healthy1

Well, today is my 50th birthday. I used to think turning 50 would bum me out, but now that it has happened, I feel quite the contrary.

My husband took me and my daughter out to dinner at my favorite restaurant. That would have been gift enough for me, but much to my surprise, he had something else up his sleeve. When we returned home, he handed me a large envelope that had clues in it. One of the clues was letters that were scrambled to make a sentence. I finally figured out the clue and it read “Will you marry me again?” I was so moved and my eyes immediately began to well.

As if that weren’t enough, my husband then said we were going to renew those vows on a cruise in June. After I picked myself up off the floor, I hugged, kissed and thanked him over and over again.

You know, a friend asked me the other day how I feel about turning 50. In spite of my health issues, I thought for a moment and said “Instead of saying ‘I am turning 50 - oh God!’ I am saying ‘I am turning 50 - thank God’”.

That about sums it up.

Several days later, my neurologist calls to give me the results of my MRI. I brace myself for bad news, as I always do. I figure this way, if the news is bad, I am at least somewhat prepared for it. If the news is good, well, then no need for preparation - just celebration.

Doc tells me after looking at my MRI, he sees no changes since last year. None. Everything looks the same. As I pick up my jaw, I ask if this confirms his belief that I did not have another attack, rather my symptoms flared up. He says yes. I am delighted. He tells me to continue with what I am doing, as it seems to be working. I will see him in six months. I am ready to say adios…not so fast.

He tells me they found something on my MRI that they were not looking for; it just showed up. Oh man. I came thisclose to a clean break. He says there are cysts on my thyroid. Cysts on my thyroid? Okay. I ask if he tends to see this with MS patients. He tells me yes, but with the patients who take the medication. I am not taking the medication, so once again, I am odd man out.

He tells me to call my PCP and my PCP will send me to a specialist to have an ultrasound. Does this never end?

I am laying there, focusing on pretending to hear my music. I actually try to sing along in my mind. This of course, is impossible to do, but an interesting way to pass the time.

A few minutes into the test, however, I realize this is not as bad as I thought it would be. What? Did I actually just say that? Me? Me in a closed MRI? I am wondering if I have suffered brain damage from the noise. But seriously, it is not as bad as I had thought. Now that I realize there is an opening at both ends, as opposed to my nightmare of no openings at all (other than to slide you in like a pizza) I am breathing more easily.

I also believe the closed MRI was a shorter length than the open MRI. And now that I think about it, I found the open MRI to be even louder than the closed one. Could this really be - or am I just trying to see the glass as half full?

The only difference I experienced was the closed MRI literally moved me around a bit - not something I was expecting. I only wished the technician had given me some sort of warning prior to the movement. I thought the thing broke and I was going to get crushed or something.

After all my whining and worrying, I have decided from now on, I will choose a closed MRI. I walked out of there smiling, realizing how silly I have been all along. It’ll be a fun story to tell my future grandchildren someday.

I am led into a room that, I swear, looks like something out of a modern-day Star Trek set. The room is freezing, but that’s actually okay with me, because I am one of those who gets overheated quickly, especially when I am nervous. I lay down on the slab, if you will; they put the headphones on me. I am then told to remain very still, as still as possible. To this day, I find that an odd statement. Surely they know the moment the MRI starts and the jackhammer sounds go off, one is bound to move from sheer surprise and nerves.

As I am being electrically moved into the “tunnel”, I repeat to myself to stay calm. I decide to close my eyes right away. I don’t want to see how close everything is around me. Even with my eyes closed, I realize there ain’t much breathing room. I can feel my elbows touching the sides of the MRI device.

My music starts. I am asked if I can hear it. I smile and say yes, knowing that any moment I am about to be deafened. BAM! Oh man - that is a sound I will never, ever, get used to. Of course, my body reacts and I jump a bit. In my mind, I imagine them all laughing…or cursing, especially since they asked me not to move.

The day of my dreaded, closed MRI has come. I always make good on a promise (this one to my neurologist to have a closed MRI as opposed to an open MRI), so it’s off to my appointment I go. Last year, I opted for an open MRI and hated every minute of it. I only imagine how much worse the closed one will be. Waaah…I am such a baby!

I bring along a CD with music that I love, as per my neuro’s suggestion. Right. There’s no music in existence that won’t be completely drowned out by the sound of that jackhammer going off in your ears. Waaah…I am such a baby!

I have been offered drugs numerous times to help me relax, but numerous times I have declined. I just don’t want any drugs in me during this, you know? Of course, it makes way more sense to have them so I can have a goofy smile throughout the test and possibly even relax. But no…I have to take what I think is the high road. What am I thinking?

Everyone at the hospital is very nice and accommodating. They all sense my uneasiness and I can’t help but wonder if they are secretly laughing at me inside. Heck, I would be. I mean, it’s not like I am having major surgery or going off to war. Waaah…I am such a baby!

Here we go…

I decide to have my Vitamin D levels checked before I have my closed MRI. This way, when I return to my neurologist’s office, both results will be in. I contacted my daughter’s pediatrician, and asked for a lab slip for her as well. What fun - a mother and daughter Vitamin D test day! My daughter is far from thrilled.

Our results are back within the week. Both of our results are on the low side of normal (at least according to this particular lab’s range; they all vary). My D level is 29; my daughter is 24. In warmer months, I took 1,000 i.u.’s - my daughter was taking 400 i.u.’s. When our results came back from the summer months, I was 40 and my daughter 24.5. Now I realize it is winter and knowing that the numbers would most likely drop, I thought I prepared for that somewhat by upping our intake. I now take 2,000 i.u.’s/day and my daughter 1,000 i.u.’s/day. Despite my efforts, both of our numbers dropped.

Good Lord - how many i.u.’s must one take to be in an ideal range (which is 50 and up)? I’d like to take 4,000 i.u.’s but will wait a bit to see what my number is this summer at 2,000 i.u.’s. I worry for my daughter. Even her pediatrician was surprised to see her number go down after an increase in taking Vitamin D3. What to do? I guess I will once again play the ‘ol waiting game. I’m getting very good at it.

I return to my neurologist’s office. I have my husband and daughter in tow (snow day for the little one). I tell my daughter she will be witnessing Mommy going through all kinds of goofy-looking tests (balance, reflexes, strength, etc.). I am eager to see the doc, as I really want to know if my CIS has advanced.

I explain to him about my second “attack”. He listens patiently and then tells me he not only thinks I did not have another attack, but that I have not advanced to MS. Although slightly unusual, he says my symptoms may have flared up due to the cold weather; only the MRI results will reveal for sure. Oh yeah. That closed MRI. Ewww.

Anyway, we move on to the subject of what I am taking. I mention the usual: Vitamin D3 (which I upped from 1,000 iu’s to 2,000 iu’s), a B-12 sublingual dot, Mega EFA Omega-3 EPA & DHA and turmeric (both of which have anti-inflammatory effects).

To refresh your memories, my doc has MS. He also snubbed the idea of my taking any form of Vitamin D the first time I mentioned it to him. He has since changed his tune. Apparently, at some consortium he attended, many of the speakers indicated that Vitamin D, in all forms, was beneficial to people with CIS, and hopefully beneficial to people with MS. Well, whaddya know??? Even better, doc now takes it himself! Sooooooo…maybe when we patients are desperate for some possible hope besides conventional medication and shoving a needle in our bodies on a regular basis, docs will be more willing to listen? I know, keep dreaming. But I must say, I am encouraged by his admission of guilt, if you will. Good for him. I like my doc and the MS Center even more than I had before. He gives me a lab slip to test my D levels again.

He only lets me bask in the glory for a moment before he changes the subject to that dirty word: MRI (closed).

Well, it’s been close to one year since I had my first attack. I was truly hoping I would be celebrating my one-year, no more attacks anniversary. I was wrong. Shortly before Thanksgiving, I had a second attack. The minute the weather got colder it happened. I know a lot of people with MS suffer the most in hot, humid weather, but I seemed to do very well. Leave it to me to be the one who feels worse during cold weather. And living in a part of the country where it’s very cold during winter, there ain’t nothin’ I can do about that.

Now granted, this attack was nothing like my first one. It was way more mild, but noticeable nonetheless. I immediately recognized that heaviness in my left calf when I walked. And that damn tingling in my feet. This time though, it felt like the padding of my feet were a squishy ball - you know those things the kids squeeze and has liquid in them? It just felt so weird every time I took a step, especially barefoot. My balance remained the same.

I knew I was scheduled to see my neurologist for a routine visit shortly anyway, so that was one less thing to check off my to-do list. I got my questions ready to discuss with him to see where I stand. I was also due for my second MRI - a closed one this time. I wondered if my supposed second attack meant the disease had progressed and I now had advanced from CIS to MS?

Stress is bad for everyone, but it seems especially so for people with MS. I had heard that stress could very well trigger a flare-up and always kept that thought in the back of my mind. How on earth do you control stress? You can’t. Plain and simple.

I found myself thinking non-stop about stress and MS, to the point where I realized if I kept it up much longer, I would indeed have a flare-up. So, I decided to stop stressing about stress and just face my day as everyone else does. I consider myself lucky because besides the usual stressors (family issues, financial issues, health issues) I really don’t have much else to stress about. I have a terrific, loving and supportive husband and daughter. We are by no means well off, but we have a roof over our heads, food to eat, clothes to wear. Even my CIS/MS is not off the charts.

I think the unknown is where my newfound stress stemmed from. The “what-if” questions. What if my husband, God-forbid, passes away? What if my daughter gets MS? What if we lose our house? I then realized that everyone has their what-if questions. And you know what? It’s perfectly normal. Of course we will all have these thoughts; we are human. So I have chosen to no longer be plagued by stressful thoughts. I’ve chosen instead to focus on the good in each given day. Some days are filled with good things, other days you have to really scrape the bottom of the barrel to find the good. I know it is easier said than done, but what is the alternative? The bottom line is the good is there, it’s always there…you just can’t let stress block the view.

I have happily decided to participate in the annual “Walk for MS”, sponsored by the National Multiple Sclerosis Society. My husband and daughter will be joining me as well. The walk will take place in May - perfect walking weather. Nice.

I reach out to family and friends for donations to help find a cure for MS. Much to my surprise, I raise close to $1,000.00. I am thrilled. You really do feel like a new person when you are part of a good cause and do something positive, not just for yourself, but for others. Nice.

I am amazed at how many people turn up the day of the walk. It is so touching. It meant the world to me, as I’m sure it did to everyone else there afflicted by this disease. Here it is, a picture perfect Saturday, and these good people are all part of the Walk for MS. Nice.

I find out that after the walk, Subway will be providing free food for everyone, and several massage therapists are on hand to offer free chair massages, reiki, and Thai massage. Oh man, does it get any better than this? Nice.

It is a five-mile walk, but not everyone will be able to complete it. Volunteers are stationed at the halfway mark, giving out bottled water and fresh fruit. Nice.

My husband and daughter complete the five-mile walk with me, although I must say, they are lagging a bit. I have to laugh, point this out to them, and pat myself on the back as I do. I feel terrific today and so very proud. As I reach the finish line, I feel a smile come on that I cannot control, reaching from ear to ear. I am beaming. Exhausted, I make a beeline (well…what is left of me; in my mind it was a beeline) towards the Thai massage therapist. (Thai massage is done fully clothed while you lay down on a mat on the floor.) I was gently pushed, pulled, stretched, Z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z, oh sorry, and soothingly rocked back and forth. I thought I died and went to heaven. Nice.

I know I will never forget this day and plan on being part of Walk MS for the rest of my life. I am so thankful that I am walking - what a gift…what a gift. Nice.