November 2010. New York
( Had ALS but didn't know it)
New Years Eve 2011
(Still did not know that I had ALS)
Yeah, not cute. I kept thinking, “I have brain damage? How
is that possible? I am like a fucking genius and a sharp as a tack. I’m going to
become a brain-dead vegetable?” Then, I kept reading and I realized that I was going to become a vegetable but not
brain-dead. Great. I think I’d rather be brain-dead. That way I won’t know
what’s going on.” So, after this politically incorrect, ignorant train of
thought I decided to educate myself regarding ALS.
June 2011. New York
(Was diagnosed two days earlier on David’s birthday)
June 2011.Paris
Before my diagnosis, I didn’t know what a motor neuron was.
I didn’t even know what a neurologist was. Maybe I am brain-dead. Anyway, basically my brain sends a signal to my
motor neurons which should send a signal to my muscles to move. My motor
neurons are dead so they cannot send a signal to the muscle. The muscle
therefore atrophies. Therefore, my cute little body is paralyzed.
June 2011. Paris
(with friends, Ann-Lise and Chistophe)
June 2011. Lake Annecy, France
The progression is called degenerate. The process was slow
but not slow. To give you an idea of timing, three years ago I was a perfectly
healthy gorgeous supermodel. Just kidding, but I was healthy. Today, I can only
move my head. I just got weaker and weaker day by day until one day I just
couldn’t move. Not only were my muscles weak but my diaphragm weakened as well.
Translation: I could barely breathe. So unfortunately, I had to get this ugly
breathing machine strapped to my face, up my nose, pushing air into my lungs.
If you thought having a zit on your face was bad, try having a breathing
apparatus strapped to your face 24 hours a day. However, it might cover up the
zit.
August 2011. Hamptons, New York
September 2011. Santa Barbara
I have seen every neurologist, neurosurgeon, orthopedist,
pulmonologist, respiratory therapist, nutritionist, chiropractor, naturopath,
acupuncturist, psychiatrist, chemist, botanist, priest, healer and witch doctor
from New York, Santa Barbara, Los Angeles, Chicago and Paris. I have had every
test from blood, saliva, hair, metal, physical, urine and psychiatric. I have
had every CAT scan, MRI, and x-ray. I have been prodded with needles in every
vein and artery. I have had intravenous vitamin drips and oral supplements. I
drank illegal weird Japanese tea. I have had two surgeries. One surgery put me
in the ICU because my lungs collapsed. I was on oxycodone for eight weeks until
I was nearly suicidal. I have done everything short of stem cells and pigs
blood. I was even, egads, gluten-free for a time being!
October 2011. Santa Barbara
So, to make a long story short I’ll tell you where I am at
today. I will go into depth about this whole process in my book in case you
were worried that you weren’t getting the whole boring story. Today, I am
totally paralyzed from the shoulders down. I use the breathing machine when I
am at home and when I sleep. I have a feeding tube. I use a miracle feeding
tube formula called Liquid Hope that is the healthiest formula on earth.
Everyone should take it. The good news is that I can still eat by my mouth.
Kind of phenomenal. I have a diaphragm pacer that doesn’t work. I take the ALS
medication called Rilutek twice a day. I take a breast cancer medication called
tamoxifen once a day because it’s supposed to slow the progression of ALS. I
take an amino acid called L–Serine 5 to 6 times a day. I eat everything I want
which includes fried chicken sandwiches, chocolate, beef bourgignon, gummy
bears, pastrami sandwiches, croque Monsieurs, lots and lots of French cheese,
more butter than anyone should, at least five pieces of fruit a day, lots and
lots of vegetables, and I have one coffee with cream and sugar a day. I drink
green juice, red juice and any other juice that is in order for the day. I used
to make my own feeding tube formula which consisted of kale, dark spinach, apples,
avocados, nuts, olive oil, tumeric , blueberries and any other superfood that I
could find. I have egg whites with crème fraîche for breakfast and usually a
salad with lots of olive oil for lunch. My husband always brings me some sort
of dessert every day. Even after all of this, I am a toothpick. My stomach may
look a little bit bigger but my arms and legs are scary skinny. I have zero
body fat. Jealous?
December 25, 2012. Santa Barbara
February 2013. Santa Barbara
That is how I am physically. Want to know how I am mentally?
Statistically, people with ALS strangely do not have depression. How crazy is
that? You get the worst disease on planet Earth and you’re not depressed? Nope.
I’m not even mad. This is how I explain it… I had to have my own personal “come
to Jesus” moment early on. If you start to think about the disease that is
racing through your body that will eventually kill you, you will go crazy. So,
I just don’t really think about it. I know I have ALS. I know it’s going to
kill me. I know that my daughter will not have her mother much longer. I know that
I will most likely die of suffocation. I know, I know, I know. So, therefore, I
pretend like I don’t know. Ignorance is bliss. Additionally, the way my
daughter and I are getting through this is through humor. We are laughing
through the tears.
March 2013. Las Vegas
May 2013. Los Angeles
November 2013. Paris
My husband is my hero. He pretends like I don’t have ALS
either. He still buys me pretty clothes, takes me out to dinner, organizes fun
weekends and tells me I’m pretty even with tubes and wires coming out of my
emaciated body. To be honest though, I have been prescribed some anti-anxiety
medication. I’m too anxious to take it though. I got it because I had a panic
attack at the hair salon. Note to self: don’t look in a mirror for an extended
amount of time. When I was at the salon, I just kept looking at myself and
looking at myself while she was blowdrying my hair. When you look at yourself
and see how your body has changed and you can see that you are sick, you kind
of freak out. Also, I’ve been having crazy nightmares. Very detailed,
suspicious nightmares. I know I can control my emotions during the day but I
guess my subconscious takes over while I sleep and the demons come out. I like
to wake up my husband at 3 o’clock in the morning and tell him every detail. I
am sure he likes that too.
What will I do if this all becomes too much, too painful,
too difficult, too overwhelming, too heartbreaking, too embarrassing, too much
of a burden, too obnoxious? One word: Dignitas.
May 2014. Paris
Currently, I do not feel “sick.” Most days I actually forget
I have ALS. Some days I actually feel great. We don’t talk about ALS a lot at
our house. We have too much other stuff to talk about. We don’t worry about ALS
that much either. We have other things to worry about. For example, Gracie
informed us the other day that when she grows up she wants to be a housewife.
Seriously, Gracie?
So that’s it in a nutshell. I have ALS. I’m sick. I’m dying.
I’m living. I’m living happily. Back to blogging about Provence, shall we?
