When I was first diagnosed with M.S., I was flabbergasted to discover thathigh heels were no longer my friend. One lovely, snowy Saturday I was wearing a pair of stilettos and by Monday evening in the hospital, I was having trouble staying balanced in bare feet. I’ve tested out all the shoes in my closet. Some days some work. Other days, sneakers are the only option. And, I can’t really plan ahead. It all depends on my equilibrium for that particular day. In the many weeks that have followed I’ve reached a happy medium. While it will be rare that I ever wear stilettos confidently again, I’m trying to find heels that don’t send me toppling onto the floor with every step. High heels make me feel feminine; feeling feminine is important to me.
Feeling feminine isn’t coming easy for me these days and here’s why. Women typically cross their legs when sitting – often one leg over the other. I can’t do that anymore; at least not for serious periods of time. Within minutes, if not seconds, the leg that is crossed falls asleep. The one beneath it follows rather rapidly. I try crossing my feet at the ankles, like the sisters taught me in grade school. That’s just not comfortable and despite what the nuns told us, girls, boys can still see up your dresses in that position. I haven’t worn a skirt since my diagnosis because I can’t figure out how to sit! To make matters worse, my arms frequently fall asleep, too. I’m constantly squirming around in my desk chair, and worse, in meeting chairs. I look like a Kindergartener who forgot to go to the bathroom during recess.
The “fall asleep” factor of M.S., like so many different things, is difficult to explain. When ‘normal’ people have a limb that’s fallen asleep, they’ll shake it, move it, and if it’s a foot, they’ll sometimes jump up and down upon it. The limbs of the ‘normals’ will then typically wake up. Mine don’t. They eventually do, but it can take hours. I’ve stopped trying to shake life into my arms and stomp feeling back into my feet. Although, sometimes the natural reactions of being human just take over and it’s just unavoidable. The frustration takes control and I’ll bang my arm against the wall, or worse, another body part. I’ll stomp my foot so hard the concrete shifts beneath me. I think people are getting used to me shifting, leaning, shaking and rubbing limbs frequently. But still others respond with “what’s wrong with you?” This problem has a formal name:paresthesia.It all goes back to my damaged neurons failing to send proper signals to my brain.
I’m tired of all the fidgeting, though, so I’ve been trying out other sitting positions this week. The only one that seems to work at least consistently (at least when I’m sitting in a chair) is what I call the “Johnny Bench” position – the most non-feminine position that’s out there. It’s too difficult to describe, so here’s a photo.
Obviously, I don’t walk around carrying a bat, nor do I wear a baseball hat, but picture a professional woman, in a business suit, sitting in this position in a meeting. My elbows on my knees give my arms some sort of support, so they don’t seem to fall asleep as easily. My legs stay awake longer as well. My back, which aches regularly, welcomes the relief of this position. Two days per week this position is out. I inject each thigh once a week and for 24 hours following the treatment, my tops of my legs ache – no elbows are going there. While this position is somewhat of a solution, I look bizarre! I try stretching out sometimes, leaning way back in my chair with my legs extended. So, I either look like Johnny Bench or one of those lazy business folks who sprawls out in a meeting.
I haven’t mastered how to use the Johnny Bench position while typing, though. And, unfortunately, both of my hands are now numb. No feeling = no typing (at least not the correct letters anyway). Time for me to talk a walk through the halls to help those neurons figure out how to send blood to my arms and fingers!
When I was first diagnosed with M.S., I was flabbergasted to discover thathigh heels were no longer my friend. One lovely, snowy Saturday I was wearing a pair of stilettos and by Monday evening in the hospital, I was having trouble staying balanced in bare feet. I’ve tested out all the shoes in my closet. Some days some work. Other days, sneakers are the only option. And, I can’t really plan ahead. It all depends on my equilibrium for that particular day. In the many weeks that have followed I’ve reached a happy medium. While it will be rare that I ever wear stilettos confidently again, I’m trying to find heels that don’t send me toppling onto the floor with every step. High heels make me feel feminine; feeling feminine is important to me.
Feeling feminine isn’t coming easy for me these days and here’s why. Women typically cross their legs when sitting – often one leg over the other. I can’t do that anymore; at least not for serious periods of time. Within minutes, if not seconds, the leg that is crossed falls asleep. The one beneath it follows rather rapidly. I try crossing my feet at the ankles, like the sisters taught me in grade school. That’s just not comfortable and despite what the nuns told us, girls, boys can still see up your dresses in that position. I haven’t worn a skirt since my diagnosis because I can’t figure out how to sit! To make matters worse, my arms frequently fall asleep, too. I’m constantly squirming around in my desk chair, and worse, in meeting chairs. I look like a Kindergartener who forgot to go to the bathroom during recess.
The “fall asleep” factor of M.S., like so many different things, is difficult to explain. When ‘normal’ people have a limb that’s fallen asleep, they’ll shake it, move it, and if it’s a foot, they’ll sometimes jump up and down upon it. The limbs of the ‘normals’ will then typically wake up. Mine don’t. They eventually do, but it can take hours. I’ve stopped trying to shake life into my arms and stomp feeling back into my feet. Although, sometimes the natural reactions of being human just take over and it’s just unavoidable. The frustration takes control and I’ll bang my arm against the wall, or worse, another body part. I’ll stomp my foot so hard the concrete shifts beneath me. I think people are getting used to me shifting, leaning, shaking and rubbing limbs frequently. But still others respond with “what’s wrong with you?” This problem has a formal name:paresthesia.It all goes back to my damaged neurons failing to send proper signals to my brain.
I’m tired of all the fidgeting, though, so I’ve been trying out other sitting positions this week. The only one that seems to work at least consistently (at least when I’m sitting in a chair) is what I call the “Johnny Bench” position – the most non-feminine position that’s out there. It’s too difficult to describe, so here’s a photo.
Obviously, I don’t walk around carrying a bat, nor do I wear a baseball hat, but picture a professional woman, in a business suit, sitting in this position in a meeting. My elbows on my knees give my arms some sort of support, so they don’t seem to fall asleep as easily. My legs stay awake longer as well. My back, which aches regularly, welcomes the relief of this position. Two days per week this position is out. I inject each thigh once a week and for 24 hours following the treatment, my tops of my legs ache – no elbows are going there. While this position is somewhat of a solution, I look bizarre! I try stretching out sometimes, leaning way back in my chair with my legs extended. So, I either look like Johnny Bench or one of those lazy business folks who sprawls out in a meeting.
I haven’t mastered how to use the Johnny Bench position while typing, though. And, unfortunately, both of my hands are now numb. No feeling = no typing (at least not the correct letters anyway). Time for me to talk a walk through the halls to help those neurons figure out how to send blood to my arms and fingers!