Las Vegas Trip 2014-2015, Part Four

Just before midnight on New Year’s Eve, we walked outside onto the Vegas strip to take in the fireworks show. I braced myself for the unusually cold weather they were experiencing, but it didn’t feel so bad. I guess the camaraderie of hundreds of thousands of revelers warmed the atmosphere.

My childhood best friend, Dave, who has lived in Vegas since shortly after we graduated from college, and his significant other, Stephanie, joined us, so we became a group of eight. The Las Vegas strip was closed to vehicle traffic, and oodles of temporary police officers were unleashed on the masses. They made a determined effort to manage us, to enforce where the crowd could and couldn’t stand, but it was a fruitless endeavor – herding cats. At first we were obedient, out of habit I suppose. But as midnight drew near, everyone maneuvered for the best viewing positions, and the admonitions from the rent-a-cops became just so much background noise.

We positioned ourselves in front of the Bellagio Hotel, and just prior to midnight they fired up their amazing fountain show, shooting water hundreds of feet up into the sky, in sync with the Beatles tune Hey Jude.

The fireworks show was spectacular, as expected. There was an ebb and flow to the program, and when the intensity of the explosions increased, the collective roar the crowd indicated our approval.

Watch the birds eye video of the fireworks display, below, or click here.

Andy and Karen went home a day earlier than the rest of us (which we knew ahead of time) because they both had to work on Friday. When they went out to the taxi stand at 4:30 AM, there was a long line and no taxis. Most of the taxi drivers had exhausted themselves and gone home. Andy ended up paying a limousine driver $100 for a ride to the airport, instead of the usual $20 taxi fee.

Thursday was a lazy day for us. Tom and Diane and Kim and I took in a show – The Blue Man Group – which was tons of fun. We met up with David and Stephanie again for dinner. Stephanie brought her son Quintin and two of his friends, and I amazed them with my iBot wheelchair. After dinner we gambled for the last time. Kim likes video poker, and she got to play a lot of hands on this trip, and only lost about $100. Me? I like blackjack.

Blackjack is a game with relatively favorable odds if you know how to play it, and I think I do. When I’m in my iBot wheelchair I can raise myself up to the height of the blackjack table, but because the iBot tilts me back in that mode, I can’t reach my chips easily. Andy also likes to play blackjack, so when we played together he would place my bets for me. But on Thursday I was on my own, and so I asked each dealer to help me out. They had no problem doing that. Once, I sat down beside a friendly gentleman from Sweden, and he placed my bets for me.

No matter how the bets were made, I had good luck on this trip. My goal isn’t to make money when I gamble. My goal is to play lots of hands – in other words, lose my money slowly. For this reason, I almost always place the minimum bet allowed, which was usually $15. I accomplished my goal of playing long hours of blackjack, and I managed to net a profit of $500. Now that I have this game figured out, maybe I should become a regular at the blackjack tables nearer home.

Or not.

For me, one of the most uplifting aspects of going on vacation is the positive attention that I draw because of the iBot. In my regular wheelchair, I would be almost invisible. In the iBot, in balance mode, I am an attraction. So many people approach me to voice their amazement or to ask me questions, most commonly, “How do you do that?” Even more people, and I only know this because my travel companions tell me so, stare with mouths agape after I pass by. A few act the same way in front of me, in plain view. When I’m in the iBot, I’m not regarded with pity but with admiration, almost envy.

Because of this attention, I understand what it feels like to be a celebrity out in public. The buzz I create is not like that of an A-list sex symbol – George Clooney or Brad Pitt. I’m definitely not a bad boy like Charlie Sheen or Bobby Brown. I don’t think I’m looked at in the same way as a comedian like Jerry Seinfeld or Ricky Gervais. I probably get the same attention as someone who used to be a superstar, but is now less well-known, although still beloved. Someone humble, friendly, and approachable. I’ve got it. When I’m in the iBot in a huge casino, I garner about as much attention as Meg Ryan would if she were to walk through the same casino. In the iBot, I’m Meg Ryan.

Click here for part five, the conclusion
Click here for part three

Las Vegas Trip 2014-2015, Part Three

By the time we checked in at the hotel it was about 5:00 PM local time, which felt like 8:00 to us, after a night where Kim and I each slept about two hours. But we got our second wind. This was Kim’s fiftieth birthday after all, and we were finally in Vegas, so there was no wimping out.

The six of us wandered around the hotel/casino, had a couple of drinks, gambled a little bit, and dined at one of Las Vegas’s many high-end steakhouses – fifty dollars plus per steak and additional money for side dishes. We had a refrigerator in our room, so Kim boxed up our leftover and Tom’s leftover steaks. I scoffed at her. Who wants to nibble on cold, day-old steak?

Shortly before midnight we finally gave up and retired to our hotel room. We took one look at the rather complicated Hoyer lift and decided to manually transfer me to the hospital bed instead. We had a great night’s sleep, waking up about 8:00 AM, the transition to Pacific time complete.

That morning we tackled the lift system. At my request, it came with two different types of slings. I wanted one that we could attach and detach with minimal effort while I was lying in bed or sitting in my wheelchair. After a few minutes, we figured out how to use one of the slings in just that way, and Kim lifted me up and placed me in my wheelchair. Using the Hoyer lift was more tedious than using my overhead lift system at home but still better than no lift system at all.

It was then that I learned of the delicacy that is leftover, cold, fifty dollar steak. It’s so much better than day-old, cold pizza.

We met up with the rest of our party and made a plan for the day. We spent the late morning and early afternoon exploring the Vegas strip. At the Bellagio we saw an incredible Christmas flower display, and I introduced the group to my favorite spot in Las Vegas, the chocolate shop at the Bellagio. We enjoyed a gourmet burger restaurant in the Paris Las Vegas complex, and generally had a relaxing and fun afternoon.

The city of Las Vegas puts on a tremendous fireworks show beginning at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve. The fireworks are simultaneously discharged from seven different casino rooftops. We knew that the Las Vegas strip would be an absolute mob scene on New Year’s Eve, especially around the time of the fireworks, and so we decided to seek out a private party for that evening.

In the weeks leading up to our vacation, Kim was diligent in her research about party options, and we finally decided on a club called the Château, which is part of the Paris Las Vegas casino complex, located next door to Bally’s. The nonrefundable tickets were $110 per guest. A few weeks before our trip, I ordered six of them.

We showed up at the venue, in our best New Year’s Eve attire, at 8:30. It took thirty minutes or so to work our way through the line. Once inside, we realized that this was going to be an absolute madhouse, just like outside, except we were $660 poorer for it. The reason we had chosen this venue over others was because it was supposed to feature hits from the 70s through the 00s. There were no hits, just continuous, base heavy, DJ music. There were no songs that had beginnings or ends, or even lyrics for that matter. For our $660 we were allowed free drinks from nine until midnight. We soon figured out that the Château had certain cost-saving measures in place. The venue was woefully understaffed with bartenders. It took for-ev-er to get a drink. And even then, they were watered down.

Being the old farts that we are, we worried about things like fire code and other emergency situations. The place was busting at the seams with people, increasingly drunk people. When we couldn’t stand it any longer, we extricated ourselves from the party and found a quiet bar nearby where we could sit and actually speak to one another.

When we got home I wrote a letter to the Château, airing my grievances and requesting a refund. I may have played the disability card a little bit. I don’t expect a response.

But the evening was not a total loss. We did bounce back. I’ll explain in part four, next week.

Click here for part four
Click here for part two

Las Vegas Trip 2014-2015, Part Two

On Kim’s fiftieth birthday, which would be twenty-seven hours long this year, we got up at 3:45 AM and traveled westward most of the day. This was not exactly ideal birthday fun.

I boarded our 7:00 AM flight from Portland to Philadelphia pretty much like I have for years. Just outside of the mouth of the plane I transferred from my iBot wheelchair to one of the airport’s aisle chairs –a narrow, wheeled seat that barely fits down the aisle of an airplane (depicted on right).

It was a little different this time, though, because in the past I accomplished this transfer largely on my own, by using my arms and inching from one chair to the next. This time we used a slide board while a team of people, including airport employees and Kim, Tom, and Diane, dragged me from one chair to the other. The pushing of some body parts was not precisely coordinated with the pulling of other body parts, so the transfer was harrowing and a little painful, but at least it was quick. Because an airplane-load of people was waiting for me (is always waiting for me) there was pressure on all of us to complete this process expeditiously.

I had arranged to sit in one of the few airplane seats that had an outside armrest that lifted up. I’m a big guy and unnecessarily hoisting me up over an armrest would not have been very smart. As the attendant backed me down the airplane in my aisle chair, my butt inched forward on the seat. When we were lined up adjacent to my assigned seat, someone wedged the slide board under me, and Kim got ready to push me from one seat to the other. Just then my butt began to slip forward even more, and I informed everyone, “I’m going down!”

Suddenly there were many hands grabbing many parts of me, and I was hauled up and pushed over, and then it was done. I was sitting in an airplane seat for the first time in a long while. The man with the aisle chair hurried out of the plane, and the rest of the passengers were allowed to board. Soon, we were in the air.

We reversed the boarding process in Philadelphia, still a bit rough but without any particular drama. The four of us grabbed breakfast in the terminal and then loaded me up for the flight to Las Vegas. The plane was larger, so the boarding went better. But because it was a larger plane, and the flight was full, there was a third person sitting at the window seat in our row. If this person had been the overweight type, or the old type, or one of several other types of people, they wouldn’t have been inclined to step over me to get to their seat. Fortunately, the person occupying the window seat was young and physically fit. However, as her buttocks passed within inches of my face, she couldn’t help but squeak, “Oh, this is awkward.”

I wanted to put her at ease, so I said, “This is nothing. I’ve been in much more awkward positions,” which was true.

The flight was scheduled for five hours, but ended up taking six and a half hours because of a 150 mile-per-hour headwind. I had three concerns about this long flight. How uncomfortable would the seating be? What if I had to empty my bladder? What if I had to have a bowel movement (unlikely, but possible)?

The seating situation was painful for me. I spend each day on a high tech wheelchair cushion, and there is nothing high-tech about airline seats. Also, when healthy people sit in a seat for a long period of time, they unknowingly make slight positional adjustments with their hips and their feet so that any discomfort is mitigated. But I can’t move my hips or my feet, so I was left with two choices. I could silently endure the discomfort, or I could bother Kim every ten minutes or so to help me make adjustments. I did a little of both, but mostly the latter.

Kim and I had enjoyed little sleep the night before and had hoped to at least doze on this long flight. Because of my discomfort, that wasn’t possible.

I had restricted fluid intake all day, so I was able to make it from Philadelphia to Las Vegas without emptying my bladder. Also, as expected, my bowels cooperated. If they hadn’t, I have no idea what I would have done.

As soon as we touched down in Las Vegas, I turned on my cell phone and called Desert Medical Equipment to tell them that I was running late. I was concerned that they would close down for the day before I got to the hotel and checked in. My contact there answered the phone and said, “Oh, don’t worry. Your hospital bed and lift are all set up and waiting for you in your room.”

There’s nothing quite like great customer service.

When our plane pulled up to the gate in Las Vegas, the young lady sitting in the window seat in our aisle couldn’t help but make the same remark as she stepped over me to exit the plane, “Oh, this is so awkward.” I get that, but saying “this is so awkward” only makes it more awkward, if anything. Whatever.

As we walked toward baggage claim in Las Vegas, Kim and I were both scraped, battered, bruised, and exhausted. We agreed that this might be our last trip on an airplane, at least our last long trip.


Click here for part three
Click here for part one

Las Vegas Trip 2014-2015, Part One

When a group of people invokes the “Let’s go to Vegas!” toast at a bar, 99% of the time the idea crumbles under its own weight by the next morning. But on this night in January of 2014, we were in the 1%.

The trip was conceived while the six of us – my two brothers, my two sisters in law, and Kim and I – imbibed at the Snow Squall just down the street from our house. We decided, then and there, to fly to Las Vegas in December of 2014 to celebrate Kim’s fiftieth birthday. Might as well stay for New Year’s Eve, too, we figured, which this year would fall on the night after her birthday (and every year, now that I think about it).

“It’s not warm in Las Vegas in the winter. It might be in the 60s, or even the 50s during the day,” I said.

Nobody was swayed by this warning. Little did we know.

As soon as we decided on the vacation, I began to have second thoughts about committing to travel so far in the future. We don’t like to line up activities more than a few months ahead, because we don’t know how my MS will progress and what abilities I might lose.

Because I knew the hotel rooms would fill up quickly for New Year’s Eve in Las Vegas, I went directly to work on our accommodations. Prices were jacked up for those dates, so in order to stay on budget we booked one of the older establishments in the middle of the strip, a casino/hotel called Bally’s – mediocre accommodations, ideal location.

By late summer I had been enjoying my new Sure Hands overhead lift system, and I didn’t want to go without some sort of lift in Las Vegas. Also, I didn’t like the idea of having to lie flat in a traditional bed. I’m spoiled by my Power Bob bed which allows me to raise my head and feet at will. So I did some research and found a medical supply company, Desert Medical Equipment, in Las Vegas that would deliver a Hoyer lift and a hospital bed, set them up in my room, and take them away after I left, all for a mere $115 per night (we stayed three nights).
 
On this vacation, Kim and I would fly to Las Vegas for free, as compensation for US Air losing both of my wheelchairs on the way home from our February, 2013 vacation in Jamaica. Andy and Karen would fly out on a similar schedule but a different airline. Tom and Diane had the exact same itinerary as we did. We appreciate it when other folks travel with us because we don’t hesitate to put them to work. By the time we flew, though, it had been almost two years between airplane trips. I’d never gone so long without flying, and I felt unsure of myself given how far my disease had progressed over that period of time.

The stage was set for a memorable vacation. We knew things would go wrong, because they always do. But we expected to have a good time nonetheless, because we always find a way.

Click here for Part Two

Annual Report 2014

It’s that time again, when I take a moment to assess what I've gained and lost in the past year, and what changes may await me in the coming year. As you know, I try to strike a balance. I don’t sugarcoat my condition, but neither do I wallow in self-pity.

Mine should by no means be considered a typical disease progression. With MS, there is no such thing as typical. Everyone’s experience is unique, but, because you read this blog, you’re intimately familiar with at least one person’s narrative. Feel free to review my 2011, 2012, or 2013 assessments. I suppose you could say I did this for 2010 as well, but it’s in the form of a poem.

So, how did 2014 treat me? Quite roughly on the health front, I’m afraid, but not so badly in other ways. Here are the highlights:

2014 Negatives:

• I had my last infusion of intrathecal methotrexate. It seemed to halt my disease progression in 2012, but in 2013 my progression returned, so I saw no reason to continue this treatment very far into 2014.
• I had more difficulty eating, drinking, and grooming.
• Stress injuries to my left bicep tendon and left wrist plagued me all year, leaving me with essentially one useful appendage, such as it is. An orthopedic doctor saw nothing he could do for my left bicep tendon. A different orthopedic doctor gave me a cortisone shot in my left wrist. Both areas are still problematic, but I feel that very slow healing is taking place.
• My handshakes have become wimpy, indicating that my one useful appendage is continuing to weaken.
• Spasticity, particularly the nighttime variety, increased in intensity and frequency, and also spread to my arms and hands, not just my legs.

2014 positives:

• Physical therapy continued to help me maintain some strength and flexibility in the face of disease progression.
• We installed an overhead lift system, and it was covered by insurance, thanks to the hard work of my occupational therapist and my primary care physician’s office.
• I published another column in MS focus magazine.
• I was profiled in Everyday Health.
• I took some time to improve the blog site.
• After a year and a half, I got a local park pathway installed, and had a newspaper article published about it.
• I got my medical marijuana card.
• My daughter is now engaged to a nice young man.
• Throughout the year I spent a lot of time on my secret project. I may tell you what it is in 2015.
• I spent another year above ground – still preferable to the alternative.

2015 potential losses (if my disease progression continues these things may be the things that I lose next)

• More eating and personal grooming challenges.
• Eventually my bladder is going to stop working, and that is really going to suck. This could be the year.
• A few things that I can’t even imagine (the devil I don’t know)

2015 potential gains

• Saving the iBOT – maybe this will be the year of its revival.
• More writing success at the blog and elsewhere.
• Regaining utility in my left arm as injuries heal.
• A few positives I can’t even imagine (I am in Las Vegas this week trying to win the big jackpot, for example).

I conduct this thorough review only once each year for a couple of reasons. First, it takes that long for me to determine if certain changes are the result of permanent disease progression or are merely the normal ups and downs from aging, seasonal affective disorder, or my body's sympathetic response to the menstrual cycles of the various women in my life.

Just as importantly, I only do this once a year because it can be a harrowing process. As I contemplate my losses and gains, I tend to extrapolate – envision what my life will be like down the road if the disease progression continues at this rate. I am concerned for my future health and fearful for my future happiness. But, if fifteen years ago I had been given a preview of what my life is like today, I would have been concerned for my current health and fearful for my current happiness. But I would have been at least partially wrong, because I'm currently enjoying my life. It's more than just a blog name.

So I wonder, will I be able to maintain a level of contentment no matter where the disease takes me, or will my pool of resilience eventually run dry, and the future conform to my worst fears? I don't know the answer to that question, but as long as I continue to share my journey with you, I promise to render an honest assessment.

Thank You and Happy Holidays!

Kim and I would like to to thank everyone for sharing in our journey again this year. Those of you who actively participate at this website as well as those who simply read my posts in anonymity, all help make our days more interesting and meaningful.

If you celebrate Christmas, or even if you don't but you want to see something cool, please click here for a fun holiday card from Kim and me.

Medical Marijuana

I have decided to give medical marijuana a go. Why the hell not? Even if it doesn’t help, I’m confident that experimenting with it won’t hurt, and either way I will be a more worldly person for having tried.

Maine is one of twenty-three states (and the District of Columbia) which allow the use of medical marijuana. Alaska, Oregon, Colorado, Washington, and the District of Columbia have gone a step further and approved the recreational use of marijuana by adults. I live in South Portland, Maine, and in November of this year we approved recreational use of marijuana within our city limits. Our neighbor, Portland, made the same move last year. Like gay marriage before it, this issue is approaching critical mass nationwide. The times, they are a changin’.

In our state, only a physician or a nurse practitioner can certify patients for the program. In general, traditional physicians shy away from this activity. However, there are medical practices set up specifically for certifying patients. I did a Google search and found Integr8 Health in nearby Falmouth. When I called to set up an appointment I learned that the fee would be $300, in advance, no matter the outcome of my evaluation.

These are the qualifying conditions in Maine:

• Chronic Pain (Which has not responded to conventional therapy for more than 6 months)
• PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder)
• ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease)
• Alzheimer’s Disease
• Cachexia (wasting syndrome)
• Cancer
• Crohn’s Disease
• Glaucoma
• Hepatitis C (active form)
• HIV
• Inflammatory Bowel Disease (IBD)
• Seizure Disorders
• Severe Muscle Spasms (Including MS and other diseases causing severe and persistent muscle spasms)
• Severe Nausea
• Dyskinetic and Spastic Movement Disorders (including Parkinson’s disease, Huntington’s Disease, and others)

Because of my MS muscle spasms, I was confident I would be approved.

When I arrived at Integr8 Health’s office I was greeted by a pleasant and chatty receptionist, who immediately put me at ease. She indicated that I would be seeing a nurse practitioner for my evaluation. After a short wait, the nurse came out and introduced herself, and led me to her office. I sat in my wheelchair, and she sat on her bouncy ball chair. Any worries I had about qualifying for the program were allayed when she shook her head and said, “Why have you waited so long to come see us?”

We had a nice discussion about the various ways that medical marijuana might benefit me. We spoke for almost half an hour. She then indicated that I would need final approval from their physician, because at the time nurse practitioners were not allowed to qualify patients – that has changed in just the past few months. I met with the physician briefly, and based on the report from his nurse practitioner he signed off on my certificate.

This certification allows me to cultivate up to six flowering plants, have a licensed grower cultivate plants for me, purchase up to five ounces per month from the dispensary, or any combination thereof. That’s a lot of weed, man.

The nearest dispensary to me, Wellness Connection of Maine, is only a couple of miles away, in downtown Portland. When I approached their entrance, inconspicuously located at the rear of a building, someone from inside noticed me and sprang into action, opening the two sets of double doors. I indicated that I would be a new customer, so I was introduced to an intake specialist. She was a pleasant young lady who, either through experience or training or both, knew a lot about medical marijuana. After I showed my certificate and proof of identification, I was buzzed through another set of security doors into the inner sanctum.

It was a comfortable setting. There were tables, chairs, and sofas. I was offered coffee, tea, or water. In Maine, consumption of medical marijuana is not allowed at dispensaries. The centerpiece of this room was a glass display counter, not unlike what you might find at a bakery. My guide sat down with me and explained the various strains of marijuana that they had in stock, and what the characteristics of each strain were. She explained the various delivery systems including smoking, vaporizing, and ingesting.

We decided that vaporizing made the most sense for me. Vaporized marijuana is healthier for your lungs than smoked marijuana. Also, vaporizers produce almost no odor. Of course they offered a vaporizer for sale at a discount price. “Sure,” I thought. “I’ll go home and price it on the internet and find out just how good their discount is.” At the end of my orientation I thanked my host and went home to do my research. I was surprised and pleased to find that the vaporizer they offered was highly rated, and I couldn’t beat their price, even on eBay. I returned to the dispensary and purchased their vaporizer. Then I approached the sales counter and decided to quiz the attendant about which strains I should purchase, as a double check on the young lady who had helped me earlier. His recommendations were identical. I went ahead and purchased a sample pack of three different strains of medical marijuana.

Once I have given this medicine a thorough trial, I’ll report back here on its effectiveness or lack thereof. After the way I had to sneak around when I dabbled in marijuana during college, my medical marijuana experience has thus far been nothing short of surreal.

Book review: Chef Interrupted by Trevis Gleason

I had previously known Trevis Gleason only as the popular blogger at Life With Multiple Sclerosis. Within the constraints of this platform, he dispenses his wisdom, humor, and charm in 500 word snippets. But in Chef Interrupted Trevis throws off the shackles of forced brevity and reveals his considerable storytelling acumen.

When Trevis sent me, a fellow MS blogger, an advance copy, I devoured the book in no time at all. It’s a delightful read for anyone who longs to find meaning by going back to their roots, in this case his ancestral homeland of Ireland.

In this memoir, Trevis expertly blends an array of themes into a seamless mosaic. His stories are about realizing the dream to become immersed in rural Ireland, if only for three months (in this book). It’s about the connections he made with the people and with the land, and experiences he shared with folks from home who dropped in and out of his life, and his rented cottage, during that time. It’s about a fondness for good food and drink, and a loyal, furry companion. And yes, it’s about living a full life despite a debilitating disease.

You’ll think a little differently about multiple sclerosis and about the Emerald Isle after seeing them through Trevis’s eyes.

Chef Interrupted: Discovering Life’s Second Course in Ireland with Multiple Sclerosis will be released on Amazon on March 1, 2015, but is available for preorder today. Click here. I highly recommend it.

Does Personality Change Because of Disability?

I’m not the same person I used to be. At least I don’t think I am.

For example, before I was diagnosed with MS and for a short time afterward, I didn’t have a lot of empathy for disadvantaged people. I assumed that most of these folks deserved their lot in life, and only a small percentage suffered from misfortunes that were not of their own making. I assumed the bigger problem in society was not that people were hurting too much, but that too many people were taking advantage of the system. I (mostly) joked that an effective welfare program should consist of nothing more than blankets and soup.

Today, having spent so much time with people who are suffering, and having suffered myself, my attitude is reversed. I now assume that the majority of disadvantaged people are that way through no fault of their own. I have come to realize that we need to do more to help people, not less. The fact that some are cheating the system is an unfortunate side effect of well-intended programs, not a reason to cancel these programs.

I’ve also changed in other ways. I used to keep my emotions bottled up, and I considered this a strength of character. I would almost never discuss how I felt about things that were going on in my life. That was nobody’s business.

I’m still a levelheaded person, and I believe this serves me well, given all that I am going through. But I must (sadly) admit that I do have feelings, and I no longer keep them unexamined and private. When I decided to become a disability advocate, and write a blog about living a contented life as a disabled person, I became introspective. I had to. Otherwise, my writing would not have been interesting or relevant.

I could go on. My life has changed in so many ways. Given this, am I the same person that I used to be, or have I become someone completely different? We could have a subjective discussion about this, but there is an objective personality test which most of you are familiar with. It’s called the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. I took this test several times before my MS diagnosis, and I consistently came out with the personality type, INTJ, which is rare. Only 2% of people fall into this category. INTJ stands for Introvert as opposed to Extrovert, iNtuition as opposed to Sensing, Thinking as opposed to Feeling (of course), and Judging as opposed to Perception.

If you would like to learn more about this test or take it yourself, click here.

I decided to retake the Myers-Briggs this weekend for the first time since I left the workforce in 2009. I wondered how much I had changed over this period of time. Maybe I had become an ESFP for all I knew. I sat down and took the test, and I was astonished by the results.

I’m still an INTJ. How could that be?

According to Myers-Briggs, my personality type is the same as it always was. I haven’t become somebody new. Yet my behaviors have changed significantly since I became a disabled person. I hardly recognize myself.

I’m no psychologist, but I can make a guess at what is going on here. As the Myers-Briggs test indicates, the essence of who I am has not changed. My view of the world has been turned upside down, but my methods of processing information are the same. It’s just that I’m exposed to different information. I’m not looking at returns on investment for multimillion dollar projects. I’m looking at my friend down the street who can’t get a proper fitting for her new wheelchair. I’m not studying flight schedules to see how many clients I can visit in a week. I’m learning bus schedules to see how I can get to my therapy appointment on time.

I’m not a different person. I’m merely looking at life through a different window.

Four Short Takes

Introducing…iConquerMS™. This is a new and different kind of research initiative for MS, launched by the Accelerated Cure Project in Boston, MA. It's dedicated to patient-driven research, based on the novel use of huge amounts of data from all of us living with MS. The initiative’s Internet portal, www.iConquerMS.org, is now live.

I already visited the website and filled out all their surveys. I encourage everyone with MS to do the same. This is a wonderful opportunity to contribute to our cause with very little effort, no cost, and most of all, nobody sticking you with a needle.

Upcoming travel: Kim and I haven’t been on an airplane trip since February of 2013, when we vacationed in Jamaica with my brother Tom and his wife Diane. If you recall, that’s the trip where US Air lost both of my wheelchairs for several days. As compensation for that cluster fuck, Kim and I were given enough vouchers to once again take our chances with USAir. We are flying to Las Vegas for the New Year’s holiday. Tom and Diane are coming again, along with my brother Andy and his wife Karen. It won’t only be New Year’s Eve that we celebrate in Las Vegas, however. Kim will be turning 50 while we are out there. Yes, 50.

My abilities have changed since the last time we traveled, so I found a medical equipment rental company in Las Vegas. Desert Medical Equipment will deliver a hospital bed and a Hoyer lift to my hotel room, and charge me $100 per night for the three nights we are there. That’s a significant expense, but things should go so much more smoothly for us. Look for one or more posts about this trip in January.

Newspaper article on accessible pathway: Here’s a follow-up to the blog post I made on November 12, regarding a new accessible pathway around the cobblestone street in my neighborhood. One of the local newspapers heard about the path and called me for an interview. I assumed this story would be buried somewhere in the middle of the paper, but it ended up making the front page. Click here to read.

TED talk on the drug war: I know that I’ve been on a sociology kick lately, but I’ll ask you to indulge me one more time. Here’s the thing. I don’t want more people doing drugs. I don’t want more drug addicts. Yet, I’m starting to warm up to the idea of legalizing drugs – maybe all drugs, but at least starting with marijuana. The war on drugs has been a colossal failure. We’ve ruined so many lives, wasted so much money, and created powerful and terrible criminal organizations. I’m willing to consider drastic alternatives. Please watch this TED video and see if it doesn’t make sense to you.