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?"


Saturday Sampler - more Live, Love, Repeat

Trevor's last expression haunted Mercedes. Should she have pressed him? Had she avoided the moment for her own comfort? Maybe to satisfy her own fears? Would that kind of moment ever happen between them again? Trevor needed to face his demons and it was her job to help him do so. She hadn't been honest and it bothered her.
Doubt filled her. She wasn't a psychologist. She wasn't trained to psychoanalyze anything, but was specialized training really necessary in Trevor’s case? Obviously Dr. Whipple didn't believe it was or he wouldn't have assigned her to Trevor's case with the strict instructions, 'Gain Trevor's trust. Only when he trusts, will he open up and he must do so to fully heal.' The moment of truth had arrived, but she had failed to have the courage to do what needed doing. It had come at an unexpected moment.
She’d followed Dr. Whipple's instructions to the best of her abilities and, in the process, fallen in love with her patient. If Dr. Whipple knew of her foible, he'd remove her from the case. She couldn't reveal her secret. She needed some time to organize the cacophony of emotions racing through her in order to congeal her thoughts and set boundaries where Trevor was concerned. She wished the past few days hadn’t happened.
Trying to distract herself, she rearranged the photos of Trevor on her laptop with the magnifier at her fingertips; she carefully compared the muscle tone. Distracted by the man rather than the muscle mass, she allowed her thoughts to linger, her hands tingling with the memory of his flesh under her hands. If only… Her imagination took her to forbidden thoughts. Feeling guilty she pulled herself away and retired. Even so, her mind refused to rest.
She had given herself over to Porsche's brand of behavior with disastrous results. A few minutes of titillating fun may have cost her her future. Oh sure, she could find jobs doing the usual therapy for patients recovering from minor accidents, but that wasn't her big dream. Dr. Whipple had shared his vision of holistic healing with physical therapy in the forefront. It had taken all of three seconds for her to recognize that his exegesis evoked a dream she had suppressed her third year at college. She wanted and needed to make a name for herself, one her parents could be proud of, one she earned without their assistance.
Her dreams for a bright career clashed with her dream of a man. Not just any man, but Trevor. Her emotions swam, sinking into a whirlpool of chaos. Her head on the pillow, the turmoil finally succumbed to sleep.
She and Porsche shared their favorite treat, perfectly roasted marshmallows. But they weren't by the campfire; they held the marshmallows in their hands roasting them in the oven. Dreams don't always make sense. She allowed the moment to linger. Porsche shoved a toasted confection in her mouth. ‘Take care of him. Heal his heart. Love him for both of us.'
The sweet farewell of the dream lingered after Mercedes woke, the early dawn of the morning beckoning to her. Mercedes took the time to call home. Ilene answered.
"I'm so glad to hear your voice."
"Mom, I miss you. How is Porsche doing?"
"It's been over three months now. Friends and neighbors have been generous and we are using your father's IRA and will even get a second mortgage on the house if necessary. Your father and I are meeting with the doctors today."
"And?" Mercedes couldn't bring herself to ask the real question. September 3rd, that had been the marker they had all, the doctors, her parents and herself, settled on. A mile marker Mercedes had thought would never arrive. Today.

"Yes." Ilene answered the question. "We'll make the final decision."
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