Trying Something New

I am very happy to say my appointment with our Family doctor went well. He has prescribed for me a drug called Naltrexone, with the hope that it will indeed halt the progression of my MS.

Naltrexone is a drug that’s been around for years, but it was not originally intended to treat auto-immune diseases like MS. However, a couple of physicians in the U.S. have found this drug, in a low dose form, to be effective in patients with MS and other disorders.

After years of being on interferon injections three times per week, and watching my MS continue to progress all the while, I am thrilled that my doctor will prescribe it for me (not all docs, including my own neurologist, are willing to prescribe it). This is an oral med to be taken nightly before bed…. Hooray! No more needles!

While the research done on Naltrexone for MS is, at this time, limited, the anecdotal evidence is abundant, and much of it is glowing. MSers are finding not only is it slowing down and even halting disease progression, many are experiencing symptom relief as well.

I am hopeful; at the same time, I am guarded. I know this medicine is not a cure for MS. I also know what it is to be disappointed when a promising therapy does little to help me. Will I be one writing a glowing testimony of my improvement on Naltrexone? Only God knows, and the outcome is truly in His hands. Still, I can’t help but be enthusiastic to begin.

I am so thankful for this doctor we have. Without him I don’t know if I would have had the opportunity to try Naltrexone. But what makes it even better, is that he is a faithful Catholic who cares for our family body and soul.

As he gave me the prescription and sent me on my way, the last thing he said to me was, ‘You will be in my prayers.’

Now that’s good medicine!

* * *

St. Jude, Pray for Us!

Prayer Request

Tomorrow I will be seeing my doctor to discuss a new approach drug-wise to treating my MS, in yet another effort to find something that will stop the train.

I, with my husband, go into this appointment with hope and prayers, and ask you, dear readers, to join us with your prayers.

May God's holy will be done!

Thank you... and may Our Blessed Lord reward you for your charity!

Home Again

We returned to St. Louis Saturday evening after a little more than a week in Washington (state). Though it was a trip that one month ago we had no idea we would be making, to be with family to mourn and bury my dad, it was a good trip. As all visits with my family go, it was way too short.

My head is teeming with bloggables, from the passing of my dad and the funeral, to visiting with friends and extended family not seen for 20+ years, from the ever-breathtaking views of Mt. Hood and the Columbia River gorge to our youngest son turning 8 on the trip and losing a tooth in the Portland airport, from Mom's flat-out gorgeous flower garden to the book I began reading on the airplane trip out and can hardly put down (Dracula, by Bram Stoker)... and what stress and hot weather can do to a body with MS.

But on arriving home I realize regular life must resume, and so I quickly type this from my school computer while the boys take a brief play-break outside with Lucy, their buff-colored cocker spaniel that they missed for 8 days. I don't know that I'll find the time to blog about any of the above items. Regular life, homeschooling and all that goes with it, keeps my blogging to a minimum it seems, so we'll see.

But, to sum up our visit, I am more grateful for dear family and friends today than I ever have been before. Our family is truly blessed. Our Lord has taken my dad into eternity and, I think, left the rest of us closer.

I'm glad to be home, but the lump I always get when saying good-bye hasn't quite gone yet. Love you, Mom!

My Piano

I have always loved the piano. I didn't take lessons growing up as many of my friends did, mainly because we never had a piano in the house. But my desire never waned. When I was 18 we did get a piano. My parents got it for $100. It was old and small--didn't even have 88 keys. I think it had 85. But it was good enough to start lessons on.

When I got my first 'real' job at age 20, the first thing I wanted to buy was my very own piano. So I saved and I saved, until the day I went downtown to the piano store and was able to buy one on my own. It was a Kohler console piano, walnut, and I thought it lovely. It was delivered to my parents' house where I still lived at the time, and there it stayed through my 20s. And all through my 20s I continued to take lessons.

I never became an accomplished pianist, but I always loved to play. Circumstances led me to stop lessons at some point around age 30, but I kept my piano, moving it everywhere I moved (much to the chagrin of every brother and friend who ever helped me move!)

My piano has followed me everywhere, including the 2200 mile move to St. Louis some ten years ago. In the early years of our marriage I played a very little, but was too busy with my babies to play as I once did. Ensuing years silenced the piano even more as my ability to play with both hands became less and less possible, my left hand succumbing to the effects of MS.

But two years ago next month, piano music came back into our home when our boys began taking piano lessons, and what a blessing it has been. Each week a fine young piano teacher comes to our home to instruct the boys. And everyday I sit at the piano and go through the lessons with our sons. I never imagined two years could show so much progress in them, but it has. One son especially loves to play, but it is a delight to listen to either of them at the piano.

I didn't realize over 25 years ago when I bought this piano that one day it would be my sons' playing on it that I enjoyed so much. Very infrequently I will still sit down and play a few old favorites, albeit one-handed, and when I do, the boys will yell from whatever room they're in, "Mom, is that you??", surprised at my quasi-ability to make 'beautiful' music. But as much as I have always loved to play, it is now our boys' music that brings me such joy.... on my very own, old, piano.

St. Cecilia, Patroness of Musicians, pray for us!

Make Sense?

I recently overheard someone bemoaning the fact that all too often 'life doesn't make sense'. I concurred in my mind, but my thoughts immediately expanded on the whole idea. Usually when we think of life not making sense, it is due to something negative going on, something in which we simply do not see the good. Whereas, when life is rolling smoothly along (and the way we want it to), it doesn't occur to us whether there is any sense in it: it's good, of course it makes sense! But the more I think about it, especially in the context of our Catholic faith, the more I wonder which scenario really makes more sense.

This temporal life, our faith tells us, is a 'valley of tears'. Isn't it par for that course if we are presented with a degree of suffering that likely doesn't measure up to our desire for an easy life? Isn't that suffering, in fact, a mercy of God? An opportunity to offer to Him penance in this life, and thus, hopefully, lessen our Purgatorial 'time', and that of others, in the next? This makes sense to me. I'm a sinner. Sin requires reparation. Our Lord gives me opportunity to make reparation.

To me, it's God's obvious blessings in our lives that are harder for me to reconcile, because I don't deserve them! I'm thankful for them, but why am I so blessed?! The only answer is God's boundless love for me. My deserving or not deserving His blessings is irrelevant, I think. He loves me, that is all.

To give personal example to all of the above, I relate it to my life with MS. This chronic and progressive condition has been an unwelcome guest in my body for 16+ years now. I believe with all my heart that I have it for a reason (and that it is not simply the luck of the draw). If I didn't believe in God's control, and near presence to me in this, I would be miserable indeed!

What is more amazing to me though, is that He did not ask me to carry this cross alone. Along with the MS, just a few years later, Our Lord allowed me (with the help of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, but that's another post!) to meet the man who would become my husband.

On Good Friday this year we will celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary. And even after all these years, and as my condition progresses along, it never ceases to amaze me how good, how loving, how generous, how absolutely perfect my husband is with and for me. Truly my cross is his cross. And he is teaching our boys to be just like him.

I am blessed beyond measure, and honestly, it doesn't make sense! I don't deserve it! But then, who of us deserves the abundant blessings of Our Lord? It is most humbling.

And so, to come full circle, though there are times I wonder where in the world there is anything good in MS, if I keep my eyes on Our Lord and His eternal purposes, I can see where this negative in my life does make sense. But His blessings on my life--the 'good' things--my husband, my family, these can only, in my mind, be explained through faith in Our loving Lord and His endless mercy on His children. Not because I deserve it, but simply because He loves me.

Make sense?

Miss H

Each year I receive several Christmas letters from friends and family. While I am not one to compose an annual update--I simply send a card and a photo--I do enjoy being on the receiving end, as it is nice to find out what's going on with those I hear from only once a year.

Today I received one I always look forward to. It was from the teacher I had in the third grade! Yes, we have kept in touch all these years. Miss H, as she was when I was 8, was but 22 years old as she taught my class, her first ever. Her letter today tells me she just turned 60 and is in the middle of her 38th year teaching third graders, with no immediate plans to retire. She still loves working with her 'little people' as she fondly refers to her students.

Thirty-eight years ago Miss H quickly became my favorite teacher. I remember her being enthusiastic, smart, inspiring (yes, you CAN write in cursive and I don't want to hear 'I can't'!!) funny and clever. She was everything this little third grader needed to be inspired to do my best in school.

When I moved on to fourth grade and beyond, we stayed in touch. In grade school I would help in her class when my other teachers would let me; in junior high and high school we sent cards to each other on birthdays. At my high school graduation she took me to dinner at one of the best restaurants in town.

When Miss H was nearing 20 years in the classroom, she decided to pursue a second career: law. She continued teaching by day, and went to school at night, completing her degree and passing the Bar somewhere around age 40. To this day she practices law and teaches third graders.

What makes this story amazing though is that in the midst of law school, Miss H was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. She was hit pretty hard at times with acute disability, but she forged on in spite it of it all, and attained her goal, obviously herself practicing the 'I can do it' philosophy she preaches as a teacher.

And this leads me to the other thing that was to connect Miss H and me in life, besides our student/teacher-turned-friend relationship: about five years after Miss H was diagnosed with MS, I received the same diagnosis. An unfortunate connection, to be sure, but one that is comforting nonetheless as I watch Miss H, even from the long distance that now separates us, continue to do great things to help others, as both a teacher and a lawyer.

In both of our lives, MS has taken its toll, in different ways, but I can easily say that in this we are very similar: we have neither of us allowed the disease to hinder our spirit or our drive to attain that which we deem important in life, inasmuch as we can control these things.

Miss H is still an inspiration to me now as I endeavor to live a full life amidst the struggles a chronic condition brings. And now as I am teaching my own little third grader (and second grader), I find myself saying some of the same things to my sons, my 'little people', that she said to me, in hopes of encouraging the same love for learning that Miss H fostered in me so many years ago. I hope and pray I am as successful as she was... and still is.