Multiple sclerosis sucks. It beats the living tar out of me every day. And if I let my mind go even an hour into the future I panic about what my next accomplishment will require. It may be something as simple as getting a snack, or something much more difficult like emptying my bladder; An organ that afforded me a four day catheterization in Beaumont Hospital and an ambulance ride to emergency over the Memorial weekend. Unable to void 1000 cc’s as all it takes is 500cc’s to feel the urge, it was time to seek help. Every day I work I tell myself it is the last day. And yet somehow, someway I manage to make it to the weekend. Sure I practice all the self help, healing chakra, meditation and the like, but you know what I am sorry unless you are Stephen Hawking it’s just a plain old bitch. I write this today not only for myself, but for those of us that suffer every day, painstakingly, tirelessly, under the crucifixions of a disease that has gotten nowhere in 150 years, except worse. Today I salute those of you that do not have the option of sharing your story. Believe me I think about you and recognize you and give you the utmost respect for simply allowing your eyes to open each morning, allowing the stimulus of a world you never could have imagined infiltrate your emotional and physical being, and somehow and someway you get to the next day. Life before MS sure wasn't preparatory. Does the guy in the picture above look like someone getting ready for the battle of his life, every day? I think not. His shiny new Mustang 5.0, his Eastbay high tops, and rolled up jeans (that was in then kids) and the best shape of his life. Lesson to self-kind of cliche, but live every day like it's your last because you really don't know whats around the corner, lurking, laughing, creeping. Go balls to the wall, hit the sack because you cannot move from doing so much in the day that you enjoy. Some days it's easy to wonder just what the hell we are doing here. And what was the life prior to this all about?