Letters to the editor: MRIs and optimism

Detailed explanation
Your article on managing foot drop (“5 tips for managing foot drop,” Spring 2021) gave me more information on the subject than any doctor has in 10 years. I take care of my son who was diagnosed with MS in 2003. Thank you for your detailed explanation of foot drop and your recommendations.

I often read all your articles in Momentum and feel that they are very informative.

Rosa Sanchez, New York

First MRI an ordeal
I read “7 tips for getting through an MRI” in the Summer 2021 issue. My first MRI, in 1986, was a horrible ordeal. Luckily, my husband was allowed to stay in the room with me. He held onto my foot, and that helped me relax. I have “dog ears,” so the music was too loud and hurt my ears. I ended up just counting the “knocks.” I am now lucky to have access to an open MRI machine, so I feel less claustrophobic. There are more and more of these around the country.
Thanks for your knowledgeable and supportive magazine and organization.

Elisa Linderman, California

Heartfelt look
I very much appreciated and was inspired by Aaron Freedman‘s article, “A small window,” in the Summer 2021 issue. Mr. Freedman provided a heartfelt look at depression and anxiety that many people living with MS experience. He did so with a poetic use of language. Thank you.

Mary Sheeran, Minnesota

Offering optimism
Thank you to Aaron Freedman for his willingness to share his experience, perspective and insights (“A small window,” Summer 2021). He is younger than me and his MS is more debilitating than mine, yet he offers an optimism without it sounding or feeling like “disability porn.”

I spend long hours in bed, though I can still struggle to get myself up and out if there is a place to take my failing body that could make that painful effort worth the while. I have the fortune of a window view — trees, a couple of Japanese maples and several evergreens. Together, they attract bird life — crows, a family of doves, scrub jays, magpies and hummingbirds. Once or twice a year, perhaps, a family of wild turkeys sits at the fence line.

All of this to comfort and distract me does not help me understand the being that I am. I break her into separate pieces — mind, brain, body, energy and emotion. Each blaming and/or apologizing to the other for its responsibility/complicity in the progression of this malady. It is in me and of me. Was it birthed with me? Did it arrive later, now fully integrated into the being of this woman? Some days I am articulate and hopeful as I probe and ponder. Those days are rare. I am a slow learner, and while I don’t know what this is or where it originates, I believe it contains lessons I need to know. And once I know them, I, and not the disease, will progress.

Suzanne, Oregon