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program for several years, often on six consecutive, long weekends. Sometimes I taught my research class on the main campus. Two nights a week I taught public speaking at a local community college. Usually I taught summer school. I wrote articles. I did school research and published it. Like I said, I ran. After the MS caused me complete and total double vision, I had to stop. If I continued running and working full-time, I would go blind I was told by the noted authority on MS at Georgetown Hospital.

I say it was a blessing because of the following reasons:

1. for the first time in her life of 3 years after I was diagnosed, when Olivia told me from her car seat that she needed to go potty, I did not distract her with the Barney song, or the ABC song, or Veggie Tales, or have her count how many numbers she could remember until we got to the child care provider. I turned around and said to my little girl, "Well, we better find the closest clean bathroom we can." It hit me in that moment that I had a pre-schooler and not a baby and I needed to slow down and savor each moment I could with her. We pulled into the next McDonald's and didn't even have to count.

2. all my massive student loans from a PhD program at an Ivy League University were forgiven the moment social security deemed me truly disabled.

3. I get really good parking places.

4. I had a reason for feeling so tired when I shouldn't be and for beginning to take better care of myself. Like taking a nap when Olivia did. Then I had energy stored up for an evening WALK and her bath and dinner and bedtime stories. I even danced in wacky ways to make her laugh. I've not claimed to be a dancer, please note. But my child, at least then, found me funny. Now in the fourth grade not so much so. I was wearing Tommy jeans one day with a really neat turquoise tie-dyed Harley shirt I got at the state fair and asked two girls at Olivia's school if that was okay, or if Harley and Tommy canceled each other out in the fashion world. The girls laughed and so did I. Walking her to class, Olivia said, "Mama, PLEASE don't talk to the teenagers. It's so embarrassing." So, I guess, MS aside, I've arrived at that parental pinnacle to which all parents eventually climb: perfecting the art of embarrassing our children (just another service we lovingly provide). I told her that the teenagers weren't embarrassed. I wasn't embarrassed. It seemed only she, Olivia, had a problem with social exchanges.

I digress, and I apologize. Back to

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