Lady with the Cane.com

It's been a week since the memorial. It was two weeks ago when I last talked to her. I think I am ready to talk about it; but I will never be ready to accept it. Kind of counterproductive in the reality department, don't ya think? One cannot die from multiple sclerosis. That's what they tell us, but I believe these words less and less. Ironically her last words to me were " Love you.Thanks for all the goodies!" My last words to her were "we don't do this." Real inspirational, huh? I didn't know what else to say to her. I didn't know this was  my last  opportunity to visit with her. At the memorial service, her family did not wish for anyone besides the pastor to speak. I respect that decision and am actually glad for it. There were so many people there. We had to mourn in our own way. I need to talk about her now, though. She was my friend and little sister; related not in blood but in an age-old bond developed when I was dating her brother y

It's been a week since the memorial. It was two weeks ago when I last talked to her. I think I am ready to talk about it; but I will never be ready to accept it. Kind of counterproductive in the reality department, don't ya think? One cannot die from multiple sclerosis. That's what they tell us, but I believe these words less and less. Ironically her last words to me were " Love you.Thanks for all the goodies!" My last words to her were "we don't do this." Real inspirational, huh? I didn't know what else to say to her. I didn't know this was  my last  opportunity to visit with her. At the memorial service, her family did not wish for anyone besides the pastor to speak. I respect that decision and am actually glad for it. There were so many people there. We had to mourn in our own way. I need to talk about her now, though. She was my friend and little sister; related not in blood but in an age-old bond developed when I was dating her broth

When twelve year old Abigail Van Buren Masterson (yep, named after the infamous advice columnist) is told that she is going to attend the same school and live in the same town FOR-EVER, she is thrilled. This means that her BFF might actually take human form and she will no longer need to rely upon her diary to perform that duty. Wow and viola! She and her younger brother will have their own bedrooms and life might be normal. But, then she discovers that the reason for this magnificent life change is that her mother has an incurable disease. This incurable disease is Multiple Sclerosis. Last night the world lost a wonderful person to the complications of MS. The world is a darker place without the light and joy that my friend Jamie offered with her genuine smile and positive presence. Forty percent of all sales of my YA novel Abby will be donated to the National Multiple Sclerosis Society in honor of Jamie (Feltz) Riley.  Thank you, Jamie, for being my friend.

Y'know, there are no guarantees in life. That is not breaking news, but the reality of it just stinks. No one promises that we will grow old to see our children graduate, marry, procreate. There is no security in knowing that our friends will always be only a phone call away. Our favorite authors cannot be depended upon to roll out our favorite characters on a regular schedule nor can we depend on favored entertainers to perform for us. And summer cannot go on "just one more week." Two weeks ago I could never imagine such a drastic change in my own life. When I discovered that one of my oldest (not chronologically; she's actually mush younger than I) friends was vacationing in the hospital for her third visit in a month, I immediately hit the highway in hopes of offering positive energy and words of encouragement. Jamie was diagnosed not long after I was, but with a much more emphatic announcement. I actually felt guilty visiting her, knowing that my MS had never reac

Y'know, there are no guarantees in life. That is not breaking news, but the reality of it just stinks. No one promises that we will grow old to see our children graduate, marry, procreate. There is no security in knowing that our friends will always be only a phone call away. Our favorite authors cannot be depended upon to roll out our favorite characters on a regular schedule nor can we depend on favored entertainers to perform for us. And summer cannot go on "just one more week." Two weeks ago I could never imagine such a drastic change in my own life. When I discovered that one of my oldest (not chronologically; she's actually mush younger than I) friends was vacationing in the hospital for her third visit in a month, I immediately hit the highway in hopes of offering positive energy and words of encouragement. Jamie was diagnosed not long after I was, but with a much more emphatic announcement. I actually felt guilty visiting her, knowing that my MS had never r

I have fallen twice today. Both the same way, in the same room, and injuring the same body parts. The side of my right foot is bruised, swollen and sore. My left knee, still raw and skinned after falling off of my bicycle yesterday (yep, that innocent looking adult trike at the bottom of the page), is now bleeding anew and my elbows are throbbing. I am very, very weary of falling. And I do not just fall, daintily to the ground. When I fall I get my money's worth. One minute I am standing just fine, with not a worry in the world...and in the next second I am propelled through space and am on my knees, my butt, my face, my back...wherever gravitational force takes me. It's as if there is some invisible magnet that draws me to the earth, sometimes in slow motion; often with the speed of sound. It is unpredictable, unnerving, humiliating, and frightening. I never know when it will happen or what my personal response will be. Already NOT looking forward to returning to my teacher jo

I have fallen twice today. Both the same way, in the same room, and injuring the same body parts. The side of my right foot is bruised, swollen and sore. My left knee, still raw and skinned after falling off of my bicycle yesterday (yep, that innocent looking adult trike at the bottom of the page), is now bleeding anew and my elbows are throbbing. I am very, very weary of falling. And I do not just fall, daintily to the ground. When I fall I get my money's worth. One minute I am standing just fine, with not a worry in the world...and in the next second I am propelled through space and am on my knees, my butt, my face, my back...wherever gravitational force takes me. It's as if there is some invisible magnet that draws me to the earth, sometimes in slow motion; often with the speed of sound. It is unpredictable, unnerving, humiliating, and frightening. I never know when it will happen or what my personal response will be. Already NOT looking forward to returning to my teach

A French neurologist named Jean Martin Charcot was the first person that actually recognized  Multiple Sclerosis  as a disease in the year of 1868. That was probably a very forward thing to do, considering that as recently as the 1950's individuals were still being institutionalized for their inexplicable symptoms. I can only imagine the number of men and women who were condemned as witches during those days in Salem. (This actually sounds like a good research topic. Hmmm...) I thank Jean Martin Charcot, though, for stepping up to the plate and announcing to the world that Multiple Sclerosis is a documented disease. For anyone who was aware of this proclamation at the time,   I am certain that their appreciation was strongly felt. Unfortunately, even with medical documentation, MS is still ridiculed as a "catch-all" for all of the unexplained symptoms and actions associated with the mysteries of the condition. I am so excited to be seeing my original neurologist in a few

A French neurologist named Jean Martin Charcot was the first person that actually recognized  Multiple Sclerosis  as a disease in the year of 1868. That was probably a very forward thing to do, considering that as recently as the 1950's individuals were still being institutionalized for their inexplicable symptoms. I can only imagine the number of men and women who were condemned as witches during those days in Salem. (This actually sounds like a good research topic. Hmmm...) I thank Jean Martin Charcot, though, for stepping up to the plate and announcing to the world that Multiple Sclerosis is a documented disease. For anyone who was aware of this proclamation at the time,   I am certain that their appreciation was strongly felt. Unfortunately, even with medical documentation, MS is still ridiculed as a "catch-all" for all of the unexplained symptoms and actions associated with the mysteries of the condition. I am so excited to be seeing my original neurologist in a