My story

If I could encourage and challenge one person with my story, it would make what I have gone through worthwhile. I know that every person responds differently to life's challenges and social expectations. Sometimes it amazes me that we just accept what others tell us as to how our lives should be. We do not seem to think for ourselves often enough. So, I am going to tell my story, my way.

It seems to me that my life has been nothing but major challenges along the way. Starting out with biological parents that should never had been allowed to have children. When you make the decision to become a parent, there is a certain level of responsibility that you must accept.

Mine did not.

My father was a biker, wrestler, alcoholic, and basically not a good person. My mother was not strong enough to stand up to him; and was very afraid of him. He had been away for a good while and upon his return my mother told him to watch the children, (my brother and me), and went out for the day. I guess she felt she needed a break.

When she returned the apartment was empty of belongings and her children. The details of this time are pretty sketchy. I’ve been told that he hid us at various places including the home of my biological grandparents. Apparently they were too elderly and their health too poor to care for us long. They made him take us back into his care.

I won't talk about the things that happened to us at this time. I will say that I became pretty self-reliant and tough. After all these years some of the things I remember the most were hiding, being hungry, in pain, and being very, very frightened. He had threatened our mother and even beat her up. He stalked her and told her to never try to get us back because he would make sure it did not happen. Her father loaded her up in his old station wagon and took her out of the city. She lived in the South for many years, and returned about the time we would have been old enough to look for her. But she never filed the paper work that would have allowed contact to be made; she just sat there, waiting.

Of course this information was passed to me just several years ago when I located my father through a contact online. I was curious about my history, in part due to my health issues and the fact that I had two children. I had two names and did a search which eventually turned up a half-brother. He put me in contact with my father. When I told my brother that I had found our biological father, he did some digging of his own and located our birth mother. My brother went to meet them. Several months later I went on a road trip with him to meet them as well. Of course there were holes in their stories and things that did not match my memories and the information I had been given. I know that I still do not have the whole story because there was a third person involved that was listed as the mother on the adoption papers. I would have very different feelings about a relationship with them if the real story was every told. For now, all I can do is wait, and pray that someday that person will have the courage to come forward with the whole story.

My adoptive parents gave us so many opportunities and for this I am truly thankful. We traveled across the United States and throughout several Central and South American countries. There were trips building houses, schools, and clinics; drilling wells and delivering supplies. We even spent three years in Nicaragua. My Dad was the Director of Volunteer Services in the city of Managua. Both of my parents were working with the volunteers in establishing schools, clinics and other needs. My brother and I had a great time making friends and seeing the country. I felt like I was doing something to help make the world a better place. There are so many stories I remember about the three years we lived there. God willing, I will tell them all, someday.

The summer we returned to the States, I worked as a nanny for four little children. Then also in the nursing home just down the street. That fall I went to Virginia to attend college. I wanted to be a Social Worker and help children find their way in life.

Instead, I ended up leaving school and getting married. The first five years were pretty good. Then I noticed that things were changing. But I had to stick it out because I now had a brand new daughter and I was not going to be following the circle of my past. I had determined that I would stick it out and make the best of it.

Then I gave birth to my son. I had a family now and it was my responsibility to give them the life they should have. So, I did everything I could to make that happen. I was very involved in their lives from birth. Everything they wanted to be involved in with school, Church, and other social activities, I was their biggest fan. Sometimes that was challenging with employment. But I can remember missing very few activities, field trips, band and other events.

The evening of December 3rd, 2001 I went to the Rockingham County School Christmas Concert. I had just left work, zipped through McDonalds for my daughter's dinner(her request)and went to help serve pizza to several hundred teenagers. Rebecca had had enough and wanted something different. We had a good time serving and talking with the young people. Then the concert began. It was amazing. I have heard people (including their father) say concerts and other musical events are music only a mother could love. I watched the crowd that night and strongly disagreed. The children's voices were beautiful after so many days of practice and I saw many in the audience affected in the same way.

By the end of the evening, I was ready to get home to bed. I had had a terrible headache all day at work and it just seemed to be getting worse. Thinking it was a migraine, I took one of the prescriptions I had used for years to help. Eventually it eased and I fell asleep.

The alarm went off at 6:00am as always. I hit the snooze and lay back wondering why my head was still pounding. I thought I would go start the coffee and get my shower. I put my feet to the floor and the rest of my body followed. Wondering why my legs were not working, I crawled to the bathroom. After sitting on the floor for a while, I finally got enough strength to stand and shower. My right side felt like it was on fire. But when I touched my skin I didn't feel the contact. I guessed I must have a pinched nerve and that would account for the headache also. So I dressed and got ready for work. I took several Tylenol and drank some coffee. The kids were up and ready for school where I would drop them on my way to work.

As we were driving to town, I was having trouble with my vision. But I put it off to the headache. Then I became concerned when I had to ask my daughter if there were one or two trucks on the road in front of me and which lane it was in. She said, “Mom, what is wrong?" I said I had a headache but would be fine. I drove the rest of the way with one hand over my right eye. It worked.

The next several days saw increasing problems. I kept going to work and taking the kids to school. Finally just before lunch one day my balance gave out and I found I was walking down the hall to my office sideways and kept running into the wall. My arm was so bruised. My co-workers said I needed to get to a doctor. I gave in and went to the ER. They gave me a shot for the pain. Then after several hours did a CT scan. They said there was nothing wrong, go home take a few days off and rest. It was probably just stress. I don't stress! But I called the office and told my boss that I would be back to work on Monday. Could someone cover for me? He said no problem get some rest.

Saturday morning and things were no better. I decided I would use one of my favorite relaxation methods; a long, hot bath. I ran the water and put in lots of bubbles. Then I got in and slipped down to soak. Suddenly I was engulfed in unimagined pain. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. Finally I managed to scream loud enough to bring help. I was taken to my local doctor's office. The doctor that saw me drew blood work and performed all the usual tests. He referred me to a neurologist and got me an appointment for the following Monday morning.

By Monday morning I was definitely not able to drive or do very few other ordinary tasks. I actually couldn't even hold my coffee cup. I got ready with help from the family and was taken to the appointment. Once there the doctor ordered another CT scan and MRI. Off to the hospital for the tests. Then back to the doctor's office to wait for the results. I was called to the exam room and given the news that there was a lesion on the brain stem where it goes into the brain. My circuits had been shorted out. The doctor was certain I had MS. He sent me to the hospital in Charlottesville for further testing.

By the time Tuesday morning came, I was in bad shape. My body did not respond to anything i needed to do and I was not speaking clearly. MY right side was pretty well useless and I was having trouble walking, using my right arm, and did not make any sense when speaking. I couldn't understand why nobody could understand what I was saying. My parents came down from Ohio and we went to the appointment. I had to use a wheelchair to get throughout the hospital. The doctor came in and did a lot of testing, ordered blood work and said she would be right back. When she came back she had my family with her and said that I was to be admitted. I did not want to be spending time in the hospital. Christmas was just around the corner. I had things to do, preparations to make for the holidays.

There was to be no discussion about my going home. I was taken to a room and started on pain meds and IV's. After several more types of MRI's and CT Scans, hearing, speaking, and visual exams, it was decided that I had suffered a stroke due to the size and depth of the lesion.

That night after my family had gone home to be with my children, they came to the room to do a spinal tap. I tried to explain that I had back problems and it would not be a good idea to do this. It was pretty well insisted that this test was needed for a full diagnosis. So I said it was ok to do. A friend later counted the needle marks on my lower back and there were thirty-seven stick points. When they drew the spinal fluid out it felt like a piece of barbed wire had been pulled through my spinal cord. I had never felt anything like it and don't ever want to again!

The next morning just as my husband Pete arrived, they came in and said it had to be done again as there wasn’t enough fluid to run the test. I was then taken to a special testing room where they used an x-ray type machine to do the test. The technician doing the test said he did not know why they didn't do it there the previous night. He was very good at his job. After numbing the area, it took him one try and was able to get the amount that was needed.

After days of trying to get the pain under control, physical therapy, and lots of meds, it was determined that I could go home. I had to use a cane to walk, pens with padding so I could hold onto them, and pads for my utensils for eating. There was a slight improvement in my speech. I was referred to Occupational and Physical therapy.

Christmas passed with lots of help from neighbors and the Church. Food was brought in along with offers for help with transportation and household help.

As time progressed, I went back to work. I couldn't do much but I was allowed to spend several hours a day and with help from my co-workers was making some progress.

On the morning of March 3rd, 2002, I received a call from the doctor. She wanted to know if I could be in her office the next morning. When I got to her office, she had tears in her eyes. I had decided I didn't care what was wrong. I just wanted to know what it was and what we could do about it. She then said that the diagnosis had been Multiple Sclerosis. There are no cures or fixes but lots of meds to deal with the symptoms. I told her to set me up. I had children to raise and a life to live.

I stayed in therapy, both physical and occupational, for several months. I was still walking with a cane and continued to have trouble with my right side. But I knew I just might have to deal with it so I started trying really hard on just living and doing my daily routine. I went back to work full-time and resumed driving. The meds were changed and added to as needed. Soon I was taking a handful of drugs several times a day, but i was functioning.

One of the problems with so many medications is the monitoring of the blood to make sure there are no other complications. So every couple months I would go and get checked.

After two years of taking the intra-muscular injections I started having trouble getting the needles into the muscles from scar tissue build up. So I was put on subcutaneous injections. These seemed to work better. I was still on a lot of pain meds and other ones for the nerve interruption.

All I needed was one more health issue to deal with. I got it. My back had given me problems for years due to several work injuries it seemed to be giving out. I had such terrible pain that even walking or sitting was problematic. It got to the point that getting dressed was excruciating. Back to the doctor I went, and was sent back into physical therapy. The therapist eventually put me on a traction board and I came unglued. I just thought I was going to be paralyzed. He sent me for x-rays and took one look and said he wouldn't work on me anymore. I went to an orthopedic surgeon who after looking at the x=rays wanted to do surgery the following day. Of course with our insurance it takes at least a week to get all the approvals. But the following week I was in surgery.

Titanium rods and screws, prefab discs, and bone marrow taken from my right hip were installed. There was also a four inch cyst on the spinal cord from scar tissue. He thought most likely due to the spinal tap. He was able to remove it with no adverse effects. Early the following morning, I woke to find the dressing, my gown, and the bed, soaked with blood. I was so weak and scared as I rang the call bell for the nurse. When I told her what I had found she immediatley called the doctor. He was there in minuets. They gave me five units of blood over the course of the day and I was not even allowed to sit up in the bed. The next day proved to be better and I could start to move around and occassionally get up into the chair for short periods of time. Five days later I was releaased to go home.

Rehabilitation therapy started three weeks later. I went several days a week then down to one day a week for a long time. Once again I went back to work.

Eight months later I started to notice movement with a grating and clicking sound. I wnet back to the doctor to find that there was movement in the rods and screws. He sent me to an orthopedic nuerologist. This is a doctor that specializes in people with orthopedic and nuerology issues. He recommended a second surgery. There was a 50/50 chance that it would help.

I underwent this surgery almost exactly a year after the first one. The recovery time was a good bit longer and once again more meds were added to deal with the pain.

A year after this, I had knee surgery to reapair a torn minuscus.

Through out these years there were several relapses of the MS. I had to have a number of steroid treatments and therapy.

All of the prescription drugs that I had been put on during these years have side effects that need other meds to conter act. Gabapentin, Detol LA, Baclofen, Naproxin, Hydrocodon, Oxycontin, Amantadine, Valium, Ambien, Vioxx, Flexeril, interferon injections, and so many others that I don't remember them all. The possible side effects are any where from drowsiness, dizziness, blurred vision, rining of the ears, liver problems, breathing issues, and the most common: depression. Then I was started on Lithium. After taking for several months I was to add yet another drug to counter issues with that.

After a good bit of research and realizing that these drugs were changing me, and adversley affecting my health; I decided to do something about it. I was often asked if I tried or used any natuaral herbs or remedies. At the time I was soley relying on what the doctors said I needed. Then I started to explore other possibilities. I talked to other people with health issues of their own, who used medical marijuana. I had grown up in a household that considered weed to be a drug, but not all the prescription drugs that the health community, politicians, and most of all, the Church says are acceptable. I had to make a decision. I felt that I had to do something now to prevent further problems and to get off the many drugs that had such terrible side effects. I moved to a state that had legal medical marijuana. In eight months' time I weaned myself away from all the prescriptions(except the interferon) that I had been on for the last eleven years.

I no longer have the constant tiredness, dizziness, ringing in my ears, difficulty concentrating, or general lack of interest in doing anything, my blood pressure is normal, and I can function. So long as I am able to find medical herb, I very rarely have the intensly painful muscle spasms and cramps associated with MS. It has lessened the fiery tingling in my hands. The daily chores and tasks of life are not impossible. I get up each day with the mental ability to face whatever challenges I will have and the motivation to do so.

So, now you know my story. As I said, if it challenges or inspires just one person, then everything I have gone through will have been worth it. I urge you, if you have a story of your own, tell it. If you see contradictions between what your doctors and familes tell you, what your pastor and the community tell you, speak out. Ignorance and prejudice and fear can only end when there is light, and voices sharing the truth.

I thought I would not make it.

The evening before my fourty-eighth birthday, my boyfriend asked me what I wanted to do the next day. I wanted to go on a hike that we had been planning for quite some time. Several times we had almost gotten everything worked out to do this; but it seemed like something always came up to change the plan. So we decided that we would get an early start the next day.

The next morning we managed to get all our stuff together for the hike. Plenty of water, picnic lunch, rain gear, and a few odds and ends. We studdied the map again and made sure of the way we wanted to go. Knowing that we would be crossing the river several times we wore shorts and tennis shoes. Soon we made our way down the road where we would park the truck.

Armed with our supplies and walking sticks we are thankful for the beautiful day as we begin our hike. I am so excited. The hike was going to be around three hours. The river was down and was going to be easy to cross. In places we would end up actually walking down stream a little ways.

Eagles, hawks, falcons, and blue herons favored us with their presence. There were old homesteads that had wonderful rock foundations. Crossing the river every now and again to keep on the old trail kept us from getting to hot. Around long curves in the river we came to see amazing cliffs that seemed to go on forever. We took pictures, had our picnic, and decided to head back toward the truck.

What a great birthday. It was so awesome to have finally accomplished this hike and discovered some great places. Now we would be able to mark it on our map of places we had been.

The trail we were following had rather tall grass on either side. Michael was walking in front of me using his walking stick to beat the grass back a little, keeping an eye out for things that tend to live along the river banks. I was doing the same thing about ten feet behind him. We had walked through some pretty grown up places over the last several years just like this.

Suddenly, I saw something coming out of the grass, right over my right foot. I knew in that instant that if I put my foot down I was in trouble. I thought if I kept the step in motion, but kicked, I could get away. As I made the effort of kicking forward, I felt a stinging sensation like a greenbriar going into my ankle. When I put my foot down I felt as if I had encountered an electric charge. Now I had a three foot long copperhead laying between my feet!

As I was pounding at the snake with my walking stick, I looked at my ankle and realized I had been bitten. I started screaming. "I've been bit, I've been bit!" Michael turned and saw what had happend. He took a couple strides and grabbed my arm to get me away from the snake. He tried to stab the snake with his treking pole and it slid off to cover. He returned to my side and put my arm around his shoulder and his around my back holding on to the waist of my jeans shorts. Then he commanded, "walk, just keep walking!" At that point it was all I could do to remain conscious. I just wanted to lay down. "Keep walking", he said. "I can't". The pain was incredible. I just wanted to let go and pass out so I wouldn't feel any thing. My leg was on fire. I wanted nothing so badly as to be at the truck and on my way to the hospital. My mind was trying to comprehend what had happened. I didn't think I could go on. In and out of the present, some how hanging on to Michael's voice, I manged to stay on my feet enough for him to get me to the truck.

As we made the last river crossing I was pretty much passed out. Michael sat me on a big rock so he could get the truck open. Then he lifted me into it and we started up the road to the hospital. I really do not remeber much of the ride. Several times I heard Michael telling me to stay awake, to stay with him.

While I can not remember all the details; actually not many at all, I do know that I have never felt that kind of pain in my life.

After about a nineteen minute drive; that should have taken at least thirty-five or more,we arrived at the emergency room. Since Michael had taken just long enough to stop at home and call ahead they were waiting for us. A woman met us at the door with a wheelchair and wisked me an examination room that had been prepared.

The IV's were ready along with the anti-venin. While I was being hooked up, the bite marks were measured and marked. As the pain meds started to work I finally just let go and passed out. I guess my mind was at the point that I was in as safe a place as I could be.

I remember waking occassionally to nurses and staff coming and going. At some point I was moved to the intensive care ward. The next twenty four hours are a complete loss to me.

When it was decided that I was going to be ok, I was moved to general observation. There were employees from all over the hospital coming to ask if they could see the bite marks. I remember the first time I really had the nerve to look myself. I didn't even recognize my own leg. It seemed like I was looking at some one else. I had seen a lot of wounds and injuries as an EMT. But when I looked and saw that my leg was horribly swollen and discolored I was shocked. I rang for the nurse who measured the ankle to see if there was a difference in the swelling to find that it was eleven inches around. My leg was black up to my hip. She called the doctor in and he ordered more blood work to see what was going on. That was when we found that I had a secondary infection. That earned me a couple more days in the hospital.

Finally on Friday I was allowed to go home. I had antibiotics, pain medicine, and orders to keep the leg elevated as much as possible, and bed rest.

After four week of rest I was incredibly bored. I told Michael I was ready to go out and do some hiking and climbing. The doctor had said it would be at least six weeks before I would even be able to put my boots on. But I had tried them on and even though that boot didn't lace as tight as the left, I could get it on.

So, we started off on a slow hike with the climbing gear. When we got to the crag, I was a little tired but the ankle didn't seem any more swollen. I managed a little climbing and felt pretty good. But not wanting to over do any thing, we hiked out and came home to rest and ice.

To this day, I am always on the look out for any thing that might be creeping along the paths and trails we hike. I am still a little nervous on the occasion of high grass and damp conditions. But that will not keep me from being in the great out doors I love so much!

Life As It Is now

Time does take it's toll on all of us. Age seems to creep up and grab us by the tail. We slow down, have more aches and pains, and our endurance wavers. Add that up and add in a disease that does not shorten the life span. MS symptoms and residule issues from a stroke are taking a toll. There are times, and more frequently, days that I am feeling the result of having this disease. Some times I am so tired I feel as if I didn't have to move at all; I certainly would not. Holding a cup, silverware, touching anything is painful. Petting a dog is like running my hand over an electical field. Sparks of pain, burning like hot prickles run up my hands to my arms. Muscle cramps that leave black and blue marks that are sore for days. I have to be careful even when eating that I have enough water at hand to relieve choking. Eating dry food is out of the question. Sad to say that eating can be quite dangerous.

I am noticing some pretty dramatic changes is memory. There are times when I have to stop to think about how to do even the simplest things. Getting dressed can be a challenge. Funny how you can be in the middle of something you have done by yourself since you were a little child; now you have to stop and think about what you are doing.

Sometimes cooking, or just doing anything, and you stop to try to remember what you are trying to do. "Did I put the sugar in the cup?" "Did I put the coffee in the French Press?". I think the worst is driving off from somewhere and your mind is going a hundred miles an hour worrying about what was done or not done. Just hoping that all will be all right.

Memory loss is not just about the things in your head. Muscles and nerves suffer a kind of memory loss. Your legs forget how to walk properly. Your hands don't always hold on to what you pick up. Or instead of holding onto what you picked up, your hand just voluntarily throws it away from you. Good thing I had a plastic travel mug instead of ceramic this morning!

Then there are days when you know that your body is not really your own any more, but cooperates well enough to have a great day. You can overcome and deal with the problems. The strength in your muscles and determination in your heart allow you to have a great time. You really have to concentrate and think about what energy you need for the task and put your all into it. Then good things can be done. Great fun can be had. And some hard work accomplished.

It is amazing how so many people will judge you by the good days and on those "bad" days, they just wonder what is wrong with you. They can not understand why and how you can be so different on any given day. I will say that some times it would seem that I am lazy or unmotivated. I can not explain how hard it is to know that I will be sitting out. That I will not be able to be involved. That I can not help get the job done. It is hard to know that I can not hold a job because I don't know what the day will bring me. And I can not promise to any one that I can get the job done on any given day. Hard as I might try, some times I have to say enough. I am done for today.

Now, I am not writting all this as a complaint. I just want people to know that sometimes when you are looking at someone, there are things that you can not see. My heart and mind want so badly to do the things my body used to do. Sometimes sitting out is a very hard thing to do. I am learning though that I have to be able to say that I am done. No one else can determine that for me. So, I do the best that I can. Then I stop and am glad that I had the energy, coordination, and stability to accomplish what I did. And I am glad that I had the opportunity.


It is amazing to me to have some one in my life that is so tolerant, patient, kind, and helpful. "My Michael"as I like to call him, looks after me in a way that still lets me have my independence. When I am at the end of my endurance, he is there to pick up the slack. He will travel back up the rather steep hill to get my fishing gear, so that I will have the energy to hike that same hill later to get back to camp. He makes sure I eat and get enough hydration when we are out. If it is hot, he will make sure I have a cool place to be.

When we are out rock climbing, something that has helped me maintain muscle strength and coordination, he encourages and motivates me to give it all I have. He does not let me give up easily. At times I wonder at the things I have done in the last few years since we met. I have lost a considerable amount of wieght. I have more muscle strength than I had in a long time. And the muscle memory has improved quite a bit.

I will close on this now with a note on how impoprtant it is to have strong people in your life to motivate and challenge and most of all love you. Some one to stick with you through it all.

Living with Multiple Sclerosis

I suppose that in some ways it would be easier to tell you what life without MS is like. But then again, most of you that read this will know about that. It seems on some days that I almost cannot remember what it was like. I get up in the morning and think about waking up feeling healthy and whole. I believe I could take the daily changes of getting older. The aches and pains of arthritis. The advances of the degenerative disk disease. The bits of memory changes. We must all go through these things at some point in time.

Last evening I had the realization that there are so many cures and treatments that actually work for so many different diseases. The medications, treatments and literally 'experiments' for MS; only seem to mask the symptoms. I have known people that were cured, whose surgeries worked, whose medications overcame what they had been diagnosed with. Of all the people I have known, or read of, I have never encountered one that was 'cured' of MS. Therefore, those of us that have this dysfunction, and that is what it is, at this point in time, see no daylight at the end of the tunnel.

My tunnel began on the evening of December 3rd, 2000. I didn't know at that time that it was something other than a regular migraine; which I had been having since my early twenties. I was leaving work headed to a Christmas concert at the kid's high school. I had promised to help serve pizza to several hundred youth. Since they had been practicing for several days, they had been served pizza a couple times already. My daughter had requested I bring here some Mc Donalds food. So, being the over indulgent Mom that I some times was, I stopped and picked up a couple burgers then headed on to the school. I kept thinking that I would get thru the evening and head home to medication and the bed.

The following morning when I attempted to get out of bed, my legs didn't want to work. I fell to the floor, crawled to the bathroom, finally managed to stand up and get a shower. My legs hurt so bad. I thought may be it was just a pinched nerve since I had some pretty bad back issues. I went to the kitchen, made coffee, took another migraine pill, got the kids up to get ready for school. Several times while getting ready, my legs almost gave out. I thought that this was going to be a really fun day!

While driving to work, I was thinking that I had not had a headache this bad for quite a while. But I would go to work, perhaps wrap up some things and come back home early. This was not some thing that I usually did. One has to do what one has to do. By mid morning I was losing my balance. Several times I fell into the wall so hard I bruised my arms. I left work about an hour early and headed home.

Then next day was even worse. While driving the kids to school, I was getting worried about my vision. Several times I asked the kids if the vehicle on the road was going in front of me or was in the other lane coming at me. There seemed to be two of every thing. Now I was getting worried. But I made it to work. Of course, it was rather difficult to do much because of the vision problem.

On the third day, my boss decided I should really get to the doctor. All my co-workers were getting rather concerned. So about lunch time I too decided the pain, vision, and balance had to add up to something being really wrong. I went to the emergency room.

After a battery of blood tests, a Cat Scan, and several other tests; the ER doctor decided there was nothing wrong that several days of rest wouldn't cure. I took the work note by the office and went home to bed. Of course then I got up and picked up the kids from school, came home and made supper, cleaned up, did some laundry. You know, all those mom things.

The next morning being Saturday, I made some coffee and rested for a while. Then I decided that if this was from a pinched nerve, stress, or any such related thing, there was nothing like a long hot bath. I had a great tub at the time. One that you could just sink down in and stay until you were shrivelled up! So I filled it up with lots of bubbles and lobster boiling hot water.

This was definitly the wrong thing to do! Almost as soon as I was submerged, the pain that came was and still is, totally beyond any thing I have ever been through. Every nerve ending,and every inch of my skin was on fire. My muscles started contracting and spasming. I couldn't breathe. My head felt like it was busting wide open. Even my hair hurt.

I started screeming because I was afraid if I didn't get help, I would die right there. The kids and thier dad came running to the door. With help I was dried, dressed and driven to the ER part of the doctor's office.

Fortunately the doctor on duty was one that I have really liked and respected for a long time. He knew right away there was something wrong. He called on a Saturday and got me an appointment for the nuerologist on Monday morning at eight am. Then, not wanting to affect what ever was going on, he gave me a mild pain suppressant, and told me to get complete bed rest and no heat! He also went over the possabilities of what could be the problem. One of the things he kept stressing was MS.

Monday morning found me at the nuerologists office. This doctor sent me for an MRI almost immediately with instructions to come right back to his office. The report was to be read right away and called and emailed to him. Within several hours I was back in the exam room with the doctor being pretty sue that the diagnosis was Multiple Scluerosis. He wanted me to go to the University of Charlottsville for a second opinion. That appointment would take a week or so to get.

After being home for about two days, I had a second episode. It was almost like a surge of the first symptoms only worse. I could not even walk without some one on each side. So Iwas agian taken to the ER. I was admitted right away. They got the IV's going and started steroids. It seemed that these had the right effect and I was soon feeling a lot better. In a couple days I could walk on my own but with a cane. My balance was still terrible and my right side seemed to be drawn up and would not work the way I wanted it too.

I went to the appointment at the Charlottsville hospital. My parents had come down from Ohio to go over with us. We had to get a wheel chair for me to get around. When we finally got to the area we needed, I was xhausted! The nurse took me to the exam room and the doctor came in in a little bit of no time. After a brief exam, she went out and talked to those waiting for me. When she came back in she said that I needed to go to the admitting department. I actually asked her why! She said that she was not sending me home in the shape I was in. That some answers needed to be found and treatment started. Needless to say, I argued that I had a job to go to and that with Christmas just around the corner I still had shopping, decorating, and baking that needed to be done. I didn't win that discussion!

The next week and a half was a blur. There are things now that I am remembering that I had no clue then. My speech became unitelligable. People were not responding to what I was saying, making me repeat myself. the words that were in my head were not what was coming out. I became very frustrated and aggravated. I once again was needing someone on both sides just to get up to the bathroom. Turning over in the bed made my head spin because my balance was so bad.

I was sent for more MRI's, Cat Scan's and other tests. Blood drawing was so regular I just held out my arm when the techs came in. Doctors and resident students, nurses, therapists, came and went. Finally a second year resident student was studying one of the Cat Scans and noticed something that had been missed. The initial onset of the MS, had left a lesion so large and deep that it had caused a right sided stroke. Something else to deal with.

Needless to say I spent a little over a week in the hospital. Once the meds were regulated; I was starting to come around. I was getting a little stronger and gained more control of my right side. The doctors decided to let me go home on December 23rd.

Finally I was going home. But I had to wonder to what kind of quality of life. I was a nervous wreck and totally exhausted. It seemed like all I wanted to do was sleep. I guess that is what I needed. Sometimes it was very frustrating to not be able to do simple daily tasks. I coulnd't even carry a cup of coffee across the kitchen.

One day I finally just got fed up and decided that if I didn't get myself going, I would be stuck like this. So I started walking. I started out with the help of the kids and then friends that came by to visit. I made myself do the household chores and got back into things slowly. Every day was like a brand new start. Eventually things seemed to get a little easier and the medications were evening things out. The pain level reverted to an acceptable level. It has never completely gone away.

Of course through all this, I did a lot of studying and learning about MS. I researched the treatments, talked to others with the diagnosis; and slowly learned to deal with the issues that my life had now taken.

I realize that every day is different and there is never any assurance that a day will be a "good" or a "bad" one, or change in the middle. I am still learning that even the "bad" days can be ok. I just have to take a break, sit down, and spend a little time in the chair. I try very hard to make the most of the "good" days. There have been days that are absolutely amazing, and I treasure them dearly!

I sometimes wonder what turns my life might have taken if not for this invasion of my body. There are times when my mind does not want to accept the limitations that MS and the stroke have put on the physical aspects of life. I still tend to get some what frustrated when I can't do certain things. But I will do all I can, when I can, and be grateful for the memories.

In these writings, I hope to encourage all who read this to be strong no matter what life throws at you. Make a come back. Find somthing that challenges you to get strong again and keeps you going. Don't give up! Don't give in!

Gypsy at Heart

I finally get to go and be that gypsy I have always felt inside and never got to let out. My wandering spirit shall wander. My inquiring mind shall experience and absorb. My eyes will finally see all those great places I have only seen in pictures. I will get to re-experience many things I saw and did as a child. I wonder what the difference will be seeing them as an adult. The appreciation of things, places, and people; I am sure be quite different.

There have been times in my life when I just wanted to pack up the vehicle and hit the road with no destination in mind. The thought of how far will this tank of gas take me. Where will I end up? What will I see? Who will I meet? I guess to some people that is a scary thought, not to have a complete plan. My thought is if you have too complete of a plan, there is no room for deviation. If I am driving down the road and want to stop and see some thing; then I want to stop. So many times I have had to drive right by a place that really seemed interesting to me. No more!

I wonder how many opportunties have been missed because a person was to busy to stop. How many paths might have taken a different turn if they had pulled into that little shop, senic route, old restraunt, and a lot of other places. How many lifes would have been changed? I guess I am just full of questions about the road less traveled. The intrigue of the unknown facinates me.

Getting ready to take this trip knowing that the MS could flare at any time, is really urging me to get on with it. I don't know how much time I have to do the things I want to do. Or how long I will be in shape to do them. I feel kind of like I am in a race with time. Some days getting up and around is so hard. Then the rest of the day is great. Sometimes the mornings are great and the rest of the day is pretty tough. For right now, most of the days are all right. As with any chronic disease, a person has to learn to get along. You just learn to tolerate certain things.

So, I want to take this trip and pack as much life into it as possible. I want to stand at the the Grand Canyon rim, take walks in the desert, do all the rock climbing I can, get married, meet people; not neccessarily in this order. That is the beauty of not having a fixed plan. You can change the details and not mess any thing up!

I am really excited to let this gypsy out and go for it! Life is sweet and there is so much more than what is here in front of me. I will go see, explore, and experiece. I am thankful to have some one to share this desire of getting out and seeing the world. Some one who is not afraid to go outside his comfort zone. Some one who looks after me and just wants me to have a good life!

Some Friends I've Had

I have been very fortunate over the years in the friends I have had. Some of these became more like aquaintances over time; some became like second family. And others sadly enough moved on to places unknown.

Some times upon meeting a person it seems like you just know right away that they will be a great friend. Some times it becomes obvious that there just isn't a connection and you will just be aquaintances. Then there are the ones that kind of grow on you over time. I think that these friends are the ones that make a lasting impression and difference in your life over all. It takes time to get to know them and them to know you.

You just know in your heart that if you ever need any thing, they are there for you. They are the kind that open their door, invite you in, and offer what ever comfort is needed. Some times just a place to sit and visit for a while before driving the rest of the long way home. Some times a snack and cup of coffee, and some times they just start pulling out the kettles and fixing a full blown meal!

Then there are the few friends that you make in your life time that you liked right off; then they really grew on you over time. You can agree to disagree. You have serious converations about things that really matter. You have discussions and debates. You have some awesome laughing sessions until your sides ache! You give each other nicknames. Some stick, and others pass depending on the situation. You give each other hugs, handshakes, and a hard time. You challenge and encourage each other.

I wanted to write this in honor of my friend Mike Fisher. If you ever wanted a friend that is described in the above paragraph, he is the one. I call him "Mr. Fisher", he has given me several nicknames. The one that has stuck is "Miss Pink Pants". Due to my favorite pair of climbing pants.

There have been cookies, brownies, and coffee, skillet tacos, fresh veggies, and any manner of other treats. Conversations around the kitchen table, sometimes leading to; "lets go to the living room and sit on some comfortable chairs". At times there is music playing,other times some good old videos, and of course the rock climbing videos.

Some of the best times though are at the crag. He is one of the hardest climbers I know. He also likes to put up some "moderate routes". Of course when he is done with them, they have become some thing that I know I will not be climbing! Of course this isn't always true. There are several that are right up my alley and have become favorites of mine. But of course I have to give him a hard time. That is part of our friendship after all!

Along with my Michael, (I say it this way so as not to confuse you), we have been though many a fine day at the craig. And I introduce this line of thought because I met Mr. Fisher because he has been friends and a climbing partner with Michael for years before I came on the scene.

Some other fine times have been had camping. Once to his astonishment, Michael and I had to sleep in the open, because the tent didn't make it to the truck. It was a beautiful night out and sleeping under the stars was wonderful. Then to get up the next morning, break camp and go climbing. The next trip didn't turn out quite like we planned when the weather went bad. Soon after crawling in our tents the rain poured down. The following morning it was still drenching every thing. Reguardless, Michael fixed a hot breakfeast and coffee, with Mr. Fisher looking out of the partially unzipped flap of his tent. Then we packed up and called it a day!

So phone calls are regularly made back and forth; some just for greetings, some for long conversations. A lot of them are for making plans. The usual question of," what are you up to today?" Followed by, "what you got in mind?"

No matter the response, you know you are either being thought of, or are going to get together to do some serious climbing or just hang out. No matter the plan, you know you are in for a good time with a good friend!

Escaping the Box

Years ago, as a very young child I started to have glimpses out side the box. It seemed like there was so much of the world that was not available because of the labels, or stygma placed upon these things. There were places one did not go or people one did not associate with.

I could never quite grasp this, as I was brought up in a Christian home. At Church and other various activities, I was taught that you should "love your nieghbor as yourself." And that you were to take the Gospel to the world. Well, to me it never seemed right that you could live in this little bubble looking out. How were you to accomplish these things if you didn't get out and get involved with people who were not of your own. I understood the whole mission idea of taking some time off from your daily duties and handing out food or clothing. Of making boxes or care packages and sending them to some poor country. Of going to another country and helping to build missionary houses, Churches, schools and clinics.

When I was a young girl, I remember going with my Mom to the migrant workers area and helping to sort out donated clothes. I recall those workers coming in and getting clothing and other household items. I remember Mom and Dad going on various mission trips here and there in other countries.

At that time I don't ever remember going to any of thier actual living places. I don't remember ever being involved in any contact with "those people". And it could be that I just don't remember. But I think if it had happened, it would have stayed with me.

Then when I was a teenager, we went as a family to Nicaragua. We helped to build clinics, schools, drill wells, teach health, hygiene, and basic reading and writing. We also built Churches. This included training Pastors from thier own communities to carry on the positions. We made friends. Good friends. We were as involved in the communities as if we had come from there.

Here I felt like I finally saw the difference between giving the supplies, and actually being invloved. It is easy to donate tings that you are done with. Such as clothing and household things. It is easy to write a check. It is easy to sponser some one else. It is not so easy being right in the middle. To actually get to know the people, make friends, and try to make a difference in thier lives. To make things better. Education of one sort or the other doesn't need to totally change thier customs or way of life. Improvement isn't always about taking away, but adding too.

When I started to see glimpses of what was outside the box, I just wanted to see more. I wanted to understand why and how other people lived. I wanted to know what else was possible for my life. I wondered how on earth these people had survived all this time without the constraints put on them by others. I wanted to know how they could get by and still be happy, have lots of love, and feel they had a good life. When did life become so defined by certain groups of people that it had to be lived a certain way or you were just living so wrong? I understand that if you are going to live in the village, you have to live the way the village does in order for it to survive. So, I choose to live outside the box, and may be just visit once in a while.

I have chose a very different path. I want to live in the midst of mankind;live wherever I need to be at the time, in the best manner possible. I want to try not to be too needy, but help those in need. To keep my head up, my eyes open, and my heart full of love for my fellow man. I want to be an inspiration, a shoulder to lean on, and a smile to brighten a day for others.