1.17.2019

How To Treat An MS Attack With Steroids And Lies


Steroids can fix this, right?


The day before deciding to start a high-dose course of prednisone to treat a flu-induced pseudo-relapse of my Multiple Sclerosis (MS), I went through my usual check-list of pros and cons. I’m familiar with the intense side-effects and general suckitude of steroids at this dose; and if I’m being real, I already knew I was going to take them, but examining the decision felt like the responsible thing to do. 

Cons
  • insomnia 
  • water retention
  • GI upset
  • sore throat
  • temporary insanity
  • my coffee (and everything else) will taste gross
  • I’ll be out of commission for at least a week
  • FOMO – I might miss my nephew’s b’day party
  • am I finally gonna get that fucking hump? 

Pros
  • warm feet and freestyle pees for a few days
  • maybe I can stop this slow-slide to the ground

The day before I pick up my script, I’m still struggling to convince myself that the decision to give steroids a shot makes more sense than to ride it out. I look for dramatic signs of worsening – the weakness and slowness that normally terrify me are now soothing me into believing I’m making the right decision by taking the poison. The magic potion of prednisone has worn off considerably since the days when it would booster-cable me back to my baseline. I’m dealing with a pseudo-relapse instead of an actual MS relapse, and my formerly malleable Relapsing Remitting MS (RRMS) has evolved into a clear case of Secondary Progressive MS (SPMS). A lot of doctors wouldn’t go near me at this stage with steroids, believing that the risks outweigh any potential benefit.

Which is easy for them to say, with their upright, functioning bodies and absence of need for Hail Mary interventions. 

But this fever-induced set-back had me and my doctor concerned enough to give it a shot. 

Here’s how it went down. 

The Day Before Treatment

I make a bone broth, and stock up on applesauce and ginger-ale knowing how badly steroids mess up my tummy. 

Get my hair washed, buy four new books, and go for brunch with The Banker so he can have a recent pleasant memory of me before steroids make me turn on him. 

still vain, tho


Day 1

I cover all the mirrors so I can remember my face as it was. 

This is my first time getting oral prednisone (as opposed to IV), so I text my blogger friend, Beth (Bethy Bright And Dark) to ask for tips, like what drinking games she suggests for swallowing 62.5 bitter pills in 15 minutes. She’s starting treatment the same day as me, and I feel like it would be fun to place bets on which one of us will cry first. 

Day one passes without incident, and feels similar to IV treatment. 

So far, so good.

15 minutes was not possible. It took me 59 minutes to choke these down.


Day 2

I wake up with a headache after 3 hours and 17 minutes of “sleep”, but my legs are so chill I can’t make them seize up if I try. 

My cheeks are pink and for once I don’t look like a corpse. 

I check in with Beth and learn that “Umbrella Holder” is a job you can pay someone to do when you need both hands on your rollator. I marvel at all the ways MS is creating jobs and fuelling the economy.  

Later, enraged about not being able to get up on a chair to reach a high shelf, I hurl an open box of chocolates into an upper kitchen cupboard. In defiance of physics most of the chocolates stay inside the box which only makes me angrier. 


Day 3

The sweet spot of treatment, I haven’t slept and I don’t care. 

My lack of spasticity is the bomb. 

My balance is drunker than normal and my bowels are MIA, but my feet feel gloriously fucking temperate. I decide (and say it out loud) that I would endure this treatment every couple of months just to have a day or two where my feet aren’t confusingly burning and freezing at the same time. 

Realizing I don’t own any red velvet pants, I go on a frenzied online shopping spree. This feels reasonable. 


Day 4 

My three day treatment is over. I do a timed walk that’s half a hallway less than the day before I started treatment. I feel too tired to have feelings about this. 

My new books are still in the bag; I’m too spacey and in pain to read or even watch TV, so I spend time staring at the wall, willing time to pass. 


Day 5

I wake up after 9 glorious (medically induced) hours of sleep.

After an actual bath I slather my legs in special-occasion Herm├Ęs body lotion, because sometimes not wanting to die can feel like a special occasion. 

Just as things are looking up, I watch 2 episodes of This Is Us and feel tricked into a meltdown. I cry my eyes out because Jack, and life, and the Big 3. And. I. Just. Can’t.  

I text Beth. It's a draw. She's melting down too. 


Day 6

My stomach feels like it’s bleeding and I question my ability to make good life decisions. I vow to God and Beth that steroids and I are never, ever, ever, ever getting back together. 

Decide that, for my suffering, I definitely deserve $700 Dior sneakers. 

Don’t actually buy the shoes. 

Maintain I deserve them. 


Day 7

I have to be somewhere at 8:00. In the morning. I knock over my bedside lamp and shatter the bulb into a literal trillion pieces just to give The Banker something extra to do at 7.15, while I lay limp and useless in bed. 

Finally decide to look in the mirror and fail to recognize my stretched and featureless face. 

Notice a new burning pain on my torso and convince myself I have shingles. (I don’t have shingles.) 


Day 8

I manage to leave the house despite feeling weaker and slower than I did before treatment. 

I eat a full meal, including leftover birthday cake from my nephew’s party (that I missed). 

I’m coming out of the effects of the drug, and it’s a huge relief – this was the hardest course of steroids I’ve ever done, but the treatment has failed me. 


Day 10

We have theatre tickets, so I pace myself all day, careful not to blow through too many steps. I take two breaks during the day to lie down for a full hour. 

Briefly wonder if it’s possible that steroids have actually made me worse, but feel too afraid to Google it.

The effort it takes to walk from the apartment to the street breaks me. 

On the way to the theatre I snap at The Banker and cry in the Uber. 


You can't even tell how psycho I am.

I told myself steroids would do something. And that part wasn’t a lie. The lie was that they would do something good. Some small thing to ease the burden of MS; to give me some fraction of increased strength or endurance – even if it’s just a taste; a temporary feeling of how it used to be, or a peek at what potential remains. 

The lie I told myself was that it was worth it. The lie I told myself was that my disease is still modifiable. The lie I keep telling myself is that I have some control or even influence over what direction this thing takes. 


Day 12

I continue to find pieces of shattered lightbulb in unexpected places. 

I appreciate that my coffee once again tastes like delicious coffee. 

I acknowledge that my brain on steroids doesn’t always tell me the truth. 

I try, try, try to believe that just because I’m not yet as strong or as fast I was 5 or 6 weeks ago doesn’t mean I can’t still get there. 

I count my blessings and pack my bikini. I’m spending the next phase of my recovery on a beach with people who love me. And if I can’t walk to the bar, I’ve got Optimus Prime and The Banker to support me. 











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1.01.2019

Resolutions To Ignore And Embrace When You Have MS




I love New Years, a holiday dedicated to glitter and gold, to getting dressed up and drunk and making out at midnight. It’s so ridiculously hopeful to believe the incoming year is going to be better, your best yet, when the logical part of you knows full well you’re gonna start the first day of that year with a splitting headache and barf in your hair. It’s even more deluded to expect better days when you’ve got a chronic progressive illness like Multiple Sclerosis. But here we are, liquored up on optimism (and liquor). 


I'm ready for you, 2019.

At the end of the year it’s natural to take stock of what we’ve accomplished and what’s left to do. When it comes to living with MS, it’s hard not to look back at the past and assess the damage. It can be harder still to look hopefully at an uncertain future. One where many of us are only daring enough to quietly ask the universe that we just don’t get worse.

When we do find ourselves ballsy enough to ask for more, we might be motivated by the feeling of running out of time. Bucket List items pile up with the pressure to do all the things that require strength and vitality 'while we still can'. 

But what’s so great about Bucket Lists and New Years Resolutions anyway? For many, these lists are filled with the things we think we should do, and not the things we actually want to do; the fantasy versions of our lives that feed our egos and let Instagram know just how cool we are.  

Buckets are for washing floors and occasionally vomiting into. They are poor vessels for the safe carriage of our most precious hopes and dreams.

You don’t need a bossy list to remind you of your unmet potential. That’s what parents are for. If you have a chronic illness like Multiple Sclerosis, I’m here to sift through some of the most popular resolutions; to figure out which ones are worth the Bucket List and which ones you can put on the Chuck It List. And if you don’t like it, that’s cool. Having MS should be an automatic pass on all the bullshit things you never wanted to do anyway.


2019 Resolutions: Bucket or Chuck it?


Learn To Meditate: Bucket
MS is stressful. And painful. And exhausting. Meditation can help relieve stress, the perception of pain, and fatigue. I’m a smart person and at least an average breather. So, why is it so hard for me to just close my eyes and move some air? Because, anxiety. Which is precisely why this is the year I’m actually gonna figure this out. 


This session happened Jan 17 and was my attempt at a resolution last year. My own mother just told me "thinking about stuff is just as good as meditation". By "stuff" she means shopping. Someone please keep me accountable.


Skydiving: Chuck It
A classic Bucket List item; they should call it sky-dying, because it’s basically a dress-rehearsal for a terrible and unnecessary death. I am well acquainted with the feeling of free-falling already, thank you very much. 

Alternative: Watch Alive in my centrally-heated apartment while enjoying some non-human based snacks.


Drink More Water: Bucket
It’s tempting to turn into a camel when dealing with a nagging MS bladder. But not getting enough H20 can worsen fatigue and lead to bigger problems than peeing your pants. UTI’s suck, can cause even more incontinence, and infections can lead to pseudo-relapses that can be difficult to recover from. The good news is that Drink More Water is the laziest, easiest resolution ever. If you wanna put something on a list that you can actually accomplish while feeling like a smug wellness expert, start carrying your glittery pink S’well everywhere, and talk annoyingly about how getting your 64 ounces has literally changed your life. 

Change Your Diet: It’s Complicated.
If you’ve got a chronic illness you’ve definitely had someone scream in your face about a miracle food-based cure. There are a tonne of plans that claim to positively impact MS, but there is no universally agreed upon diet. There’s exciting research happening in this area, but if you’re thinking about trying Swank, Wahls, Keto, OMS or whatevs, remember that 65% of vegans eat Burger King when they’re drunk. So. 


Learn a Language: It Depends.
Cognitive function can be a concern for people with Multiple Sclerosis, and one of the best ways to make your brain stronger is to learn a new language. Then again, we’ve all heard that English is the hardest language. If you’re still reading this, then congratulations. You already speak the hardest language. Even if you flunked high school English, you’re probably still pretty good. 

Alternative: Watch a foreign movie. Don’t worry. There are subtitles. Oh, you don’t even want to do that? That’s what I thought. 

Start Flossing: Bucket
Having MS means blaming all my problems on brain damage, but it turns out you can still get cavities when you have a chronic illness, and the only thing worse than having MS is having MS and needing a root canal. Plus, repeated use of prednisone can mess up the bones that support your teeth.   

See a Sunrise: Chuck It.
You know what’s better than a sunrise, right? Fucking sleep. Nerve pain and needing to pee, as well as 7 thousand other MS-related things, could already be contributing to insomniac nights and narcoleptic days. If you have MS, you need sleep more than your average bear. We heal when we sleep, and lack of quality z’s can contribute to problems of cognition, fatigue, balance, pain and bitchiness. 

Alternative: Re-watch Before Sunrise, and eat two bags of Sunchips. 

Life hack: This is a sunset. It's basically the same thing.


Exercise More: Bucket
Fatigue and muscle weakness can provide easy excuses for not prioritizing exercise when you have MS; and frankly, I look like an idiot wearing a Fit-bit. I know this because some confused Normal recently asked me why I wear one. Just because I use mobility aids to get around doesn’t mean I can’t have fitness goals, Joel. Measuring my steps helps me recognize MS trends. Not like cool, Chanel fanny-pack trends, more like personal disease progression trends. 

Climb A Mountain: Chuck It
I said exercise more, not exercise crazy. I don’t know why anyone would want to climb a mountain. I don’t even want to climb the stairs. Did you know it can cost upwards of $30k to climb Mount Everest, and you could DIE? 

Alternative: Literally anything that doesn’t cost money to be cold and maybe die. 


Stop Smoking: Bucket
Boo. Hiss. I hate you. I know. You already know smokers are jokers, and if it were easy to quit you’d already be doing it. I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, but apparently neither does your doctor; because according to some reports he’s afraid of you. But here’s why you should consider it. Smoking can make MS disease progression worse. Smoking can hasten the time it takes to go from relapsing remitting MS (RRMS) to secondary progressive MS (SPMS). The reallgood news is that quitting may delay MS progression. 



Sure, smoking looks cool, but it's just too risky.


Join A Club: Bucket
Feelings of loneliness and depression are 12 times more common in persons with MS. Loneliness can have as difficult and dangerous an impact as the worst of what Multiple Sclerosis can do. If you are struggling, look for resources. If you aren’t struggling, reach out to those who are, and protect yourself by investing in relationships and building your own social capital. 

Write A Book, Go Back To School, Take An Exotic Trip: Bucket
If you have MS, you got a raw deal. Let your dx give you permission to prioritize doing the thing you’ve always wanted to do. Don’t just put your dreams in a crappy old bucket. Realize that Someday isn’s a real day, and put your goals on project status.

Happy New Year, Trippers. What does 2019 have in store for you? 











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12.23.2018

My Worst MS Day. Ever. So Far.



Last Monday was my worst MS day. Ever.

I haven’t had a lot of ‘disease activity’ over the last year. Don’t get me wrong, Multiple Sclerosis affects me every day; but that’s old news, the stuff I’m used to. After coping with, and recovering from, a sudden decline in my mobility last Christmas, I spent most of 2018 feeling grateful for all the steps I’m still able to take, and proud of how I’ve been able to focus on what I can do, without obsessing over scary hypotheticals. 

It’s possible I’ve been a little too hasty in giving myself props. After all, I’ve had Multiple Sclerosis for a thousand years already; I should know a thing or two about living with chronic illness. MS is always going to be hard, but it’s relatively easy to keep your shit together when things are stable.

Of course, this is MS, and stable only lasts so long.

And so it was that last Saturday I woke up in New York City, in town for a Very Important Bestie’s Very Important Birthday, feeling only slightly rougher than usual. I blamed my heavy vocal cords on dry airplane air, a late night, and my attempts to channel Eminem at a karaoke dive-bar the night before. I didn’t have time to give my fatigue too much thought. I was in the Big Apple at Christmas-time and festivities were afoot. 

As the day wore on, it became harder to ignore the congestion that was building in my chest, but ignore it I did. There was no way I was going to be sick during a weekend in one of my favourite cities, to see one of my favourite people, at one of my favourite times of year. I threw on a red lip, shoved a wad of kleenex up my sleeve, and made the sign of the cross, before heading to my VIB’s VIB dinner at a legendary New York steakhouse.

What's her secret? That wristlet is full of caths and there are 18 tissues up my sleeve.

We arrived at the restaurant, ready for good times. There were three or four steps into the dining room, because big cities haven’t gotten the accessibility memo yet. This was annoying, but manageable. As The Banker tucked Optimus Prime, my convertible rollator into a corner, a friendly waiter helped me negotiate the stairs down to the table where our friends were waiting.

We had an amazing meal, my last pleasant memory of the weekend that would be cut short. By the time dinner was over, I knew with a sinking feeling that I was, for sure, coming down with something. What I didn’t know was just how badly whatever bug I was battling was about to start poking the MS that had been relatively quiet this past year, with a stick.  

Enter the pseudo-relapse. 

Unlike a true MS exacerbation that happens when there are new lesions on the brain or spinal cord, pseudo-relapses can be caused by things like infections, increases in body temperature, exercise, stress, lack of sleep, a butterfly flapping its wings. A pseudo-relapse wakes up old symptoms that may have resolved, or makes existing symptoms worse. And in my particular case, on this particular week-end, much fucking worse.

When it came time to leave the restaurant, those same stairs I’d negotiated with a cane and the arm of an anonymous man were suddenly impossible. In the span of a few hours I’d gone from prancing around Manhattan, shopping and posing for pics, to being carried up three stairs in a wheelchair by two burly men. Okay, one was a waiter, and the other The Banker. Neither were particularly burly.  

Though it was cold and drizzly and the hotel was 30 minutes away, I didn’t want to take a cab because I didn’t think I could physically get out of my chair to get into a car. So we walked. I mean, The Banker walked. And pushed. I sat, wrapped in the blanket I’d taken from the hotel, feeling defeated and small after the whole restaurant hoist, ready to sleep it off and start fresh the next day. 

But there was nothing fresh about the next day. 

As I lay in bed, flat on my back, my anxiety turned to dread when I realized I couldn’t sit up, turn over, or bend my legs. At all. I woke The Banker who pulled me into a seated position. As soon as he let go, I went crashing back down; both of us shocked to learn I couldn’t hold myself up. 

I knew I was running a fever, and figured I was getting the flu. I know what that can do to MS. But just because the pseudo-relapse isn’t a real relapse, doesn’t mean it can’t do real damage. Here's something I just happened to have read on Bart's MS a few days before my deep dive into a new level of disability.

“Every time you get an infection it causes your immune system to produce cytokines, or inflammatory messengers, that travel to the brain and boost(s) the activity of the microglia. The hot microglia then exacerbate the damage that MS is doing to your brain and spinal cord. This is why many of you tolerate infections so poorly and often don’t recover back to baseline after a severe infection.”

I’m not exactly a science girl, but it sounds to me like cytokines are Satan’s envoy, sent to provoke the hot microglia into a bar-fight in my brain. None of this is good. The possibility of not recovering back to baseline is what makes colds and flus such a freaking nightmare for people with MS. Like a real life visit from a very dark Dickensian ghost, for a few days this Christmas, I had a glimpse into a possible future where I am less independent (the gentlest way to put it). This past week-end, I got to try on what it feels like to have to ask for help. 


For Every. Single. Thing. 

I got to experience the uncomfortable dynamic of being dependent on my partner, of apologizing for things that are beyond my control, but I nonetheless feel responsible for. I felt the demoralization that comes with the constant please and thank you’s for things I never wanted to need.  


And I hated it.

Until this past week-end, I’d spent the past year feeling pretty kick-ass and mentally strong. I haven’t been wigging out over future disability day-mares. And now I suddenly find myself jolted back into consideration of a future that once again doesn’t feel so improbable. It’s a future that feels like it’s one step away instead of ten. And it’s just too hard to imagine. 

So I won’t imagine it. Or I’ll stop imagining it. Now that I’ve given voice to my fears, I must put them back in a box and light them on fire. As my flu symptoms began to resolve, my strength and independence blessedly began to return. I’m still recovering, and fingers crossed, I will get back to baseline. 

Today at least, I am okay. And that has to be enough. 













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12.04.2018

12 Of The Most Unique Gifts People With MS Want


It’s the gift giving season and if you have a chronic illness like Multiple Sclerosis, you deserve presents most of all, because stuff can’t cure MS, but it sure can make it suck less. 

The unconventional gifts people with chronic illness actually want.

Gift-giving when MS is involved can be challenging. What to get the person who has everything a debilitating brain disease? One year, The Banker temporarily lost his mind and gave me an enormous, Barney-coloured heated blanket, and I cried all the way to Christmas dinner. My love language is jewel-toned, but on like actual jewels. I hated that blanket so bad, and not just because it looked like a deflated cartoon dinosaur – I hated it because it was a sick-person present.

Wow, you’re a spoiled sucky baby. A heated blanket is a pretty thoughtful gift for someone who’s cold all the time. 

You’re not wrong. But just because I have MS doesn’t mean I’m not vain and superficial, preferring romantic gifts over practical ones. If the Barney blanket had come from anyone other than The Banker, I would have hated it less. 

I mean, probably. I really can’t stress just how purple it was. 

I know The Banker’s intention was to warm me up, but his choice of present didn't feel like I was the sexy wife he wanted to drown in perfume and drape in diamonds; it felt like I was the shivering consumptive he wanted to cover with a polyester tarp.

Obviously I need therapy, and maybe you do too. But therapy is expensive, and this gift guide is free. You won’t find crossword puzzles, mugs filled with hard candies, festive epsom salts, or any other geriatric gifts here. Christmas is a time for reckless indulgence; a time for drinking too much champagne, and putting pickles in trees; it is not a time for gifts that remind me I’m aging in dog years. 

Here are my top picks of the best, Tripper-approved gifts you didn’t even know you needed Santa to bring you this year. 


1. Clean Hair

Showering is hard, and the last thing I ever wanna do after risking my life in that slippery, upright, future-coffin is lift a blow-dryer to my head. Whether you have heat sensitivity, balance problems, muscle weakness, fatigue, or any and all of the above, showering requires scheduling and recovery time. Having someone else wash and dry my hair is a weekly luxury that feels like an energy-freeing life-changer.

Gift: Blow-dry package from a local salon. 


2. Buy Me A Drink

Every basic bitch’s chronic illness gift guide is gonna have tea on it. But do not come at me with a tired old box from the Hasty Market. I want fancy tea that comes with a tin and stern instructions not to over-steep it. This green tea is a major splurge, which makes it the perfect gift, because it’s the kind of thing you might not buy for yourself. Also, it comes from the tears of real dragons, or your money back (I assume). 

Gift: Jasmine Dragon Tears Tea, Gourmet Hot Chocolate, seven dollar lattes.


Good enough to bust out the wedding china.


3. Decision-Free Days

Do you ever feel like you will literally die one hour before dinner because you have no idea what to make and making that decision will end you, so you just stare at your phone for 157 minutes hoping Siri can figure it out, but she’s actually a useless cow, so you end up eating two saltines and an unwrapped Lifesaver you found at the bottom of your purse, before going to bed in your clothes? 

There is science to back up the theory that we have a limited amount of decisions in us per day, and that number is, for sure, lower if you have MS. 

Subscription services are all the rage because they save time and energy. You only have to choose how you want to stock your fridge or freezer once a month instead of every damn day. 

Gift: Food Box. My local favourites are Plan B Organic Farm and Butcher Box.

Festive bells will distract your best frenemy from the fact that you just gave them cabbage and called it a present.


4. Take-Out

Last night, The Banker told me how much he loved the turkey stroganoff I’d made for dinner. And I said, do you like it more than you like having sex? He didn’t feel safe answering, but the point is, if I’m making dinner I’m not making anything else. Dinner comes at a hard time of day, and no matter how much I’ve paced myself, I’ve already drained my battery. 

Gift: Gift cards to delivery services like Skip The Dishes or Foodora will free up your evening for more interesting pursuits. 

I'm all toasty inside.


5. Can I Get A Ride Share?

Whether MS has messed with your ability to drive, you’re sick of being the DD, or your outfit is too fancy for the bus to handle, having access to transportation provides major liberation. In cities like Toronto you can even get a wheelchair accessible Uber (WAV), or Uber Assist which offers independently trained drivers to help seniors or persons with disabilities.  

Gift: Ride service gift card.


6. Books You Don't Have To Read

Vision loss is a real thing for many with MS, and if you’re struggling to see, e-readers are great for letting you choose a font that most people could see from space. If holding a device and moving your eyes is still too much, Audible is a great way to get learned and kill all those hours in the infusion room without the risk of paper cuts. Isn’t it great to live in the future?

Gift: E-reader, Audible subscription.


Nobody needs to know you're reading about the sisterhood. Again.


7. Clean Base Boards

MS fatigue can interfere with your ability to stay on top of your laundry and your lunch prep, and even if you’re able to do some tidying and light housework, for many with MS, the deep clean is too daunting to ever truly get done. If you’ve only got energy for one thing a day, it shouldn’t have to be scrubbing the toilet.  

Gift: Gift certificate for housekeeping/cleaning service.


8. If You Can't Hide It, Decorate It

Chances are you need a briefcase to hold all your MS meds and supplements, but you also need a smaller vessel to shlep around whatever meds you might need to get you through the day. Opening your clutch or man-bag and pulling out an orange plastic bottle just feels so…medical. 

Gift: A pretty pill-case is a gift you can find at any price point. I’m currently coveting this one I found on Etsy. 


Hold up. I’m a dude. This is starting to feel like a chick’s list.


9. Regularity

If you’re a dude and you’re still reading this, and wondering what the heck Santa is supposed to bring you, remember that housework is also your responsibility. But if that’s not enough to get you excited, the Squatty Potty® will. I know what you’re thinking, this feels 100% like a sick person present. But that’s where you’re wrong, because according to my niece Abigail, Everybody Poops. It just might take a little more creativity when you’ve got MS. 

Gift: Squatty Potty.

It's a stool for your stool!

10. Hang Out

Technically, spending time with me doesn’t count as a gift, so make sure you bring lunch or a bottle of wine, maybe bake some cookies. Better still, take me Christmas shopping and offer to carry my shit, and rest at every bench. Or offer to push me in one of the wheelchairs you can borrow from the mall. 

Gift: You being cool, and me not having to ask for awkward things.


11. Walk The Dog

If you’re looking for creative ways to say Happy Festivus, a commitment to walking the dog on the snowiest of snow days, or to scooping the cat litter on any day – because gross – is an energy saving gift that has the added bonus of providing you and yours with an extra chance to see each other during the week.  

Gift: Pet Care.  

Who wouldn't want to hang with this bitch?

12. Cure It

The best gift anyone with MS could ever receive would be to not have MS, obvi. Despite the tremendous developments in MS treatments, we must not get the impression that MS is under control. It's not.  

Gift: Make a donation to an organization that supports persons with MS, or that funds MS research. I like what they’re doing at Tisch.


Having Multiple Sclerosis means managing a constant personal energy crisis. All the time, I hear from loved ones who wish they could help. While you can’t fix MS (and black market prednisone is not a sustainable option), there are ways you can help extend the battery life of someone with a chronic illness, freeing up precious resources to spend on the things that really matter, like watching cat videos on Youtube, Google Earthing your boss's house, or reading ridiculous blogs.  

Happy Holidays, Trippers. I hope Santa is good to you. 














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