPMS. There are worse things to have.

JonBenet Ramsey, Amanda Knox, Giles Corey, OJ, Casey Anthony, Galileo, Jack Ripper, and Human Justice

Another murder comes and goes and we read or watch in amazement. Who done it? Let the game of Clue begin. Innocent? Not guilty? Let's debate if those are the same thing.

Can we arrest a man for his thoughts? Did we get the Salem witch trials right?

How did cavemen dispense justice? How did they decide "who done it"?

Do animals or birds murder, then try to hide the fact?

With our never-ending search for the who, what, when, where, and why of life, unless we hand it all over to a God---the TRUTH is that we may just never know. The coming generations may one day know, but not us.

To me, some of the cases seem pretty easy to figure. I think if an accused person starts lying, well, if nothing else they are liars or mentally challenged. If friends of theirs go along with the lies, then they are just liars, and liars have something to hide.

Casey Anthony was such a blatant liar that her case was open and closed, right? Not so fast, she got off free from harming her little girl in any way. Who done it?

Amanda Knox said she did it, but later had reasons why that was a lie which should be ignored. She did or didn't lie? Oh right, that was in Galileo country and they just must not know how to find the truth. Who done it?

No one knew much about DNA back in the OJ Simpson days, so if an old glove didn't fit that big hand of an athlete, then we must acquit. Who done it?

Galileo never lied. But he did say things the rulers of the day did not want to hear. He done it. Guity as charged.

Giles Corey never lied. He refused to say anything at his Salem trial, so the powers that be chose to pile stones on him until they "pushed the truth out of him." Corey never said a word. He was crushed to death. Guilty as charged.

Yes, human justice is strange indeed. Too often more ice than just. Our prisons hold innocent people and our streets house the guilty. Perhaps we have a brain that has an area for making a wrong right within ourselves. That area sits in line with empathy, passes by the fear zone, ends with many synapses firing off and bouncing into each other, searching for the perfect fit.

It may be that there is no perfect fit, since that would require our own brain connecting with a suspect's brain, ah, the stuff of science fiction. The fear in our brain is that if we do not capture and stop these wrong-doers, than they will keep doing the bad deed. We certainly have plenty of proof of that. Yet, even that has a flip side---what other child did JonBenet's killer kill?

If O.J. did it, he didn't did it again. Michael Jackson's "doctor" is headed down the road to be busted for at the very least, assisting in Jackson's death, but if he is freed...anyone think he won't help others sleep by any means necessary for the right amount of money?

Our human justice, however screwed up it is, makes us feel we are safer for it. Do you feel safer?

Seattle Park After Horsetail Cutting. Bat Swamp Land

Okay, here are photos of the "neighborhood park" after my Tweets and general complaining about what a mess it was. Before noon on Thursday, you couldn't even SEE the wood steps up the hill. That sidewalk on the street front was also covered with grit, stones, and weeds.

See the "Leash Your Dog. Scoop Law" sign? That went up the day after I called to complain about the poop smell and loose dogs at the park. My resident neighbors had been complaining about that for months---why didn't they call the Parks Dept.? Seattle has excellent Parks and Streets Depts.

At my previous apt. complex there was a large crack in front of our building, right across from a public library. After many months it grew to a sink hole and yes, Diane gets tired of always being "a complainer." It was HUGE and I actually was afraid it might encroach upon my building. I told the building Mgr.--nothing. I doubted he cared. Due to construction, large semi-trucks were diverted down my street and made the hole deeper by the day.

Finally I called the "pothole" number and within 24hrs it was completely repaired.

And there is the WIDE "ADA compliant" (well, yeah, trucks need to drive through---I'm SO sure people with disabilities was what the designer had in mind, right.) entrance in the 2nd photo.

That huge building in the first photo is the retirement community, and that shows about half of it. I wonder how many seniors were on the advisory board for the park design...oh, right---NONE!

In my mind this is no park at all. It is a stab at art. And even at that it fails because of the uncontrollable Horsetails that came with the soil that was delivered there. Oh well, those horsetails won't bother the bats and birds which have been encouraged to nest at this park. That's right, bats.

Next I'll take photos of the "pond," located in the center of the "park." Seriously, WHO thought this was a good use of citizen money?