Think Like a (Blonde) Lawyer ...

Does She or Doesn't She? (D.C. Real Housewife Michaele Salahi Goes Public with MS Diagnosis)

Wow, apart from my utter failure to ever gate crash a White House party (or star in a housewife reality show), I swear this could be me ...

 

Micheale Salahi publicly disclosed today that she has had MS for 17 years. 

 

Note, she did not state that she "suffers" from MS, or discuss any of her presumed symptoms.  In fact, just the opposite: she explained her reasons for not making her illness public earlier are that she didn't want to be judged or pitied, and was concerned about keeping her job.  (Reasons I can certainly relate to, by the way, and which also contributed to my own 20+ years of silent denial.) 

 

What I'm surprised about here, though, are some of the public responses to her disclosure.  Several in the MS community have accused her of lying merely because her disease does not appear to be as severe as that of others.  Some have even criticized her for being too "high energy" of a person -- something that according to these critics we MS'ers are simply incapable of being.  (Which begs the question as to whether those more severely affected by disease would not be better off if they chose to focus more of their energy on something other than their afflictions ...)

 

I've only once caught a few minutes of Salahi's show, and really have no idea what her character is like or track record for truth telling is (apart from the White House stunt, of course).  But maybe, just maybe, she has been successful at one thing apart from grabbing a little media attention: choosing to keep her pain to herself.

 

When did stoicism stop being a virtue?  As a blogger, I know I'm as guilty as anyone for publicly sharing details of my life that previous generations would consider far too personal.  But from the start, I've hoped to keep the whining on this blog to a minimum.  Now it seems the public is outraged simply because a "celebrity" (do reality TV stars count?) has not complained enough, or been sick enough to earn our empathy.

 

I believe that Ms. Salahi probably does have MS; it is not all that difficult to cover up if you still walk well and "look healthy."  I also have a pretty good idea what challenges she may have had to overcome in order to keep her diagnosis to herself.  I'm certainly not saying that having a chronic health condition is an excuse for poor behavior, but who would you rather be friends with -- a person who lives life zestfully and keeps her symptoms to herself, or the person who makes her diagnosis of (fill-in-the-blank) the story of her life?

 

* * * * *

What do you believe?  Does Michaele Salahi really have MS?  And if so, should it change our opinion of her in any way?

Losing Sight But Gaining Vision?

  

If you have been with me on this site for any length of time I'm sure you've noticed that my posts are becoming less and less frequent.  I would love to say this is because I've been so busy "having more fun" that I no longer have time to write about it.  To some extent this is certainly true -- I have been enjoying many of my now non-billable hours by reading great books, relaxing, and spending more time with friends and family.  I've also experimented with several new activities, some of which continue to be fun (e.g., playing the piano when no one is listening or brainstorming ideas for future screenplays), and others that have not been much fun at all (e.g., attending piano lessons when I have not practiced all week, trying to learn Russian, or embarrassing myself at the occasional casting call).

 

But lately I've lost interest in writing about these topics, and I'm being forced to ask myself whether I've ever really been clear about the purpose of this blog at all.  Or the purpose of my post-legal life, for that matter.

 

And as usual when I have something to learn, my body is doing its best to break through my stubborn rational mind and show me what I need to pay attention to right now.  I've just learned that I have glaucoma -- a leading cause of blindness if left untreated.  I guess I shouldn't be surprised by this because I've already had all sorts of weird visual problems from MS, but it always feels strange to have yet another label attached to my health status.  And I find it especially disturbing that the hallmark of glaucoma is quite literally tunnel vision -- the exact opposite of how I would consciously choose to view the world.

 

Yet there it is.  I created this on some level.

 

And this makes me wonder whether I have been so focused on trying to create meaning and purpose through my (now non-existent) career that I have simply missed the bigger picture.  The most beautiful parts of my life have never been visible inside the job tunnel.

 

But this is taking some time to figure out.  On an intellectual level, I get it, but my ego is still so distressed by not really having a suitable answer to the question, "So what do you do for a living?"

 

On the other hand, I have never been more grateful in my life for the fact that I can still see.  Why is it that I never truly appreciate anything until I realize it can be taken away? 

 

"The most pathetic person in the world is someone who has sight, but has no vision." 

--Helen Keller

 

"We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are."

-- Anais Nin

 

So for the time being, I intend to focus on creating a broader, more inspiring vision for all areas of my life (including this blog).  Care to join me? 

* * *

I would love to hear your ideas about how to make this site more inspiring, interesting, and of greater service.  Please post your comments and/or topic ideas here or email me directly using the link on this page.

Disabled, Not Dead

I've been silent on this blog for an entire week.  

 

Not because of an MS exacerbation (although that was a factor), or due to laziness (well, maybe some of that too), or because I've been too busy having more fun (perhaps just a little), but because I'm afraid.

 

I'm afraid I am being watched.

 

There is reason for my paranoia; I am currently receiving disability benefits under a long term disability policy from my former employer because various MS symptoms have made it impossible for me to consistently perform the essential job duties of a litigation attorney. 

 

Believe me, I do not like living on disability benefits and am horribly embarrassed to even admit this.  I would not be blogging about it at all were it not suddenly so apparent that my situation is hardly unique to me.  Millions of people with disabilities live in constant fear that what is left of their income could be yanked away at any time by someone they have never even met.

 

Why would this happen, you ask?  It shouldn't.  Especially in cases like mine, where I have a real diagnosis of long standing, supported by objective medical records spanning many years (i.e., MS is not a "stress disorder" or made up syndrome du jour I decided to come down with yesterday).  In addition, I did not start this entire process by claiming total disability, but merely the inability to work the grueling billable hours required in my own previous occupation. 

 

However, my LTD insurer recently insisted that I file an application for disability benefits with Social Security (SSDI) where the standard is inability to work in any occupation.  They even generously hired a surveillance company to "help" me with the application.  If successful, any benefits I receive from SSDI will be offset against what the LTD insurer has to pay me; can anyone else see the inherent conflict of interest here? 

 

In the meantime, the company they hired has full access to my medical and employment files, and will be combing these for any evidence that I am not really disabled (after they have won the SSDI benefits that is, so they can then terminate my LTD benefits and be paid their cut).  I am now officially (or soon will be) a surveillance target -- both in person, and online.  It is a very, very nasty business.

 

Suddenly, I am being forced to become a very boring and invisible person.

 

So, my online friends, most of my Facebook travel photos have now disappeared, as have all my interests and hobbies.  I even considered taking down this blog, as it could easily be misinterpreted by an insurance adjuster.

 

For example, my last post entitled This Dog Needs a Job! was an attempt to describe how restless and purposeless I've been feeling since losing my job last year.  It was not intended to be any type of admission that I could easily jump right back into my previous occupation or that MS does not substantially impair my ability to work. 

 

I can almost hear an adjuster arguing: Hey, she can still sit at a computer and write; she can still work!  Yet writing a blog post from home takes very little time.  Or sometimes it takes forever, depending on how my cognitive abilities and focus are that day.  In fact, no one knows how many rest breaks I take (MANY), how long it takes me to proofread (when I bother at all), or what days I skip blogging entirely due to MS related visual problems.  Unlike in a law firm, there are no efficiency ratings, no billable hours, no schedule at all.  Heck, there's not even a dress code.  So the three hours or more it used to take me just to get ready for work (showers and hairdryers are big problems for MS'ers) are now a thing of the past.  Honestly, when I think back on how exhausted I used to be by Tuesday each week, I'm amazed I lasted as long in my job as a lawyer as I did.

 

The problem for me now is that I've always been taught not to complain; stoicism runs in the family.  And for many, many years, this is how I've dealt with MS -- by denying its symptoms and simply soldiering on.

 

But now the insurers need me to complain more; they require me to become a victim. 

 

And you know how much I dislike whiners.

 

I'm not going to subject you to a long list of all my physical limitations and grievances either, as that is not the purpose of this blog. 

 

But hey, you surveillance people -- if you are reading this, please just know that I do understand you have a job to do, and hold absolutely no personal animosity towards you.

 

I also understand how this game is played. 

 

If you're planning to use my audition for The Apprentice against me, feel free to put my husband on the stand and ask him how we got through that day.  Ask him how much work he had to do just so that I would have enough energy to make it to the front of the line for my 10-minute audition.  And ask him how exhausted I was afterward.

 

If you intend to follow me on my dog walks, feel free.  I know you will not pull out the camera when I stop for rests anyway.  Go ahead and show the photos to my neurologist, and let her explain that MS is a progressive, degenerative disorder where moderate exercise is recommended.

 

I may be disabled, but I'm not dead. 

 

And I'm not going to stop living my life, even if that includes doing a few "risky" activities such as blogging a few times per week, walking my dog, or even going on vacation once in awhile.

*   *   *   *   *

Have you ever been in a situation where you feared your privacy rights were being violated?  How secure do you feel participating in social media?  Have you ever  been the subject of investigation for litigation or insurance purposes?  Did you know about it at the time, or were you "stung" afterward with photos or videos? 

This Dog Needs A Job!

They say dogs take on the personalities of their owners.  I'm not so sure; perhaps we choose dogs that are already like us?

 

I grew up with golden retrievers -- really pretty blondes and redheads who are terribly sweet but kind of goofy.  (Although I loved them all, my parents chose those dogs.)

 

As an adult, I've always had highly energetic working dogs: first a border collie, and now a miniature Australian shepherd.  These dogs that are terrifically smart. 

 

But neurotic. 

 

And willful.

 

And nippy. 

 

And they become destructive when they don't have a job to do.

 

I can relate.

 

It's now been nine months since my layoff. 

 

And while I do enjoy having the extra time, becoming a real OC housewife is a lot harder than it looks. 

 

First, I'm not spending nearly enough money at the spas or enough time (or any time at all, for that matter) at the gym.  I'm not having an affair with the pool guy. (We don't have a pool; should I get one?)  I don't even have nannies to supervise.  (Do pet sitters count?)  And who really cooks, these days?

 

Not that I'd go back to billable hours; I don't have the stamina for that even if someone would hire me. 

 

But like my dog, I do crave having a sense of purpose.   But what exactly does that mean, anyway?

 

I've been studying "life purpose" materials for more years than I'd like to admit; at one point I even felt I was an expert of sorts and offered seminars on the topic.  The message was simple, and I know you've heard it many times before:  if you want to feel happy and fulfilled, follow your passions and use your talents in a way that serves others.

 

Simple, right?

 

Sometimes it is.  But right now I'm still feeling like the rug has been pulled out from under me; I haven't figured why I invested all that time, energy and money to become a lawyer when I'm now just sitting at home living on disability benefits (plus support from Husband, of course) and writing the occasional blog post.

 

I never thought MS would play any role in my life, much less dominate (destroy?) my professional life.

 

So ... I now need to ask myself, has my entire concept of life purpose been too closely tied to my earning potential?   Is my ego really so completely wrapped up in labels?  Am I really that shallow?

 

I don't have the answers yet, but did find a few quotes I find inspiring:

 

The purpose of life is happiness.

-  The Dalai Lama

 

Achievement of your happiness is the only moral purpose of your life, and that happiness, not pain or mindless self-indulgence, is the proof of your moral integrity, since it is the proof and the result of your loyalty to the achievement of your values.

- Ayn Rand

 

My life has no purpose, no direction, no aim, no meaning, and yet I'm happy. I can't figure it out. What am I doing right?

-  Charles M. Schulz

 

It is the quality of our work which will please God and not the quantity.

-  Mahatma Gandhi

 

And my personal favorite, an excerpt from Max Ehrmann's famous poem Desiderata:

 

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

By the way, Mr. Ehrmann was a lawyer too, as was Gandhi.  Funny how no one remembers either for that though. 

Perhaps there is hope for me yet?

*   *   *   *   *

How much do you equate your career success with fulfillment of your life purpose?  Do see your work purpose and spiritual purpose as intimately intertwined, or are these completely separate realms?  Have you ever felt a loss of identity through the loss of a particular role or relationship in your life?  How did you grow from that situation?

 

Captain Sunshine, Make Me Drink Wine, Make Me Feel Fine ...

 

Unless you're a big Neil Diamond fan, you probably do not recognize the lyrics in today's blog post title.  I actually ran across them by accident today when searching for a picture that would adequately illustrate my profound love of sunshine and wine.

 

It turns out I didn't need to find a picture, though, as my baby sister has already taken care of this by transforming me into a cartoon caricature. 

 

Not that I mind. 

 

My sister is an actual artist (i.e., one who gets paid to create stuff) and a far more experienced blogger than I.  But now that she's gaining recognition as a cartoonist, I'm starting to fear I'm in danger of becoming a parody of myself.

 

I have to admit my sister's drawing is a pretty accurate depiction; I do tend to sit in the sunshine drinking wine when offering unsolicited tidbits of wisdom on the phone to my loved ones.  And if you read my sister's latest comic, one interpretation for this behavior might be that people drink because they are repressing their creativity.

 

But another might simply be because sitting in the sun eating good food and drinking good wine brings a great deal of joy.

 

At least, for me.

 

And in my experience, anything that creates joy (provided it doesn't harm anyone) also creates health. 

 

The research supports me on this.

 

If you've been reading this blog for any period of time, you know by now that I've been living with multiple sclerosis for more than 20 years.  You also know that before I became an attorney, I practiced as a naturopathic doctor and medical herbalist for several years in Australia.  If there is an herb or supplement that has been found helpful in treating MS, believe me, I know about it.

 

The funny thing now is that the distinction between alternative and traditional medicine has become increasingly blurred; mainstream neurologists and medical researchers now agree that Vitamin D levels are extremely important in managing not only MS symptoms, but in preventing a host other diseases including depression, heart disease, diabetes, and a variety of other autoimmune disorders.   Although it is undisputed that many diseases are either caused by or result in vitamin D deficiency, much debate still surrounds supplementation recommendations. 

 

We have been taught to stay out of the sun, always wear sunscreen, and our natural tendency is to just pop another pill or three to address any vitamin deficiencies.  Yet at least according to one researcher, ingested vitamin D can actually block the body's ability to manufacture the hormone, the opposite effect to that of sunshine.

 

"Sunlight is more powerful than any drug; it is safe, effective, and available free of charge. If it could be patented, it would be hyped as the greatest medical breakthrough in history. It's that good."

    ~ Mike Adams, natural health researcher and author.

 

Sounds reasonable to me.  But what about the wine, you ask?  Well first of all, if you are the least bit inclined to believe in energy medicine, you must realize that grapes used in high quality wines are simply highly efficient storage devices for condensed solar energy; I view drinking wine as the perfect complement to sitting in the sun -- a Vitamin D booster, if you will. 

 

No, there is no actual Vitamin D in wine itself, but people who drink good wine also generally tend to eat better diets.  Fish and spinach (both good Vitamin D sources) are two of my favorite and frequent choices to have with chardonnay.

 

You've likely heard of the French paradox and cardioprotective effects of regular red wine consumption, but did you know the antioxidant (anti-ageing properties, Ladies!) of white wine may be superior to those of red? 

 

Moreover, according to a new study recently released by the American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, moderate wine drinkers are actually, on average, much healthier and happier than both heavy drinkers and surprisingly, non-drinkers, as well.

 

Well, that's my excuse anyway.   All I know is that some of our very best vacations have been to wine country, like in these pictures from Mendoza, Argentina in 2006:

 

 

I'd love to write more, but I need to go walk the dog and get a little sunshine before happy hour ...

 

*   *   *   *   *

Do you have any habits or indulgences in your own life that you believe contribute to your own health and happiness, regardless of what the "experts" may tell you?  Do you search out reinforcing research such as "coffee prevents dementia" or "chocolate boosts endorphins" to support your habits?  What about Vitamin D?  Are you a religious sunscreen user, or do you believe moderate sun exposure has some health benefits?

The Gift of Time and Space

One thing I've noticed since my layoff is that even though I am no longer keeping track of "billable hours" I am still far more anxious about time than my current responsibilities would appear to merit.  Have we been so thoroughly indoctrinated with Franklin Covey that it's no longer possible to turn off the time management software?

The passage of time is scary, especially when we start  measuring our accomplishments (or perceived relevant lack thereof) against any particular time line.  (I should have achieved _________ by this age; I'm too old to risk ____________; __________ is ten years younger than I am and already has _________________; How will I ever be able to retire by age ___?; And how much time do I have left, anyway?)

I recently ran across this advertisement from the MS Society in Australia:

 

The model's various body parts are tattooed with the words "Use By:_______" with the slogan at the bottom "When you have Multiple Sclerosis you never know what will expire next."

You probably know what I think of using fear tactics by now (not a fan).  I do understand that the ad's purpose is to create awareness of MS and its symptoms.  But the time related fears this campaign relies on actually apply to all of us, not just those with MS. 

If you are still caught up in the illusions of time and space, that is.

According to Albert Einstein, "People like us, who believe in physics, know that the distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion." 

He further explained that,  "A human being is a part of a whole, called by us 'universe', a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separated from the rest... a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty."

The reason I'm writing about time and space today is because I'm slowly coming to learn that both are essential gifts we must give ourselves in order for creativity and healing to occur. 

You can program it into your Outlook if you must, but I much prefer the view of Neale Diamond  Walsch who counsels, "Do Not Worry, You Have Forever."

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Do you find it difficult to give yourself enough personal time and space on a daily basis?  Are you a person who immediately rushes to fill any vacant hole in your schedule with more tasks?  What habits could you form to become more fully present in the now?

The First Step is Admitting You Have A Problem ...

Just as all people who drink do not become alcoholics, not all cats exposed to catnip become addicts.  In fact, many cats are not even able to get high on catnip -- those that do are highly sensitive to a chemical found in the plant called nepetalactone (let's just call it "N-tone", as I can more easily imagine a dealer marketing it this way).

My cat, Blaze, is a therapy cat. This means that once or twice a month, we visit nursing homes or assisted living facilities so the residents can pet her and reminisce about their former pets or otherwise feel comforted by her purring. 

 

But Blaze has a substance abuse problem.

Yes, she is definitely one of the cats with N-tone receptors; she will happily roll around our garden in a catnip induced haze for hours at a time if you let her.  Normally, this doesn't really interfere too much with her lifestyle or job responsibilities. 

But yesterday, rather than visit a nursing home, Blaze and I were invited to visit a drug rehabilitation residence.

It was time to come clean.

But could Blaze do it?  I wasn't sure she would be able to admit her habit, much less change in any way.  Nevertheless, we decided to go.

We met outside the home on a beautiful sunny afternoon with a couple dozen adolescent residents.  As usual, Blaze was the only cat present, as most animals suited for therapy work are dogs.  The atmosphere was casual, the kids sitting in small groups at picnic tables or lounging in the grass.  Some were discussing assignments that were soon due -- one girl mentioned an "anger management" essay she had complete in the next two hours that was obviously causing her some anxiety.  Yet she seemed to forget all about it when I handed Blaze over for a cuddle. 

In fact, several of the kids (even the boys!) were very excited to see Blaze, as they had cats of their own at home whom they missed.  I told some of them the story of how I had taken Blaze to see a pet psychic once, and how my cat apparently swore that she had once been an Indian elephant.  I also told them how Blaze had been meant to be a breeder, but had given birth only to stillborns.  (This didn't stop her, by the way, from raising two amazing adopted kittens.) 

Although the teens were mildly amused by these and other cat anecdotes, I didn't get their full attention until I decided to share the details of my kitty's catnip habit.

Suddenly, they could relate.

And this is something I've been thinking about a lot since starting this blog.  It's weird for me to be journaling so publicly about my own failings -- having MS and being fired are both topics my past self never would have volunteered to share, even with people I know well.  I'm still not entirely sure how I feel about exposing my vulnerabilities to the whole cyberworld, and honestly have no idea where this is all leading.

But I do think there is value in sharing our weaknesses, as well as our strengths.  Or as Michael J. Fox put it when discussing how he retired from acting to become a Parkinson's and stem cell research advocate:

"Ironic that in order to do my life's work, I had to quit my day job."

The first step is admitting you have a problem.

My job as a litigator was a problem. 

MS is a problem.

I've never completed a 12-step program, but isn't there something in there about having faith and handing over that which we cannot control to a higher power?  Or if not to a higher power, at least to other people? 

And maybe this is what the blogging world was created for.  By sharing our stories, we unknowingly just might help someone else on their own heroic journey.

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How do you feel about sharing personal information with online communities?  Have you ever been comforted by someone you knew only in cyberspace?  What about blogs?  Are we all just self-indulgent exhibitionists now, exposing far too much of ourselves online?  Where do you draw the line?

 

If it Doesn't Kill You ...

I've never liked the saying "If it doesn't kill you, it will make you stronger."  We all know that plenty of painful situations do physically weaken us -- serious disease, violence, debilitating accidents, chronic stress and worry, etc.

But once in awhile, I've found that when actually faced with my worst phobias, I have finally been able to release fear because my imagination is usually much scarier than reality.

For example, for as long as I can remember I've had an extreme fear of needles - more specifically, of injections.  (The medical term for this, by the way, is trypanophobia.)  As a child, not only did I scream bloody murder every time I needed a vaccination, I cried hysterically and hyperventilated even if I were just anticipated I might get a shot.  (Mom just loved taking me to the doctor.)  Until quite recently, I even had to close my eyes during those TV ads where they show kids in Africa being vaccinated because I felt so squeamish about it.

You get the picture.

If you've been reading this blog for any period of time, you know by now that I've had MS for over 20 years.  Guess how nearly all MS drugs are administered?

I used to pride myself on being drug free for so many years, telling everyone that I didn't like pharmaceuticals, I could treat myself with a positive attitude, yoga, natural remedies and diet, etc. 

Of course you know the real reason I was avoiding the meds.

Thanks to a very patient and convincing neurologist (plus a couple of false starts), I have now been injecting myself with Copaxone daily for more than a year.  It's not so bad, and my needle phobia has gradually all but disappeared; I've even tried acupuncture.  (As an aside, though, I do sometimes wonder why my child self was so terrified of vaccines.  Though far from proven, some researchers have linked certain vaccinations with MS.)

But if my fear of needles was bad, it was nothing compared with my fear of insects(entomophobia).  Let's just say that even though I was a lucid dreamer as child who always made friends with the monsters before waking up, if I glanced even one microscopic bug in the room before bed there would be no sleep for anyone until someone killed it and showed me the dead body.

Taking a six-month safari across Africa helped a bit with the spider phobia, as did living in Australia for eight years.  But nothing prepared me for what was awaiting me at a luxury resort in Phoenix in 2001.

Take a good look at what crawled into my ear in the middle of the night and woke me screaming from a dead sleep:

 

I know the resolution is not great, but it's a rather large beetle.  (Or maybe a small cockroach?  I prefer to think of it as a beetle.) 

The reason it's in a vodka bottle is that my fast thinking companion grabbed it from the mini bar and poured its contents into my ear to drown the thing, even though my friend thought I was just another hysterical lunatic blonde who must be hallucinating. He stopped laughing after using the tweezers from my makeup kit to extricate the bug.  (Which has remained awfully well preserved to this day; Stolichnaya should start a sideline in the embalming business.)

I still hate bugs.  That is one of the reasons I live in California.  But after being ear raped (sorry, what would you call it?) by a roach, I pretty much figure no insect is ever going to do anything worse to me than that.

It didn't kill me.

Am I stronger?  Who knows, but I have toyed with the idea of having the beetle preserved in gold and wearing it as a token of my own bravery.

Nah ... it's still just an ugly bug.

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Do you have any phobias?  Have you ever had to directly face a phobia head on?  How did this impact your fear?  Do you now feel stronger in any way, or is the phobia as bad as ever?  What, if anything, do you think your fears have to teach you?

When it's too late to say thank you (or is it?)

  

 

When I was finally diagnosed with MS in 1991 (the first attack happened in 1987), there were no effective treatments for the disease and my doctors basically told me it was just a matter of time until I would either end up blind or in a wheelchair (or both).  I was 23 years old at the time, and working in my first corporate job out of college.  I had just been transferred to Newport Beach from Manhattan, and had no family or friends in the area.  The only person with MS I knew at the time was, in fact, nearly blind and wheelchair bound with the added bonus of having no bladder control.  And of course there was no internet then, either -- so forget the online MS support groups.

 

At the time, my only symptom was blindness in my right eye.  But I could still read, so two days after my diagnosis I stopped by a local bookstore.  To this day, I don't really know why I chose to pick up Michael Crichton's autobiography, Travels, that day.  I was not in the habit of reading biographies back then, and I also had no idea who he was.  I guess it must have been the title -- travel has always been a great passion of mine.

 

"Coincidence is God's way of remaining anonymous."
   -- Albert Einstein

 

The book was not what I expected.  You may know Dr. Chrichton primarily as a medical/science fiction writer.  Among many other best selling books he wrote including the Andromeda Strain and Sphere, he also created the movie Jurassic Park and the television series ER. 

 

But Travels was written primarily about his pre-fame life; it chronicled not only his physical travels, but also some psychic and paranormal experiences.  I learned in the book that prior to becoming a famous writer, Michael had been a Harvard educated doctor.  He wrote about how during his medical residency he observed patients with critical illness and made a habit of asking them what had happened emotionally in their lives just prior to their diagnoses.  In every case, he wrote, the patients were able to describe a stressful situation they believed contributed to their illnesses or traumas.

 

Then Michael experienced a neurological episode of his own. 

 

The diagnosis was MS.

 

It was a turning point for him because the diagnosis motivated him to pursue his passion for writing and leave his prestigious Harvard medical residency behind -- a very irrational move on the surface, but one which eventually led to his phenomenal success. 

 

In my opinion, it is also what kept him healthy.

 

Michael died in late 2008.  I have never been the type to contact celebrities, but I always meant to at least try to contact him to thank him for writing so candidly about MS in his book.  His words were the only words of hope I had at the time.  He gave me the gift of seeing a different outcome than the picture everyone else was painting.  He gave me the gift of optimism.

 

I believe he also gave me years and years of health, and the courage to pursue my own dreams.

 

Some now debate whether Michael really had MS.  And it's also true that he died of cancer in his mid-60's.  Neither of these are relevant to me though.  What matters is that his courageous response to a scary situation was to follow his passion -- despite his prognosis with MS, and what everyone else advised him to do.  How many of us would act the same?  How many of us even have the courage to follow our dreams without the crisis of a health scare?

 

So I guess all I really want to say here is a belated thank you.  Since I cannot thank Michael directly, I hope that the Universe will direct at least one person the words he or she needs to hear when faced with a scary prognosis or life transition.  Perhaps this will even happen through this blog.  Who knows?

 

Stranger things have happened.

 

Have you experienced synchronicity in your life?  Have you heard the exact words you needed to hear from complete strangers at just the right time?  Or have you met people who almost magically provided exactly what you were looking for?  I would love to hear your stories ...

Dreams & Intuition: The Story of Pan and Syrinx (or, how I learned about MS-related syringomyelia)

 

Beyond the threshold of consciousness lies the infinite heart of the awaiting dream.  To touch that sacred part of the mystery is to know the eternal aspects of BEING.

    -- Joaquin Muriel Espinoza

 

Long before I became an attorney during another period of profound transition in my life, I hired a dream coach to help me tap into my own intuitive knowledge via dream interpretation.   It was one of the best investments I've ever made.

 

Nevertheless, life gets busy and it is easy to forget/ignore knowledge we have previously learned.  One of the benefits of losing my job has been that I now have a lot more time to pay attention to my dreams and intuition.  I've been keeping a dream journal lately.

 

Earlier this month, I had a disturbing but memorable dream about a tattoo covered half-man, half-beast whom I did not recognize in the dream but called "Pan" upon waking.  The troubling part about the dream was that although this creature and I never touched, I awoke in a state of puzzled arousal -- and this beast was pretty ugly, believe me!

 

The next day, I went to my previously scheduled appointment for an MRI of the spine.  Even though I've had MS for more than 20 years and have long known about the dozens of white matter lesions in my brain, this was my very first MRI of the spine.  It turns out that in addition to having MS, I now have what is referred to as a "syrinx" (or syringomyelia)-- a rarely occurring cavity in the spinal cord (from T4 to T12, in my case) which will likely expand over time and destroy the center of my spinal cord.  Symptoms of syringomyelia vary depending on the location of the cyst, but typically include pain, weakness, sensory impairment and stiffness in the back, shoulders, arms or legs.  Severe cases may result in paralysis, and the only treatment is spinal surgery, after which the syrinx may reoccur.

 

In other words, a reasonably frightening diagnosis.

 

But I have been through this before.  When I was diagnosed with MS in 1991, there was no effective treatment, and I was essentially told to prepare for life in a wheelchair. 

 

I am still walking.

 

This time, though, I had never even heard of the term "syrinx" before, so I got online and did lots of research.  I learned that syringomyelia is likely just a side effect of MS related spinal cord damage.  Since the symptoms of syringomyelia are so similar to MS, it is not surprising that I have only just now learned of the syrinx. 

 

But the more interesting part of my research was my discovery of the myth of Pan and a nymph named "Syrinx."  All of a sudden, my dream of Pan the night prior to the spinal MRI made sense.

 

Pan, the god of the fields and forests, symbolizes lust and the savagery in Man.  He is usually represented with some of the attributes of the goat.  (Incidentally, I was born in the Chinese year of the Goat, and my astrological sign is Sagittarius -- the Centaur certainly resembles Pan.)

 

According to Ovid, Pan fell in love with the Arcadian nymph Syrinx, who had until then eluded the pursuit of both satyrs and gods and was known for her chastity.  Syrinx also scorned Pan's advances and refused to take him as a lover, as he was neither man nor goat.  The god tried to rape her, but she ran to the stream of the river Ladon in western Arcadia.  No longer being able to escape, she asked to the nymphs of the river to change her form.  Listening to her prayers, the nymphs turned her into marsh reeds.  So when Pan wished to hold her, there was nothing left of her except the reeds and the sound which the air produced in them. 

 

On hearing this sound, Pan was charmed, and thinking of the nymph, said to himself in triumph:  "This converse, at least, shall I have with you."  And joining reeds of different sizes, he invented the musical instrument that was named syrinx after her, or sometimes the Pan flute, after the god himself.

 

 

 

What does any of this have to do with my syrinx diagnosis?  To me it just illustrates how clever our subconscious minds really are.  I had never heard of the nymph Syrinx before, but I did know about Pan.  In my dream, as in the myth of Pan and Syrinx, the half-beast was a would be rapist.  And as in the myth, I remained as untouched as the nymph in my dream, despite Pan's best efforts.

 

The nymph Syrinx literally transformed herself in order to preserve her integrity and escape from Pan.  I now have a cavity in my spine -- a syrinx -- but it may just have the capacity to play some beautiful music if I cooperate with my transformation like the nymph did.

 

Have you ever felt emotionally supported or empowered by a dream?  Have your dreams provided courage and inspiration, or symbolic messages that your logical mind would never have otherwise discovered?  Have you had dreams, the symbology of which was only later was revealed in your waking life?