the caucasian rules

the white russian, aka the caucasian (if you’re not into the whole brevity thing) is my new theraputic elixer. another night last night blissfully free of even a leg-cramp tremor. of course, i can’t operate heavy machinery or sharp objects while under the influence, but i see that as a small price to pay.

my next invention will be an adult version of those roller skate sneakers kids wear. i just want one, for my right foot, so i don’t have to struggle every step to lift it. sort of like a tiny wheelchair for just one foot. i think it would solve the problem perfectly, and maybe be a little fun at the same time. probably frowned upon by osha and the safety committee here at work, but i think the little wheel is retractable, so i can hide it and pretend i don’t know what they are talking about.

my limp is quite noticeable, and people have been asking me about it at work -“hey, what’s up with the limp?” so i’ve had to explain that i have ms. i think most people don’t really know what it is, and react with either way too much or way too little sympathy (for lack of a better word.) i usually try to brush it off, “oh, it’s no big deal,” not wanting to get into a deep discussion of what ms means to me. i’m not crazy about announcing it, i don’t like people thinking of me as “the guy with ms,” when i used to just be “stephen.” like i have a label on my back. but i guess it can’t be helped.

pretty soon, they’ll all wish they had a wheelie shoe like me!

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