Spare Change

So once again, I am late to the party. The Fox television show House, MD has been off the air for a couple years now. And I had never seen a single episode, even after it was recommended by Diane Rehm on her NPR show. Lesson learned. Always trust a recommendation from Diane. Now that it's on Netflix, I’m hooked. And not just because of dreamy Hugh Laurie and his mad piano skills.

Like any worthwhile form of entertainment, House got me thinking. One of the good doctor’s mantras is that everyone lies. And they do. But, it was another thing he said that keeps rolling around my head.

Do people ever really change?

When I got my MS diagnosis almost a year ago, I had to quit smoking. And I did. Immediately and cold turkey. There is nothing like the threat of a chronic debilitating illness to scare you straight(-ish).

I’m stubborn. Precocious. Tenacious. I have been for my whole life, and that will never change. Quitting smoking was not me changing. It wasn’t strength or willpower. I was just stubborn enough to quit.

How is stopping a bad habit NOT a change? Because it is only a change in routine, not a change of who I am. I will backfill that hole where smoking used to be with some other habit—café mochas, as it turns out—because that need for ritual and pleasure will be there forever. I will never be able to remove that need that was once filled by smoking. Much like one of the two dozen scars in my brain, once it’s there, it is there for the remainder of my days. I can’t change it. I can only choose how I act on it.

I’m working on a project in my house. I’m moving my bedroom to the lower part of my split-level and creating a mini-man cave for the Kidlet in the soon-to-be-vacant master bedroom. I love a good project. Once I get going on one, I become very single-minded. Perhaps a bit obsessive. Maybe a touch excessive. But that has always been the way I do things. And the people who know me best know that about me.

Sister MSW helped me move an enormous and  heavy TV set from the lower level to the upper level. And this was after she had just run 10 miles. Yep, I wasn’t going to let her exhaustion stop me from enlisting her help. Enlisted may be too generous of a word. Drafted may be a better description.

When we had hauled all that weight up the stairs, she said, “You are in your manic stage of your project.”  She knew me well enough to recognize where I was in my head. Because that is how I have always been, and that will never change. I don’t mind the manic-project stage. I get shit done.

I used to think a good therapist could help me change. Help me change why I do what I do. But, the more therapy I have, the more I realize that the point of therapy is figuring out ways to cause myself less self-destruction while dealing with the parts of me that I cannot change.

Do people ever really change? Or do they just try to convince us that they have changed? Or maybe they are just trying to convince themselves.

Can people change? Probably not. Things change, people react. Reacting is not the same thing as changing.

Yeah, yeah. I know. If we can’t change, we will always be the caterpillar and never the butterfly. But I think that is a flawed, short-sighted argument. Becoming a butterfly was always what was going to happen to that caterpillar, unless he got eaten by a bird or squished by the kid that found him in the schoolyard. His caterpillar body may change, but the fact that he would eventually sprout wings never can. So, let’s all stop using the butterfly metaphor.

The science of psychology tells us this: People don’t change, they just become a more clear version of who they really are. People don’t change, only priorities do. If you think someone has changed, the truth is that you are only learning who they really were all along.

When I think about the people I know best, I can’t remember the last time one of them genuinely surprised me with something they did or something they didn’t do. I can predict their actions because people don’t change.  And that is OK too, because there is a certain feeling of security in knowing there won’t be many surprises. I've had enough surprises of late.

Nothing ever really changes.

Roll With It

Here is everything you ever wanted to know about MS, but were too polite to ask.

Multiple sclerosis is a disease that affects the central nervous system. Much like the plastic cover that houses an electrical wire, the myelin of our nervous system—the brain, spinal cord, and optic nerve—covers and protects our nerves and channels electricity to the correct place in the body. Essentially, my myelin is being attacked by my own immune systems. Traitorous scoundrels. Wretched hive of scum and villainy. All I wanted do was pick up some power converters.

Sorry, I geeked out for a moment.

Anyway, the demyelination leaves scars, often referred to as plaques or lesions. These lesions are dotted throughout my brain. You can see a couple of them in my MRI image below.

What’s that you say? My brain looks so sexy? Oh, go on, you flatterer. Those little white dots are the lesions. Incredibly, this scatter shot of lesions has avoided a lot of important brain parts. Much like Dick Cheney quail hunting. The MS buckshot missed the quail and only hit some minor right-wing attorneys.

Scientists don’t know what causes this in my particular nervous system. They don’t know how to cure it. But here are some of the things that doctors think may have accelerated the progression in me. These are things you can do for yourself to help your myelin last your whole life. And even if you have the myelin of Wonder Woman, you should do these things anyway.

Get more Vitamin D. If we had our levels checked, most of us would find that we are Vitamin D deficient.  Part of the blame for this falls at the feet of our dermatologists, who are forcing us out of the sunlight for the sake of healthy, cancer-free skin. The sun is a major source of Vitamin D. And while this freckle-faced redhead is more than happy to sit in the shade, wearing a very large hat, I have to supplement my D. I take a capsule every morning. I now buy fortified milk and orange juice. I try to eat more leafy greens. You won’t find me getting rickets like some sailor of yore. Now you know the secret of why Popeye ate so much spinach. Well blow me down! Toot toot

Stop smoking. I know, I know… Hey pot! Meet kettle! Smoking has been linked to accelerating MS symptoms. I smoked in college and for a few years after. I quit for a while, and picked up the habit again after I got divorced. I’ve quit for good now. But I will freely admit, I quit because I had to. Dr. Sister (that would be my sister that is a doctor) would kill me herself if I didn’t. I wish I could unsmoke every cigarette I sucked down. I also wish I could go back and work for Google circa 1999. I can’t do either. I miss smoking. I really do. On the other hand, how would I ever hope to do 27 laps around the skate track in under five minutes if I was still smoking?

Relax. I mean that literally. Try to de-stress. Extreme stress can not only worsen symptoms of MS, some science-y types think it might actually increase the risk of developing it.

I also mean… relax. There are some things you can do to MAYBE stave off this stupid disease. But it seems like it may have an element of the random to it. So why worry about it? Do what you can to be as healthy as you can. Wear your seat belt, eat more salad, smell the flowers. Other than that, we are all kind of along for the ride.

MS is not a death sentence. It’s a life sentence. But I won’t do hard Andy Dufresne time in solitary. It will be more like Martha Stewart prison: hanging with lots of interesting, tough, smart women who occasionally hit each other, then crochet a scarf. MS isn’t fatal, a common misperception. It is, however, something I will be managing for the rest of my life. And I will manage the shit out of it.

I might need a wheelchair someday, but until then I plan to be on eight wheels—not four.