The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

This is how I would describe my weekend: Spaghetti Western.

The Good

The Good started out on Friday afternoon. I met with my Neurologist, who told me that my latest MRI results showed positive signs. While the little divots dissolved out of my myelin will never be repaired (at least not with current knowledge of medicine), the progression seems to have slowed and the inflammation has calmed. That was the word she used: calmed. The Avonex appears to be doing its job with little impact on my liver.

On Sunday night, it was my turn to host Sunday dinner. Every year, around Halloween, I usually go all-out on a spooky party. And the older my son, nephew, and nieces get, the more fun we have. This year, the kiddos ate brains with blood sauce, devils eyes, vampire fingers, and miniature pumpkins with a side of ghost.

The adults had spaghetti with meat sauce, deviled eggs, garlic breadsticks, and mandarin oranges with bananas. We also decorated sugar skulls, which was a ton of fun.

The Bad

Apparently, in all these times I have been shoved down an MRI tube, no one has thought to look at my neck. Or more specifically, my brain stem and spinal cord. So guess who has to participate in another MRI next week. If you guessed Salma Hayek , I can understand why. I am often confused for her. But, no, it is me that gets that little party. (Salma may actually be having an MRI next week. But if she is, she didn’t mention it to me.) Really, is there anything that brings quite the feeling of humiliation of sitting in a waiting area—in a hospital gown—with ten other people who are waiting for their procedures?

Another Bad of the weekend happened Saturday morning when I attempted to make a jump while on skates. Let me be very clear here. I got nowhere near anything most literate people would label as a jump. Maybe, if someone were being exceptionally generous, it could be called a cowardly, one-footed hop. I lost my courage as I approached the cones I was trying to jump.  Wasn't pretty. Probably pretty funny, though.

The Ugly

So, here is the Ugly. On Saturday, coming back from downtown where I had picked up the sugar skulls, I stopped for gas. I put my credit card in the machine at the pump, lifted the nozzle, and looked at the cover to my car’s gas tank. And I could not remember how to open it.

I tugged at it for a moment with no results. I got into the car, where I looked for a button that released the cover. Nope. I got out again and stared at it blankly. I sat in the passenger’s seat and rifled through the glove box for the owners manual, which read : To fuel your automobile, open the fuel tank cover…” No help there.

A total and complete blank. I’ve opened that fuel tank a hundred times. And I forgot how to do it.

I stood there for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a couple of minutes. I was fighting tears of frustration and mild panic. I finally pried open the little rectangular flap and gassed up. Then, of course, the cover wouldn’t close because I had broken it. Instead of lightly pushing on the side of the cover, releasing the mechanism that was holding it shut, I destroyed the latch by forcing it open.

It’s called Cognitive Dysfunction. And it is not like “where did I leave my keys.” It’s more like “I see what needs to be done, but I have no idea how to accomplish it.” For me, having this happen for the first time, it is scary, and frustrating, and strange.  It is, in a word, Ugly.

My car gets repaired on Friday. Unfortunately, my brain does not.

Getting My Bearings

This weekend, I cleaned my bearings for the first time. I used my fancy skate tool to remove the wheels from my skates and pop out the little metal doughnuts that are the physics behind skating.

I was unexplainably nervous about taking my skates apart. I’m a pretty handy gal. I can put together an Ikea bookcase in no time flat. But taking the wheels off left my skates looking spindly and naked. And they kinda hurt when you accidentally step on a bare axle. Just a little pro tip from me to you.

Pulling apart my skates to liberate the bearings for their cleaning turned out to be a bit fun. It was also the first time I have examined my bearings. I was a little surprised about how small they were. My skates are heavy compared to some of the skates of the veterans. Those girls have faster wheels and aluminum plates. My skates have big chunky wheels and a cast metal plate. Which, as it turns out, is a great setup to learn with.

But I was surprised that these diminutive bearings not only made the wheels go around, they held me upright. And, while I am pretty smart, it took me a while to see how they worked. It never really occurred to me that there was more at work in a skate wheel than spinning on an axle.

A bearing is actually a mini machine with the purpose of directing energy towards the intended location. Bearings can amplify motion in one direction. They can also aid the turning of a wheel by reducing friction. Another purpose of a bearing is to support part of the machine that contains it.

Leonardo da Vinci studies the machine of a ball bearing in the 16^th century, using them in his design of a helicopter. Caged ball bearings—like the sixteen used in my skates—were originally described by Galileo in the 17^th century.

Forgive this clunky segue, but…

Speaking of getting my bearings, I had my 6-month MRI Monday. I don’t know if I am sad or relieved that I am getting used to being in an MRI machine. I can close my eyes and think of other things while the tube around me bangs and shutters. I am even kind of looking forward to seeing the rainbow colors of my pee, tinted from the contrast dye shot up my arm. It’s like someone unleashed a bag of skittles in my kidneys.

I'll hear in a few weeks if I am growing any more lesions or if the Avonex is truly slowing down the MS. My poor brain. My crazy, short-on-myelin brain. I wish it was as easy to clean up as my skate bearings.