Monday, June 7, 2010


Random strangers often comment on my public transit cane, and immediately start recommending a acupuncturist/therapeutic touch practitioner/ear candler/what ever kind of whatever that saved their lives. When I say "I have MS, that probably isn't going to help me." they all put on this sad frown and say "Oh, that's too bad. You look so good though!"

You. Look. So. Good.

The four words I fucking can't stand any more. They rank right up there with

It could be worse.


Look on the brightside. (Okay, that's five words and I cheated. Fucking sue me.)

What I really want to say is

"WHAT the fuck did you think someone with MS should look like?"

but what comes out is

"Thank you."

I think I make Joe uncomfortable with my cavalier attitude about future disability.

I often say things like "That'll give you practice for when I can no longer lift my arms." or "I think I should get a scooter now to practice for the wheelchair I'm going to end up in."

I'm trying to be realistic about this. While it's certainly not guaranteed, it's not outside the realm of possibility.

I'm okay with this bit of information. Novantrone (mitoxantrone) saved my life and having a 0.8% chance of leukemia is way better than the alternative.

I suddenly got really bored of this so I quit.


  1. What is a public transit cane? Is it different than a regular cane? I have many, even a super cool electric blue one that folds up in my backpack.

  2. A public transit cane is a cane that I only use on public transit, because I rarely need to use any assistive device off the bus.

    It's a fold up cane, but it's all black and has tonnes of chips and scrapes from being dropped a hundred times.

  3. When or if you feel like you're having trouble getting around, get in touch with me about why I think the whole idea that one has to progress from cane to walker to scooter to (gasp!) wheelchair is total punitive sick-role bullshit.

    In other words, I got a Colours Razorblade the second the fatigue and balance issues started keeping me at home, because damned if I'm going to go through the whole rigamorole ("No! You don't GET a wheelchair yet! You have to use a scooter first!") because I don't technically "have to" use the wheelchair "yet." Learning how to handle an ultralight manual chair while you can still get up if you flip it over is, trust me, very much for the best.