Joy Riding

Tags

Biking, MS, MS Health, Terry Wahls

The spring before I was diagnosed, my husband bought me a bicycle for Mother’s Day.  I had been experiencing numbness in my feet and legs for several months and all my previous forms of exercise gave me an uncomfortable electrical sensation.  I would get a strange feeling from the tips of my toes up through my groin whenever I tried to do anything that involved foot to ground impact.  Riding a bicycle did not cause any such symptoms. Zumba and Step Aerobics appeared to be activities I could no longer participate in.  Rather than dwell on that which I can no longer do, I now focus on the fact that I have rediscovered the joy of riding a bike.  I have been riding since.

Audry Hepburn on Sabrina sound stage

If you haven’t ridden a bicycle in a while, I highly recommend it regardless of whether or not you have an MS diagnoses. Physically, it’s a great no impact aerobic work out that has a wide range in terms of how physical you want to make it.  Mentally, besides the usual production of endorphins that exercise brings about, it is an activity that simply makes you happy.  There is something charmingly childish about riding a bike.  Most of us learned this never forgotten skill when we were about 6 years old.  And when I hopped on that saddle after years of not having ridden, I was instantly hooked.  We mainly ride on bike paths and the ones near where we live run along either the river or the ocean; both are amazing.  Even on the warmest of summer days, the breeze is created by sheer momentum.  This winter we have had milder than average temperatures and were able to sneak in a ride or two in December and January. Hills can be tough; hills are a challenge for any rider. We have learned the best points of bike path entry which affords a down hill start, thereby energizing and invigorating you from the get-go and then gives you a strong aerobic finish at the end of your round trip.

There are two stories which inspire me and make me believe that cycling is available to people with a wide range of abilities. The first is Terry Wahls’ TEDxIowaCity Minding Your Mitochondria lecture. Interestingly, when I discovered Terry Wahls’ viral video, I couldn’t help but notice that Dr. Wahls described how she went from a wheel chair to biking to work after changing her diet.  I doubt that Dr. Wahls ever considered becoming a runner as her mobility returned, but she found that she could ride a bike as she rehabilitated. This life changing video inspired many lifestyle changes I have made as well as reconfirming my cycling theory.

My friend Hope, the woman I met on that fated flight from Arizona, is plagued with moderately advanced symptoms of MS.  When I met her, one of her hands was unusable, she had a leg brace and used a cane.  I followed her off the plane as she painstakingly made her way towards baggage. In one of our email exchanges, I  told her about my bike riding and a few weeks later she emailed me and told me she had purchased an adult sized tricycle. She was thrilled.  She spoke enthusiastically about the fact that she felt like a 5 year old girl, riding her trike through the park near her winter home in Florida. I have a feeling she hadn’t felt so alive in years.  Hearing this brought me such joy, nearly as much as riding.

Terry Wahls-Minding Your Mitochondria

This video inspired my perspective.  I really hope it inspires yours as well.

Revelations

Tags

Copaxone, MS, MS Health

La Conversation, (1938) by Henri Matisse

I should have titled this A Year of Revelations, because it has taken most of the year since my diagnoses to tell my family about my MS. I have only, in the last two weeks, told my mother and sister.  My children were told in a span of about 8 months. Two out of three of them were living far away from home until May of 2011. It didn’t seem appropriate to tell my then 14-year-old, without him having his siblings around to share the burden of knowing. What I really wanted was to spare everyone the burden of knowing.  I felt as though my parents, both in their 70’s, would likely never need to know in their life time.  I have lived my entire life trying very hard not to disappoint them.  I knew this would be an unnecessary crushing blow to them and an unnecessary worry.  If I ever were to progress to a more degenerative stage of this disease, it’s likely to be very far down the road after they both have passed.

It was decided that I would pretty much keep it a secret until at least the return of my family.  I did tell a handful of close friends partly because it’s easier to tell friends than family and partly because I guess I was practicing  “the conversation.”  I was sure to tell them that it wasn’t public knowledge, I didn’t want my family to hear it second-hand. It was always very awkward to bring it up.  When you start the conversation with “I’ve been diagnosed” they brace themselves for the worst, thinking you are surely going to reveal that you have terminal cancer and they seem relieved that it is only MS.

My children arrived home in May and I planned to have a family meeting.  Before I had a chance to do this, two things occurred. One was that my daughter, my oldest, found my stash of drugs in the refrigerator while reorganizing it late one night.  She confronted my husband after googling Copaxone.  The two of them had the conversation I had planned to have with everyone.  I wish he would have had the opportunity to talk to all of them without me.  I was actually hoping my daughter, who isn’t exactly great at keeping secrets, would just tell the boys and spare me the difficult task.  The second thing to happen that May was my son’s very close friend died in a car wreck.  He was already in a less than optimal place mentally.  Having just had a stressful semester away at school (broken hand/surgery, dropped classes), he was preparing to transfer closer to home and wasn’t particularly happy about it.  After his friend died, I certainly didn’t want to add anymore distress to his life.  He was already spiraling towards a deep depression and so I put off telling and focused on helping him heal.  This resulted in also not sharing the news with my youngest son.  I felt that the oldest to youngest hierarchy of disclosure needed to be maintained.  Finally in August, I told my older son. He was concerned, but I breezed through my spiel about awesome medication and that I wasn’t symptomatic and it seemed to ease his mind.  I was, however sure to tell him that stress plays a major role in relapses.  Anything to try to snap him into being a less stressful component in my life.  It would be months before I got the nerve to tell my youngest.

We eventually had an afternoon together Christmas shopping in early December and I brought it up on the way home.  He was quiet, but then again he is always quiet.  He just asked one question, “what’s going to happen?” I told him that nothing was going to happen because they caught it early and I am on very good medication. He seemed satisfied with that.  I try to be as well.

I was, and still am very good at keeping it light. After all, the worst case scenario with this disease is only a possibility.  I’ve even nicknamed it the “Might Suck”.  And in keeping with the spirit of optimism, for every “might”, there is also a “might not” and this is where I am leaning.

Today marks the one year anniversary of when Dr. F delivered the “likely” diagnoses to me. I still need to tell my father.