Good and Bad

The Bad: I had a fall last week. I was at the mall with my parents and I had left them in search of a restroom. The mall was essentially empty and I guess I didn’t quite lift my right foot enough to shuffle over the polished floor. Stick. Stumble. It wasn't pretty; I think I resembled an octopus falling out of a tree.  Some kiosk guys did see it, and asked if I was OK. I was fine. The good thing is that I didn’t injure myself and although I did feel a twinge in my bad arm, it doesn’t appear to have set me back at all.

The Good: Maybe, just maybe, the ol’ voice is starting a gradual improvement. Last night at FHE I sang about 80% of the opening song. And maybe 30% of the closing. Now, I didn’t sing well, and my range is still less than an octave, and really bad, but it was better than a year ago. It is still a pain though. And like a lot of things, I’m never sure if it is really an improvement or I am getting used to it and learning “work arounds” so it seems better. I’ll keep working it.

Bad Wing

Back in October I reported trouble with my right arm and that dreadful fall. Since then especially, I have really been favoring it. The arm works fine (and without pain) when it is employed at chest level or below, but I cannot really raise it.

The small things you’d never think of are perhaps, the most taxing, like washing your hair. For months now I hold the shampoo bottle in my left, squeeze a dollop into my right. Put bottle down. Transfer shampoo to my left and lather one-handed. Kind of a pain but it doesn’t take much ingenuity and beats the alternative of being icky.

Every day I spend some time doing a homemade rehab, and have found that it is slowly getting better, I think. But this morning I reached a measurable little milestone: two-handed lather! Aah, felt good.

I’m on the mend!

Reloading

It has been a long time since I have posted anything meaningful on this blog. I often consider officially taking this blog down since I update it so infrequently. But I don’t because I don’t know when insights will hit me or new silver linings will become manifest.

I don’t know when, or if, a remission is pending, but it does seem that my condition, for better or worse, is destined to change very gradually. What that means in “blog-speak” is “boring.”

I mean, I do have stories of near falls, fun with sleeping pills, and how frightening bleachers can be without handrails, but none of these anecdotes have much redeeming value.

In my Sunday school teaching odyssey, I was so relieved following my December lesson. I was done! I had made it! I had completed the nearly impossible! They couldn’t continue to supplant Gospel Doctrine lessons and they wouldn’t seriously ask me to keep teaching. I learned a couple of weeks ago that, yeah, they can, and yeah, they will. So I taught again on January 3 and the worst part was the concern during preparation. I really dreaded teaching again. But I can’t ask for a release. It seems so spineless.

Two cool things stand out to me about last week’s lesson.

1. Although I don’t think it was my best lesson, parts of it were. Absolutely were. During preparation I had a distinct prompting to look something up, so I did, still kind of unsure how it would fit in the lesson. Then during the lesson a situation unfolded where that preparation was precisely the right thing to say at that moment and it was incredible. Hearts, including mine, were moved deeply.
2. I found that my voice does much better at 10:15 a.m. than at 2:15 p.m. Don’t get me wrong; it is still borderline atrocious, but no mike and no slurring. On a scale of 1 – 100, it has improved from a 6 to a 9. Maybe. We’ll see on Feb 7.

Legal Ads

(this was posted originally a week ago but because it got some unwanted spam in the comments, I deleted it, added comment moderation, and I am re-posting it)

I was watching a football game with Ryan and a Legal ad came on and asked: “Did you take (drug X) before 1992 and now have (medical problem Y)? If so, you may be entitled to financial compensation.” I told him that I was waiting for the ad that says, “Did you eat a lot of Arby’s in 2003-04? The Rueben? Do you currently have M.S. with severe vocal strain? If so, call this toll free number; you may be entitled to financial compensation?”

Or “Do you love little chocolate donuts? Cream Soda? At Tommy’s, did you eat a lot those fiery hot yellow peppers to show of for the ladies and now walk unsteadily? Well, that wasn’t wise, we feel bad for you, and there has been no link proven, BUT if you want to just roll the dice and sue someone, call us.”

The Theory of Relativity

People often ask me how I am doing. They are both serious and well-meaning, but I am not always sure how to answer. How am I doing – relative to what?

Compared to my worst periods with MS, I’m doing fabulously! In fact if I consider that my future may hold debilitating paralysis, immobility,and an untimely demise, then I am doing wonderfully today! (This creates a curious inverse relationship between optimism and state of being.)

But if the benchmark is a normal 44-year old man that can work to provide for his family, that can run up the stairs, and sing Christmas carols if he wants, then I’m doing poorly. Quite poorly.  I can’t afford to use that benchmark.

Silence is Golden

So I've been thinking: on most days my health condition is relatively stable, which makes for peaceful living but poor blogging.  I try to come up with insights, but often there is nothing that I haven't already shared.  There are still challenges but nothing really new or interesting.  I strain to see signs of improvement, and I do see them but they are so subjective and pathetic that sharing them would only serve to heighten concern.

So I end up writing nothing.  Forgive me.  If things go south I promise to report them here.  Or if things turn sharply north I'll report it.  If there are no updates, assume that everything is either stable (or gradually improving.)  When I hit a measurable milestone, I won't be shy about it.

Exquisite

Warning: long entry ahead and reader discretion is advised.

Over the past few years, I have been hyper-sensitive to any little ache, pain, or discomfort. Almost always, the problem disappears as stealthily as it came. However, for the last several months I’ve been having increasing pain in my upper right arm. At rest, it is completely pain free, but if I use it wrong, look out. Actually, I first noticed this pain while descending to the pool equipment area a few months back, and used my right arm to steady myself against the fence. I might have been a little wobbly that day, and relied more upon the right arm than usual, but whatever it was, I received a sharp rebuke from the back of my upper arm.

I don’t think it is a symptom of MS. I think it is some sort of a wicked muscle strain that has resulted from awkward exertion and constant bracing. Over the last little while, it seems to be getting worse. The smallest things can set it off: pulling up the bed sheet from the wrong angle, reaching for the bar in the closet too quickly, turning on a light switch as I hastily amble by…I am confronted with about five seconds of searing, soul-shattering pain. I accept that I have a relatively low pain threshold but, wow.

I am growing accustomed to using my left arm for a lot of things -- good thing I am left-handed! My chiropractor tried giving my neck an adjustment. No improvement. My neurologist suggested stretches. No improvement. I think I need to try a physical therapist.

If you are still reading, you must be one of those people that have to look as they drive by an accident scene. You don’t want to see anything gory but you are somehow viscerally compelled to look. This story got worse this morning. Around 7 a.m., I was returning to bed after using the restroom. Ordinarily I would stay up but the sleeping pills I had taken were still weighing heavy on me. I was a little off-balance and insanely groggy so I thought I’d try to sleep for another hour. I sat on the edge of our elevated bed, leaned back gingerly before swinging my legs in. I swiveled and threw my legs up and I immediately had a problem: I was not on the bed far enough and now I was helplessly falling off. Fortunately I was able to avoid the nightstand and suffered no injury from this short fall, except one thing. I had reflexively attempted to stop my fall by using my right elbow as a brace. If I could have screamed, I’m sure I would have. This was without question the most pain I have ever felt.

Kara got up and asked if I was OK. I don’t say this flippantly when I say that I could not answer. I was in such pain that I could not will myself to even begin an answer. She asked again, “Are you OK?” I shook my head no and began sobbing. She didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to do. The worst pain I have ever felt and this time it was longer than five seconds and is was not relenting. I broke out into a cold sweat.

I tried to speak again but couldn’t. But what could I say anyway? Call 911? And say what?, “My husband’s arm is really hurting him, but there is no outward sign of trauma.” They would probably tell her to take me to a chiropractor or do more stretches. (And that I’m a big baby.) She needed to start her kid-rousing so I composed myself a little and said, “I’m OK.” It was a total lie but what could she do?

Well, time (and Advil) helped to temper the pain. I’ve been extra careful all day. I even took my turns in Facebook Scrabble using my left hand. I’ve had several hours to reflect upon today’s bad start and here is what I have:

1. I didn’t know that you could feel such intense physical pain without going unconscious or at least going into shock. (I may have been in the early stages of shock with the sweating. Or I just might be the World’s biggest drama queen. Early stages of shock? Where do I come up with this stuff?)
2. If there is something to be learned, I’d better learn it well because I never want to experience that much pain again.
3. I considered how “The Son of Man hath descended below them all” and that the Savior suffered more than we can ever know. Wow. Just one member of my body hurt, I sweated only sweat, and given the opportunity to pass, I would have. I would have flung the cup. My point is not the obvious: that I pale in comparison to the Savior, but rather, how today, more than ever before, I stand all amazed.