Lady with the Cane.com

Photo by  Joe Zlomek  on  Unsplash Incontinence. I know I talk about it a lot. It’s something I stress over every day. A friend of mine used the word incontinence once to describe a strange physical symptom she experienced. Because of her habitual hypochondriac tendencies, I really thought little of it. We were impressionable college students looking for  IT . Cheers to the  IT  we never found. Fast-forward too many years: I have had to learn to deal with many humiliations since D-Day, but this is the most alarming. When the word popped up again upon diagnosis, I immediately cringed in sympathy for anyone who experienced such a degrading, animalistic situation. And then I realized I HAD experienced incontinence and thought it was because of a UTI, for which I was prone. It is not uncommon for me to not quite make it to the toilet on time or even recognize the urgency of the need. In the early days with the MonSter, and even now, I am not comfortable in strange settings if I haven’t loc

                                                      September 2011 brought a new challenge for me as a public educator. I was to teach seventh grade for the first time. One would think that this could not possibly be much different than the eighth graders to whom I was accustomed; but, any instructor of middle-grade students is aware of the maturation occurring within the bodies and minds of these youngsters. It was only for one year that I added a class of seventh-graders to my curriculum. I needed a new idea or two in designing my daily lessons. A solution came to me early on. This group of seventh graders was particularly bright. After only two weeks of participating in ou8r weekly Friday Journal Sharing, a student had the audacity to ask me  to share my writing with the class.  "We know you're writing, Mrs. McCombs. You've even got a special journal to write in," James said. "And sometimes I see you laughing at what you're writing." The perceptive

https://www.facebook.com/WalkMS?utm_source=MC&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=fy20-walk-eng-virtual&utm_name=fy20-walk-virtuallogistics&utm_content= My MS Walk was supposed to be this weekend in Morgantown, WV. I say my MS Walk as if it belongs to me. I am only a small portion of the total participation.  If you've never attended such an event, you're missing out on a day of fun fellowship, hope, and positive energy. MS Warriors, physical therapists, support groups, friends and family, and concerned citizens all gather to share in their support for a cause that has become very dear to me. I participated in my first MS Walk in the 1980s, long before my diagnosis. In fact, I had no idea what MS was. As an aerobics instructor at the local wellness center, I was invited to construct a team to participate in this fundraiser located at our state capital. It sounded like a great girls' weekend.  We petitioned our friends and colleagues for donations

Hugging. Isn't it great? Whether I am canoodling with my anti-affectionate cat, a friend,  or my hubby, there is no doubt that a good hug is the perfect remedy to soothe and inspire a positive outlook. Except when that hug comes in the middle of traffic on a busy freeway...and you are behind the wheel. Yeah, traffic and hugs don't really mesh. The first MS hug I experienced was after the birth of my son. I can identify it now. Back then I was concerned that my pregnancy had caused some unknown internal condition that required further medical attention. The hugging sensation occurred every time I got behind the wheel of my car. I had to adjust and re-adjust my posture constantly in an attempt alleviate the persistent pressure around my rib cage. I would take deep breaths and arch my back, roll my shoulders back and forth,  and basically perform an assortment of yoga poses all while doing my best to appear normal to any  curios glances. It was after many years of spo