Presidential Muppets with Brain Lesions

I think that it has been well established that I am a complete geek. So none of you should be shocked to learn that I have a Presidents’ Day tradition. I marathon watch the West Wing and let myself believe—if only for a few brief hours—that I could live in the America of Josiah Bartlet as painted by the brilliant Aaron Sorkin.

You will now be granted a brief pause to make a single comment about my nerdishness.

Anyway… This year I watched the West Wing through a new lens. The MS lens.

Just to recap, it is revealed after President Bartlet is shot in the Season One cliffhanger that he has MS. This diagnosis is important for the anesthesiologist to be aware of as he preps the President for surgery. And that is the last we hear about it for a while until—and stay with me here—one of his senior policy advisers think something is fishy with the Vice President (who knows the President has MS and is not planning to run for a second term).

Still with me?

This year as I was watching the MS storyline unfold, I found it interesting to see the character’s reactions to hearing about President Bartlet’s MS.  At the time the show was on the air, The West Wing was both lauded and criticized for its portrayal of MS. But I hardly gave it a thought back then. It’s all different now.

Having once been pregnant, I am always skeptical when I hear a story about a woman who gave birth to a healthy baby while never having known she was pregnant. That gives me pause. I can’t imagine feeling someone playing football with my bladder going unnoticed. I can’t wrap my brain around someone feeling a fetus swimming around her stomach and NOT thinking that—at the very least—she probably should address that sensation with a doctor. I would certainly want some medicinal reassurance that my appendix hadn’t become sentient.

I feel the same way with the West Wing MS President. I just don’t buy it.

Aside—Yes, I am well aware that we are talking about a work of fiction. Written by one of the most gifted writers alive right now, but fiction nonetheless. But like all art, Sorkin’s writing can only be interpreted by me through my own experiences.

Back to the Bartlet administration.

The MS Society reports that four out of ten people with MS have either failed to disclose or outright lied about their diagnosis to friends, family, colleagues, and their employer.  The same study reported that 36 percent of MS patients feel it has a negative impact on their inter-personal relationships.

I’ve certainly noticed that it has impacted my relationships. So I will give President Bartlet a pass on this one. I get it. And no one—not even the President—is under any obligation to disclose their MS (or any other health conditions) to their employer.

Bartlet’s choice to not disclose his MS is not where I stumble. I have a hard time with his ability to manage both his MS and the business of the country.

Let me expound.

MS advocates loved that Sorkin gave MS to the President. They saw it as an endorsement that a person with MS can do anything.  Yay. Go MS peeps.

Except, I don’t buy it. The symptom that people with MS feel is most debilitating is fatigue. Extreme fatigue. Our country has seen President’s with disabilities before. FDR was in a wheelchair. JFK was in chronic back pain and needing medication and a brace. I don’t think Bartlet’s need for an occasional walking aid is any problem at all.

But the soul-crushing fatigue? That is where I think MS would defeat a President. POTUS has to spend 10 to 12 hours at work each day. No weekends off. No vacations away from responsibly. No time for a nap. I can barely make it through my 8 hour day without having to put my head on my desk because I don’t have the energy to keep holding it up.

Oh, and let’s not forget one of the things that exacerbates MS symptoms. Stress. But the President never has to deal with that, right? Yeah, I’m not buying it.

I think we should reboot some other TV series and give the main character MS. Then depict these characters with an accurate portrayal of life with MS. In Breaking Bad, let’s take away Walt’s cancer and give him MS. Trouble finds him when he falls asleep in his motor home, ruining his latest batch of Meth. Which is bad, because he needs the cash to pay for his Avonex.

Or maybe Ross would dump Rachel forever after her MS diagnosis because he doesn’t want to deal with a lifetime of disabilities. He has overlooked the benefits of being able to jump the lines at an amusement park or park close to the door at a sporting event. So the rest of the Friends series can follow Rachel as she navigates Manhattan with a cane, endlessly having first dates.

Or even a colorful, fluffy character on Sesame Street that just randomly falls down and can’t keep her hand from shooting forward and punching people. Actually, someone needs to make me that puppet. 

For the Love of Words: Heartache Edition

Remember the television show The West Wing? One of my favorite things said by President Bartlet was:

In my house, anyone who uses one word when they could have used ten just isn't trying hard.

Except sometimes, a single word can express ideas that are rich and complex. They encapsulate the nuance of a thought better than any ten words. I like to collect those holophrastic* words. Yes, I am a total nerd. No, I don’t use them everyday or try to shoehorn them into a conversation. But, they make my writing more interesting. And they help make me hard to beat at Scrabble.

So here are a few words about heartache that I have filed away over the years. While the vocabulary might be varsity level, I think that the meanings can be universally understood.

You know that feeling when you meet someone the first time and you know—you just know—that you are going to fall in love with them? The Japanese have a word for that: koi no yokan. Certain recent life lessons have made me wary of koi no yokan. And being afraid of that feeling makes me sad, because it is such a beautiful, dangerous, exhilarating feeling. And a tiny part of me hopes I won’t feel again.

Another beautiful but dangerous word: sillage. French perfumers will often refer to the scent that lingers in the air, even after the wearer has left, as the sillage. But there is also the sillage of a person who leaves your life. The invitation to attend the Pink Prom. The email from your favorite Ogden restaurant.  The brochure in the mail with the summer symphony schedule. The picture you tucked away in a book because it was too painful to look at. That picture will always fall out of its hiding place at the most emotionally vulnerable time. It’s a given.

Love has a sillage. I both wish and fear that it lasts forever.

The Germans have a flair for poetic words. The chess term Zugzwang—a situation where every decision is a bad one that results in damage and loss—is often fitting beyond queens and rooks. The Germans also coined Schadenfreude, the shameful joy you might feel when you learn that some jackass you used to date in college has gotten a black eye because he is a Backpfeifengesicht (a person who needs to be punched in the face).

German is such a beautiful language.

For the record, I am discovering anagapesis (no longer feeling that ferocious, dramatic love for someone) can be a wonderful thing. It makes room for redamancy (loving one with that love returned in full). It also allows for a true friendship to gain a foothold. The la douleur exquise (the pain of loving someone unattainable) really doesn’t last forever. Don’t prematurely induratize (to harden yourself, resisting love) your heart. And remember, there are as many ways to love as there are people that are worthy of your love.

I knew all those creative writing and poetry classes would pay off. Take that college advisor. Pfft… math and science. Who needs that? Not when there is vocabulary! And keep an eye out for part two in the series, For the Love of Words: MS Edition

*Holophrasis: (n.) the expression of complex ideas in a single word or phrase