apologies to David Bowie. :-)
There's not much feedback as I write this episode. (Talk about time shifting, I haven't even uploaded the episode for last thursday, which is still tomorrow for me.)
My wife Lee and I are officially registered for the Chefs for MS event.
The wine has been ordered.
I'm putting my best foot forward which means I have to try and keep my speech clear.
Like a lot of MSers out there, I slur my words at the best of times.
I haven't heard a peep from Carlo Magno. Its been almost a month. I do hope he's alright. I know he'd been ill with intestinal bleeding.
I've been communicating with One Crazy Chick on my blog and will keep any eye open and ear cocked for any for any news.
I've also heard something yesterday on Channel 11 news, Tuesday August 22, 2006 as I update this, on using some chemotherapy drug: Cytoxan.
I will definitely ask Dr. Herbert about it but I'd have to be pretty sure about it because I really don't like the thought of having to wipe out my immune system, which the chemo would do, in order to rebuild it.
Like how long would I have to be without one because I'm not interested in having to live being scared of anything and everything.
"Where's msb-0049 and msb-0050?" I hear you ask. (Okay. So I don't. Its a couple of days off anyway.)
You may have noticed that the numbering on this blog is getting more and more skewed.
I am releasing some video only episodes as trial baloons.
Potential advertisers can see that they can reach an audience of MSers (that's you gentle people) for a very low cost when compared to the usual approach of using the mail.
Never mind what it would cost for them to use TV ads.
That's just plain lunacy.
Also, from the stats again, you have decided to download msb-0050 but not as many of you downloaded msb-0049.
Like what's up with that? Boss Fearss was actually funny.
MS changes lives, but its not alone on having that kind of impact.
MS usually hits people who have made some decisions in their lives and have chosen some direction to their lives.
MS just blindsides 'em with a pipe smash to the spine.
In that respect its a car wreck; its like a side swipe.
What you knew and trusted; yourself if nothing else, just isn't there anymore.
But MS is a disease and like all diseases, its completely fair (in a statistical sense.)
MS is utterly without prejudice.
Male or female, of almost any age (within certain limits for discovery,) black, white, red, yellow, its utterly without significance.
MS doesn't care about you beyond a hunger for myelin, and your spinal chord is on the menu.
MS is utterly without pity. It can't be appealed to, bargained with or pleaded to.
Most of the problems I have seen or heard, or heard of, are related to people's inability to accept that utter randomness.
Its a bitch to realize that you don't matter worth a damn in the larger scheme of things.
There isn't even anyone to crook a finger at.
Its not like Osama blaming non-muslims for his troubles tinkling or whatever's got his knickers in a twist.
MS happpens utterly without any respect to nationality, religious affiliation, social standing, occupation, sexual orientation or any other category you care to use to divide the chosen from the damned.
Nothing like a little enforced humility.
My life has changed several times.
Twice my life almost ended. (I was one of the first chidren in Québec to receive penecilin. I was sooo sick. I'm actually older than the spread of antibiotics outside of testing by the military. The second time was a car crash I walked away from that could have left me a smeary statistic skewered on a median.)
Twice my life got interrupted by MS. (Both times I have managed to recover, the first time almost completely and the second time, to a good extent.)
Once it got interupted by a terrorist act. (Osama bin Laden is equivalent in intent to every two-bit, tin-cup fascist dictator that's ever existed, except he doesn't even have any territory. On that basis, he doesn't even rate as much respect as a school yard bully. All he can do is wreck other people's things.)
Each time I had to pick myself up out of whatever bed I was in and just get on with the fact that life had changed.
I didn't want it to but what I wanted wasn't a consideration.
MS doesn't mean anything.
Its utterly impersonal.
But it is vincible.
It can and will be defeated, conquered, brought to reins.
How about a metaphor that works.
It can be cured.
MS requires that we get to know it and get to know ourselves well enough to understand the mechanisms that cascade into an exacerbation.
I loathe people that accept "Its a mystery." as an answer for anything.
"Its a mystery" only because they're too lazy, cheap or intellectually crippled to look for a mechanism.
And those people need to change.