Road Blocks When they told me my mother would be leaving for England, I understood. On my first day at school when she left, I sat quietly but the boy next to Me Screamed when his mother left and was inconsolable. It must have been from watching mummy leave for work and returning in the evening that had prepared me for the waves bye-bye. And when she and my dad left at night for their infrequent trips to the cinema, I understood and didn’t cry then either. So this trip to England when I was five, was understood, at least as far as a child that age should be expected to. What I didn’t understand was why late evening she didn’t return. I woke in the morning and ran to her room, but she wasn’t there. When I finally got used to the idea, I looked forward to her returning still but more bravely, knowing a letter was to precede her, informing us when. I ran to the mailman whenever I heard the motorcycle but the wait was like an eternity, although my mom wrote regularly. One of the things I became fixated on from her letters was the way she formed the letter “M” in her name. I loved it so much, I tried to copy it and when I was nearing perfection, I decided to learn to write some other letters in her style, it made me feel closer to her. The “M” in Mavine became like a landmark of achievement, I copied it better than the other letters. My handwriting improved tremendously and soon gained me an award for penmanship. I represented My School in an island wide competition but placed miserably when on competition day, my dad got me there thirty minutes after it started and my haste to finish left a dismal distortion of my celebrated handwriting. The memory of an imperfect capital “S” haunted me and many years afterwards, My Scribbled “S,” became an awkward trademark. I still made a very legible “M” but my “S” was sometimes flat headed and other times, big bellied. I also had some trouble with my “E.” It was so irregular, often top heavy or big footed, but it was never as significant, since I used comparatively fewer “Es” in my opening sentences. These two letters may have been speaking to me all my life. My mother’s initials were MS when she was carrying me the first eight months. I went to her wedding and was a December gift for her one month later. My Steady girlfriend at school was also initialed MS and because of the age difference, her wisdom positively influenced all my following relationships. When the doctor told me I had MS, my mind was not cast on these memories, I could think of nothing other than the life changes that were looming. The more I think of MS now, the more I feel to make Mock Sport of these haunting letters. The “M’s” in my life that brought inspiration and influenced me to be better, like my mom and sweetheart. The “S’s” that destroyed my penmanship and was discarded by these females in marriage. MS has brought many good things in my life along with the devastation. MS – My Soul, My Strength, My Spirit, My Savior, anything which makes Me Safe even though My Senses deteriorate. Multiple Sclerosis (MS) is an autoimmune disease and is therefore related to others like Lupus and myasthenia gravis (MG). In this family of diseases, the immune system is believed to run rogue and attacks healthy body cells. In Lupus, it’s the organ tissue and skin, in MG it’s the muscles and in this dreaded MS, the nerves. The nerves are responsible for carrying impulses to and responses back, from the Central Nervous System (CNS). They do so electrically. The CNS comprises the Brain, Optic Nerves in the eyes, the Spinal Cord and the millions of nerves in a network running throughout the body. The impulses and responses are conveyed as messages through the complex network of nerves, moving from one to the other, to the brain for interpretation and back. This passing of information has to be perfectly transmitted, from the moment an impulse is triggered at the nerves’ receptors. The impulse travels by leaping from nerve to nerve, passing through high end traffic at better than lightning speeds, without colliding and reaching the brain uncorrupted. The doctors may test the soles of the feet during investigation to see if the sensation of soft touch is confused with needle pricks, to judge the condition of ones nerves. You may remember the pinching of toes when a person had been in a crippling accident or was unconscious for a period of time. Again, it is the investigation of impulses reaching the brain and the healthy function of nerves. The nerves are More Sensitive than any manmade scaling device as is evident in the sensitive facial nerves that can detect the lightest touch of a fly’s wing, yet they interpret the distinct difference of a kiss from a slap. Nerves are likened to electrical wires. It is a crude comparison of these wondrously made cells to man’s poor attempts at sending impulses. Nonetheless, the outer sheath of insulation on a wire serves to protect inner strands, and allow functionality. Breakage in this insulating sheath will result in interrupted flow of the electricity. The nerve has a similar outer sheath made of fatty lipids, called myelin. Myelin protects the integrity of its inner strands. It is in fact the destruction of this myelin layer by the immune system that causes the malfunctioning of nerves throughout the body, road blocks of sorts. Like electrical wires, the damaged nerves will have breakages in communication throughout the CNS which are manifested as the symptoms in multiple sclerosis like trouble walking, muscle weakness or spasms, blurred or double vision, numbness and tingling and more tragic ones, perhaps too depressing to visit. These academic symptoms do not include manifestations so agonizing they could redefine MS. Nerves control the memory centre and your perception. The memory of every moment you’ve lived, good or bad, is stored and although you don’t readily recall them all, stimulation can cause the resurfacing of these memories. The doctors didn’t warn you, nor does literature. The flashes of previous knife attacks can surface as real as the very night. Or the dog bite when you were only five years, feels as harsh as when it first bled. In fact, if you look at the leg, you Might See the blood dripping. Confused nerve messages can be so corrupted, tragedies long behind you can replay with equal horridness. Phantom impulses can be so convincing, the fire from your childhood can seem to burn with equal intensity. MS – is only Mock Sport to me because the ghost impulses I experience, are actually confused Messages Spreading throughout. Remember that experiment of whispering a message across the room from person to person and discovering that “Meet me in the back later” is corrupted so badly it could become as twisted as “Sweet potato on a cracked platter.” When we hear the end message, we often laugh at the metamorphosis of the spoken word. Well, a gentle touch can now pierce My Skin like a dagger and a slap can be More Soothing. The simple letters M and S have now evolved so significantly in my life, I highlight them with capitals often when they fall in side by side words, as a reminder that although this debilitating illness thrives to overcome My Senses, I have grown More Spiritual and it will not take My Soul.
Posted on: Mon, 26 Jan 2015 00:08:01 +0000
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