It’s All About Perspective

Last night when I was doing laundry, I came across this ratty old t-shirt. It’s an undershirt, actually, and it belongs to my son. Well, it was originally my dad’s. One night when we were at my parent's house and the kids got a bath and didn’t have any PJ’s, my dad gave it to Alex to wear home. At the time, I’m absolutely certain that my dad didn’t realize what he was actually giving my son.

Now let me back up a minute and give you some background to this story. You see, my mom is amazing when it comes to laundry. And, much like her cooking, no matter how hard I try to copy what she does, I fail. My laundry never looks as good as hers (which could have something to do with the fact that it often lays on the table in the laundry room for days). And, as my children so often point out, it NEVER smells as good as grandma’s.

But back to the t-shirt. Since the day my dad gave Alex that shirt, he has worn it over and over and over again to sleep at night. When it was dirty he would return it to my mom to wash for him. He said it didn’t smell right when I washed it. Nowadays, since I started using the same fabric softener as my mom I can get away with washing it--sometimes

For a brief moment when I grabbed it off the pile to fold it, I considered retiring it to the rag bin. But something stopped me. Sure it's  torn, old and ratty looking. But it matters to my son. For him it isn’t just a t-shirt he wears to bed. It is something his grandpa gave to him. It reminds him of grandpa and it smells like him. In short, he has a whole different perspective on that t shirt than anyone else--including me.

If I’ve learned anything over the past couple of months, it’s that perspective matters--A WHOLE LOT. How you choose to look at things can make a huge difference in your attitude. But the tricky part is that it is a choice. One you have to make every day. Some days I’m better at seeing the glass half full--I walked 4.5 miles. Other days I fail miserably--I couldn’t run those 4.5 miles. Today I choose to see things in a positive light. How about you?

Why I Walked

This past weekend, I took part in Walk MS here in Cincinnati. It's the first year that I've done the walk, partly because I really never felt like I fit before. In hindsight that seems pretty stupid to me, but I remind myself it's all about the journey. I'm in a different place this year than I was last year...and the year before that.

Seeing as it was my first year taking part in the walk, I must confess that I came less than prepared--both emotionally and logistically.

Knowing that MS affects people in so many different ways is one thing. Seeing it up close and personal is another. Wheelchairs, walkers, canes were aplenty. A tricked out wheelchair accessible van was on full display. Booths for  a wide range of services were all over, as were teams with memorial shirts bearing the picture for who they were walking. To say it was a bit overwhelming is an understatement.

Logistically, I didn't do much better. I didn't manage to raise much money, my team was small--but mighty--and we didn't have nice matching T-shirts like a lot of the teams, but you know what? It was O.K.

Maddie, walking for and with her mom.

I realized that when I filled out the card saying who I was walking for. I did this for me. No one else, just me. I would have walked it all by myself if need be. And that's because this is my journey. Slowly I'm learning that. (Luckily I didn't have to walk alone because I was surrounded by my family and my BFF, Teri, and her two daughters.)

In short, I'm learning on this journey that as much as I appreciate the love and support of those around me, I can't look to them to make this O.K. This is my journey, my challenge. And that is why I walked--and even ran the last quarter mile or so to the finish line leaving my team in the dust--and will walk next year and the year after that. It is why I will run the Disney Princess Half Marathon--either alone or with my hubby if he feels so inclined.

Through this journey, I'm learning a lot about myself. I'm stronger than I thought, I'm more capable than I thought and I can do this. This walk was another step along the way. As the walkers headed out, this was one of the songs they played. I don't think they could have made a better choice.

Epic Mom Fail

Have you ever had one of those mom moments when you feel like you completely and utterly have failed? Well, I had one of those yesterday.

It's not a secret that starting this shot regiment has not been easy. They hurt, I'm crabby, I cry a lot and I've been battling panic attacks--which may or may not be a side effect of the medicine. That last side effect is what led to my mom fail.

The other night I was trying to explain to Mark what it felt like.

"I feel like I'm going to die."

I thought we were alone. I thought it was just us. If I didn't, I never would have said it. But apparently we weren't. My oldest daughter, Maddie, had heard. I knew she had. I saw the look on her face.

The effects of MS on my kids has been the hardest part of this disease. I see the way they look at me--afraid, nervous, worried. I've tried hard to maintain an "everything is fine and normal" attitude with them, but sometimes it's just not possible.

So I wasn't overly surprised when I got a call from school yesterday saying that Maddie was sick. "She said she feels like she's going to throw up," said the nurse. I know the feeling well. It's exactly how I feel when I'm worried. Maddie may be a clone of her father in so many ways, but when it comes to being a worrier, she's all me.

After I picked her up and brought her home, I asked her point blank if she was worried about something. I didn't need to ask. I knew the answer. I've heard it from her before.

"I'm worried about you."

Nothing quite cuts at a mom's heart like hearing your child say that. It's just not supposed to be that way. I sat and explained what I had meant when I said that, how I was going to be fine, how this is going to be a process for us all. And then we sat together for a long time, just me and my--not so little anymore, but always my baby--girl.

Today she's better. I'm a little better. I think that's the way this journey is going to be--day by day, step by step, but hand in hand the whole way.

A New Journey

Today I came to the end of one road and started down another. I received my first Copaxone injection. I have spent nine years finding every excuse and reason in the book not to start taking the daily injections for my MS. Don't ask me why. I'm not even sure--fear, denial, vanity. Pick a reason.

I'll be honest, I'm still not happy or at peace with this. Can I do this? Hell yeah. Do I want to? Absolutely not. For some reason, even after all this time, I just can't seem to master that whole acceptance thing. But I will keep trying. I am a work in progress. And that is exactly why I have taken this next step.

In the wise words of Rafiki from the Lion King: "It is time."

Here We Go

My first injection was not as bad as I had imagined. That's not to say it wasn't overwhelming, though. My head is still swimming with all the instructions: Find the injection site and don't forget to rotate the sites, remember all the steps to prepare the AutoEject, apply a warm compress for five minutes beforehand, apply ice afterward if I bleed or bruise, let the alcohol dry before adminstering the shot, remember to log where and when I gave myself the shots, find a safe place for meds and container for needle disposal, and on and on. By the time the nurse left my head hurt worse than my injection site. Luckily, I had Mark by my side helping me along. He really is my prince.

He always tells me to look at everything as a new adventure. Well, let the adventure begin.

In time I know everything I learned today will become second nature and at some point I will find peace with this journey. For now I'm taking it day by day.

The "F" Word

Fatigue, people, I mean fatigue. But for me--and others with MS--it's probably a worse word than the one you originally thought I meant. (Come on, don't deny it. That's what first popped in your head.)

Fatigue has been my biggest nemesis since I was diagnosed with MS. The other night I tried to explain it to my son by saying that when I get up in the morning--after eight or more hours of sleep--it feels like I never went to bed. I hate it.

The last time I went to my neurologist, I asked him how to battle the fatigue.

"Exercise," he said.

Excuse me? I thought, resisting the urge to flip him off. Maybe he didn't hear me say that I find the fatigue almost debilitating. I rephrased the question.

"When I wake up in the morning and feel like I've been hit by a loaded semi before I even get out of bed, how do you suggest I proceed?"

"Get some exercise."

Seriously? What is wrong with this guy? Mark grabbed my hand--this time before either my middle finger or my fist were extended.

I left the office in a huff. On the ride home, Mark, being the ever practical voice of reason, took an enormous risk and sided with the doctor.

"Maybe you should try to exercise and see how it makes you feel."

Not one to like admitting when I'm wrong--who does?--I dug in my heels. What do they know about how I feel? It's easy for them to offer suggestions.

A New Chapter

Fast forward to about a month ago to when I was told to start the shots, when I was emotionally and physically broken down, when I needed something--anything--to keep me moving forward. That's when I discovered this and things changed.

I started this blog, laced up my gym shoes and began charting a course for this next chapter in my life. It all came into focus this past week.

I did something that I haven't done in a very long time. With Mark out of town and me and the kids off for President's Day, I took the kids shopping--for a good part of the day. That was after I got up in the morning, walked for 30 minutes on the treadmill and then cleaned the house.

Now to most of you that may seem like whoop dee doo, big deal, I do that kind of stuff all the time. For me it was huge. It was the first time in I can't remember how long I actually had the energy to do something with my kids without hitting a wall halfway through the day or snapping at them because I was so exhausted. And it's happening more and more. I get up quicker, stay up longer, laugh more, have more fun, snap less and feel better.

So I will now publicly and begrudgingly admit to my neurologist and husband that I was wrong. (Take note, this will not happen often.) You were right. I've never felt better.

Houston, We Have a Problem

The weather was beautiful here in Cincy today, so I thought I'd take full advantage of it and head outside for some exercise. After dinner at my parents I helped Mark load the kids in the van, turned on my IPod and headed out for the 1.8 mile walk home.

I got about .3 miles before I realized there was a problem. See, MS affects your balance. When you walk on the treadmill there are those nice handrails you can grab onto when necessary. Not so out in the great wide open. I tried to maintain a decent pace, but the faster I walked the more off balance I became. Luckily it was dark, so no one could see me weaving all over the sidewalk like I'd been on an all-day bender.

Halfway home I started to cry. "This is so embarrassing. I look like a fool."

Three-quarters of the way home I got mad. "Damnit, why won't my body work like I want it to?" And then I pushed on. I was going to do this. I need to do this, I told myself.

When I got home, I did what I usually do when I'm not feeling so hot--I fell into Mark's arms. He always seems to know just what to say.

"Give it time," he said. "You're just starting. Your body needs to get used to it." (He then threatened to call the cops on me the next time to report a lady who was obviously intoxicated. Thanks, dear.)

In the meantime, I have to come up with a plan of action so I don't run the risk of being picked up by the po po every time I go out for a walk. I have a walking stick that my in-laws bought me last time we were in Gatlinburg, but somehow I don't think the mean streets of Delhi are the appropriate venue for using it.

So while I'm figuring out my plan, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't point, stare, laugh or call the cops if you drive by me. I'd rather you just honk or wave and wish me luck.

Off and Running

In two weeks, women are going to be lining up very early in Magic Kingdom getting ready to run--mothers and daughters, sisters, friends. They're not going to be running to be the first on Haunted Mansion. They're going to be running in the Disney Princess Half Marathon. God willing, next year I will be one of them.

I know, I know. I'm not a runner. In fact I don't do much of any type of exercising these days. I am one of the people for who those couch-to-marathon programs were invented. So what do I know about running a half marathon? To answer that question, "Absolutely nothing." But I need this.

In the next couple weeks I will be starting my Copaxone shots in the next step toward battling my MS. And while I know it is the right thing to do to treat my disease, it's still scary as hell. To say I've been a little bit bummed is an understatement. And then I found this link when I was researching this year's summer vacation to Disney.

I LOVE Disney. I've loved it since the first time I saw my kid's eyes light up when they saw Cinderella's castle. I wrote about that experience here. So what better place than the Most Magical Place on Earth, I thought, than to take on this challenge that will probably leave me broken and vomiting at the end? But I can wear Mickey ears or a Tinkerbelle costume while I'm doing it. How cool it that?

That is if I even make it that far. I'm just hoping I don't get picked up on the first mile by the running police who determine I'm not keeping up my promise of a 16 minute mile and whisk me off to the finish line. Still, would that be so bad? I'll still be in Disney. But I digress.

I'm going to be blogging about this journey to keep myself accountable--and, quite frankly, to make you all feel better about yourselves when you read how horribly out of shape and unfit I am. I hope you'll all come along for the run.