As a Multiple Sclerosis patient, it has become necessary for me to reinvent myself. I have ... and continue to ... refuse to lie down and die, or in this case, follow the normally prescribed drugs and treatments that do nothing to defeat my disease. I am not only surviving by pursuing alternatives, I am thriving. I do the things specialists told me I would never be able to do. I walk and hope to one day even run regularly. I retain my cognitive and creative abilities for the pleasure of my readers. Although you may never see me on my daily walk, you are welcome to read my novel(s) and in doing so, come to ask yourself, "How can the 'out of the box' protocol she has followed, help my loved one with an autoimmune disease like Multiple Sclerosis?"


Who Knew?

The reality check is that the specialist knew and warned me. What was it that she said?

"I'm going to prescribe this to you, but you will have to remain at home, safe from everything that can compromise your immune system."

This is not something that I wanted to hear, but the pain was severe enough that I smiled politely with an "Okay, doctor. Whatever you say."

"Take as directed and call me in the morning." Actually she said call me "next week."

So, like a good girl which I was trying to be with Christmas right around the corner (I can always use a few extra points in the homestretch,) I did as instructed and called her the following week. I don't get to talk to her, instead I talk with the assistant. The conversation is a rerun of the conversation with the specialist until…

"I'm very impressed with your commitment," he said.

"Why?" I asked innocently.

He gives me the spiel that I must have tuned out the first time around. "…And that means you will not only have to forego any holiday shopping, but pretty much the whole holiday."

My brain stutters…I can hear the DJ drag the needle across the phonograph record…okay, no big Thanksgiving dinner with family and friends.

"For how long?" I feel my whole body shaking with dread. I really don't want to hear an answer to my question.

"At least until the procedures are completed…Your last appointment is mid January, right?"

I pull my chair closer to the couch. I need to lay down. In all honesty I had planned to cancel the January appointments due to a shortage of funds.

"Uhh…" I'm laying down now. My jaw is almost to the floor. I slap it back where it belongs. "My family isn't going to like this."

"Just remember," his soothing tone did nothing to put me at ease. "Next year you will feel all the better. Your family will thank you for taking care of this now."

Yeah, well he doesn't have my family to explain this to. This will mean a rather lean Christmas with Dad (my hubby) doing the shopping. He isn't a good shopper and I know there will be more than one gift card under the tree. Oh yeah, what tree? I won't be able to go with the family to cut a tree and my hubby, the wonderfully considerate man that he is, won't go without me.



…to be continued…when the vision clears…

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