Welcome to the Carnival of MS Bloggers, a bi-weekly compendium of thoughts and experiences shared by those living with multiple sclerosis.
Memory, Language, and Humor
by Mary of Travelogue for the Universe
Proteins and Memory,
are they one & the same?
If so true, it makes proteins
so important in our game.
The shots of proteins like the bee sting
can slow the MonSter that I know.
Is my brain full of complex
Protein strands imprinted with
Memories of long ago?
And will the funding last forever,
Will the protein soup be ever?
Will they some day, find a new way
to deliver protein feed.
To chew or swallow, cook or wallow in exactly
what I need?
For now I take the proteins,
shots really not that bad.
The only way I can, The only way is how
to keep the MonSter
far out on the curb.
by Jenn of Losing It
The day we finally went to the ER was the day I couldn’t put on my underwear and then face-planted in my kitchen, my body contorted on the floor like some sort of crime-scene chalk outline. I thought about how I might be paralyzed and wondered which of my darling pets would start gnawing me first. Et tu, Ella? (Just to clarify: I wasn’t naked in my kitchen. Separate incidents. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)
So we head to Baptist NLR, the closest hospital to our house, and begin the obligatory ER wait. I see the nurse, another nurse, a doctor, and then a neurologist. He is a young guy, but he put me immediately at ease. He was competent, thoughtful, thorough, and Indian. I only point this out because, as it will become clear soon, there was a slight language barrier.
He did all of the standard neurological tests (I know this because I had epilepsy when I was younger). And then he had me walk up and down the hallway of the ER. I say walk, but it was more of a shuffle-lurch I was rocking at that point. I think he knew within the first five minutes what was wrong with me, but, like I said, he’s thorough.
And then we went back to the small ER room. He told us I would be staying at the hospital, which came as quite a shock because I expected to be in and out and on my merry little way. (Why I thought this, I still don’t know. Optimism? Denial?) I just nodded, trying to be the perfect patient, even though my throat was closing up as the anxiety crept in. His words were competing with my inner dialogue, and losing.
I needed to stay for days of observation and treatment, he told us. And I would get on steel rods for those five days, he said. He left the room to get my admittance paperwork started.
“Steel rods?” I blurted incredulously to Nick, my carefully constructed composure now crumbling. “Why on earth would I get temporary steel rods put in me? What good will that do? I don’t want surgery. Let’s leave. I’ll just keep the gown on.”
I was in hysterics.
Try as he may, Nick couldn’t stifle his laughter, which nearly provoked me to start throwing hospital equipment at him (Latex gloves, by the way, aren’t exactly as threatening as they may at first seem).
“Steroids, Jenn. He’s going to put you on a five-day treatment of steroids.”
“Oh.”
I began giggling uncontrollably. Nick joined in, our chuckling filling that small room with the bad fluorescent lights and echoing down the hallway.
And in that moment we knew: Whatever came our way, we’d be OK.
Potty Humor in New Jersey
by Lisa of Brass and Ivory
Folks with MS are not the only ones who find value in appropriately-placed facilities.
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| "Reserved Seating" |
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| "I Have To Pee" |
After admiring the handiwork of these signs (and laughing), I just had to document the spottings. Have you spotted clever signs on your journeys? If so, please share them in the comments section.
The next Carnival of MS Bloggers will be hosted here on November 4, 2010. Please remember to submit a post (via email) from your blog of which you are particularly proud, or which you simply want to share, by noon on Tuesday, November 2, 2010.
Thank you.
Thank you.
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