Multiple Sclerosis and Stem Cells

In August 2005, I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis (MS), or as I lovingly refer to it, the S & M disease, as it's trying to kick my butt. Trying is the key word here, because I won't succumb to its fingers of destruction, its microbes of chaos. And I won't succumb to the life doctors expect me to lead either; drugs and more drugs, and support from fellow MS recipients. Yep, that's exactly how I wish to spend the remainder of my life, rubbing shoulders with sick folks and administering medications to a disease certain specialists claim can't be cured. "But the medicine might slow the progress of the MS," one nurse asserted over the phone.

To administer a drug that takes a minimum of two days a week out this life is ludicrous*, plus there's no guarantee the prescribed medication will aid in curbing the MS or its effects. So, what's the real reason? In my opinion, to act as someone's statistic, to be their guinea pig, their block of molded cheese; you can't afford the $1300 for the four monthly shots, so here, the medication is free. Thank you, but no. I've lived a full life, gotten my feet wet in about forty states, I'm still pursuing that creative urge, and I'm almost fifty years old. Why would I want to start living life with a disease directing the whole show?

As you might have guessed, my attitude toward life is a bit different from the norm. With a racing past like the winning flags of NASCAR, the days prior to 1986 when those first six poems were published was a 24/7 wide-ass-open party. I ran with anyone wishing to bend the elbow too. Bikers, college folks, red necks and country girls, individuals of many colors, prominent business owners, school teachers, women on the up and up, women who liked women too, even a friend that could claim ownership to a Connecticut brownstone and travel the globe at will. Yes, I'll be carrying a few secrets to my grave, as will they, and those influences all occurred prior to the writing life.