Hell on Wheels

My dad needs new knees. Much like Batman’s, there is no cartilage in them and the doctor does not recommend heliskiing.

The top image is of a normal set of knees. The bottom one is of Dad’s knees that are soon to be replaced with bionic ones. Meanwhile, he doesn’t let those cushion-free knees stop him from enjoying life, as he proved on our recent family trip to Mexico. He had a blast lounging with my mom, hanging with my sisters, and tossing around his grandkids in the pool.

But there is one part of the trip that he was not very fond of. He needed a wheelchair to get through the crazy line at Customs. The line-waiting would have been torture on his knees. We had to practically knock him into the chair. He hated feeling like he was losing his ability to do things that were once a simple part of life. He hated needing that help.

My sisters and I didn’t like seeing him in a wheelchair. But it was exceptionally cringe-worthy for me. I caught a glimpse of the future that may be in store for me. I might end up needing to be assisted through a crowded airport.

I know that I am not definitely fated for this. I might never even need a cane for support. I might never have an attack again. I am taking a weekly shot to slow down the progression, and I just had another MRI to see if the medicine is working. It just may be.

Let's face facts. The odds are good that I will need some form of walking assistance during some portion of my life. But, here is the upside of needing walking assistance:

You get escorted through security, allowing you to make your very tight connection. You get to ride in a pimped out golf cart. You never are the one designated to get drinks at the bar. You can hit insolent children with your cane.

And when it’s my time someday, I’m getting a kick-ass walker.

Chairs with wheels may be in my future, but until then, I’m on boots with wheels, thank you very much.

And I'm off..

...to my vacation! Talk to you all when I get back.

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.