Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Stormy Weather

Amazing, astounding, nauseating storm in my head last night - ringing, hissing, sighing, shrieking - the clamor of three dozen demons spilling from a wild party in hell. What is it within a brain that can hear these sounds, and not only hear, but suffer, as if from a physical assault?

Friday, August 22, 2014

Tonight's Appointment

So, I go to the Senior neurologist tonight. I take my MRI scans with me, along with the radiologist's report. We discuss my previous visits with his partner, the meds she prescribed, and so on, and he says, "Do you have MS?" Sigh.

Well, welcome to Indonesia, folks. Can't blame 'em, really. They've barely so much as heard of MS, much less treated it. Ya, we don't have that here, the doctor said. Ya, well you do now, I answered.

But he was an amiable sort - which actually goes a long ways where doctors are concerned. I once had a doctor in America who "fired me". Yes, fired me, because I refused to continue with interferon injections that were making me deathly sick on a weekly basis.

Once again, we had to communicate in Indonesian. At least he was honest enough to say straight out that he couldn't speak English. Another plus, there - honesty. But we did quite well. Which is either because my mind was clearer tonight than it had been in the morning, or because I just can't understand what female doctors are saying, whatever language they use.

So, he gave me some various potions for my fatigue (such a hopelessly inadequate term, that), and we shall see what happens.

Stay tuned.

Wednesday, August 20, 2014


How can anyone, having any semblance of a stable mind, manage the unconscionable temerity to defend the beheading of an innocent journalist, the mass murder of captive soldiers and citizens, the kidnapping and rape of women, the burial of infants while still alive, with a complaint about 'drone attacks'? What in God's holy name can they possibly be thinking? Well ... they really can't be thinking at all, can they.

Friday, August 15, 2014


Lost an old friend on Friday last. My step-daughter's father. A Prince among men. The kind of person who was everyone's friend; a spiritual man, a sensitive listener and one of the best joke-tellers I've ever known. Reginald Rutherford - God's speed, my friend. See you at the King's table before we know it


I used to type well over 100 words a minute. Now, my fingers have become noodles. They are worms, blindly roaming about the keypad. Not likely to be playing Chopin anytime soon, either.

Thursday, August 14, 2014


So anyway - there's this new bread and pastry place nearby. Bread Time or Bread Place or something like that. Bread is a big deal here in Indonesia. It's considered a 'western' food, and so a great treat. It's a cozy place if one goes early enough in the morning - otherwise, it becomes way too crowded. But in any case, you can get yourself a little cake or whatever, a latte for Rp. 11000 (unheard of), and settle into a chair with a book, or just watch the people come and go. Lots of school kids show up in their identical uniforms, gabbing away in the usual gobbledygook, which is not, for any practical purpose, Indonesian, but their own shared invention - a mystery to the westerner, no matter how much he has read or studied. You pick up bits and pieces, each as mysterious as a newly spilled jigsaw puzzle. And of course everyone takes notice of the bule - quick glances, smiles, whispers.  Oh! That's it. It's called "Bread Life".

Yeah, Don't Bother

Well, some of you out there are going to be getting sick of these continual MS entries. But hey, it intrudes, it speaks, it insists. And, after all, the original inception of this blog had to do with MS anyway.

So, what's the pleasant news for today. My arms and legs are extremely weak. My fingers don't work - a disastrous circumstance for a writer. I'm practically hunting and pecking these days. Takes me four hours to do two hours of work.

One tends to think that after he has surrendered and gone to the doctor, he will simply get some medicine and that will be that. All well again.

Not so.

I don't really remember how long it took me to recover from my attack back in 2007. I do remember, however, now that I think of it, that I was still having difficulties in February 2010. Not encouraging. I remember my old friend, Vick, giving me his arm to help me up and down stairs. So, yeah.

No magic meds.

Just a long road.