The Resulting Release

Posted on April 19, 2014 by Jamieson Wolf

Two steps at a Time coverI had my MRI results appointment the other week. I’ve tried to think of how to write this post but have decided to simply write it as it happened. It’ll be easier that way.

When we went in to the doctors office and sat down, he pulled up my new MRI. What I noticed first was that my lesions had shrunk and they were no longer bright. In my previous MRI, they were like bright white planets in a sea of grey. Now they were greyed out themselves and had shrunk considerably.

I thought the doctor would have good news and talk about how the lesions had grown smaller. The first thing he said was: “There are three new lesions. We have to put you on level two medication.”

This was a shock to the system as I’ve been on Copaxone for less than a year. I should have had a follow up MRI around December, but they didn’t schedule one. The new lesions could have formed between the time from the old MRI and when I started taking my medication.

The new medication they wanted to put me on was an oral pill as opposed to an injection. It would cause depression, anxiety, neausea, dizziness, vomiting, etc. Pretty much all the symptoms I’d had when the MS first hit.

My immediate response was a huge no. That and feeling as if I was being hit with a truck. I was shocked that they wanted to put me on new medication right away. I’ve worked so hard to leave how I was in the past and this felt like welcoming it back again.

However, the ups and downs weren’t done yet. It turned out that I wasn’t eligible for the new medication as I haven’t had a relapse. I had a lapse in January but have yet to have a relapse. Though I have been diagnosed with Relapse and Remitting Multiple Sclerosis, since I’ve only had the one lapse, I actually have Clinically Isolated Syndrome. Thus, I am not eligible to take the new medication.

The doctor and MS nurse then said I could obtain the new medication if I took part in a study where I would be given one of three doses, depending which group they put me on. It would be half the normal dose, the normal dose or a larger than normal one. I would have to go to the hospital to be checked over several times a week to see how the new medication was taking effect.

Like most people, I hate hospitals. However, the situation being what it is, I’ve come to accept that it’s just part of my life now. However, the less time spent in hospitals the better. I was terrified at spending more time in a place that I didn’t like, of being poked and prodded in the name of science.

My mother and I went into the waiting room to talk about what I should do. She said my gut and my intuition is usually spot on. What did I want to do? My response was still no. I had worked so hard to get over those symptoms. I still live with some of them, but the depression was gone, the dizziness, the neasuea. I didn’t want those back again. I know that eventually I would have to go on stronger medication, but this didn’t feel like the right time.

The doctor and nurse came into the waiting room with more news: the study wasn’t an option for me. It was only for people who had full on Relapse and Remitting MS, not CIS. They said they would have to wait for me to have a relapse in order to get me on the stronger medication and I was to let them know if this happened. I said “It sounds as if you’re just waiting for me to have a relapse.” The nurse responded that, at this time, that was all they could do.

I was still in shell shock mode. A hospital is a highly emotional place and mine were at the breaking point. We left and walked out into another part of the hospital and my mother could see I was in rough shape. I had been trying hard not to lose it, not to break down and cry while the doctor delivered his blows.

So she did something that I am incredibly grateful for: she pulled me into a hug and let me cry on her shoulder. I let it all out while my mother held me, whispered that it was okay to cry. We both felt as if we were hit by a truck and dragged over the coals.

It was the first time I’ve cried a cry of release. Normally, I only cry when books, movies or people stir up my emotions. This time it was a torrent of tears not in anger or frustration, but in release, of letting go, of being able to breathe once again.

What the doctor and the nurse should have done were a few things: comment on the fact that the lesions were healing, that they had shrunk and greyed out. They should have checked to see if I was eligible to take the new medication or for the study before I arrived for the appointment. They didn’t. They turned what should have been a simple update appointment into an emotional roller coaster.

Still, I’m focusing on the positive: my lesions have shrunk and are healing. I’m so much better than I was before what with a new diet, Reiki, balance. This is my life, and I will live it to the fullest any way I can.

Posted in diet, Doctors, MRI's, results | Leave a comment

Sonograms, MRI’s and Results Oh My!

Posted on April 1, 2014 by Jamieson Wolf

Two steps at a Time coverI’ve had a slew of medical appointments as of late.

I had my follow up MRI on March 23rd. Even though I knew what was coming, what to expect, it was still frightening. Even though I was prepared, I was still afraid.

I was able to pretend that all the noise was music by Daft Punk, that I was in the movie Tron; but I knew this wasn’t really the case. I knew where I was the whole time. They put the neck camera on me and part way through, they injected dye into my body to get a deeper look at where the MS was.

At one point though, I fell asleep. I was actually woken up when the thumping sound around me changed pitch. It amazed me that I was able to fall asleep with all that noise, but stranger things have happened. I’d like to think that it was all the good energy that everyone was sending my way that kept me calm enough to find sleep.

On Monday, yesterday, I had a sonogram done. Now, I’ve read a lot of books about MS and they mention bladder problems but I’ve never written about my own. Well, all that changes now, I guess.

For months, I’ve been having bladder problems. There are times when I feel like I have to go, but can’t. There are times where I have to go every hour during the night. There are even times where I haven’t been able to urinate for a full day, no matter how bad it feels like I have to go. At first, I thought it was a bladder infection but then started reading about the bladder problems that people with Multiple Sclerosis experience. It was another on the long list of symptoms.

I’ve just learned to live with it because the thought of taking another medication didn’t appeal to me. I already have to give myself a daily injection and one pill for my spasms. That med causes constipation, so I take something for that. I didn’t want to take a pill so I could urinate as well. At my six month follow up though, my doctor prescribed a sonogram for me to look at my bladder.

It was the most uncomfortable I’ve been in any of the medical procedures so far, except for the spinal tap. That wasn’t pleasant, but at least it was over quickly. This was agony. I had to drink four glasses of water an hour before the appointment and, wouldn’t you know it, after months of holding everything in when I need to pee, my bladder finally decides to cooperate.

I was incredibly, terribly uncomfortable and I was filled with an urgent need to pee-and for the first time in a long time, I knew that I would have no problems holding back. I don’t know how women go through a sonogram with a baby pressing on their bladder the entire time. It can only be excruciating. When I was finally able to pee, I got it everywhere.

The fun wasn’t over yet. Once I showered and changed and headed into work, I got a call from the MS clinic. They got the results back from my MRI and the doctor wanted to speak to me. The appointment is next Tuesday.

I know that there is every likelihood I’ll be told that I’ve developed more lesions.  In fact, that’s almost a certainty; whether they are in the brain or in different parts of my body makes no difference. Unlike last time, however, I won’t be afraid, I won’t let it crush me.

I’ve done everything I can think of to do for my health: I’ve changed my diet, I’ve quit smoking, I’ve gotten back into Reiki and engage in a nightly Reiki self treatment. I’m studying Qigong, I’m actually living a healthy lifestyle. I’m a stronger person than I was, despite my boundaries and symptoms. There is a small hope that everything I’ve done, every step of healing I’ve taken, has resulted in a lessening of lesions or that they are healing themselves; that would be dreaming in technicolour, but it’s a small hope nonetheless.

All I can do after the results, whatever they may be, is keep on doing it. No matter what the results are, all I have to do is remember where I was and know that I’m not the same person anymore. I know myself now and come what may, I’ll get through it.

Tough times pass; tough people don’t. Thankfully I’m one tough cookie.

Posted in Doctors, MRI's, results, sonograms | 1 Comment

Letting Go

Posted on April 1, 2014 by Jamieson Wolf

Two steps at a Time coverI’ve come to realise that I’ve been living in fear.

When the MS hit in January of 2013, it took everything from me: my mobility, my independence,  my freedom. I was a prisoner inside of my own body. I fought to get better, to regain control over my body.

It took me longer to find myself again; but the thing was, when I found myself, he wasn’t someone I recognized completely. It was still me, but this person was different. He found joy in doing the smallest things on his own: taking out the garbage, cleaning out the cat litter, doing the dishes, being able to do laundry; everything was a small victory.

He was also more thankful, for everything. For his friends, his family, the people who loved him and touched his life. As I began to know myself again, I realized how different I was. My perspective had changed completely. I am a different person than I was and so much the better for it.

However, I’ve been struggling. The symptoms of my MS come and go on a moment to moment, hour to hour, day to day basis. There’s the brain fog, numbness, mobility, spasms, tremors, speech problems and my memory is shot; but I’m very good at ignoring my own body and what it’s trying to tell me.

I live with fatigue on a daily basis and I ignore this one most of all. I fill up my time with friends, with classes, with writing. I’m almost writing. I watch television rarely now and movies even less. I used to read three to five books a week. Now I can’t even manage one.

I was lucky. When I was diagnosed, I was told I had the CIS version of MS. CIS stands for Clinically Isolated Syndrome. They got me on my medication before I had a relapse. Even though I have relapse and remitting MS, I am lucky. I’ve only had the one episode.

It’s the fear of having a relapse that drives me to exhaustion. It always lives in the back of my head that tomorrow could be the day that I have a relapse and I have to fill up every moment, every second, before MS takes everything away again.

January of 2013 was the lowest point in my life and I am so afraid of having that happen again-but by driving myself to exhaustion, it’s far more likely that I’ll have a relapse. I’d be doing it to myself.

Last week, I was busy every night of the week. I had no energy left during the weekend.

I was done, finished and the week hadn’t even started yet. I could feel the fatigue, almost taste it and I had something going on every night this week. So even though I didn’t want to do it, I rescheduled a lot of it.

The problem with that for me is twofold: I don’t like letting people down and I want to go out there and live, do something. I’ve come to realize, however, that even reading a book and having a cup of tea is living. Watching television, playing a computer game or taking time for me is living. I had gone from finding joy in the smallest and simplest of actions to believing that if I wasn’t writing or doing something I considered worthwhile, I wasn’t really living.

I just took a look back through the past few posts on this blog and quite a few of them have been about needing to find balance, taking joy in the small things, remembering to relax and indulge. I haven’t been listening to myself.

So enough. I’ve finally pissed myself off. I’m going to enjoy life and that includes taking time for myself and listening to my body when it’s trying to tell me something instead of ignoring it.

I’m going to live. I am truly going to enjoy every moment and I’m letting the fear go. I’ve had it for far too long and it wasn’t a good colour on me anyway.

Posted in Brain Fog, Fatique, joy, Muscles, Spasms, Tremors | 1 Comment

MRI’S, Tron and Daft Punk – Going Back to the Grid

Posted on March 21, 2014 by Jamieson Wolf

Two steps at a Time coverI have another MRI coming up on Sunday.

I’ll have to admit that my first MRI was bizarre experience. I didn’t know what to expect. I had watched a YouTube video and read about what the procedure would be like. However, watching something on your computer and actually having to go through it are two different things.

I was in a hospital gown when I walked into the room. I approached the white cylinder with trepidation. The video on YouTube did not prepare me for how big the MRI machine was. It almost took up the whole room. A doctor and technician would watch the progress of the MRI in another room. I was given a lead apron to wear.

They fitted me with a neck brace that would help them take better images of my head and neck. MRI stands for Magnetic Resonance Imaging. It’s scanners use magnetic radiowaves to form images of the body. In my case, they were taking images of my head and neck to see if lesions were present.

I was asked to lay down on a table that slid into a tube. I was told that I would hear a lot of noise but I had to remain stationary at all times. It was a little uncomfortable for me as I am somewhat claustrophobic in small spaces; I got over that really quickly as I had no choice.

The tube reminded me of Tron for some reason. To calm myself, I pretended that I was going into the Gaming Arena, even though they don’t get there through tubes. Hey, whatever works right? It was mind over matter at that point.

Then the scanners started rolling around me and I will admit to being afraid, just for a moment. Then I just thought of the thrumming of the machine as if it were techno music, or electronica, heavy on the beat.

Inspired by my being in a Tron tube, heading for the Gaming Arena, I thought of Daft Punk who had done the soundtrack to Tron Legacy. With the heavy beat, however, I was reminded more of Daft Punk’s album Homework.

I don’t remember how long it lasted for. I was in a tube filled with light, wearing a neck camera, surrounded by noise. It was no time at all and forever at the same time. When they finally rolled me out of the tube, I shook my head and let my Tron and Daft Punk fantasy fall away.

At my six month check up in February, I finally had a chance to see my MRI. It was weird seeing inside my own head, at the white circles that stood out so brightly against the greyed out shapes of my brain. There were several of them, one that looked like as big as a golf ball, all bright like lights or stars on the MRI images.

The MRI that I am having on Sunday will be able to show the doctors whether or not my medication has had any affect or whether or not I have new lesion’s in my brain. I will have to have an MRI on a regular basis, so this is something I’ll have to get used to.

However, this time I’m not worried. I know what to expect, what will happen. Thankfully, I still have lots of time to listen to some Daft Punk and watch Tron and Tron: Legacy so that the images and music are fresh in my head.

This Sunday, while the MRI is being done, I’ll just head back to the Grid.

Awesome.

Posted in Daft Punk, MRI's, Tron, Tron Legacy | Leave a comment

Relax Days

Posted on March 15, 2014 by Jamieson Wolf

Two steps at a Time coverThe other day, my right side was numb upon waking.

My arm and right leg were heavy, as if I was moving through jello. I was able to get out and go to work without my cane. The numbness worried me though. It went away through out the morning but it took a while. I’ve had trouble typing and my arms tense up right away when I click away at the keys.

Last night I felt dizzy and my whole body was tense. I went to bed hoping that I would wake up fine. I did, more or less, but my entire body was even more tense than before. It was as if I’d had a full body spasm.

I went out briefly this morning and it was only down the street, but walking there was difficult. I could only really take small steps and my muscles hurt. I was tripping over everything. I came home and have been giving my body what it needs: relaxation, taking it easy. Not writing or working, but just watching television and reading a book.

Relaxation has become very hard for me to do. Before the MS hit, I would gleefully sit and read a book for hours or indulge in tons of television. Now I barely read at all and don’t even have cable.  I have to be writing all the time, have to be doing something, have to be out and about living life to the fullest. I’ve forgotten that the indulgences are a part of living to the fullest.

I’m so fearful of having a relapse that I want to fill my life up with everything I can, to live in the moment. Thankfully, my body has other ideas. It forces me to slow down sometimes, whether I like it or not.

I need to realise that it’s okay to slow down, that I will have my days where my body is working and other days where it’s not. I can’t keep pushing myself to the point where my body rebels. I also can’t live my life in fear and have to find a balance. I need to find the balance between the work and the play and to enjoy everything.

I’ve taken a few steps to make sure that I indulge: I’ve started playing computer games again, something I haven’t done in years and have gotten NetFlix. Both of those force me to sit, to enjoy and to be entertained. I’m also reading more and not counting each moment not spent writing as wasted.

Instead, it’s a moment that I’ve been able to live, to enjoy, to indulge. I’m relaxing when my body needs it and have learned to relax even when it doesn’t-and that’s pretty freaking awesome.

Posted in discomfort, Fatique, Spasms, Walking | Leave a comment

Remembering to Slow Down

Posted on March 12, 2014 by Jamieson Wolf

Two steps at a Time coverAt my six month appointment, my doctor was very impressed by what I’ve managed to do. He did mention, however, that I should do more exercise. Once again, he recommended Yoga.

It’s confusing to me why doctors and nurses would suggest Yoga to people with MS as most of us have balance issues. While I was working on myself and working hard to get to a good place again, I had no balance. That came over time when my body was strong enough.

Lately, my balance has greatly improved. I’m able to ride on the bus standing up holding on to a pole if there are no seats. I’ve been walking without my cane for almost two months. I’ve been doing so well that when I was given a chance to try out Yoga this past Sunday, I went for it.

It was going well for the first few poses. I was able to hold my balance and do the stretches. It was as we were transitioning a position on the ground to a standing position that I started to have problems. I couldn’t move my legs. I tried to stretch them out, to see if I could bring myself down to the mat, but they wouldn’t do what I wanted them to.

I had done too much, had pushed my body past what it was able to do. As I tried to correct myself, I fell. I was up one moment and then I was down. I literally fell on my face and slid a little bit along the hardwood floor.

My glasses cut into my face cutting a slash of skin from it and I got burns on my nose IMG-20140309-01433and chin from the floor. I bruised my knees and wrenched my left shoulder. I left the class right away to get band aid and disinfectant and to soothe my wounded pride. At first, I was prepared to swear off exercise aside from walking. I should never have tried, never have bothered…

I stopped this train of thought almost right away. It’s not that I should never have tried. How else am I to find out what I am capable of? No, what I should have done is found a gym or studio or instructor that was qualified to deal with people with MS.

I should have done my research instead of just jumping in head first. Just because I have Multiple Sclerosis and Cerebral Palsy doesn’t mean that I can’t do anything I want to do. I can do almost anything I want to; I just have to be careful about how I do them.

So I’m looking into proper studios, Tai Chi, Qigong, stretches I can do at home. There are all kinds of alternatives to yoga; I just have to find the one that works for me.

I took a picture of myself when I returned home. Some of you may wonder at this, but it serves a purpose. It’s a reminder.  The next time I go to rush into something and not take the time to think about my health first, I will look at this picture and remember and slow down and think things through.

Posted in Falling, Muscles | Leave a comment

Grooving with Joy

Posted on February 18, 2014 by Jamieson Wolf

Two steps at a Time cover Today marks the start of four weeks I’ve walked without my cane. For the first two weeks, I brought with me to work and when I went out. For the past week and a half, I’ve left it at home.

I’ve been asked why I’m able to do that now. I think it’s actually a combination of things: I’ve changed my diet drastically: giving up dairy and eating way less junk food and eating a lot more vegetables and salads. I’ve cut out aspartame and diet drinks and I’m drinking a lot more organic fruit juice. I quit smoking full time in June and social smoking in November.

Of course, I’ve also changed how I use my time. I make sure to get eight or nine hours of sleep a night.  I balance what I need to do, making sure I give myself time to rest and not fill up every single moment. That’s been the most difficult for me; I thought it would be giving up dairy.

I’ve also started walking part way home from work to give my legs more strength. I take the two busses I need to in the morning. On the way home, I get off at my street and walk home. It’s a long street, but the exercise is good for my legs.

The medications are also making a huge difference. I take Backlofen for the spasms that the MS and CP cause. I also take a daily injection called Copaxone.

However, as well as I’m doing, I’m still dealing with the fatigue, the memory problems, fighting with my brain to remember more often. So I’m doing something to help with that. I joined the choir at work. My thought is that in memorizing songs, the lyrics and the music they belong to, it will help me remember more, keep my brain awake.

I don’t know what the chances are of my having a relapse. I still have daily symptoms like speech problems, fatigue, etc, have been lucky not to have had an episode since January of last year.

I was diagnosed with Relapse and Remitting MS with a catch: since I only had one episode and haven’t relapsed yet, I was told that what I had was actually called CIS, or Clinically Isolated Syndrome. It’s still MS, but just another form of it.

I don’t know when or if I will have a relapse. So instead of waiting around for it to possibly happen, I’ve adopted this philosophy: live every moment with joy. Whether that’s by writing, visiting with friends and family, sitting with a good book, it doesn’t matter. As long as I find joy or give it to others, that’s what matters most to me right now.

And you know what? That’s pretty awesome.

Posted in Brain Fog, dairy, joy, Walking | Leave a comment

A Fine Balance

Posted on February 9, 2014 by Jamieson Wolf

Two steps at a Time coverThough I’ve been doing a lot better lately, I often feel as if I’m being stalked by the Sandman.

The fatigue hits without warning. I can have eight or nine hours of sleep, but it will make no difference. I’ll go to sleep tired and wake more tired than I was. I have trouble keeping my eyes open and have to fight to stay awake.

I’ll employ different means to stay awake from candy to music, expresso in my coffee in the morning to lots of chocolate. It keeps me awake during the day and candy and chocolate are always a good thing, right?

Those are the days where writing is most difficult for me. The words take forever to find their way out of my brain and onto the page. They’re inside, waiting to come out but it’s as if they are wrapped in a bubble that I can’t pop.

Those are the days where I forget things, where the wrong thing comes out of my mouth. Where I’m not clear on what I want to say and don’t know how to say it, where I’m easily distracted and forget what I was doing; but you know what? That’s okay.

For every day my brain is filled with sand, I’ll have a day where it will be clear, where I’m not fighting sleep or fatigue, where I’m myself again. I’ve learned that it’s a fine balance between the two and to relish the days where my brain is clear, where it’s functioning at full capacity.

On those days, I write to my hearts content. Not nearly as much as I used to write, but at least I’m writing.

On the days where the fatigue is at its highest, where my brain and body won’t let me do what I want to do, I relax. I read a book, I watch television. I engage in the art of relaxation.

I’ve learned that it’s pointless to get angry at myself or be frustrated by what I want to do but can’t. Instead, I just do other things I want to do that let my body have the rest it needs. I’ve realised that it’s still possible to do everything I want to do, just not all at once.

It may be a fine balance, but I’m living life and that is pretty awesome indeed.

Posted in Brain Fog, Fatique | Leave a comment

A Grateful Celebration

Posted on January 25, 2014 by Jamieson Wolf

Two steps at a Time coverToday was the first time I’d allowed myself beer since December. I’ve been afraid to drink it lately.

I always remember the time over the holiday season when I went to have a beer and couldn’t stand up. However, I was celebrating today. It’s been a week that I’ve walked without the cane. I’ve had a whole week where I standing and walking better.

Today was a celebration for me. At work, one of the women I know gave me a high ten, both hands in the air, because she knew it had been a week. Other people noticed I was doing better. I even played an epic game of Rock, Paper, Scissors. It was a great day, a wonderful one.

I even allowed myself to have some dairy. There were two cakes: a Red Velvet cake, which I have never properly tasted and a wonderful carrot cake. I ended up with a big piece of the Red Velvet, and had to share most of it, but I had half the icing. I even treated myself to a cupcake. All of them were lovely.

When I met up with my friend tonight for drinks, I decided that I have a beer and see how I was afterwards. That would let me know how my body was.

I was able to handle the beer and better still, I was able to walk down the stairs to the bathroom. It was down two small flights of stairs. They weren’t near as intimidating as they would have been normally.

I even stayed for another beer and repeated the process. Two times I met with success. I decided that I didn’t want to test it with a third beer but the point is that two beers and gone home without my cane and I wasn’t wobbly, dizzy or off balance. I was okay. Better than okay.

It’s funny to think of today being a celebration. However, that’s what it was for me. I did everything you’re supposed to do in a good party: Have fun, spend time with people you like and love, have cake (very important!), take part in some party games and, if you can, have some libation. Sure, I did it over the course of a whole day, not all at one party, but I did it.

All day long, it’s as if a candle or a flame has been burning bright inside of me. So I’ve got the cake, people, awesome food, libation and the candles, but we’re still missing one thing. You’re supposed to get a present when you celebrate something right?

So I’m celebrating by giving myself this blog post. So I can remember that anything is possible and I have much to celebrate and so much to be grateful for, and that is so totally awesome.

Posted in alcohol, Canes | Leave a comment

Without Hugo

Posted on January 21, 2014 by Jamieson Wolf

Two steps at a Time coverI’ve learned something about myself and I really love when that happens. After my ride on the bus the other day, I decided to see what my legs could do. I decided to see what I was truly capable of.

I’ve walked with a cane since January of last year. There was a brief period in March where I walked without one, but then the balance issues returned and the falls worsened. Up until I took bus ride the other day where I didn’t fall or lose my balance, I depended on it, needed it, was naked without it.

I’ve had a love and hate relationship with my cane. At first, I really hated the fact that I had to walk with one. When I was able to hang it up in March, I was thrilled beyond belief. I still experienced times when my balance was a little off, where my body was unsure of itself, but I soldiered on.

When the falls began, it was devastating. They happened with no notice and no warning, just a brief moment, a split second and I would be down, or the ground would rush up to meet me. I fell into any number of things, in a variety of ways. The falls always happened, even though I had my cane.

I kept it with me, however, and still depended on it. It came everywhere. I can’t be too mad at it though; I wrote one of my favourite poems because of it (Children of the Sphinx). It did keep me safe in a lot of situations. It gave me comfort, like I carried a blanket with me.

However, after that bus ride, I was inspired to try and see if I could walk without it. I don’t know why I was afraid to try again. It’s been my third leg for so long now that walking without it was but a fond memory.

When this all started, in what seems like a lifetime ago, busses were the worst for me. I could barely manage to get to the prioritized seating. Balance was horrible for me. I had none and the slightest movement would send me flying. I fell into people, into poles, onto people. I had to be sitting when the bus began moving and even then, I still wobbled.

Riding the bus and being able to stand and hold on to the pole gave me the courage I needed. I was better, stronger, both in spirit and mind. So I decided to see what I could do. I didn’t use my cane at all at work Thursday or Friday. I normally take it with me if I go down for lunch, but I didn’t.

It was freeing just going down to lunch that way and a little surreal. It was almost like being in a dream for a bit. I got even braver. When I went out on Saturday, I brought my cane with me, but I didn’t use it. I went to class and hung it on the coat rack. I almost forgot it when I left and had to go back to retrieve it; and that’s just kind of awesome.

On Sunday, I was even more brave, so much so that surprised myself: I went out without my cane and left it at home.

That was the first time I’ve been without my cane for over a year. I went to the mall to give myself a true test, to see if I could handle the people, handle the walking and getting home in one piece. It was probably one of the most frightening things I’ve ever done. I was surprised at missing Hugo a little bit. I can’t be the only person that names their cane, right?

I went up and down escalators, into shops and even treated myself to lunch at the food court. I can’t describe what it was like to be cane-less, to being strong enough to do that. It was really just a simple outing, but it was like discovering the world again, in a way.

Today, I brought my cane to work with me, but left it at my desk. When I rode the bus, Hugo was tucked over my arm.

Now, I’m under no illusions that this will be permanent. Given how my symptoms fluctuate, it won’t be. However, until then, I’ve come to a compromise with Hugo:I’ll take him out with me, but I’ll carry him. I won’t use him unless I need to. The falls will still happen, I may still have balance issues, but I won’t be afraid.

What I learned about myself was this: I was hanging on to Hugo more than he was helping me. He was holding me back. I was holding myself back.  I have to myself, that I was able to read the current strength of my body.

With each step and every one after it, I discovered what I was truly capable of.

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