All posts by Little M.S. Runner

Forty-something, married with two kids and two dogs. Trying hard to live every day to the fullest with multiple sclerosis, impaired vision, and deafness. Couldn't make it without my Savior, Jesus Christ.

Vocab question

I wonder… must halcyon days always be in the past? Or can we be aware at the time we are living them? Like today… can today be a halcyon day? Right now, as I sip my coffee, snuggled under my fleece blanket, with the dog snoozing at my feet? Is this a halcyon moment? Does that make any sense? Even if it doesn’t, I’ll take it. I could Google it, but I think that would ruin it. I’m just feeling blessedly relaxed and at peace, and these are feelings I so seldom grasp that I want to cherish the moment now, while I can.

That is all. Carry on y’all!

Why the crockpot is my new best friend

This is not to diminish the value of my friendships with real people, because I have a lot of pretty amazing friends, but by golly, I am really loving my crockpot this year (I’ve had it a whopping 16). The internet holds a wealth of information and ideas for what you can make in these things, and I’m finding plenty of healthy, tasty meals.

But here’s why I’m really learning to love the crockpot – it allows me to work around my fatigue and still manage to feed my family. The fatigue that MS causes has really been kicking my butt hard this past month, and by 1 pm (even after a morning nap) I’m pretty slogged (not sure if that’s a word but it sounded good). By 4 or 5 pm, after getting the kids from the bus stop and handling the flurry of that excitement, I’m close to non-functioning. Which makes dinner prep rather difficult.

Case in point: It is almost 7 pm. We ate dinner already (tacos!!) but I’m feeling the munchies so I went into the kitchen to get a bowl of cereal (granola, actually). I pulled the granola from the cupboard, the milk from the fridge, and set both on the counter. I then got a bowl and poured the granola into it, and proceeded to put both the granola back in the cupboard and the milk back in the fridge.  Notice anything missing?? I walked all the way back to my bowl of granola, ready to eat, and discovered I had forgotten to pour the milk.

It’s really frustrating, feeling so… I don’t know, lacking in ability to perform simple tasks, I guess, and pretty damn powerless to change it. But I’ve been faced with lots of things, big things, that I cannot change. If I have learned anything from these big, unchangeable things, it’s that I do still have a choice. And that choice is to accept it, adapt, and move on.

The crockpot means I can prepare a delicious, healthy meal for my family early in the day, before I get fatigued. I refuse to give up and feed them frozen pizza every night. So, for what it represents and for what it allows me to do, the crockpot is my friend. The thing is old enough to drive now (a wedding gift), but I suppose using it for a ride to the store would be asking too much. We’ll just stick to food preparation for now 😉

I hate cooking

Today my daughter stopped coloring to read a book. While that was happening, I was in the kitchen preparing potato soup for the crockpot – thoroughly *enjoying* dicing the potatoes. I was seriously relaxed through the whole process and was mildly disappointed when I ran out of potatoes.

And then I’m pretty sure I saw a pig fly just outside my kitchen window.

Painting

Oh my goodness. This past weekend was a whirlwind. Lots of fun activities going on. I can’t quite process it all. In fact, it has sort of left me in a State of Funk. (Also, I just finished reading The Giver, so I’m tempted to capitalize the Common Words. My apologies. Do you accept my apology, Giver Fans?)

Anyhoo, Saturday we went to Luke’s soccer game, and Grandpa took us out for lunch after. Natalie was wanting to do something special with me, so we went to this local “paint your own pottery” place called Playing Picasso. We had so much fun! Natalie was ecstatic, and had so much fun that she has decided she would like to have her 7th birthday party there (because her 6th is already planned). Of course she only gets one birthday per year, so she has the next three all planned out. This year is laser tag, next year pottery painting, and the year after that roller skating. Well, at least we have time to plan lol. Anyway, I really liked this place, and I’m already thinking I would like to come back on my own and paint some stuff. Maybe I’ll  even throw myself a party one of these times.

On a normal day, the pottery painting was A LOT of art for this girl here, but I didn’t stop there. No sirree, I had plans to go to Painting With a Twist with a friend that evening. This was a completely new experience for me, but I had heard from other people that it’s a lot of fun. They get 20 or so people set up at tables, with brushes and paint, and then an instructor guides everyone through painting a masterpiece. After 2 hours, you have 20 matching paintings (in theory) and they take a group photo while everyone stands proudly holding their finished paintings.

I was a little hesitant to do this, knowing I would have trouble seeing and hearing the instructor, but we had them place us right up front. This way we had a better chance at reading lips, and could readily ask questions as needed. I ended up asking a lot of questions, mostly relating to which color was which on my palette. My vision is bad, but not in the way most would think. I have a much smaller field of vision, but within that field I am able to see 20/20 with my left eye (20/40 with the right). Colors on the other hand, are hard to distinguish. So most of my questions were relating to the colors: which one is blue? Is this one green? Can you show me where I just painted the white circle? White on white is impossible for me to see, and that happened to be the first thing we did. Oh, I could have freaked out right there, but I decided not to. I was determined to have fun, no matter what, and that is exactly what I did. Even when I lost my balance trying to reach the top of my canvas and almost knocked over the entire effing table. Yes, I lost it. Fell right over onto the table. But I quickly recovered, exclaimed “oops, I forgot I have poor balance”, laughed at myself, and moved on.

At the end of the day, I went home with some fun memories and a painting that turned out to look pretty darn cool!

Painting With A Twist
Painting With A Twist

It may not seem like a big deal for most, but it was to me. I am still, two years later, adjusting to life with hearing and vision loss. I am almost daily faced with tasks that are new to me. New to the NEW Me, not the Old Me. And that can sometimes be a smidge frightening, but I am also daily making the decision to ignore that fear and just keep moving forward. Because today is a gift, and I refuse to waste it being afraid. Do you hear that? Life is a gift! Open that bad boy up!!

Catching my balance

I haven’t been blogging much lately, and I think it’s because I don’t think I have anything interesting *enough* to write about. But maybe that’s not for me to decide… maybe I just write what I want to write because it’s my blog (i.e. nobody is paying me to write it). How does that sound?

So here’s a snippet for today. This kind of thing happens to me on a regular basis; so regular that I usually forget about it each time and move on. I have MS, and with MS comes balance issues. Shortly after I was first diagnosed in 2009 a physical therapist caught me saying “I keep losing my balance” and he corrected me with this: “You caught your balance. You didn’t fall.” I thought this was a much more positive way to express what was happening, and I’ve used that phrase ever since. Now, sometimes I do actually lose my balance, and tumble to the floor, but that doesn’t happen nearly as often.

This morning I was heading to the living room with my cup of coffee and as I stepped into the room I decided to turn on the light, requiring me to reach ever so slightly to my left to flip the switch. That turned out to be too much movement on too short notice. My entire body started to wobble and sway and I could feel very quickly that I was about to go down. But just then I grabbed the wall with my left hand, held tight to the coffee in my right, and remained standing on my two feet!  I caught my balance (and only spilled a few drops of coffee)! Seriously, picture little ole me, casually walking along, stopping, turning to the left, then suddenly lurching side to side, forward and back, in a desperate attempt to stay vertical. I felt like I was dancing to ska music, but without all the legwork.

I found the whole thing to be quite comical, but since there was no one around to laugh with me, I am sharing it here with my readers 🙂 Have a beautiful day folks, and may you always keep your balance.

~WW

Weebles wobble but they don't fall down!
Weebles wobble but they don’t fall down!

I don’t mind a little cheese

**Warning: this post contains a lot of cheese.**

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My husband was up all night putting this cabinet together for me. I had not even asked him to, but he did it anyway. Because he loves me.

And while the cabinet doesn’t match the hutch next to it, I love it. I love both pieces, because this space is mine, and mine only. This is where I work. Where I write, where I feel like I can function in a way that is not hindered by my disabilities.

I must also mention that my husband sort of hates The Hutch. But knowing how much I love The Hutch, he lets that go. The Hutch stays, and we never speak of it.

So now, at the risk of sounding overly sentimental, these two pieces of furniture represent the sacrifices my dear husband has made for me. Which honestly is still not even accurate, when you take everything into account. We have been married for 16 years, but especially in these past two he has given up so much for me. And if you ask him, he would tell you he would do it again, in a heartbeat. This furniture will always remind me of his love and sacrifice, and with any luck will inspire the same qualities in me.

Mike, I could not live without you, nor would I want to. You are truly my everything. Thank you. I love you more than I can express in words.

It’s almost like I’m really starting over

This letter came yesterday, sent to my new address, from my audiologist’s office. I’ve been seeing them for two years, since I first lost my hearing, and they have performed tests, administered steroid shots in both my ears, implanted cochlear devices in each ear, and conducted numerous follow up meetings to program those devices.

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Just when I’m ready to move on, they want formalize our relationship. Geesh. And how did they get my new address anyway? Weird.

Jesus is my healer

Sometimes I wonder if God wants me to share something, and I’ll pray about it, and I’ll journal, and I’ll wait. And then he shows me a Scripture or a sign or I just have a serious prompting in my heart that makes it clear that yes, I should share this. And this is one of those stories.

As I was chatting with a friend Sunday  about illness, dark times, and recovery (her dad recently went through quite a bit with a cancer scare), she brought up the time I was so sick I was sleeping all day long. She told me of when she took me for walks to try to wake me up, and specifically a time she took me to Office Max. As we were walking through the store she had to catch me because I fell asleep standing up. This astounded me. I knew it had been bad, but I had no idea how bad. Then another friend joined in the conversation and told me about people visiting in the hospital. Most of the people she listed, I don’t even remember seeing there. It was surreal, hearing these stories and feeling as if they were talking about someone else. It brought me to tears.

So I went home Sunday contemplating all of this. Later that day, Mike affirmed the gravity of the situation when he told me the nights I was in the hospital he wouldn’t sleep – couldn’t sleep – because he was so afraid of losing me. That brought me to tears again, picturing where he was, and what he had to deal with. And it just made me so… so… THANKFUL. And that night I fell asleep praising God for everything; my life, my husband, kids, friends, family.

This morning I read a story of Jesus healing 10 lepers, and in essence it was God answering my question – “should I share?” –  Luke 17:14-19 – “When he saw them he said to them, ‘Go and show yourselves to the priests.’ And as they went they were cleansed. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus answered, ‘Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?’ And he said to him, ‘Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well.’”

So I guess this is me, turning back to praise God with a loud voice and giving thanks to Jesus. He is still in the healing business.

Funny story…

My husband is out of town for work, so I’m in charge for a few days. This is another small victory in my book, as around this time two years ago I was nearly a vegetable. He took this same trip last year, but this year I have that bed-shaker alarm to wake me up in the morning, AND I’ve been feeling so much better, so I was extremely confident in my abilities to hold down the fort sans husband. Pride comes before a fall, folks.

At 8:00 am, the time we are supposed to be AT the bus stop, my daughter was still fiddling to get her shoes on and I was frantically looking for my keys. The coffee was brewing, so that it would be waiting for me when I returned from dropping off the kids. Once Natalie had her shoes on, we headed out the door. I hadn’t found my keys, but figured I would just use the keypad on the garage door when I came back. No biggie. Right?

Fifteen minutes later, the kids are on the bus, and I am back home. However, as I was walking up the driveway I remembered that I had locked the interior door inside the garage the night before. The one I intended to use to get back in the house. Because, you know, my protector husband wasn’t home and I’m suddenly paranoid about people breaking into garages. I guess. This is my first garage, what do I know?

I was pretty quickly on the verge of panicking, but I knew that wouldn’t do me any good so by the grace of God I stayed calm and I didn’t even cry! (Seriously, there were no tears shed in the making of this story) My next thought was that maybe the back door was still unlocked from when Luke let the dog out this morning. I mean, why would he lock the door back up? It’s sort of a responsible thing to do, and not likely for an 8 year old to do without being told. So, I hopped the neighbor’s fence (it’s much shorter than ours, and the gate to their yard is not padlocked as ours is) and tried the back door.

As it turns out, my 8 year old is a responsible young boy.

Did I mention I had also left my phone at home?

Yes, I was in some serious trouble here. But it was still early, and lots of people were home. In fact, I knew the guy across the street was home because he was walking back just ahead of me after dropping his son off at the bus stop. So, I walked over and knocked on the door. Sure enough, he came to the door and let me in to use his phone. I left a message for my husband and then we walked over to my house to see if we could open a window (we couldn’t, not without doing some damage). Thankfully Mike called back while we were burglarizing the house in broad daylight, and he suggested that there might still be a key in the garage where he had left it for his dad. We looked, and it was not there, so we called back and had him call his dad to come and unlock the door for me. BIG sigh of relief!!

I only needed to wait a half an hour, but a half hour sitting in a garage with no one to talk to and nothing to read can feel like an eternity. Also, my freshly brewed coffee was waiting for me just on the other side!! What was I to do?! Well, I swept the garage floor – thoroughly. Then I blew some bubbles in the front yard. And sure enough, Grandpa came pulling up the drive soon enough. I sheepishly kept my head down, embarrassed as ever, and Grandpa just chuckled at me. This stuff happens to the best of us. If you can’t laugh about it, you are taking life way too seriously. So, I’m laughing about it now. And you can bet I owe Matthew from across the street a big batch of homemade chocolate chip cookies!