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?"


Wip - The Talisman - Chapter 6

Chapter 6
Present Day
Part B

Rhea's heart dropped. No wonder Trish had returned home. Her life-long dream had been shattered. She had turned to plan B, whatever that was. Rhea gasped. Plan B, ride off into the sunset never to be heard from again. Could that be Plan B? It didn't seem that farfetched when she considered Grammy and her outlandish stories.
Tap, tap, tap.
Rhea flinched and looked at her window to discover Vance standing there. Rhea put her hand in motion, rolling down the window.
"Morning, Mrs. Larsen." Rhea could still remember changing this boy's diapers twenty years ago but still he used the formal address.
"Morning." Rhea interfused her thoughts and righted her demeanor.
"What brings you by this morning?"
"I'm looking for Trish."
"What? Miss Play by the Rules sneaking around behind your back or something?"
"Or something. She didn't come home last night…"
It didn't take long to discover that Yedi wasn't in his stall or that Trish hadn't returned her saddle and tack.
Vance pulled out his cell phone, astonishing Rhea with not only the number of people he called asking if they'd seen Trish but the clarity of the conversation via the wireless.
"Looks like nobody's seen her since yesterday morning."
"It didn't sound to me like anyone had seen her. Who said they'd seen her?"
"Me." Vance said as though the one syllable solved the puzzle.
"You," Rhea pounced on the clue. "Where? When?"
"Right here yesterday morning. She seemed fine."
"What did she say? Where did she go?"
"Whoa, Mrs. Larsen. She said 'Morning, I'm going riding.' That was it. She didn't say where she was headed or when she planned to be back."
"Which way did she go?"
"Down the road, but that isn't going to help us any. She was on horseback and she knows the valley as good as I do. It wouldn't surprise me none if she turned up in a day or so, telling us she'd followed the Oregon Trail or the Old Stage Coach Trail."
"Did she take supplies?"
"I didn't notice any other than her canteen, but really, I pulled out of here before mid morning to get to that sale in Idaho Falls on time. She coulda come back by and Mom wouldn't have seen her if Trish came to this north gate."
"Young man, you are not helping," Rhea accused.
"What's to help? If Trish wants to vanish up one of these canyons, she's likely to do it and see more deer and elk than hunters do. She's a survivor. You know that. Heck, she taught me about most of those canyons."
"And her father taught her."
"Don't worry about her."
"I can't help it. It's womankind's nature to worry and to top it off; I have a bad feeling about this."
"Why?"
Rhea reached through the open car window, grasped the piece of bad news and handed it to Vance. "This, is why."

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