Ambivalence, Thy Name is Hand Controls (in my Car)

Yesterday was a true lesson in ambivalence. As you may have figured out by now, I have trouble walking, thus my use of a variety of walking aids--a cane, walker, and electric scooter based on the distance and terrain involved. I've long accepted that I need help walking, but yesterday I finally had to accept the fact that I needed help driving.

My leg troubles are mostly concentrated in my right leg. MS doesn't cause muscles themselves to become weak. The nerve connection between your brain and certain muscles malfunctions, and in my case, it's my right hip flexor and hamstring. This prevents me from being able to swing my right leg forward when I'm walking, or lifting my heel behind me. Unfortunately, this was starting to affect my ability to switch my foot between the gas pedal and the brake, which is obviously a dangerous proposition when driving--especially with my precious cargo (a.k.a. two kiddos) in the back. So my husband and I bit the somewhat hefty monetary bullet, and I took my car to get hand controls installed.

The hand controls are actually pretty awesome. It's a lever of sorts that connects through metal poles to the pedals. When I push forward, it engages the brake, and when I push down, it engages the accelerator. I also got a spinner knob installed on the steering wheel so I could turn it all the way around while turning and using the speed/brake lever. I'm still getting used to it, but it's a great tool that definitely makes me feel more confident--and safe--while driving.

However, it's a stark reminder that every year, my MS gets a little worse. The ability to drive is no less a representation of freedom for me now as a 39 year-old as it was when I was 16. Think about all the things you do every single day that require you to drive somewhere. For me at the present time, that involves typical mom stuff: taking the kids to school/daycare, to tae kwon do, going to the supermarket, hair and medical appointments, etc. For work, I use my car to attend chamber events like committee meetings and social mixers, interviews for my Homeland Security Today column, meetings with potential clients, courts to provide testimony, and site visits for conducting research.

I've never minded driving, until recently. I grew up with parents who enjoyed getting in the car and exploring the local area just to find someplace new to see. When I was a kid, we drove from south Florida to Canada every few years for a 3-week vacation so we could stop several times along the way to see the USA. During college, I commuted between a part-time job in the morning, my university in the afternoons and evenings for class, and a second university mid-day to attend my ROTC functions and classes, all 40 minutes from my home. Needless to say, I was saddened by the fact that driving had become something to be concerned about; not really to fear, but something to cause apprehension.

The hand controls have taken care of that, but like my walker, they're one more daily reminder that my body is broken. That sounds really depressing, and I assure you that's NOT my whole outlook on life. I think it's just something that we disabled/handicapped/physically-challenged (whatever) people universally feel either at some point or constantly. And I suppose that's where the ambivalence lies: here's a system we can afford that makes my life easier and safer, but at the same time it makes me sad.

For now, I'm trying to focus on the fact that my children are now safer when they're in Mommy's car, and I can once again look forward to driving to my chamber events, meetings, and interviews. Rental car agencies have cars in their inventories with hand controls installed, so when I travel I don't have to stress out about not being able to drive an unfamiliar car with pedals in tough-to-negotiate spots--or getting strange/worried looks from the agency staff. So if you're driving in Tucson and you see the black SUV with the big magnets advertising Border Insecurity on the side, know that there's one more driver in town doing everything possible to drive more safely.

Rejoicing in the Ability to Teach Others

There's a saying that those who can, do, and those who can't, teach. I always smile when I hear this because it applies to me in a completely different way than the creator of the saying intended.

I teach as part of my consulting business. I travel all over--but mostly in the southwest border states--to teach mostly police officers about Mexico's drug war and border security issues. Many of these cops are very familiar with the drug business at the tactical level, but aren't aware of the broader issues involved in how those drugs got from Mexico into their neighborhoods. I love teaching these classes because (a) I get to travel and meet new people, and (b) it's one of my biggest professional challenges. Have you ever tried to teach a room full of cops? It's a tough crowd; I know because I used to be a law enforcement officer, so I know how they think. There's a lot of peer pressure to appear to know almost everything, and it can be perceived as a sign of weakness to ask a question; it means you actually don't already know everything the instructor is putting forth.

Sometimes I get a few laughs at my jokes, and sometimes I get crickets. I'll usually get very few signs
regarding my performance until after I'm done, when inevitably I get a group of students wanting to ask me questions in private or tell me how much they loved the class. It makes for a long day for me. I usually don't sleep well the night before a class, which activates my MS symptoms and already starts my day off with an unhappy body. Even though I get to sit for the whole class, I have to mentally focus on my material for a full eight hours and try to be as enthusiastic and engaging as possible with slides I've lectured on dozens of times before. Again, it's one of my biggest challenges, but I absolutely love doing it.

What many people don't know is that I also have the privilege of teaching my children. Our older son is in private school now, but when he was about 3 ½ years old, I started homeschooling him at the pre-school--and later the pre-K--level. At the time, my husband and I were considering homeschooling both our kids for their elementary years, and I wanted to start with the basics as soon as I felt they were ready. I have never been more intimidated to teach anyone in my life! I know that sounds crazy; I have a master's degree and graduated with honors from both college and graduate school. I teach cops for a living, for goodness sakes! And here I am, afraid of screwing up in the process of teaching a 3 year-old his letters and numbers. Yet, it happens to thousands--if not tens or hundreds of thousands--of women every year who embark on homeschooling their kids.

But you know what? It all worked out, and it ended up being one of the biggest joys of my life. Partly because my older son responded so well, and because it was such a fun bonding experience for the two of us for those three hours a week we did school at home. However, it was also partly due to the fact that it was something I was easily physically able to do with my son. My husband gets all the credit for the fun physical stuff: playing in the pool, riding 4-wheelers outside in the desert scrub, wrestling on the living room floor...you get the picture. Here was something that not only I could do by myself with our son, but something he enjoyed and something I was actually pretty good at.

Today I'm thinking of these things because I'm starting the process all over again with our younger son. We ended up sending our older son to private school because my MS has progressed considerably since we originally considered me fully homeschooling him, and the school he attends can teach him much more effectively than I can. But I gave him a great foundation for loving books, math, science, and just learning in general. He was reading at almost a first-grade level before he first stepped foot in a classroom, and for that I unabashedly take full credit. Our younger son is a different cat altogether. He and his brother have a lot in common, but their personalities are fundamentally different. While he's a very smart cookie in his own right, I find myself feeling those old insecurities and fears: will he like school with Mommy? Will he pick up the concepts easily, or will he struggle? Will he look forward to school time, or will he get bored and fight me on it?

I guess these questions are only a little different than the ones I ask myself before a work-related class. I know not every student is going to love me, but I still inherently want them to be there and have at least some interest in what I'm teaching. But the fact remains that I am incredibly grateful that I have the physically ability to just teach. Whether I'm sitting in a chair or on a stool in a classroom, or a little kiddie seat next to my son's Disney Cars desk in his room, I rejoice in my ability to share my knowledge with others. I still don't know if cops or toddlers are my toughest audience, but I will always work hard to bring them around.

Disappointment and Surprises at My First Press Conference

If you're not entirely familiar with what my job entails, in a nutshell, I'm an analyst. I do write for Homeland Security Today magazine regularly and for other outlets, so sometimes people think I'm a journalist. Trust me, I'm not. I don't write breaking news or front-page stories, I don't have a degree in journalism, and I'm not on the front lines of events as they happen at 3am like real reporters. I do, however, aggregate those kinds of stories and provide my analysis of what a string of events, for example, means in the grand scheme of things.

That being said, I'm not above playing the role of journalist on occasion when the opportunity to insert myself in the middle of "news" presents itself. I can't remember exactly how, but I got word on Tuesday that the newly-appointed DHS Secretary Jeh Johnson was going to be in southern AZ on the 22nd (yesterday) and giving a press conference at the Border Patrol sector headquarters here in Tucson--about a 25-minute drive from my house. I said, Hey, I need to get in on this! I called HQ DHS to get more information on the visit from their public affairs people, then contacted my friend/public affairs officer at Sector HQ to get all the details. With some quick work by my editor at HSToday, I got my press pass and digital recorder in order on Wednesday.

Then Murphy's Law struck. The antibiotic I had been taking for a sinus infection was NOT being nice to my stomach, so I was in bed most of Wednesday morning and wondering if I'd be able to make the press conference. NOOOOO!!!, I was thinking. I was so excited about the opportunity and I might miss it! I had even planned to speak to my good friend Farrah Fazal, a reporter for KSDK in St Louis with whom I had worked extensively while she was a reporter in south Texas at KRGV. She was going to tell me what to expect and what I should wear, and now I had to make a last-minute call on whether or not to leave the house.

Fortunately, around noon I started to feel better, even though I had only gotten about three hours of sleep the night before and my MS (and thus my body) was NOT happy about that. My awesome husband, who normally would have advised me to stay in bed and rest, really encouraged me to go. He said it was a great opportunity, and he was proud of me for pushing through the fatigue and nausea to make it happen. I just prayed I wouldn't pass out while unloading my heavy electric scooter parts (from not eating much for three days) or dry heave in the middle of Secretary Johnson's speech; talk about making an impression.

When I got there, I was able to get situated quickly, and felt pretty good. I had the wonderful surprise of finally meeting in person two "real" journalists with whom I had been communicating on border issues for quite some time! I got a great spot for the actual press conference, and I got good pictures and audio of the 12-minute speech and Q&A session. I didn't get picked to ask a question, and for that I was disappointed, but I know it happens. Then I got another surprise on my way out.

One of my journalist friends was passing in front of my car, so I honked my horn to get his attention to say goodbye. In the process, I also got the attention of several other reporters who noticed the big magnets on my car doors advertising my forthcoming book, Border Insecurity. This REALLY piqued their interest, so we started exchanging business cards, and JD Wallace from KOLD Channel 13 News asked for an interview on the spot! So I got out of the car, got my walker out of the trunk to use for some stability, and we chatted on camera for a few minutes. The piece aired at 10pm last night, and while it got cut short due to a fatal pedestrian accident the crew got called off to, it was GREAT to finally get noticed by the local media! I'm planning on inviting several local reporters to the book's release party in April, so it'll be more motivating for them to attend if they can put a face with the name.

Because I'm not a reporter and don't get media advisories for meetings and conferences like this, it can be a challenge to get sufficient notice so I can make arrangements to go to these things. However, as yesterday proved, it's well worth the trouble, and on top of everything else, the whole thing was scooter- and walker-friendly :).

Navigating Socials & Mixers: Gauntlets, Good Times, Kind People

I LOVE a good social. Maybe it's the Cuban in me; I have yet to meet a shy Latino/a, and I'm anything but a wallflower. However, going to a social event always fills me with a mixture of anticipation and dread: anticipation because of the cool people I'm probably going to meet and the business connections I could make; dread because of the unknown physical obstacles I may have to negotiate in full view of people I've never met.

I have to preface this post with a note that, as a technically disabled person, I have ZERO expectations from anyone. Well, that's not entirely true. I know there are some legal requirements for certain businesses and/or government offices to be handicap accessible, but I always go to a new place thinking I'm going to have to negotiate some obstacles by myself, in case there's no one there I can ask for help. I've always been an independent person, and while my husband is the most amazing caregiver EVER and I always accept help from him, it's different when I'm out on my own. I expect to rely on myself and adjust as necessary when one path isn't available to me, not get angry and think about suing some restaurant because they didn't spend tens of thousands of dollars to build a ramp for the few people like me.

As a member of both the Tucson Hispanic Chamber and Tucson Metro Chamber, I attend a lot of mixers, socials, luncheons, and meetings (To the right is a picture of me and my friend Georgia Howe of BeachBody Fitness at one of the Hispanic Chamber's monthly luncheons). Tucson has a million restaurants and meeting places, and some of them have been around a long time--i.e. are not handicap accessible. I attended a holiday mixer at the Tucson Scottish Rite, where I had to climb a flight of marble stairs to get to the meeting area. Let's just say stairs, while doable, are NOT my favorite things. But guess what? The VERY kind gentleman who was directing cars in the parking lot carried my walker up the stairs for me when I arrived, was patient and conversational while I used my left hand/arm to physically put my left foot on the next step for 15 steps, and carried the walker back down for me at the end of the meeting. I went to a mixer at the original--i.e. old--El Charro Cafe, which had numerous steps and a tiny little room where all the food was. With a little bit of muscle and people kindly giving me room, I was able to get some food and maneuver my way into a seat for the evening. As a side note, the seat on my walker is invaluable as a platform for holding my plate at buffets and cocktail receptions. At the Hotel Congress--i.e. another old landmark--I also had a few steps to maneuver when I arrived, but I managed by taking my time, as usual, and not assuming that everyone in the room was staring at the girl with the orange walker with green ghost flames up the sides.

I'm a very cynical person, and one of the few things that helps me maintain some faith in humanity is the kindness of total strangers. Yes, the people I surround myself with at these events are business professionals and active members of the Tucson community, so I could have a higher expectation of how they would treat me; but they're still people. Fortunately, both here and when I travel to provide training or give presentations, I'm treated with kindness and generosity pretty much everywhere and by a wide variety of people. People often ask if I had surgery because (a) I have a cuff on my right leg (my WalkAide), and (b) it's weird for a 39 year-old to use a walker. I often tell them I got shot by a drug smuggler, and after they chew on that shocking news for a few seconds, I tell them no, I just have MS, but the first story is much more fun. Believe it or not, they get a kick out of that joke, and it helps them get over the awkwardness of figuring out what to say if I just tell them I have MS. I'm tempted to worry that people feel sorry for me (which they shouldn't) or that they wouldn't be in such a rush to help me if I weighed 500 pounds and was really ugly, but I push those thoughts out of my head when they come and am just grateful when people offer to help.

By now, I've been a member of both chambers of commerce for about six months and have attended enough socials and meetings (I'm a member of the Metro Military Affairs Committee and the Latino Education Committee) where most active members have at least seen the "girl with the walker" (yes, I'm 39 and like to think of myself as a girl). I feel like if I can forget about having MS while I'm having a typical business-card-exchange conversation, then so can the people I'm talking to. Hopefully, to them, I'm just another small business owner out to make new friends and connections and learn how to grow my business. I get plenty of help and consideration along the way, but I think I'm doing an okay job of fitting in just like everybody else.

When Writing Means You Really Have to Write

I'm pretty proud of my handwriting. Unless I'm in a huge hurry, I usually write in all capital letters--a tendency I share with my father and brother, who use a neat and very cool-looking block text. But as a writer in the 21st century, unless you're extremely traditional or "old school," there's not much need to handwrite anything. I "write" my grocery list on my iPhone because it's easier to delete things once they're in my cart, rather than scratch them off with a pen. I send a lot of text messages and emails, my outlines and articles are all done on Word, and while I religiously write thank-you notes for my kids' birthday gifts, that only happens once a year for each kid. I write rent checks once a month and paychecks for our nanny once a week, but those involve few letters and little time.

It's a good thing that I don't write much by hand because MS is starting to take a toll on my right hand's ability to write. For example, I had to go to an urgent care clinic the other day for a horrid sinus infection (you can read all about it a few posts back), which involved filling out those dreaded patient information forms. For the first page and a half, I was doing fine. By the end of the second page, my hand started feeling like jello and I had to slow down and work hard to prevent my form from looking like my five year-old filled it out.

This brings me to the task at hand. I am extremely excited, to put it mildly, about my book release party for Border Insecurity on April 22nd. I've ordered fifty VIP invitations that have all been folded neatly and include the gorgeous postcard inserts created by my wonderful marketing manager at Palgrave Macmillan. They just need a return address label (easy), a stamp (easy), and a beautifully written mailing address (not so easy). Most normal people wouldn't blink twice at something as simple as writing an address on an envelope, and I can only liken it to sending out wedding invitations. Many people actually hire a calligrapher to handwrite gorgeous addresses on their invitations because they feel it's that important. I can't equate this event to a wedding--more like a birthday party, if anything--but these invites are going to elected congressional, state, and local officials, law enforcement commanders, well-known local business executives, etc. They gotta look good!

So for now, my solution is to take my time, perhaps doing no more than ten envelopes at a time until my hands have had time to relax and regain a normal level of dexterity. The invitations aren't going out for another month, so fortunately I have time to make them look like the White House sent them :).

Exploring the Border by Electric Scooter

I'm not sure if US Customs and Border Protection (CBP) ever intended its ports of entry or highway checkpoints to be handicap accessible, but if they weren't before, I saw to it that they were a few months ago. I say that in jest, only because there are few places I can't reasonably wrangle my way into with my walker or electric scooter.

However, it was important on this occasion for me to have access to a few places because I was working on a feature story for Homeland Security Today magazine on CBP's canine program. A few weeks earlier, I had driven out to El Paso to visit one of the agency's two canine training facilities. On this day in early August, I was going to spend pretty much the entire day watching how CBP and US Border Patrol agents trained together with their drug dogs--in a warehouse, at the Nogales port of entry, and at the Tubac checkpoint on Interstate 19.

When I made the arrangements with the Tucson Sector Headquarters public affairs officer, I gave him  heads up that I would need to use my scooter, which comes apart into four pieces, and I would just need to ride in an SUV that had enough trunk space to fit it. Trust me, for Border Patrol, that was no problem! And thus began a long but awesome day that was typical of my first weeks here in Tucson, working to finish the last site visits and interviews for my new book and making connections for great columns for HSToday. I dropped off my older son at school, drove to sector HQ, scooted around the building with my escort to meet people, then across the parking lot to the warehouse to observe the training scenario. That's me in the middle of the picture with most of the agents training that morning. My scooter is just off-camera, and I'm (successfully) hiding my cane behind my right leg. The official sector photographer was kind enough to take this photo for us, which I used in one of my HSToday columns. Then, it was off to Nogales.

Let me tell you, by the time the day was over, my escort could take apart or put together my scooter in 60 seconds flat. I know this because we timed him! It was pretty awesome, and incredibly kind of him to do that for me over and over every time we stopped somewhere. I scooted around the vehicle inspection area of the Nogales port of entry, went inside the port offices to see their "trophy room," and took a look at some cars that had been recently taken apart to get to hidden compartments. Later at the Tubac checkpoint, I scooted behind the barriers to watch Border Patrol agents do their thing with the drug dogs as dozens of cars and trucks came through the lanes.

After a very eventful day, we headed home, where my escort transferred my scooter one last time into my trunk. Then I was off to pick up my son at school and head home, him not ever the wiser--and not really caring (in a nice way)--the adventure my scooter and I had experienced during one of Mommy's crazy work days.

Mami's Magic Mojo

One of the more common--and more useful--mantras for people with MS is to focus on what you CAN do, as opposed to all the things you can't. Sometimes I have days where I feel the second list is much longer than the first, so it takes an effort to switch that up. Often, it's the little accomplishments that make me feel really good about how I'm living with MS. Yes, I'm raising two great kids, yes, I have my own business and wrote two books. But gosh darnit, I can make mojo criollo all by myself!!!

Let me back up a little bit. If you didn't already know, my family is from Cuba, and I'm very fond of a  marinade commonly used with Cuban dishes called mojo (pronounced MOE-hoe). It's easy to find in Florida, but not so much here in Arizona. The key ingredient is bitter orange juice, which again is found easily in a Latin supermarket in Miami. However, I came across this rarity in the strangest of places.

In front of my son's school, there are about a dozen orange trees with no less than several hundred oranges brightly dotting their green leafiness. I asked the principal the other day what they did with all the oranges, thinking they donated them to a food bank or sold the juice to raise money for the school. She told me that sadly, they weren't edible. I asked her if they were--GASP!--bitter oranges, to which she replied that they were. She must have thought I was insane when I started freaking out with joy, then tried to calmly explain how they were a key ingredient for a magical Cuban marinade called mojo criollo. She promptly made arrangements to give me a box filled with oranges, and a few days later, my wonderful husband was squeezing away to make a pitcher full of the tart and pungent juice.


A couple of days after that, I set myself up to sit on my walker in the kitchen with all the ingredients and measuring devices laid out. I used a recipe from La Caja China website that was really easy to put together, and about an hour later, I made a big mess and four containers of mojo! After it sat for 24 hours in the fridge, the aroma was amazing. Since then, we've used it for marinating Cuban steak (thin-cut top round), pork chops, and chicken. They ALL turned out incredible! Again, it was one tiny little thing, but just the fact that I was able to put this simple marinade together by myself made me--and the rest of the family--pretty happy.

Now I Am Become Death, a Destroyer of...Sinuses?

Many of you have probably had a sinus infection at some point in your lives, and as miserable as they are for normal people, any kind of infection affects those of us with MS in completely different--and often worse--ways.

The underlying problem of MS is that my immune system recognizes parts of my nervous system as a foreign object, and every so often decides to attack it. I'm on medication to help modify my immune system to keep this from happening, but it's not a perfect method. This medication--a once-a-month IV infusion called Tysabri--has been working great for me, but it makes me more susceptible to things like UTIs and, yes, sinus infections. The last time I had one was in March 2012 while I was here in Tucson for the annual Festival of Books. I was in a hotel room by myself and wanted to die.

Unfortunately, after being sick with a bad cold for two weeks and finally on my way to getting better, I made a quick turn for the worse. I was able to get into an urgent care clinic and get a prescription for an antibiotic, but it generally takes about 24-48 hours to start noticing a real improvement. During that time, my immune system is not only attacking the infecting agent; it's attacking my whole body. My legs felt it the most; I could barely walk, and sometimes it took me ten minutes just to stand up because the severe spasticity was preventing my legs from bending at the knee. I couldn't even put my legs up on the couch without extreme difficulty, and changing position without having to move my legs with my hands was pretty much out of the question.

Needless to say, I was useless for a good day and a half, and thank God it happened on a weekend so my amazing husband could care for our kids. I had hoped to finish writing and submit my monthly column for Homeland Security Today, but that wasn't going to happen. I didn't even crack my laptop open for a full day, which is a rarity. I work from home and my "office" is a small desk in the corner of our family room, but most people hear/see the "Longmire Consulting" title of my business and think I'm a decent-sized operation. I'm known for being very prompt in returning emails and phone calls, but when an MS attack strikes, everything in my work life comes to a halt until I can function again. It's sometimes hard to explain via email to clients why I didn't respond, but I find that vast majority of people are very understanding when I explain what's going on.

Anyway, the Z-pack has fully kicked in, and I finally feel more like a normal person today. It'll be a relatively slow work week, and I'm looking forward to another fun Military MOPS meeting on Friday!

Good Things Also Happen in Threes

January 14th was a pretty incredible day. Not because it was sunny and cool--ideal conditions for having a good MS day--but because it was just one of those days where lots of good things happened. I had been looking forward to this day already because I would be attending the State of the State Luncheon, where AZ Governor Jan Brewer would be giving a big speech in front of roughly 400 fellow attendees. I was getting a big nervous because the Hilton resort that was hosting the luncheon is large, and I had a feeling I was going to have to navigate the crowds and banquet area with my scooter. I did, but it all worked out. I got a seat at the back of the room, where I was able to park the scooter against the wall only a couple of steps from my table. There was a LOT of standing up, for ovations, the Anthem, prayer, etc., and fortunately the people at my table were understanding when I only stood up for the National Anthem.

Later in the day, I got a really great contract offer from a major media outlet, and my go-to course on Mexico's drug war was approved for certification by the Arizona Peace Officer Standards and Training Board, which means I can market it as training for which law enforcement officers will receive professional development credit. It's rare that I have this many wonderful things going on in the same 24-hour period, but it makes me feel really good about the hard work I put into my little business, and definitely helps me forget for a little while about my physical shortcomings.

The Go Go Elite Travel Scooter vs. Polaris (kiddie) 4-Wheelers

Thank God for the Veterans Administration! I know a lot of veterans don't exactly feel that way, but I sure do. Not only did they provide me with my WalkAide electrical stimulation device for the drop foot on my right leg (otherwise known by my friend Ginny as the "zingy thingy"), but they also gave me an electric scooter. I cannot describe the freedom this scooter allows me, from being able to actually go to the mall to visiting the zoo and museums with our kids.

This, however, was an unexpected benefit. For Christmas, my in-laws gave our boys two battery-powered ATVs. They top out at 5 mph, but with boys being boys, I think they manage to squeeze out at least 1 mph extra during their outings in our very slightly rural Tucson neighborhood. My scooter is advertised to top out at 8 mph, and what better way to test the capabilities of these machines than to race my children?

I won't lie; this was a heck of a lot of fun! I just love that I can be a part of family walks, and now ATV rides around the neighborhood.

From Supermom to #MommyFail and Back

Greetings, and welcome to my latest writing endeavor...and experiment! I am a communicator. I love to write and to speak, whether it's to a captive audience or in conversation with interesting people. My professional expertise deals with Mexico's drug war and border security issues, and I write and speak a LOT about these issues in various forms. However, I never write and rarely speak about one of the biggest aspects of my life: the fact that I've had multiple sclerosis for over nine years, and it affects everything that I do. I was diagnosed while I was on active duty in the Air Force in January 2005, and was medically retired as a result six months later. My husband and I had just gotten married a few months earlier, so it really turned our new little world together upside down.

Fast-forward nine years later, and we're doing really well. We have two happy and healthy children, I run a successful home-based business, and we lead relatively normal lives. However, my day-to-day life is not really the norm. My MS has gone from the generally tolerable relapsing-remitting variety to the more aggressive secondary progressive form. I can't walk without some sort of device, meaning a cane, a walker, or electric scooter, depending on the distance and terrain involved. We have a nanny who helps me take care of our youngest son so he can have a normal childhood with trips to museums and the zoo, and the ability to play with someone outside while his older brother is in school.

Fortunately, my professional life hasn't really been impacted by my MS. My brain and hands work fine, which means I can write and speak clearly--two skills that are quite necessary for my line of work! TV interviews are usually shot from the chest up, so I'm perfectly capable of sitting in a chair and speaking to a camera. I have enough energy and endurance to teach a full-day class, even though I do have to teach from a chair or stool, and I can regularly attend events for the two local chambers of commerce here in Tucson of which I'm a member.

But make no mistake; this life isn't easy. I've come to accept that Daddy is the favorite parent, because while I can feed and bathe and clothe and teach my kids, he's the one who can swing them around, run races, swim in the pool, and go on hikes with them. I can participate in most family and school activities, but not all, and sometimes only from a distance. Traveling for my work is both a treat and a burden, requiring lots of planning, special accommodations, and adjustments to unforeseen circumstances. However, all this means I derive a great sense of accomplishment from tiny things: getting from one side of a gravel play area to another with a wheeled walker, successfully navigating a cramped and crowded formal luncheon in a scooter, and really believing--if only for a minute--that the person I'm talking to is completely oblivious to my disability.

I don't really know if I'm writing this new blog for myself or for others. Many people say journaling is a good outlet for anyone going on any kind of physical or emotional journey, and it's odd that as a writer, I haven't done this type of writing yet. I've been called "inspiring" by many people, but I find that both humbling, flattering, and embarrassing; many of my days are about surviving another 24 hours and not about projecting any sort of success story. That being said, overall I think I'm doing okay. I'm learning that with enormous amounts of support from my husband and children, family and friends, and even total strangers, I'm accomplishing a lot of things that many able-bodied people aren't, and that makes me proud. If my exploits, fumbles, joys, or tears can help someone else relate or get them moving in a better direction, then putting my daily journey with MS out there will definitely be worth it.