The Strange Case Of Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde...Subtitled: When Good People Go Bad...

I imagine we're all familiar with the novella, "The Strange Case Of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde". But, just in case one among us is NOT, let me refresh your grasp of late 1800's literature.

The story of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was first published in 1886...or so Wikipedia says...my unvalidated source for all online research. Ehem. Wikipedia goes on to say: "This story represents a concept in Western culture, that of the inner conflict of humanity's sense of good and evil. The novella has been interpreted as an examination of the duality of human nature (that good and evil exists in all) and that the failure to accept this tension (to accept the evil or shadow side) results in the evil being projected onto others. Paradoxically in this argument, evil is actually committed in an effort to extinguish the perceived evil that has been projected onto the innocent victims. In Freudian Theory the thoughts and desires banished to the unconscious mind motivate the behavior of the conscious mind. If someone banishes all evil to the unconscious mind in an attempt to be wholly and completely good, it can result in the development of a Mr. Hyde-type aspect to that person's character."

Yeah, yeah, Wikipedia...whatever. "The actual story line is about a good doctor who has covered up a life full of secret deeds (I'm STILL quoting Wiki here because I lack a better summary). He feels as if he is constantly battling within himself between what is good and what is evil, and is pushing away people dear to him. After drinking a potion of his own creation, Jekyll is transformed into the cruel, remorseless, evil Edward Hyde, representing the hidden side of Dr. Jekyll's nature brought to the fore. Dr. Jekyll has many friends and has a friendly personality, but as Mr. Hyde, he becomes mysterious, violent, and secretive and as time goes by, Mr. Hyde grows in power. After taking the potion repetitively, he no longer relies upon the potion to unleash his inner demon."

In 2009, I think the title of this novella would best be summed up as, "When Good People Go Bad"...just like that show in the 90's about good pets that go bad! Yes, sadly I've stolen THAT title, too. :-)

"But," you ask yourselves inquisitively because that's how you are. "Why is the CHEESE talking about good people going bad and where in the h - e double toothpicks is she going with THIS one?" I DO like the way y'all think. LOL

Well, my preciouses...the CHEESE is going to dance out on that far limb here (probably falling and breaking my neck) and discuss when good people go bad, because I've been encountering quite a bit of this phenomenon lately...not only with others, but also within myself. **GASP** I know...hard to believe, isn't it?!? Well, probably not that I'm going to TALK/WRITE about this topic, but more likely hard to believe I'd demonstrate any insight into my OWN behaviors (and the latter truth remains to be seen).

Here's the rub: We've ALL experienced others in our lives who we THOUGHT were one type of person or who's behaviors demonstrated themselves in a positive light, only to become sorely disillusioned by something negative we discover in them or uncover a malicious intent. Many of us have been in RELATIONSHIPS with these people, some even living with or marrying them...because the "Mr./Mrs. Hyde" was either not easily seen or we simply chose to overlook it, believing only the "Dr. Jekyll" could possibly be sleeping in our beds or sitting across from us at the breakfast table. Such are the blinders of love (and our faulty subconscious!). We see what our eyes (and hearts) CHOOSE to see...just like we project ourselves into the world as we "think" we should be seen. In 23 years of working in psychiatry, I have yet to meet a person who wakes up in the morning believing their own behaviors are WRONG or morally unjust...we choose to BE what we want to see also, often for the benefit of others or society...and we justify our own behaviors on this same scale.

Yet, inside each of us exists our own version of "Mr. Hyde"...some might refer to this as our *shadow* while others go so far as to call this our *dark or evil* side. That is, of course, if one believes in the duality of "good versus evil". Each of us spends a great deal of psychological time trying to *purdy up* our dark side(s) and make this part of ourselves more acceptable...we try to justify the behaviors of our shadow selves in many ways...either by projecting our internal negativity (I prefer this term, negativity, over the use of the word *evil*) onto others or simply overcompensating with extreme goodness in hopes of somehow stamping out or covering up our own negativity.

When good people go bad, there are many behaviors we employ in this process. Gossip, dominance, deliberate withholding, and verbal abuse are just a few of the more benign behaviors "good people gone bad" utilize in expressing their dark selves/shadow selves. Out and out physical violence or malicious intent to defame or steal from another are more of the extremes.

I've personally been encountering a great deal of gossip in my life about others and harmful words others have spoken about me...and, the travesty of my shadow self has also been ENGAGING in this negative behavior as well. When I engage in gossip, it is a primitive behavior and attempt to temporarily make myself feel better or to CONTROL a situation that feels out of my control...and ALWAYS at the expense of others. That's just how gossip works. If it didn't, there would be no impulse to engage in it...a temporary *fix* is sought as a means of finding temporary *relief* from something bothersome in my own psyche. It is also a means of attempting to rally false support for myself when I am feeling weakened by something else. In other words, I PROJECT MY OWN SENSE OF WEAKNESS/SHADOW SELF/LACK OF CONTROL ONTO THE LIFE OF SOMEONE ELSE WHEN I GOSSIP ABOUT THEM. I am in turn, attempting to expose what I deem as the gossip recipient's weakness as a means of hiding or denying my OWN weakness(s)...a "look how bad they are or what they did" attempt to distract from my OWN *badness* or shadow self.

Often times, when I feel weakness in myself or learn someone else is spreading gossip about me, I feel hurt and anger...which only perpetuates my sense of weakness. Rather than examining if what is being said behind my back might be TRUE or confronting my own sense of hurt/anger/weakness, I instead retaliate with carefully crafted COUNTER GOSSIP...after all, if someone is saying something hurtful about ME, isn't it fair game to return the favor?

Sadly, the answer to the above question is "no". The sense of temporary relief/expression of anger via gossip only serves to further perpetuate a vicious and unending cycle of hurtfulness...to myself and toward another...like a hamster on a winless exercise wheel, never going anywhere and always revolving back around to the same place.

I've been worn down recently by a few situations in my life (see previous post on admitting depressive symptoms!) and I'm tired. Like a boozing, over-eating, lazy athlete, I've been letting myself *go*...I haven't been taking the time or care necessary to maintain a healthy psyche because sinking is frankly less effort than breaking the water and surfacing. But just like obtaining a fit physical body, my emotional/mental body requires constant care and observation...lest I fall into negative habits that ruin my "game".

Today I'm going to start by identifying and embracing my "Mr. Hyde"...the little booger is there inside me and the only person I seem to be wasting energy *hyding* from is myself. Today, I'm going to practice acknowledging my shadow self, and then taking RESPONSIBILITY for it...I'm going to refrain from gossip or even LISTENING to someone else gossip. I'm going to pay attention to my shadow self and be mindful of what triggers this side of me to come alive...I'm not going to drink my own potion and transform into this other self. And owning my shadow's existence/Mr. Hyde is the first step in taming this inner negativity.

Not engaging in gossip sure may cut down on my fatigue factor...I wonder if I really have that much to SAY when I'm not focusing on others?!? Hmmm...life just became a quieter journey...LOL.

The Cold, Hard Truth...

So...I announced to my Always Really Nice Practitioner (ARNP) this weekend that I thought I *might* be having symptoms of clinical depression, and she more or less announced BACK to me this has been obvious for quite some time to those around me. WTF?!? Why am I always the last to know or be let in on the secret? I said to her it sure would have been a nice gesture if *those around me* would have had the kahunas (brass ovaries or balls by definition) to SAY something...but then I remembered, I DO bite...so I can't really hold *those around me* responsible for not wanting to get their hand chewed off by a rabid dog such as myself when reaching out to pet it. Sigh.

I'm not really sure if there's a chicken or the egg theory as a cause for what has begun to feel like a dark period in my life (and no, not menstrual...psychological! Although peri-menopause hormones really have not HELPED the situation.)...I've certainly had a host of *unusual* stressors of late.

My work hours have become quite taxing and I am STILL dealing with that accommodation request which I can't mention to you (or I'd have to have you shot)...because I WORK for Big Brother and therefore, know BB watches over me...kind of like Baby Jesus, only not in a necessarily "loving" way. LOL

Then, there is this constant, nagging, gnawing, aching, annoying, irritating, agitating FREAKIN' PAIN I have been trying to manage in my body...this drains me, stealing my joy and bumming my voyage...like a constant pebble in my shoe (only poking me in my shoulder and back, but you're smart enough to make that jump in analogy, right?). When I try to describe the pain to others, words fail me...it's a deep nerve pain and, if you've never experienced it, consider yourself fortunate versus trying to assist me with adjectives to describe the continual hell in my spine.

I DID get the TENS unit...it's pulsating tiny, electrical shocks as I type, deep into the muscles of my back...it's rather like a S & M toy (sadism and masochism, for those of you not into deviant behaviors!). IT HURTS GOOD. Thank you again, Jane, for the suggestion! But unfortunately, I can't leave the little dominatrix box blasting on my shoulder/back ALL the time...it's just not recommended...and having electricity pulsating into my spine every 1.5 seconds offers it's OWN distraction in a somewhat negative way when trying to follow the conversations of a bouncing psychotic person at my work (that's referencing PATIENTS, not my coworkers...just for clarification). This little stimulus package (economic AND physiological) costs about $800, so the company is "letting" me borrow it for a month to see if I can't live without it before deciding if my insurance and I will cough up the fur ball of cash to buy it.

I seem to also be taking WAY too many medications for my liking in dealing with this discomfort...the meds leave me hung over in the mornings and with cotton mouth, like I've been on an alcohol bender for 24 hours...minus the blackout sex, throbbing headache, and lack of knowing where my car keys are (not that I have any IDEA what a *24 hour alcohol bender* is like...ehem). But if I don't take the medications, the trade off is feeling like I've been run over by a semi-truck in the morning...either option leaves much to be desired. And I personally think I'm a far more manageable addicted-Courtney-Love-type person in the mornings than I am a flattened-road-kill-nasty-smelling-in-pain-type person...I dunno...just my opinion.

My good friend, Skeeter, was also just here visiting in Seattle on the spur of the moment this past week...one DOES this type of unannounced/unplanned trip after receiving a diagnosis of aggressive breast cancer, three weeks post bilateral mastectomy. I now hang my head in shame for my "pink envy" I have so flagrantly discussed here on CHEESE (although, those breast cancer peeps DO still have all the good colors and fund raisers compared to the Multiple Sclerosis *Movement* peeps!)...thank GOODNESS there is so much focus on breast cancer...ten years ago, my dear friend would already have been pushing up daisies at this stage in her disease. We had a sweet, yet difficult/teary-eyed time together as we struggled to find words to balance the grief with the good times...her incisions look like something from a horrific Frankenstein movie with drains hanging out of both armpits...this was enough to sober me up and realize how FORTUNATE I am to JUST have MS. I am certain I would not be so full of grace as my friend if I were wearing her shoes...and she remarks how freeing it is to not have to wear a bra? I seriously need to quite beauching about the minor discomforts in my life...

And of course, my 45 birthday looms just around a sharp corner. I had an epiphany as to WHY forty five seems so freakin' OLD to me...it is because at around the age of 12, this is how old my MOTHER was...45. And I remember thinking how absolutely ANCIENT I thought she was at that age! I am now also interfacing with medical students and other professionals who are the same number of years OLD as I have been practicing nursing!!! 23 years...I seriously CAN say I have underwear as old as they are (something I like to announce when trying to put a green-behind-the-ears medical student in their place)...but if I do say that, I'm liable to have an investigation into the *WHY* I would be saving or wearing 23 year old underwear. I really can't win with this... :-)

I suppose the point I'm trying to make here (if I really have one at all) is, I honestly don't know if there is any one cause for my depressive symptoms...it just is. That's the cold, hard truth. From my sudden tearfulness to the extremes of insomnia, I have no clue where or how this *blue* fell over me...only that it is here and I must be responsible for recognizing it and doing what I can to mitigate the effect it has on my life.

I'm going to start by cranking up my TENS unit another notch...then maybe placing the electrodes on my forehead. If it were only that easy...sigh...

I'm Feeling Old...But I Haven't Always Been...

Disappearance...

I filled out a missing person's report...I'm trying to find myself. I'll let you know if I show up any time soon.

MS Dumb, Or Is It Just Me?...

The BUBBIE always cheers me up...even when I'm sailing off the end of the earth.

Today she shared with me one of HER MS (or not? Jury is still out on her personal disease brand) Moments, which caused me to laugh heartily. It was silly and just one of those things only another person struggling with MS or memory issues/cognitive issues could appreciate.

And then, I remembered one of MY favorite MS Moments...something I could only share with y'all because YOU can laugh/relate.

I generally drive to work because of the strange hours I keep...but on occasion, if working the dreaded daylight hours, I do take a Metro bus into downtown (which is an entirely DIFFERENT experience and packed with its own stories due to the wonderful selection of *bus people* I encounter). One must remember: I am not fond of day time hours. I am not fond of waking to an alarm. I am not fond of bright sun when I rise out of the hut to stretch my bat wings.

Anywhozit...one such work morning, I was running late for my bus (as is typical when trying to ready myself for work with my eyes closed), so I was forced to jump in my trusty horse and buggy and drive to work. I completed my nearly 10 hour day and walked outside the building to head to my bus stop. It had been a particularly *stress-filled* day, so I wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders...not to mention, I had just worked a DAY SHIFT (ewwww...). I was running behind at the end of my day as well, so I made a mad, gimpy dash to my local bus stop just in time to hop inside a Metro before the doors closed and crimped my fat arse between the glass. I was happy the day was over and rode in don't-make-eye-contact peace the few miles to my home.

When I arrived home however, I was filled with a sudden panic: My car was missing from the driveway! I immediately assumed it had been stolen because this is where my mind goes. My mind doesn't say to me, "Hey you, knucklehead! Nobody would WANT your car because it's old lady wheels...where'd ya park it?" No, my mind says, "Oh freakin' CRAP! Somebody's done swiped your wheels!!!"

It took me several minutes before I remembered I had driven my horse and buggy to work...and left it there...but not before I had pre-dialed 911 on my cell phone and was just about to press send!

By the time I was able to catch another bus BACK downtown (because they cease running frequently after the commuters have returned home) and retrieve my vehicle, I was in hysterical laughter. It's times like these, all there is LEFT to do is cackle at one's self.

So, in my words to Bubbie:

Regular travel time from work to home = 15 minutes
Forgetting your car is parked at work = 1 hour by bus/return
Being a dumba$$ = PRICELESS

And, now that I've shown you MINE...show me YOURS? What's your favorite, personal MS Moment/DumbA$$ story??? The mic is open...

Falling Off The Face Of The Earth...

It COULD happen...I've packed a bag just in case...

Hate Comes Home (ophobe)...

Sigh. They're here...in my beautiful city. I'm talking about the Fred Phelps wackado protesters from Kansas. They are picketing black churches, Jewish establishments, and tomorrow the local high school in the "hood" where I live nearby (because they must think this particular school is FILLED with blacks, Jews, and gays/lesbians?!?). All seven of them...Fred's family, that is. I couldn't even post a link within Freaky Fred's name up there because I don't WANT him getting anymore coverage for his hate than he already gets...heck, I couldn't even post one of the infamous pictures of Fred's gang of seven with their hate-filled posters for this reason. So, I chose a group of MONKEYS instead! Fitting. Although, I think even the primates refrain from this type of animal behavior...my apologies to primates everywhere.

Would it be so WRONG to wish for one of the becoming-all-too-frequent drive by gang shootings to occur in my "hood" around the same time these freaks are protesting tomorrow in front of the High School? Yeah, I suppose that wouldn't be too "Christ-like or Godly" to wish violence on this group of ignorant wackados. It would be like shooting a cage full of monkeys...so sad...

"Whining: Just Anger Forced Through A Very Small Hole"...

I have this blog title in a quaint, little picture frame on my desk at work...it's a subtle reminder for ME as well as anyone who even dares to THINK it might be OK to come to my cubicHELL and WHINE. About anything...but especially about their own aches and pains. And I, being the ever-conscientious-not-wanting-to-sound-like-air-escaping-from-the-tight-orifice-of-a-balloon, also try very hard NOT to whine about my particular brand of aches/pains called "Multiple Sclerosis". I imagine it is annoying to my coworkers and friends to always be hearing about my latest pinch, or ache, or tightness, or "hug", or...

But (and a very BIG *butt* at that), since this is MY blog, I DO take liberties here to annoy YOU with my not-so-conscientious-air-escaping-from-the-tight-orifice-of-a-balloon WHINING...because I can. And I will. It's cheaper than paying a therapist. LOL

I finally made some late night blog strikes in the wee hours of the morning, making my usual knock on some of my favorite MS blogger doors (and if I didn't leave you a comment on YOUR blog, it's because after catching up on 50 or so blog entries, NOTHING I have to say is either witty or entertaining...I spared you!). And, when I made my way to BlindBeard's blog, I not only discovered I had neglected to pick up my ever-so-bootiful SPONGE BOB SQUARE PANTS AWARD ("Aye, Aye Captain!"), but the ever-so-bootiful Blindbeard had written a touching post entitled, "Boogers, Bitches, and BlindBeard Blues"...it would have brought tears to my eyes, except I am incapable of feeling (oh, please...I jest...the post is Hi Larry Usly funny. But I AM incapable of feeling due to a hardening of the arteries surrounding my barely beating heart.).

Anywhozit, within BB's above mentioned post (yeah, I'm getting to it already), she talked about going to a Pain Clinic for an assessment because she was sick and tired of dealing with the annoying PAIN of MS. OK, so I'm loosely grasping at straws here (in an attempt to relate to the world around me and be less antisocial), but I realized I have neglected to update you, my preciouses, about my OWN pain! What a twist of fate it is that BlindBeard caused this connection and now YOU get to hear about MY pain issues (so, basically what I'm saying here is, BLAME BLINDBEARD, NOT ME FOR THIS WHINY-A$$ED POST!).

If you've somehow forgotten what a pain in the a$$ I've been...I mean what a PAIN IN MY NECK I've been experiencing, let me remind you. Or, better yet, just go reread every other post on this blog because it's all I seem to be mentioning of late as far as my MS goes. Pain. And this most recent bout of insufferable pain began right after I completed a week stretch of night shift duty at my work place (felt a need to clarify the nights were worked at my PAYING job, not my charity job as a hooker...where I pay OTHERS for sex).

After treatments and consultations with my neuro regarding this unremitting pain, it was finally decided mutually my body could no longer tolerate the rigors of working during vampire hours in long stretches due to the cascading sequela of MS symptoms that follow. Or, in layman's terms, I can't work a stretch of night shifts anymore like I used to pre-MS and pre-old age unless I want to experience the wrath of the MS gods upon me. Seems pretty straight forward and simple, no? Key word in that last sentence IS "no".

You see, part of my job description (again in layman's terms) is to do exactly what I am told to do...I AM a *govmet* employee after all. If my employer says, "Jump!", I am supposed to say, "How high?"...not "What the f^ck?!?" or question the wisdom of my superiors, lest I find myself on a freeway feeder ramp with a sign reading, "Unemployed because of stoopidity. Will work for self-esteem." **large portion of original post missing here thanks to BLOGGER and I can't recall it to recreate! See post script**

Turmoil ensued in my life following this declaration of my inadequacies. Secret, closed door meeting followed...the pathways between cubicHells were abuzz. I lost sleep. OK, I exaggerate a bit (when HAVEN'T I?!?). But there WAS a lot to find out and prepare for if I really WERE going to publicly announce my inadequacies to my employer and not simply drift out to the freeway with my cardboard sign.



AKA, REQUEST FORMAL ACCOMMODATION AS PROVIDED UNDER THE AMERICANS WITH DISABILITIES (ADA) LAW.



So, due to the secretive nature of all government agencies (and my own, frank paranoia of such), I really can't say much more about my ADA request here (not even in sarcasm and jest, should this blog be pulled into court at a later time!), but I WILL inundate you with trivial information about my PAIN. Aren't YOU the little luckies, my preciouses?!?



I met in person with my neuro ARNP (I know?? How odd I would actually SEE a provider versus Internet medicine!), who I shall hence forth refer to as the Always Really Nice Practitioner (ARNP), on Tuesday of last week to complete the reams of paperwork necessary when making a formal ADA request (I then rented a U-Haul and had the reams couriered to my office)...and, to discuss this never-ending pain I am having in my shoulder/neck/arm on the RIGHT side of my body (left side has always been the bad girl rebel, so Ms. Right side has become a mystery). I held her captive (hostage really) for a very long time as we hashed over papers, then what has worked, hasn't been successful, and what I am WILLING to try in combating this pain (and my willingness waxes and wanes on any given day).



Thanks to Jane (you know who you are!), I was carrying with me the suggestion of trying a TENS unit (Transcutaneous Electrical Nerve Stimulator) for pain management, since the pain seems to be localized to my right side/arm (yeah, I KNOW the picture up there is of ECT...electroconvulsive therapy, not TENS...but it's really just a matter of electrode placement now, isn't it?!?! LOL). My ARNP didn't flinch or bat an eye at this request and promptly filled out a prescription for it (anything to shut me the he!! up, no doubt). She also weighted down my prescription load with a script for massage therapy and Lidocaine dermo patches (I'm rather surprised there wasn't also a script for a dog muzzle, but whatever). We are staging a grand assault on my pain...I hope it doesn't hear us coming and try to change its militant tactics in advance.



I've got a physical therapy appointment this coming Wednesday with my favorite PT person, Madam Z, who will wire me up for sound with a TENS unit I can borrow for two weeks to see if it has any effect on my pain level. If it does, I can then petition my Almighty Insurance Company to PURCHASE a unit for me or bite the bullet and buy my own if they say "no". Failing those two options, I suppose I can storm chase and try to position myself for lightening strikes to my body, which I wouldn't necessarily be OPPOSED to if this pain keeps up without relief! And, who knows, a good "jolt" of lightening might also work as ECT for me AND improve my mood...win/win all around if you ask me...but, YOU didn't. LOL


Alrighty then...I have no more strength to continue pushing my anger through a small hole (whine) about my pain issues. Thank you again, Blindbeard, for inspiring me to write this post (just saying that to be sure everyone despises YOU for sparking my whining rant rather than thinking little, old me could have POSSIBLY thought this up on my own!). And now, I think I will go hop on the deck and flop like a fish (Sponge Bob fans will get that reference)...

**BTW**
What in the heck is WRONG with BLOGGER right now?!? This is the second time this week I have attempted to write a post in which BLOGGER eats part of it without warning!! I can't retrieve it, can't pull up anything via autosave, etc...unfortunately, large chunks of my witty humor have vanished and the recreation just isn't the same. GETTING MIGHTY TIRED OF THIS, BLOGGER...FIX YOUR SH!+ PLEASE...
**

Light The Blogger Candle...

Words escape me right now. I just visited Sherry's blog (Have Myelin?) and learned her daughter passed away today. There is little one can say to comfort a bereaved mother, so I will not waste effort here.

I am instead lighting a BLOG CANDLE for Sherry and her daughter and hope you might also do the same on YOUR blog or, if you do not author a blog, light a symbolic candle in your heart.

Though miles may separate us, there is more than MS that bonds us all. That glue, my friends, is LOVE...

Peace, comfort, and LOVE to you, Sherry.

Dear Quantico/FBI:...

Recently, I've noted a few *hits* on the ol' statistics log from "Gate-23, Quantico Military Base", peering into an old post of mine regarding my thoughts on the movie, "Jesus Camp" (what else WOULD the military be interested in on this rambling blog?!?). For those of you not *in the know* about Quantico, Virginia, it IS the site of a large military base, which also houses the training academy for the Federal Bureau of Investigations as well as the Drug Enforcement Administration. I only know this because I *googled* Quantico and I, of course, am a BIG fan of the TV show, "Criminal Minds" (where the alleged FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit is housed...at least on the show!)...*Googling* and television are sound fact checks, aren't they?!? LOL

I'm pretty sure if the FBI (or ANY military branch for that matter) is gawking/snooping around here on CHEESE (and they're NOT actually *snooping*...if the FBI WANTED to look at this blog without me knowing it, they would...just like I'm sure they have pictures of my last colonoscopy framed on their desktops unbeknownst to me!), it is in response to the more recent shooting/murder of Dr. George Tiller in Kansas..."they" (the FBI) are probably monitoring blog sites closely now for bloggers that even TYPE the word abortion into the text of posts (for those of you again not *in the know* about Dr. Tiller, well...GOOGLE his name!) in search of FANATICS on BOTH sides of the abortion debate.

So, since "they"/Big Brother/FBI have already BEEN here on CHEESE lurking around (and I say this with great sarcasm) in search of information specific to my thoughts on abortion/Jesus Camp/religious fanatics (because, although I have had moments of LIVING in terror during my 45 years on this planet, I am NOT a *terrorist*!), I thought I'd just come clean now and save any time wasted on further investigation. Let me proceed:

Dear Quantico/FBI:

Contrary to any negative slander or libel about the CHEESE, I have never participated in or belonged to any type of terrorist group while living in the United States of America...unless one can count 4-H or the Kenny Roger's Fan Club as covert, organizational, terroristic groups. I do not own a gun of any type, but I DO possess a really cool sling shot and a baseball bat for self-defense purposes only. I also do not own a handgun because I would statistically be more likely to turn the gun on myself than to use it defensively. Does my lack of possessing a firearm now make me a member of the "Pro-Life" club? Or, do I HAVE to own a gun and believe firmly in Jesus and capital punishment before I can be considered a member of the "Pro-Life" Movement? Just wondering...

I was raised in the "Be Dipped Or Be Damned Church Of Christ", as a child, a fundamentalist, religious organization. My congregation WAS, however, quite progressive because we had a piano AND an organ for musical accompaniment (this is NOT the case in many of the Church Of Christ denominations). I left the BDOBD Church Of Christ when I attended college, converting first to Catholicism (because I needed the intense structure of a black and white world), then Judaism (because I needed to feel "chosen"), followed by a period of worshiping the Almighty Dollar. Once I accepted the fact I would never OBTAIN the blessings of the Almighty Dollar, I slipped into a period of worship/fellowship with Alcoholics Anonymous. My current religious practice would most closely resemble that of a Couch Pagan, who's philosophy is to "do as thou will, but harm none". Oh, and for the record here, I DO think Oprah has some terroristic qualities...you should probably check her out, too...I wouldn't drink HER Kool-Aid any more than I would that of Jim Jones. But I guess he choked and died on HIS Kool-Aid in Guiana, so that's a moot point, eh? You guys seriously never saw THAT one coming?!?

To address my political/personal/religious views about abortion (since I know that's what you are really interested in, after all...and whether or not I could be the next loose cannon, fanatical, narcissistic, antisocial gun(wo)man to pop a cap in some unsuspecting and undeserving individual), I'd have to first say I am not FOR abortion. Frankly, I'm not really "FOR" anything. I think when or if I become "FOR" something, I lose perspective...but that's just MY perspective on being "FOR" anything. I CAN and WILL tell you, I am AGAINST STOOPIDY, however.

My first exposure to abortion occurred in college (right before my conversion to Catholicism...hint, hint), when my good friend, who I didn't even know HAD a sexual partner (because I lived under the BDOBD Church Of Christ rock), announced she was pregnant. SHE was from a good, God-fearing, law-abiding, Catholic family, so naturally she DIDN'T TELL THEM. She also was only 19, single and a sophomore in college, and couldn't/didn't want to raise a child. We drove to Planned Parenthood in the far away city (out of the corn fields), crossed hateful, yelling picket lines, and she proceeded to have an abortion. I tried to talk her out of it at the time because I was raised believing abortion was a sin and that she would burn in hell. But I also did not/could not raise her budding offspring growing in her belly, so I kept her secret and accompanied her to the clinic...feeling dirty and sinful the entire way. I noticed none of the protester/anti-abortionist onlookers at the time ALSO never volunteered to feed, clothe, raise her unborn baby either, but I suppose that would require more than a grotesque picket sign and an opinion now, wouldn't it? Looking back on the experience, I think the CHOICE to have the abortion and crossing that evil, nasty, name-calling, spitting crowd of abortion protesters probably was sufficient PAYMENT for any sins she (or myself) might have accumulated. It was truly a low point in both our lives and, fortunately neither of us owned a GUN then, either.

My next encounter with abortion followed nursing school (along with two more dabblings in other religions) and employment in Houston, Texas. My other half at the time was a big shot, mucky muck in the Houston Planned Parenthood Clinic...the second largest PPC in the nation. Alcohol and life helped to soften my morals at this point, so the fact I was sleeping with a known "baby killer" at the time seemed somehow fitting. I say "sleeping with" rather loosely because, rarely was their a night we were not awakened by the Houston Police Department requesting the key to the main clinic so they could send their bomb-sniffing dogs through after receiving yet ANOTHER bomb threat. It was definitely a weekly occurrence if not more.

I lived and breathed Planned Parenthood and was privy to the many ins and outs of such an organization. The first time the other half called me in a panic on my day off, desperately needing a *recovery room nurse* for the abortion clinic, I have to admit was a turning point in my life. Not being FOR abortion, I had to make a quick decision: Could I really administer care to these women who had just willingly terminated their pregnancies? I probably consulted my spiritual gurus, Vodka and Lemonade, then put on clothes and drove downtown...it's all a bit hazy how I first started filling in as a nurse in the abortion clinic, but I did. And later, I even began VOLUNTEERING my nursing services to other parts of Planned Parenthood (I know!?! GASP!).

One of my most memorable volunteer moments at the Planned Parenthood in Houston was during the G7 Summit in 1990 (the precursor to the WTO). I DID volunteer as an escort prior to this Summit, walking women from the parking lot to the clinic, through spitting, name-calling, and hateful abortion protesters, but the G7 Summit called for a different tactic. Yes, dear Quantico/FBI (even though I KNOW you weren't there watching me then...no one was...especially not even the HOUSTON POLICE when we called!), I was the dirty, homeless woman across the street on the curb with the walkie-talkie down the front of her shirt (pre-small-cellphone-days), quietly calling into the building with status reports on the near 300 abortion protesters that flanked the perimeter during the G7 Summit. I was also the second one (roof top watcher had the first glimpse) to notice the group of teenage boys carrying gas cans from the nearby station toward the clinic. I was also one of the people who had gasoline thrown on them by these juvenile delinquents (in the name of GOD, of course) and threats to be set on fire if I didn't break the human barricade we formed to prohibit these pubescent, most likely sexually active without birth control, males from entering the building and setting IT on fire...while we patiently waited for the hands-off Houston police to FINALLY show their a$$e$ and PROTECT life and property. I DO hope none of these vehement abortion protesters ever had to experience someone spitting in their face and being called every vile and vulgar name on record...in the name of GOD, of course...I seriously don't wish that conduct on anyone, no matter WHAT God they choose to pray to.

I now WORK for a branch of the government (yes, you already HAVE my fingerprints on file) and my involvement with any type of political "movement" (religious or otherwise) consists of reading a political newspaper from the comfort of my toilet seat while relieving myself of any *inner* constipations of character or spirit. I attended a NARAL dinner once with Dr. SWWNBN, but I don't even donate MONEY to any political or religious organizations, unless the National Multiple Sclerosis Society counts (now that I think about it, they ARE a bit fanatical about their "Joining the Movement" cult!)? I probably WOULD donate money or time to the local Seattle Planned Parenthood, but they've never asked me to. I'm still not FOR abortion, but I remain AGAINST STOOPIDITY in my old age. And as far as religious affiliations go, let's just say my FAITH has kept me away from organized religions or cults...thank God.

So, Quantico/FBI, if you've come here to CHEESE in search of your next Postal Poster Child for your FBI's Most Wanted List, I'm (not) sorry to disappoint you. I'm about as apolitical, areligious, asexual, a-hole-ish as one can be without being completely a-nonymous and a-loser. BUT, if having an opinion IS considered being terroristic, then add me to that Post Office bulletin board...because, in the words of the late Charlton Heston (this may be considered blasphemy to Heston fans...brace yourself), "You can take my opinion...when you pry it from my cold, dead hands!" Or was that his RIFLE?!? I forget...

The Truth Hurts...

...sometimes literally.

Yeah, it's been a week since I last posted any musings here on CHEESE. I'd say, "sorry", but I imagine a majority of you are quite THANKFUL there has been less babble from the beast. I've also been experiencing a delay in my ability to jump onto YOUR blogs and leave my rambling comments...it's not been for want of trying (although, I DID seem to make it over to Shauna's blog to peer into the photo of scat she posted just for lil' ol' me...there are some things that must NOT be missed!).

I'd like to say my lack of posting and perusing has been because I am traveling around the world or secretly consulting on a project for world peace...heck, I'd like to say my absence has been because I've been SLEEPING or reading a great novel! But, the truth of the matter is, I've been quite preoccupied managing the every day tasks of my life while gritting my teeth through PAIN.

The pain in my neck and right shoulder has taken up residence and appears to be a phenomenon I will be forced to reckon with on a daily basis from now until eternity. :-( I had hoped five weeks ago when this pain commenced, it would be a short-lived episode that might leave me as mysteriously as it had arrived...not the case. As is typical for an MS body, the pain has certainly *changed* its course over time...going from a skin-burning-I-can't-stand-my-flesh-touching-anything kind of pain to now a deep, constant ache...as if my shoulder blade and humerus have a bone vise squeezing them. I've even begun to experience pain in my RIGHT leg...a most unusual sensation, as my RIGHT side of my body has always been...well...RIGHT! I've never experienced Multiple Sclerosis symptoms on this side of limbs.

It's not that the pain is that crying, blubbering agonizing *smiley face* number 10 on that stupid nursing pain chart (you know the one I'm talking about? Those ten faces they show you to describe your pain because we're all too dumb to just call out a number between 1 and 10?!?). No. My pain level checks in each day at around a 5 or a 6 (that frowning, eyes furrowed *smiley face*). But it's a 5 or 6 CONSTANT pain...all day...all night...seemingly forever...and sometimes peaking at a 7 or 8, give or take a Vicodin or two. It does not leave me. Not even when I ask it to. And it is bumming my voyage and stealing my joy.

Most of my daily energy is consumed just completing the necessary tasks one must do when they don't own a servant or a wife...household management and going to work. The pain seems to zap my energy reserves as it requires much effort on my part NOT to reach out and slap the more annoying people in my life or bark like a rabid hound whenever frustrated. I tend to be one who has a *low stoopidy tolerance* anyway...so you can just about imagine the amount of self-restraint I must impose on my "id" to keep from shouting out unthinkable Tourette's-like utterances throughout my day! It is frankly exhausting.

My latest personal saying is, "You can't force funny"...especially when PAIN is a heckler in the audience. So, I've stayed away from THIS blog (and yours...you can thank me later) because I am finding little humor in my everyday life right now. Unless, of course, one can find humor in the dental dust I am accumulating from grinding my teeth down to nubs in discomfort!

Dr. She Who Will Not Be Named suggested a few weeks ago that I see a spinal rehabilitation physician. I have "poo pooed" all suggestions I see ANYONE who might even remotely fantasize about poking, injecting, or cutting into my spine (she had previously referred me to a neurosurgeon due to the horrible structural changes in my spine from osteoarthritis, which I promptly ignored!)...I'm quite certain I would NOT find *funny* or humor in partial or total paralysis!!! And MY luck dictates any type of "procedure" done on my neck most likely would result in permanent sucking of my food through a tube and breathing through a hole in my neck because the neurosurgeon would probably SNEEZE just as he/she were cutting around my spinal cord. BUT...I may have to stick my tail between my legs and deprogram my thinking that all physicians are imbeciles to consult. Maybe there IS something reasonable out there in the form of relief that doesn't involve potential paralysis?

So this is my painful truth, my preciouses...the CHEESE has a REAL pain in her neck (and other areas of my body) at the moment. And I'm pretty sure if a few people don't cease tapping on my last good nerve because of their stoopidity, I'll probably be reporting a pain in my A$$ soon, too... ;-)

Commitment...

If you've been stumbling into CHEESE for a while for lack of anything more constructive to do, you already are aware my job title is that of a *Commitment Specialist*...that's right...I "commit" people as part of my employment. Practically speaking, I evaluate folks with an alleged mental illness (another favorite word of mine...alleged) who are behaving in a dangerous manner BECAUSE of that mental illness, and I make a legal decision/sign the court documents to *commit* them to a psychiatric hospital (or not). Hence the title, *Commitment Specialist*.

*Commitment* is a part of my every day work life and a task I do not assume lightly. Likewise, in my personal life, (again, if you've been paying any attention to your perusings on CHEESE at all!) I am all about *commitment*...to the point I develop anal spasms if I feel/perceive I am falling short of any particular *commitment* I have agreed to in my life. Sometimes I am known to grit and crawl my way through a *commitment* because of my inability to tolerate the tightening of my anus that comes upon me if I were to say "no" or "I can't do this or that now". After all, I was raised with a work and personal ethic (by a law-abiding, hard working, God-fearing, Midwestern mother!) to uphold my end of any bargain and to keep my promises...it goes against my grain (and my anus) to do anything otherwise. And I FEEL like a failure, or worse yet, a *liar* when I DO NOT follow through with my *commitments*.

Lately, it seems the Universe is hell bent on challenging my notions about *commitment*...and It's been doing so in highly educational ways (said with tongue in cheek)...by placing multiple commitment phobes (you know the type...the yes/no/maybe answer-ees!) and promise-breakers in my path as well as forcing ME to evaluate prior *commitments* I have made that must now change due to health reasons.

I try not to judge people, but I must admit I am an *action* oriented thinker and I tend to trust others based upon their actions instead of their words. One of my favorite sayings (and one I use in many trainings about communication...another *C* word) is, "Most people will not recall what you say, but they will ALWAYS remember what you do and how you made them feel." I believe this statement and I try to live by it (or another favorite saying, "Live by example"). And lately, I've been noticing I am feeling quite poorly about some of the ACTIONS others are taking around me and in my life...or, better put, INACTIONS!

Commitment phobes tend to be those types that will TELL you one thing, while DOING another. They are the people in your life who, when noticing YOU complete a particular project or task, say, "Oh, I was also thinking about doing that"...to which I want to reply, "BITE ME", or "If you took the time to THINK about doing this or that, why didn't you go ahead and take the time to ACT upon this or that?!?" Especially when the task at hand is unpopular or difficult...it doesn't make me feel better to hear anyone say they THOUGHT about doing something, but didn't go ahead and do it and NOW are taking the time to watch me COMPLETE it! We all know these types...and let's hope you are not one of them because I don't want to have to vote you off the CHEESE island!! **Faint sound of Tiki torches being snuffed out for effect here**

Another group of people who annoy me (and I've had my fair share of run ins with this group of late) are those that *commit* to do something up front, then claim they have FORGOTTEN to follow through. I tend to go out and buy these folks a new, ball point pen and a pad of paper, and encourage them to WRITE THE EFFING THING DOWN so they don't "forget" next time...beyond that, I restrain myself from full facial slaps or knuckles to their noggins.

I feel short changed by people who don't follow through with their *commitments*, especially when that lack of follow through directly impacts my life (the REST of you are on your own!)...I feel disrespected and discounted...I sometimes feel hurt and often feel angry. I would really rather prefer someone NOT tell me they are going to do something or follow through with this or that rather than feel the fallout of their lack of *commitment*. And, if the above happens too often, I tend to be a true Leo (who is loyal at all costs until crossed!), bare my fangs, and disappear proudly into the jungle shaking my mane, never to answer the person's email/phone calls/or knocks at my door again. Harumpf!

So, you can just about imagine the depth of my conflicted feelings/thoughts I have been experiencing of late while making some important life decisions about what I CAN and NO LONGER can do in my work life as well as my personal life because of Multiple Sclerosis symptoms. It has been a long and arduous road down the path of accepting my MS is now prohibiting me from doing some of the things I used to do with ease...prohibiting me from following through on some of the *commitments* I have previously made and causing me to conserve my necessary energy just to complete basic tasks. MS has caused me to FEEL like one of the commitment phobes above, which has nearly caused my anus to bleed from all its spastic responsive tightening! (And, if you listen closely, you can probably just make out the far away sound of this anal retentive personality tightening up like the locks at Fort Knox!)

Not only has it been a painful process on my metaphoric a$$, this has also been a painful emotional process...I am, after all, a DO-ER and much of my self-worth and sense of achievement has come from being the "go to gal" in both my work and at play. I have ALWAYS been the one to *get the job done* and I am a respected professional because of it (yes, dear coworkers reading this...you KNOW this is true, so shudup already! LOL). Being a *committed* individual is who I am...my identity...and it saddens me to gaze in the mirror and now not recognize the face of the person staring back at me. I am having to come to grips with an ever-changing persona and belief about myself, paring down my *commitments*, and having to say "no" because of my body when my heart is screaming "yes!"

I try very hard each day to practice positive inner talk and remind myself I am STILL the same person and STILL a valued coworker, friend, companion, sister, etc...just the same person with LESS ability to juggle all of the flaming batons I USED to keep up in the air (didn't want to use the "balls" analogy here because I KNOW some of you would run with that picture of me keeping my "balls" in the air...GMTA!), but I'm STILL a juggler. And I try to remind myself the QUALITY of my work and personal interactions are STILL the same, just done at a bit of a slower pace or less often. I must say to myself out loud sometimes that I am "not a bad person because I didn't do" yadda yadda. I am not lazy, I am not irresponsible, and I am not *wrong* for saying "no" to certain challenges and CHOOSING an easier course to follow.

On good days like today, I am at peace with these changes...

"The giving up of personality traits, well-established patterns of behavior, ideologies, and even whole life styles...these are major forms of giving up that are required if one is to travel very far on the journey of life."

~~M. Scott Peck~~

Sunday Communing...

Every once in a while, I crave a spiritual awakening...I find myself slipping into old patterns of dysfunctional behavior and feeling *stuck*...like my soul is constipated.

So, today I forced myself out of the hut (weary bones and all) and into my yard...I find such comfort and nurturing being in the dirt. It's as if my body recognizes where it has come from and where it will eventually return. Dust.

I live in the city, so it is often quite difficult for me to tune out the sounds of the pavement and really listen to the sounds of nature...it took me a while to deaden my awareness of the traffic noises, garden implements, and neighbor kids playing basketball. Such are the ears of a constipated soul...hypervigilant in listening to the unnecessary.

I performed some of the needed tasks of maintaining my flowers and other plants, providing water and fertilizer, and felt the warm sun gently heating my head and shoulders. I couldn't seem to shake the uneasy feeling in my body or the pain that has become a constant companion. Even with a lessening awareness of the city noises, my mind continued to jump from topic to topic, reliving any and all of my recently perceived slights. I was disheartened my outdoor experience was not providing me the proper laxative to move my soul into a spiritual awakening and I almost abandoned the excursion to return to the monotony of indoor life.

And then, I heard it. I even felt it...it was the tiny, but powerful flutter of a humming bird zipping to and fro near the rose bush I was watering. It came so close to my face, I could feel on my cheek the small current of air its wings created! Then, much to my delight and surprise, the little bird, barely bigger than my thumb, landed on one of the stems of the rose bush.

The humming bird just sat there staring at me...and I, too cautious to move a muscle not wanting to frighten the little creature away, stood mesmerized in the bird's stare. I don't know how long we remained captivated by one another...a minute, ten minutes, an hour? It seemed like an eternity yet only a brief encounter I imagine.

Eventually my new friend flew off up into the sky and I sat down on the ground, keenly aware of the stress and ache in my bones. As I closed my eyes and turned my face into the sun, I began to notice the faint smell of the rose bush just beginning to bloom, I heard the chirping of a robin in a tree near the fence, and I could just make out the quiet buzz of a bumble bee searching for food among the Rhododendron bush. I felt my body soften somewhat as tears fell silently from my eyes. Finally, release. My soul was letting go of the garbage packed tightly and accumulating over the past few weeks.

The world is my *church* in which I must always return to commune with Spirit/God and Nature is the pulpit of the sermon...I am oddly so astonished each time I forget this simple fact.

Today, the humming bird was my call to worship...and for this, I give great thanks...

The OTHER "CHEESE", Children!...

Sure has been a week of weirdness out there...the same has held true here at BrainCheese. I've had some remarkably bizarre searched key words this past week and some are SO incredibly *interesting*, I thought I'd share a few...in the form of personally addressing whoever the poor souls are that are typing these things into their search engines and being sent here:

"herion myserable cheese brain": I believe anyone who can't SPELL the word *heroin* should probably not be SEARCHING for information about it...especially when they are most likely HIGH on it! I cannot tell you how many times folks searching for information on the latest street drug called "cheese" drift over here to this Multiple Sclerosis blog mistakenly...it's too many to count. Perhaps this is because the average age of a "cheese" user is about 14. That's right..."cheese", or the latest fad to hit the high schools and even grade schools, is a popular blend of Mexican black tar heroin and Tylenol PM, crushed up and snorted via straws or a dismantled ball point pen by school-aged kids. Of course the ADULT-aged drug dealers who are marketing this deadly crap aren't always particular if they are using Tylenol PM or just any crushed up, over the counter antihistamine. It is believed the blend, selling for as little as $2.00/hit or as much as $10.00/gram, got it's name because the product's coloring resembles grated Parmesan cheese...or, creative minds think the name may have also originated from the Spanish street name for heroin, "chiva". However the crap got it's name, the message remains the same to school-aged children: It's cheap and it's a high...much like what old farts MY age used to refer to as a *speed ball*. The only real difference is, most people didn't die from *speed balls* at quite the alarming rate in MY day as kids are dying after snorting "cheese"! The drug is only about 4%-8% heroin and the rest is antihistamine and byproducts of over the counter medications. So, if you're searching this blog for information about THAT kind of "cheese", maybe that's enough said...I'd rather you babies stick to the kind of "cheese" you put on a sandwich or, heaven forbid, just SMOKE THE WEED! At least THC/marijuana has less likelihood of KILLING you.

"blowout diarrhea": Oh, seriously...come on? Are you KIDDING me?!? I KNOW I tend to stray where most fear to go when it comes to bodily functions on CHEESE...I just can't believe that search term actually BROUGHT you here! Are you searching from a cell phone or laptop for this information? Because I would HOPE to gawd you are seated on the porcelain THRONE if you are desperately looking for information about this topic and NOT stuck to your seat in an office cubicle somewhere in downtown Manhattan!! Really...most likely you would find more *user friendly* information just typing in the one word: d-i-a-r-r-h-e-a. I'm sure there are many medical web pages out there that could answer questions about "blowout diarrhea" far better than THIS blog. Unless, of course, you are searching for funny, anecdotal "blowout diarrhea" stories that most would be too embarrassed to tell in public...then you've obviously come to the right place!

"can I get numbness in my face from a window fan?": Dear person searching for this information...I don't usually give out advice here on CHEESE let alone MEDICAL advice. But I'm going to take a risk on this one and chance malpractice lawsuit. NO. you CAN'T get numbness in your face from a window fan...unless you stick your CHEEK or NOSE directly in the path of the whirling blades!!! If you'd LIKE your face to become numb from your window fan, I suggest you try this little maneuver: 1. Remove the outer covering of your window fan, usually called the *cage* or *casing*. 2. Turn your window fan on high speed, being cautious not to stick your fingers in the path of the blades, lest you also sustain numb fingers. 3. Lean into the whirling portion of the rotating fan blades with your face. 4. Keep a towel nearby to mop up any excessive blood loss should you need it. If your face does not become numb from excessive swelling within 5-10 minutes, I suggest you seek medical attention immediately. I am quite certain the numbing agent used by a physician to stitch your facial lacerations WILL achieve your desired effect. :-)

"before and after hair arrangement jokes": Mkay...this one completely stumped me...until I recalled posting a blog entry maybe last year regarding my 1/2 missing eyebrow. I don't think this topic is particularly *joke-y*...I'm MISSING 1/2 MY EYEBROW people! It's not an unusual fashion statement and I didn't create this phenomenon deliberately via trichotillomania (disorder where one PULLS their hair out)! It's from yet ANOTHER autoimmune disorder called *alopecia areata* (my freakin' hair just falls out in patches or strange places, like my eyebrow and eyelid). It's really NOT all that funny...unless you are my friend, "T", who likes to approach me with one index finger curved and placed over the area where the eyebrow should be on her forehead saying, "Hi, how ya doin?" Now THAT is funny! And there are the Groucho Marx glasses with the eyebrows and nose glued on them that another friend likes to tease me about wearing as a quick "fix" for my strange hair loss pattern...now THAT is pants-peeing funny!!! But you won't find any *before and after hair arrangement jokes* here...no siree...that would be crass and crude. And you all know what high level of sophistication I strive for here on CHEESE...

**Burp, armpit fart sound**

WORLD MS DAY...

JOINING HANDS AROUND THE GLOBE, WORLD MS DAY...

A Little Bit O' This -n- That...

I wish my mind were as compartmentalized and organized as that junk drawer above, but it's not...trust me...this frustrates me far more than it annoys YOU! For instance, should I be *disturbed* I FORGOT today was MEMORY-al day? Shouldn't I REMEMBER this?!? Isn't that the POINT?!?

I've had several emails lately that I've been meaning to respond to (with GOOD intention!), but just haven't been able to organize my sorry self to do so...SO, I thought I'd just use this format today to *communally* respond and hope all y'all will forgive me for my lack of proper Internet etiquette. :-( I'll leave out your names/identifiers where appropriate...unless I CAN use this information against you...then you're gonna get punked. Hehe.

From the mail bag (or wind bag...whatever):

SUSAN...the Susan who has traded emails with the likes of such a forgetful douche as myself...I CANNOT LOCATE THE LINK TO YOUR BLOG TO PLACE IT IN THE 100 MS BLOG LINK ON CHEESE!!! Where did it go? Have I totally gone to the dark side of dementia??? Yes, I forgot to write it down and now, when I search for it, I come up empty...sort of like my brain. Please, dearest...email me your blog page. Lest I have to travel to Nebraska and track you down (You're probably safe, because I think I've been banned from ever returning to that state after remarking that the state capitol building looked like a huge penis protruding on the landscape, aka, "The Penis Of The Plains"...LOL And yes, BlindBeard...you are safe as well.).

TO THE BOOTIFUL CANADIAN SEARCHING FOR INFORMATION ABOUT RiSoTRIENE...OK, this topic has exhausted me! Because there just ISN'T much information about RiSoTriene out there. I've even enlisted someone who I consider a personal Health Fitness Guru of Florida to assist me in uncovering what research/information there might be out there on RiSoTriene in the USA...Bubbie, of *Bubbie's Blog*...because she is from the "Blue Hair State" and everyone KNOWS Flo-ree-da is the home of supplements and nutritional facts due to the overwhelming population of retiree's there! Bubbie found an article about rice bran having high concentrates of arsenic in it (scary, but really? Doesn't EVERYTHING we eat have useless/potentially fatal crap in it?!?) and I uncovered a letter from the USA FDA to Healthy Living about RiSoTriene, telling them to cease and desist all claims that RiSoTriene will work like a drug to lower glucose levels and assist with Multiple Sclerosis symptoms...beyond that, I'm stumped. I even went to two local health food stores here in Seattle to inquire, and they stared at me like I was a circus clown at a funeral (I AM rather out of place at a *health food store* as it is apparent by my size and stature my "health" is not a high priority!)...they had no clue either. So, OF COURSE, this only makes me want to get some of this milled rice product/RiSoTriene and TRY it!!! Gawd knows I've been willing to try many OTHER VooDoo products that the FDA has approved (like most all of the MS Disease Modifying Meds here in the States). I'll let you know if I can figure out how to get my hands on the stuff and I'll have the Executor of my will contact you should it kill me.

NAOMI...I didn't forget you or your email. Although I think I read where Lori Schneider already reached the summit of Mt. Everest. My bad...I should have gotten off my necrotic butt and posted this information from your email sooner. I think ANYONE with MS who accomplishes walking out their front door everyday is a brave soul...let alone someone like Lori who makes it to her drive way and all the way up Mt. Everest!! Thanks for the link...

RAINI...not only do I LOVE the moniker (unless that really IS your name, then I ADORE it!), but think you rock! Yes, an attitude IS a terrible thing to waste and it does my heart good to know there is another *attitudinally challenged* individual hanging out on the blogosphere! Keep up the attitude and the mood...I also think back when the brain cells were creating more friction and rubbing together, I had noted YOU wrote a blog...which, OF COURSE, I cannot locate the link today. Too much space has accumulated between the brain cells I guess and there is no longer much activity firing away...sigh. If I AM correct about your blog, woodcha send me a link so I can include it? **Sulking away like a puppy just scolded for peeing on the floor**

DEAR SN IN INDIA...thank you so much for the friendly email and link to your magnificent art! I especially admire the painting of the woman holding the glass...is this a self-portrait? You and Bubbie (linked above) should talk...both are such gifted artists! I can draw stick figures, but even with that, I tend to not get the circle for the head shape drawn correctly! Stumble in any time here...you are ALWAYS welcome!

WEBSTER...In response to your comment on the previous post, yes...I AM feeling a bit better mentally, but the pain in my body persists. I think I am simply growing USED to the discomfort AND tired of hearing my sorry arse squeak about it. For the most part, I can tolerate the physical discomfort...it is the MENTAL/EMOTIONAL sequela that gets set in motion whenever I am *tolerating* the pain that is the most disturbing to me. I feel utterly distracted and as if I am peering through shattered glass at the world around me (metaphorically speaking...my vision is fine).

Things seem out of place and *fractured* as I struggle to make it from sun up to sun down without screaming out in discomfort or irritability. The long pause this past week in blogging has been the result of this accumulation of physical/emotional reaction. I HAVE discussed with my neuro the possibility of seeing a spine specialist...because I am certain this pain is due to the degeneration of my cervical spine and NOT primarily MS-related. So, as far as feeling better? I'm probably just tolerating feeling BAD in a BETTER way...sigh.

Dear WALK STARS: Sneaky, little BREAST CANCER GIRLS slipping over here to CHEESE under a new name and blog! You are soooo busted...pun intended. (LMAO at my superior wit...hehe) And in response to YOUR comment in which you believe the correct term is "A mouse in your pocket"...perhaps in Arizona (where the heat melts away all humor, unless you are MISS CHRIS, who always looks bootiful no matter what the temperature) that WOULD be the correct saying. But where I come from (white trailer trash city), we didn't HAVE mice...we had RATS...and *turds* were abundant, too. Often the kind on two legs. :-) Hence the saying in response to the incorrect use of the word *we*, "What, do you have a turd in your pocket?" **Dialing my dead mother up now on the Ouija Board to clarify this**.


SHAUNA...In response to your comment regarding my desire to drive the Oscar Meyer Wienermobile in my next career move (I believe the exact quoted comment was this: "I've been offered plenty of free wieners in my life. I politely decline."),I am only NOW able to type without falling out of my chair and laughing hysterically every time I think of your response. You Canadians are such a risque' group! Must be why I love you so...LOL

SHERRY/aka HAVE MYELIN?...I will forever be indebted to you for the borrowing and use of your word F-tard. And no, I have NOT gone all PC (politically correct) by not spelling out F-U-C-K...I'm just busy, and typing out the entire word takes too long. Plus, this would only give the JESUS CAMPERS more ammunition for comments. :-)

I think I'm done now...

Lemming Stampede!...

For those of you who are familiar with Blogger (the host site of many blogs and the host site for CHEESE), you are probably already aware there are several ways to *follow* anyone's blog that happens to be written via Blogger hosting. You can simply click to a blog page directly (for CHEESE, that link is http://www.brain-cheese.blogspot.com/), you can subscribe to a blog's RSS feed, or if you are a Google Member/Blog on Blogger yourself, you can become a "FOLLOWER", which allows Blogger/Google to send you a notice every time someone you "FOLLOW" posts a new blog entry. And still, there is a way to "FOLLOW" certain blogs that link their social pages (MySpace, FaceBook, Bebo, etc.) directly to their postings from Blogger. Such are the complications of modern technology, which is supposedly designed to make our lives easier. Whew...

Whether out of threat of narcissistic injury, paranoia of being "watched", or true concern for others with Multiple Sclerosis (or a combination of all three!), I DO keep track of the many visitors that read CHEESE...mostly through a hidden statistics program running in the background of CHEESE (no, NOT the BraveNet stats you see over there to the left or the Feedjit stats...Moohahaha) that allows me to glimpse into your living rooms and see what's for dinner and what TV shows you are watching. OK, maybe not to THAT extent, because then I'd have to admit to you my name is Dick Cheney and I am a leftover from the Bush Administration. LOL But I CAN see when you arrive here, what you are reading here, and a host of other *vital* (said with tongue in cheek) statistics used to tailor BrainCheese to your liking (now I'm laughing out loud!). And, for the record, any and all posts on CHEESE that have anything to do with JESUS CAMP, STILL remain as the main *hit* on the counter...yes, JESUS CAMP trumps even Multiple Sclerosis here, which is a sad statistic to report. :-(

Along with observing your private colonoscopies via my stats program, I can (and HAVE once or twice) *block* someone from entering CHEESE...it's an extremely "other" rare program I use in response to some of the weirdness that comes from writing a public blog...occasionally there lurks a person who simply cannot abide by my ONE, cardinal rule for interaction on BrainCheese: PLAY NICE WITH EACH OTHER. I frankly do not care what criticisms you have of ME personally or any random, skanky things you might want to call me or comment about the CHEESE editor...you'll note, I WILL always publish those comments, because the comment IS most likely true! But on that rare occasion I have received skanky comment or email from someone who is "not playing nice" about OTHER CHEESE readers, I will first warn them *la dee dah* is not OK, then I'll attempt to counsel their sorry arse via email (if I can reach the culprit directly and if I FEEL like playing email therapist at the time), then I'll simply banish them from the Land O' CHEESE...like I said, it's been extremely rare, but I am NOT afraid to use my magic wand or vote someone off the island who cannot tolerate controversy or the opinions of others. I have my ways...which I will technologically discuss no further.

But back to the Lemming Stampede and title of this post...because I digress in writing as much as I REGRESS in real life.

You most likely have already noted the left-hand bar tab over there titled, "RUN LEMMINGS, RUN!"...this is where the mugshots/profile pictures accumulate of all those who DARE to publicly "FOLLOW" this blog via Blogger/Google...that number grows and shrinks on a regular basis as people come and go with interest in the blather painted across the CHEESE computer screen. There are also about 13 other "FOLLOWERS" from one of the social websites (which shall remain nameless to which I subscribe). In total, there's around 50 people who regularly come here to CHEESE who are NOT in search of more pictures of a 7 week old fetus or Jesus Camp (and you will note in the comment section of the previously highlighted post link, I publish ALL comments that come from what I personally consider some wackado peeps there, too...I don't discriminate, I just laugh quietly to myself)!

Outwardly, I am pleased there are so many people who may be finding interest, comfort, laughter, etc., in what I write on CHEESE. And, inwardly...I am HORRIFIED! I am often reminded of my first years of belonging to another *social website* (alrighty, there WERE no websites in the 80's!), called Alcoholics Anonymous, or AA for short. There were no personal computers back then, but the concept of AA was the same as a blog: Share your personal/deep dark secrets publicly to a group and receive feedback/support/community. Yes, my dear "FOLLOWERS"...it probably comes as no shock that the CHEESE used to knock back her fruits and vegetables (grains and grapes) via the distillation process, aka, alcohol...to the point of alarming distress. This was during the formative years of my personality development (or degeneration) in my early 20's. And I have not touched the grape or grain since July 20, 1987. That's right...I've been a dry drunk for 22 years.

Anywhozit, you may be familiar with AA yourself (or a friend of "Bill W.", as most alcoholics like to say in code) or you may know nothing about the group...either way, it doesn't matter because your personal (or lack thereof) connection to AA isn't my point. My POINT is still the notion of a Lemming Stampede and I WILL get to that soon...maybe.

So, one of the main premises of AA (or ANY of the *A* support groups, like NA, CA, ACA, etc.) is obviously to stop drinking, but to do so through a series of insightful paths (like first admitting that vodka is seriously damaging one's relationship with their *other* when the bottle is drained in one sitting, then thrown at the head of the *other*...not that this HAPPENED in the CHEESE life, of course...ahem). And part of that path is to tell one's story...to stand up in front of the chosen support group and spew all of the horrific details of the alcoholic life...and gain SUPPORT from the group.

As you might imagine, the CHEESE is no easy sell when it comes to *touchy feely* issues. True, I write a public blog now and I work in a branch of Social Services, but the honest-to-gawd-truth is, I really DON'T like people all that much. LOL Perhaps there is yet ANOTHER group beckoning me as I type that could assist me in my Antisocial ways...but I'm not interested. So, when it came my time to "share" in my AA support groups, I was often reluctant. It took nearly 3 years before I found any comfort in wearing my underwear on the outside of my clothing for all the world to see (NOT LITERALLY! A figure of speech meaning to air one's dirty laundry...geez). But, once I realized my smelly *sh!+* was no better or worse than anyone else, I started volunteering to lead AA meetings and became less embarrassed that I WAS an alcoholic...and the people around me were just like me.

It was sometime around my 3rd year of weekly (sometimes more) AA meetings that I was asked to be a guest speaker at a large AA group that typically had anywhere between 50 to 100 people crammed inside a small church basement. I have never shied away from public speaking...it's the Leo in me, who commands performance and the stage (hence, a public blog to continue the behavior of digging up my psyche for all the world to see)...so I was honored to be asked to flash my dirty laundry to this crowd. After all, I'd heard worse alcohol stories than my own.

What I had not prepared for was the overwhelming response from the crowd of newcomers in attendance at this particular meeting. Person after person/alcoholic after alcoholic came up to me after my *sharing*, telling me (among other things) how much strength they thought I must have, and how I'd obviously *overcome* my alcoholism, and how much they admired my *courage*.

This was the most distressing news I had ever been told in my three years of AA attendance...and I KNEW in my heart this was not true. I had simply PERFORMED for the crowd...telling them what I knew or thought they would want to hear. I was and had PRETENDED to be something I was not in my core...suiting up and showing up, but never really learning or incorporating the rules of the game. And, I never went back to another AA meeting after that.

Instead, I spent the next several years trying to learn what really motivated me, what propelled me through the dark waters, and what I really believed in. I also continued to refrain from the self-destructive act of drinking (which alcohol alone is not the problem, it is the alcoholic that is the problem), because I was USING alcohol as a means of expressing all the darkness that existed inside me...it was an EXCUSE for outwardly expressing what I felt on the inside: Small, insignificant, lonely, and weak. I do not celebrate an "AA birthday" as some do as a matter of personal choice, not because I don't support those that feel the date they stop drinking is significant. I don't celebrate an AA birthday for myself because there is no specific DATE in which I can claim any abstinence from the thoughts/behaviors that led me to misuse the substance in the first place...I STILL struggle to maintain balance in my life and I STILL struggle accepting my darkness...I just no longer consume alcohol in the process.

Whew...I'm getting closer to my point of the Lemming Stampede now...seriously. It's getting close. :-)

I have been writing this blog about my life with MS for 3 years...during this past three years, I have received multiple comments and emails from individuals seeking information, support, camaraderie, etc. I have also formed what I consider significant bonds with several of you via the Internet (even though I don't really like people all that much. hehe). So it is a somewhat precarious balancing act for me to feel *joy* there are as many of you who come here to read my blather as there are without also cautioning you to be ever-vigilant of accepting whatever you read here as FACT...it isn't FACT...it is only my opinion or my personal experience, my thoughts, my words, my ideas (however twisted they may be). I am an expert in NOTHING and a student of EVERYTHING. Today's information from my particular point of view could very well change tomorrow if a feather were to fly up my butt and tickle me in a new direction. It COULD happen!

There IS no right or wrong way when it comes to Multiple Sclerosis just like there is no right or wrong way when it comes to alcoholism...what IS important is that we find OUR way...whatever path that may be...and embrace OUR way. Our own, personal, individualized path of living, dealing with, treating, not treating, accepting, struggling with, MS.

I jokingly refer to that Blogger side bar of "FOLLOWERS" as lemmings...I do this because I hope it is always a reminder to NEVER run into the sea of MS because everyone else is...because the CHEESE has said something here on THIS blog, so it must be true for you as well. If you can relate to something said here, that is wonderful and hopefully useful to you. But I encourage you to ALWAYS follow your own path, even if it eventually does lead you to the cliff or into the sea...it is the only way to take responsibility for our own actions and our own, individual brand of Multiple Sclerosis...and at least if you end up running yourself over the cliff and into the sea, you can belt out the lyrics, "I did it my way", in style!

So "RUN, LEMMINGS, RUN!"...find your own path...and keep coming back here to BrainCheese if it remains useful for you. But if not, click away and SEARCH for that which brings you comfort or the information you seek. And don't bother looking back...unless you find yourself at the front of a lemming stampede and about to be trampled!...