Meagan asked me a series of eight questions, on topics ranging from what I may have learned from dealing with my disease (that La Paz is Bolivia’s third most populous city – oh, wait, on second thought I think I learned that from the CNN show “Anthony Bourdain’s Parts Unknown”) to my opinion of stem cells (I think they're kind of cute, especially the ones with long whiskers).
I’ve taken the liberty of posting three of Meagan’s questions and my corresponding answers below. To read the full interview, you’ll have to hoof it on over to Meagan’s blog, by (clicking here). While you’re there, be sure to check out some of Meagan’s other essays. She’s a passionate, insightful writer who shares her, thoughts, feelings, and experiences dealing with the beast quite eloquently.
Thanks for your indulgence…
What motivates you on your “bad days,” and gives you the strength to carry on?
Sometimes nothing motivates me on bad days, and I accept that it's okay to listen to my body and do as close to nothing as possible if that's the way I'm feeling. I think it's very important for MS patients to realize this; discretion is the better part of valor, and some days it's okay to just allow yourself to be a person with a horrible disease who just flat-out doesn't feel good. Even on those days, though, it's important to do nothing to the best of your ability, if that makes any sense. If you're going to stay in bed and watch SpongeBob SquarePants all day, that's fine, but try to enjoy the heck out of watching SpongeBob SquarePants all day while you do it, rather than just succumbing to the fear and misery that can become part of life with multiple sclerosis, using SpongeBob as a backdrop while you wallow in the muck. It's okay to wallow every now and then, also, but don't get stuck in the muck, whatever you do.
On most days, though, what motivates me is the knowledge that this day is the only "this day" that I'm ever going to have, this minute is the only "this minute" that I'm ever going to have, and this second is the only "this second" that I'm ever going to experience. Time is everybody's most precious possession, and it gets more precious with each passing moment. Unfortunately, you don't get any rebates or refunds for time you spend miserable; there's no cosmic scorekeeper keeping track of the brownie points you might think you're earning while wrapped in self-righteous unhappiness. I think back on all the time I wasted when I was healthy, tied up in knots about things that ultimately turned out to be completely insignificant– and, boy, I went out of my way to find things to be miserable about – and realize just what a fool I was.
Not saying that you can somehow just sit around grinning like a blithering idiot and smile away your problems, but we do shape our own realities through the filter of our minds, and we can control our emotions, not the other way around. Pop culture often leads us to believe that it's our emotions that rule the day. In reality, nothing could be further from the truth, as your emotions are born of you, not you of them…
How has writing and blogging changed your daily life? Do you find writing therapeutic?
Writing the blog is definitely therapeutic, much more so than any of the MS therapies I've tried. I honestly never thought that more than a few dozen people, mostly friends and family, would ever read Wheelchair Kamikaze, and its success continues to astound me. Going back to one of your previous questions, researching items for the blog and answering email from readers is one of those things that motivates me on bad days. So, yeah, the blog has definitely impacted my daily life, in so many positive ways.
When I left work to go on disability, I wondered how I would fill my days. In all honesty, occupying my time turned out to not be that much of a problem; despite being relatively successful I never really liked working, and the freedom of no longer having to work was kind of exhilarating. I know this isn't the case for many people, but who I was and what I did for a living very rarely meshed as I built my career. The success of Wheelchair Kamikaze really makes me wish I had devoted more time to writing when I was younger, which may have led me to a more fulfilling career. Better late than never, though, as they say. I just wish that I had something a lot more pleasant to blog about, and that there weren't so many people who can identify with my subject matter.
Any advice you would have for those who are transitioning to using a wheelchair?
My best advice would be to just go for it. It took me way, way too long to finally get over myself and admit that I needed a wheelchair. By the time I did so, I was practically housebound, and the disease had definitely gotten the upper hand as far as my having any kind of independent social life was concerned. Believe me, there's a big difference between Armchair Kamikaze and Wheelchair Kamikaze. In the months immediately preceding my getting the mechanical monster, my ability to leave the apartment on my own had dwindled to almost nil. The day I got my wheelchair the world was once again open for business, so to speak, and suddenly I was able to fill my days with adventurous urban excursions around New York City.
I vividly remember the day my chair was delivered. After the wheelchair tech left, I sat across from the chair giving it the stink eye, having a hard time accepting the fact that this thing was now basically a part of my broken body. Then the 12-year-old boy that lies just below the surface took note of the fact that the thing has wheels, motors, and the joystick. I dragged myself over to the chair and sat down, and was soon whizzing around my living room, recklessly smashing into and upending coffee tables, sofas, and chairs.
That evening when my wife came home she insisted we go out for a "walk", a notion that had me horrified. Me, in public, in a wheelchair?!? Good heavens, no! With a bit of cajoling, my wife soon won out, and we were out on the streets of Manhattan, me with my backside firmly planted in a rolling electrical beast. I was certain that the attention of every pedestrian in the city would be riveted upon me, but instead nobody seemed to notice. Truth of the matter is, most people are so self-absorbed that they barely give any attention to anything outside of their own heads, and they could care less that some guy in a wheelchair is sharing the sidewalk. Gotta say, the moment I realized this was one of the few times I've ever been grateful that narcissism plays such a large role in human psychology.
To read the rest of the interview, please (click here) to go to Meagan’s blog. Thanks.
