Mind games

When I was diagnosed with MS last fall, it wasn't a complete shock. With the strange symptoms I had been having for a few months, I knew something serious was going on. I knew it was a neurological problem of some sort. I've also had a feeling ever since I was young that something like this could happen to me, some debilitating disease or a serious accident that left me physically impaired in some way. Perhaps I'm crazy, but it's something that's hovered in the back of my mind for as long as I can remember. So, while it was still arresting to hear my doctor say that I had multiple sclerosis, it was not completely unexpected.

Life has changed, although not drastically. I am on two different medications as part of an MS study I am participating in (free drugs!). Both are injections I have to give myself, one daily and one weekly. I've never had a problem with needles, and though there are things I would rather do than stick myself with needles, I don't mind that much. I get dizzy a lot more easily than I ever used to which has led to some amusing situations, but nothing serious. Cold temperatures affect me more than they ever did. If it's less than 65 degrees, I'm feeling chilly. My mom is greatly amused by this, because she's always cold and I teased her about it a lot. Now she gives me grief about it. Fatigue has become a near constant companion, as well. If I didn't take pills for that, I'd be drifting through life in a barely conscious stupor.

None of these things have really been that big a deal for me. There's nothing I can do about having this disease, so I haven't been upset. I've just smiled and dealt with it. Alas, there is a side-effect that has had more of an impact on me. Depression. It's not depression brought on because I'm feeling sorry for myself. People with MS have a higher rate of depression than people with other debilitating diseases. Scientists have not found a reason, but conjecture that the disease itself has some sort of effect on the brain's emotional centers.

It's very frustrating to wake up feeling down in the dumps or to be sitting on my desk and suddenly realize out of the blue, for no reason, that I feel very sad. I have really worked hard to become a happy well-adjusted person in the last few years and now this hits me. I never get so bad that I contemplate suicide or anything like that, but I get in a funk where I don't feel like doing anything and I can get irritable. I know I could try anti-depressants, but I don't know if I can. I know it's not logical, but I would almost feel more depressed having to use anti-depressants. I have always taken pride in my mental faculties and I want to be able to deal with this "on my own." I know that the MS is doing this and it's ridiculous to think that I should be able to just deal with it, but that's how I feel...

...that and depressed.

Only the Good Die Young

October 22, 2006 is a day I'll never forget. I was at work, babysitting a drunk, when I got a call that one of my best friends, Patrick Kramer, had just been killed in a car accident. The moments immediately after that are hard to describe. I felt stark disbelief even though I knew it was true. Weakness gripped my legs and I struggled to stay standing. I felt worse than I ever had in my life. His is the first death of someone I was very close to that I have had to deal with. It's strange how death is something so normal, so part of the human experience, but that we are never ready, never prepared for it when it happens to a loved one.

Patrick was a cop in a small town a few hours from Billings. He was responding to an accident on the highway when he lost control of his vehicle and rolled it. He died on the spot almost instantly. He died as he lived, helping other people. Nothing gave him greater pleasure and even when it wasn't in his best interest, he did what he could for someone else. Patrick was a hero in the truest sense of the word.

His birthday was last Sunday. He would have been 30. I think about him all of the time, but he's been on my mind more often lately. I miss him terribly. My only consolation is that I know he is an a better place now. Patrick was dealing with a lot of personal issues and was in a lot of emotional turmoil for the last few years of his life. I'm glad he no longer has that burden, that pain.

Patrick, I wish you were here. I know it's a selfish thought. I know you're happier now, probably laughing at the antics of those of us still here. I still wish you were here.

Rest in peace, friend. I'll see you again someday.

Recent reading - The Prestige

I finished reading The Prestige earlier this week. I love the movie and have been wanting to read the book for awhile now. Obviously there was differences between the two, small small, others bigger. I found the book to be excellent, as well, but I'm not sure which I would say is better. I need more time to digest the book, perhaps even reading it again before I can make a more concrete judgement of it.

I almost wish I could have read the book before I saw the movie to see if I would have been able to pick up on the secret(s) before they were revealed. Ah, well. It was still an excellent read and I would say that the movie is an excellent adaptation keeping the spirit of the book if not the details.

Check them both out.

I will never do anything as hard as parenting.

I had two talks with my daughter, Erica, today - one not so good, the other excellent. We had just finished watching Raiders of the Lost Ark. It was the first time both of my daughters had seen it. They thought it was great and were bugging me to watch the Temple of Doom. It was almost suppertime, so I said that we'd watch it another time. I also mentioned that I would like to watch Lord of the Rings with them. Well, Erica, per her usual routine, parroted the stuff she hears from her mother and her church informing me that Lord of the Rings is evil because she heard it has dragons. This led to a discussion very similar to many others I've had with her about dragons, demons, demon possession, and why her doctor doesn't know what she is talking about when she told Erica that she has asthma.

I'm well-versed in these discussions because, as I said, they happen regularly. My daughters hear all sorts of crap from their mother and their church. Because they live with their mother and only see me one day and night a week, they do not get many chances to hear differing ideologies and they have bought into the intolerant, dogmatic, Christian bullshit that they are inundated with. They go to a private school that peddles much the same information and so, really, the only chance they get to hear something different is when they are with me.

They hear a lot of hatred and intolerance, so I am usually very good about not repeating that. As much as I would love to say that their mother and church are full of crap (and very un-Christian), I avoid that as I feel it would be counterproductive, not to mention, of course, it would be hypocritical. So, I use logic. I point out the flaws in their arguments and ask them tough questions that make them think. Unfortunately, Shaena is very insecure and rarely sticks around for any of these talks. I know she's usually close by listening in, but she is too uncomfortable saying much on her own in these situations. Erica is different. She is a very passionate girl and gets fired up often yelling at me and crying. I sit calmly, talking to her, challenging her, and forcing her to think, really think, about everything she's been told. We had talked for about fifteen minutes today when, on the verge of tears, she stormed off saying that I always criticize her.

I feel bad for her. She's only ten. I can't imagine being in the position she's in, hearing wildly differing messages from her mother and father. How is any kid supposed to handle that? I can't stop trying, though. I've told both of my daughters countless times that I'm not trying to change their beliefs. I'm really not. Do I want them to break from their mother's poisonous, destructive belief system? Most certainly. They are not mindless automatons, though. I don't want them to blindly accept anything I say, either. I stress to them that they have a mind of their own, free will and that I want them to use their brain. Question everything. Accept nothing at face value. Think it through and then come to a decision. If they grow up believing the same thing their mother and church believe, I will be able to accept it, however grudgingly, as long as I know they have really thought about it and made up their own minds on it.

The next talk I had with Erica was excellent, one of the best I've ever had with her. I gave her a few minutes and then tracked her down. She was lying underneath my mom's bed, hiding. I got down on the floor with her and we talked for almost an hour. For all of her fiery hellfire-and-brimstone rhetoric, I know that some of what I have been telling her has started to sink in over the past few months. It's why she gets so upset when we have these talks; she's scared. What ten-year old wouldn't be when their very foundation is being shaken? We talked about why I have these tough talks with her, why she's lonely, and what I think Christianity is really about. Erica was very receptive. She stayed calm, listened, offered her own thoughts, and gave me a couple of very tight hugs.

I know that I am upsetting her world and putting her through an emotional roller-coaster, but I can't stop. I'm doing it because I love her and want the best for her. It's hard. Nothing I ever do will ever be as hard as raising my two, beautiful daughters.

Captain's Log: First Entry

I've decided to give this blogging thing a try. I'm not sure that I have anything to say anyone else wants to read, but we'll see. I have no set topic or agenda to blog about. This will be about sharing my thoughts on any topic I have on my mind, anything from events in my life, books I'm reading, current events, movies I've seen, philosophy, or whatever else comes along.

So, stop by from time to time. Share your thoughts and maybe together we will boldly go...somewhere.

Live long and prosper.