Part One: Diagnosis

By admin —

This past weekend, we experienced one of the most amazing events in Pulp Nature history, actually in the history of mine and Jessica’s lives. We hosted a health and wellness event at the MS Society, in collaboration with Diane Hoch of The Food Evolution, featuring Carol Galanty (an amazing aromatherapist/natural food chef), and the amazing Raven Red Cape. The warmth and strength of community shift boundaries and possibilities Pulp Community. Attendees commented that the event was a breath of fresh air, they stated that this community of 20’s and 30’s with MS, and their allies are needed. Times like these, we are reminded of why we began Pulp Nature. With love, we wanted to repost one of our favorites by Linda Chavers. Shout out to Jo Ellen & Michelle at the MS Society.

Jessica & Kya

This is what happens when lesions are found on your brain:

The resident calls you. You’ve given him permission to tell you on the phone. You step out of class. the resident who’s more nervous each time he talks to you let’s you know it could be evidence of a stroke, a brain infection or an autoimmune disease so there will be more tests. You’ve already done a series of blood tests including an AIDS test even though you told the attending that you’d had one already earlier that year. He orders it anyway, you don’t like him because he never looks you in the eye when talking and refers to you like a horse on the block to his residents. You don’t yet know that you could’ve requested no students in your examinations. Later you will know a lot more than you ever wanted to know about patients rights. You go back to the hospital for more tests. These include a lumbar puncture. “A spinal tap?!” you say to the resident. “It’s called lumbar puncture.” You curl into a ball and the friend you brought with you tells jokes and you laugh. “Please don’t laugh” the jittery resident says. You never see how long the needle is but your friend does and for three seconds he looks pale. You’re back in class preparing to give a presentation on the Tuskeegee Syphilis Study that exploited black men in the name of health. You know it’s him calling because you just have a hunch. Again you step out of class. Again you give the resident permission. He does not sound nervous. He sounds tired, resigned. “It’s MS” he exhales. You don’t think you feel much of a reaction. He tells you a nurse will train you on needle injections and, don’t lie, a part of you is a bit excited by the idea of injecting yourself. This is because you have no idea what injections are like, but you soon do. You go back to class, you give your presentation. It goes well. This is your first semester of graduate school. You will write the rest of your final papers in the hospital. You will get all As. You will publish one of these papers. You start the injections, Avonex, you think they suck and injections are no longer cool. As time passes, years, this will become the only semester you did well academically. You realize, too, that you never cried.

Linda Chavers – Harvard PhD Candidate – Age 30 – multiple Sclerosis