Participate in Life

In the interest of managing my time better and making sure I'm more fully engaged with the people around me, I deleted the Facebook app from my iPhone.

Since I handle the social media at work, I can't completely avoid social media entirely. I see updates and tags and messages, etc. on Facebook but now I don't have easy access to them from my phone at all hours of the day.  I still have Instagram on my phone, but I am slowing down on it and trying to be a bit more judicious with the time I choose to spend on there. 

Maybe you've already seen this video...but, my sister posted this video to her Facebook page I saw today while at work. It speaks volumes about our society and our newest addictions. I also like it because it rhymes.  

Do you think our "looking down" at our devices keeps us from interacting? What steps are you taking to connect more in real life with the world around you?

Invisible Suffering

A month ago, I was struggling with balance and leg weakness. Most people didn't notice, except for when I attempted to wear high heels to church. Wobbles-ville. I felt like I was stumbling around with a leaden left leg.

Often, the symptoms of MS aren't noticeable. If you're wondering what some of these invisible symptoms might be, or what's really going on inside someone with MS, watch this.

In my church, one of my favorite hymns states, "in the quiet heart is hidden, sorrow that the eye can't see." That verse is ever present in my mind when I now look at others who may appear to be well put together. We all have a sad story to tell. Most of us don't show it on our face or even in our body. But, I can assure you, it's there. The beauty of what I've learned is that there is so much to be happy for in life and when you stop to cheer someone else along the way, you also benefit.

Take a look at those around you. Treat them with kindness and consideration whether you believe they have it all together or not.

Reasons for Lesions

Recently I met with my neurologist to go over the results of my second MRI. This MRI was my super pricey celebration of 2014. The scan checked my cervical (neck) and thoracic (my thorax...if I were a bug) spinal cord for any MS lesions.

What's a lesion, you ask? Hmmm...well, the best way I can describe it is the protective coating over your nerve fiber that sends a signal, much like the plastic protective coating over electrical cords. Have you ever noticed that if the plastic on electrical cords wears out to expose the wires, it shorts out and doesn't work as well? That's what's happening to the nerves for people with MS. It's more damaging than that 80's movie with Steve Guttenberg (whatever happened to that guy?), though.

I have had weird vision problems, numbness and tingling in nearly my whole body (different areas at different times), sleeplessness, headaches, general fatigue, muscle weakness on one side of my body, balance problems, clumsiness and memory lapses.

I wonder now if I the adrenal fatigue I experienced back in 2009 and 2010 was actually the early stages of MS…or maybe a warning to me to slow down. Because I didn't get an MRI at that point, I may I never know.

The medication my neurologist has recommended I try is supposed to shrink lesions and stop them from progressively getting worse…but, they may always be there. I am learning to live with the idea that my body is incredibly resilient and it can heal itself. The first round of therapy happened on Valentine's Day...and it left me completely wasted for days. My walking is pretty wobbly, too.

Getting my first Tysabri treatment on Valentine's Day

I keep up hope that I will find a new normal and eventually return to many of the things I love like running. In the meantime, I thank God for every day I'm alive.

Diagnosis, Schmiagnosis

This is my brain. All the white spots are lesions...that's MS.

Two weeks ago today I received the shock of my life—I have MS.

Of course, I freaked out. I broke down and cried in the doctor's office and in the lobby of the doctor's building. I cried in Whole Foods while talking with my sister. I cried and drove. I wept on the phone to my daughter. I prayed and sobbed. I laid in bed and wept. Woke up, went to my knees and cried some more. But, I refused to let anyone else see me feel sorry for myself. I don't want to be perceived as anything but strong.

I am strong.

But, I cry. I come from a long line of criers. Most of my siblings and my parents cry easily. We're not a bunch of babies, we're just sensitive. I'm a sympathy cryer. If I even sense someone is on the verge of tears, I well up.

This crying has been different.

I'm in mourning for the life I thought I was going to have. I don't want to be considered sick. I'm crying for doing this to my family. Could I have prevented it? I cried for the scary stuff all the MS patients told me they've been through while I was getting steroid infusions. I don't want that life!

I fought so hard to overcome adrenal fatigue. I have been so good at eating right, taking supplements, exercising and doing everything possible to be healthy. It doesn't feel fair that I have to fight this stupid MS for life!

I am fierce and I will fight.

I won't be labeled: "She's the woman with MS...she used to be so active, poor thing." I don't want people to treat me differently, look at me differently or exclude me from things because they think I shouldn't or couldn't.

One friend told me she saw me carrying my four-year-old child and was mad that I wasn't "taking it easy." That just made me angry. I will carry my child until I absolutely can't. I don't want to be told what I can't do.

I can.

I may have MS, but MS doesn't have me.

Life changer

Yes, I know it's been nine months since I posted anything. Why would I choose to post on my blog now of all times? No...I did not have a baby. No, I don't have fabulous tips for making an easy holiday meal (well, maybe I do: book a reservation at your favorite restaurant and burn scented candles at home. Boom!) No one died either (well a friend's husband did, but he was close to 100 and nearly perfect).

Yesterday I received a diagnosis of MS.

My older sister was with me and helped me through the experience as best as she could. She also offered to write a letter to my family and act as a buffer. So, I'm posting her letter here...since I'm sure there will be questions.

First, here's a photo of my 40th birthday weekend in July 2013, since that was right before the symptoms started. Good times.


Here's what my sister wrote to my family:

I hope that you are all doing well.  I'm writing per Pam's request.  I attended a doctors appointment with her this morning to see a Neurologist specializing in Multiple Sclerosis.    Pam has been experiencing some troubling symptoms for a couple months now.  Dr. Foley was very thorough with his exam and his review of a MRI taken a couple months ago when she started having some foggy vision.  That and the numbness, tingling, weakness in limbs, hypersensitivity to heat/cold on one side of her body and lesions on her brain all led him to diagnose Pam as having Multiple Sclerosis.  As you can imagine this is very difficult news to hear and Pam took it as well as could be expected.   

"MS is an autoimmune disease where your immune system attacks your central nervous system (CNS) by mistake. This attack damages myelin, the coating that protects nerve fibers in the brain, spinal cord, and eyes. When these nerve fibers become damaged, they lose the ability to send signals that help you think, move, or see."

(If you would like to find out more about Multiple Sclerosis, you can find a very informative video here: http://www.nationalmssociety.org/about-multiple-sclerosis/what-we-know-about-ms/what-is-ms/index.aspx)

Pam will be undergoing some immediate treatment and further tests to first, mitigate the symptoms of the disease, and second, to determine the aggressiveness of her MS (it's different for everyone).  She started on a course of steroidal infusions this afternoon and will have those for another 2 days.  She'll be getting another MRI done but this time on her spinal cord to determine if there are lesions on that as well as on her brain.   There are other tests too, and I'll gladly tell you about them if you ask. (Note: blood work and eye exams.)

You may feel overwhelmed by this information and want to help but not know how.  Pam will need our love and support as she navigates through learning how this will impact her life.  Right as this very moment however, she's still grieving.    It would be most helpful, if for the first few days we give Pam time to process the emotions and reactions to this news, and refrain from calling her to inquire about it.   Flowers, cards, email messages and texts (without expecting a reply) I'm sure would help to buoy her spirits.  If you have any questions about what going on, I'd love to talk with you about it, so give ME a call!   Please just don't call Pam right now.  She needs some time.

-------

And, I do. I'll blog more about it as things progress.

Love to you all!

The Painful Truth About Threading

Threading doesn't look painful, but it is (as my mommy used to say, "stars and garters!"). Here's my video to prove it. I've done everything from bleaching to waxing to plucking. Threading is, hands down, the best way to effectively remove the tiny little hairs on your face (around your mouth, chin, 'stache, etc.). The process takes about 5-10 minutes, depending on your threshold for pain and your need to come up for air before you run screaming from the building. The hair doesn't regrow for at least 5 weeks and it costs about $15.

Note: The threading woman is named Nikoo, she's from Iran, and she must love watching women go through excruciating pain for beauty, because she's been doing this a loooong time. If you want her number, leave a comment.

The Stress Test

This is a post I wrote a little over a year ago while training for triathlon season. It originally appeared on my blog at WasatchWoman.com.

The day after my last blog post I had a bike accident. The dumbest thing happened. I put my foot in the cage (it’s literally a cage for your foot) and pushed my body weight onto the pedal. The pedal didn’t budge, I lost my balance and toppled over landing on my right elbow.

I passed out. For the next two and a half hours, I passed out about seven more times. Waiting for my husband to come check on my condition — I passed out. My neighbor and training partner loaded me in her car.  I passed out. Checking into the ER — out. Blood drawn in the ER — out. X-rays on my injured elbow — out. And on and on.

The doctor was so worried about my passing out, the elbow was almost a secondary concern. My heart rate was low and my blood pressure nearly imperceptible.

The next day, I had to take a stress test. The doctor mentioned “sudden death.” With that sort of thing to "rule out," I agreed to go have the test done, even though I knew my heart was fine. Have you taken a stress test? You’re basically disrobed from the waist up, lying on a table with a removable leaf at breast level while your heart is monitored both with sticky tape all over your body and a probing ultrasound wand that looks like a scanner at Wal-Mart.

[To those of you who have had more than three children and have breastfed each one until your breasts resemble something like a tube sock with a tennis ball at the end — you know the fear of forgetting a bra. Imagine you’re topless in a loose fitting hospital gown with the opening in the front. Did I mention the table with the removable leaf at breast level? Try to keep your heart rate normal under that kind of stress!]

I lay there on my side while the technician (who also happened to be a rather handsome lad around 23) chatted me up and ran the ultrasound all around my left breast – as it pointed to the floor below me. I wished I could will myself to pass out at that moment. Nope…didn’t work.

I was then asked to get on the treadmill and walk. When my heart rate wasn’t high enough to register on their thing-a-ma-bob, the other technician — a smug older woman who must have derived some sort of demented pleasure seeing me clutching my sagging breasts to me as if they were the last two loaves of bread during a famine — cranked up the speed and the incline until I was jogging , bra-less, and panting.

My heart is just fine. My arm still hurts (looks like a hairline fracture). My ego will never recover.

Note: After a second set of x-rays, it was determined that my arm wasn't broken and, most importantly, my status as the world's biggest wuss was established.

Success = Doing things that scare the @#&! out of you

Visibly scared, pre-race at XTERRA

This summer I competed in three triathlons. I'm hooked. But, that's no surprise. I'm fiercely competitive. Sometimes I wish I weren't so competitive. I have to beat my own time when I run, swim, or bike...but, I also have to not let too many people pass me.

I learned, however, when you're too competitive, you make dumb mistakes because you're too focused on the end result and not the experience. You also can thwart your own success because you're not being patient enough to master the particular skill in which you're competing.

Learning how to mountain bike, a new skill for me, only a month before my last triathlon of the season (an off-road tri called XTERRA), taught me how to slow down, take the competition out of the experience, and enjoy. The first time I tried mountain biking, I was terrified. Going downhill was the scariest thing I've done in a long time. That fear resulted in a barely controlled descent down a rocky mountain trail and a skidding sideways crash which taught me to grip my brakes more gently. A scraped up knee and arm and a dinner-plate-size bruise on my keister were sharp reminders that becoming competitive in a new sport is more patience and hard work than dumb luck and speed.

I wasn't dumb enough to think I'd never get hurt again as I worked on getting better at mountain biking. In fact, part of me (the bruised part) wanted nothing more than to do the sports I knew I was good at over the ones that could maim or potentially kill me. I didn't die, though. I forged on. Still scared, moving deliberately.

XTERRA race day came. I was ready. I knew I had to go slow and I knew I wasn't skilled enough yet to navigate the wooden steps on the trail. So, I stopped and lifted my bike over and around the large obstacles in the path. It took so much longer to finish that race than any other race I've ever done. But, I finished. And I didn't get hurt.

Next on my list of things that scare me: climbing. I'm terrified of heights.