I find people fascinating. Some more than others, but, all fascinating.I like going to the mall, or wherever people congregate, and do some behaviour watching. If the opportunity presents itself I will try and strike up a conversation. I find waiting rooms are great places to engage as there is nothing else to do but wait.
In striking up a conversation I like to find something interesting or fascinating about the other person. I try to never begin the conversation talking about the weather, but something that someone would be more than willing to share. To have a meaningful conversation I find you have to be invested, not distracted, within your own mind.
So, I’ve just sat down at the front entrance to the lobby at the UBC clinic/brain centre after meeting the neurologist, and I’ve got plenty on my mind. My mind is completely distracted. I am trying to process the information from my doc, and this new drug information package which I devour on the ride home. My mind is swirling. What about this, what about that? Totally distracted in a room where I have watched many fascinating people and struck up varied conversations. My distracted mind has me perched on a bench mere feet from the doors to my getaway ride.
I didn’t see her coming. She came from the left while I was staring at nothing to my right.
“So, why are you here,” she said to me in an all business-like tone.
It’s not the best opening line. It’s a start to an interrogation, not a conversation.It’s the opening line that would normally receive a cool, disinterested, response. A non-of-your-business response. I was caught off guard with my distracted mind. I’m looking for my ride, I have my always-falling cane perched between my legs, and the Lemtrada booklet in my right hand.
I bit. I didn’t want to be rude, and perhaps I can use the distraction.
“I’m just here to see my neurologist,” I said.
“Do you have MS?” she followed up with.
Again, a little too forward.
I surveyed my opponent. She was most likely a bit older than me. Her appearance a bit dishevelled. She walked with an overloaded walker that has seen many miles. She wore several layers of shirts, topped with a dirty, black hoodie. Her wardrobe was completed by tattered old black sweatpants and worn out shoes. An iPad spilled out of her bulky purse and she clutched an overly large mobile phone in her hand as she invited herself to sit next to me.
I’m now interested. She’s very direct, kind of messy, and carrying high priced technology.
“What brings you here,” I questioned.
“I had my meeting with my doc,” she replied, with a tone that hinted she was not satisfied with the encounter.
“How’d that go,” I asked.
“It was ok,” she responded, “but, they really need to get caught up in the latest advances in research,” she said, with a hint disappointment in her voice.
Surprised at her statement, I responded. “This is a research driven facility, what are you hoping for?” She couldn’t immediately outline any real specifics, but did mention all of the research she has read on the internet. She detailed all of the brilliant stuff she has learned from the internet in a very quick burst. Then she couldn’t contain herself on spilling her most recent internet discovery.
“You know there’s a doctor doing fecal transplants on Vancouver Island. He’s a specialist that’s had plenty of success,” she said.
“That’s what I want to do next. I have heard great things from people. It just costs a lot of money.”
Prior to meeting this woman, I had heard about fecal transplants. It was studied in England and met with some interesting results. The idea is to transplant a healthy stool from a healthy donor into a patient with an unhealthy gut. It’s thought to be a way to get “healthy” probiotics.
There is research being conducted that looks at the link between healthy bacteria levels in the gut and the influence that has on the rest of the body, and specifically, the brain.
The information she would have mined from the internet would be anecdotal, at best. her mention of cost would indicate to me that the doc is providing this anecdotal-based service for a great price. I view it as preying on vulnerable people.
She told me the Island doctor’s name as if I was now on the same level of excitement as her. I think she was surprised I wasn’t writing her information down.I could tell that the whole time she spoke with me she was evaluating me.
“Have you participated in any research here?” she asked.
I told her I had taken part in the CCSVI study and that I wasn’t that impressed with the results, but was very well treated here.
She told me that she wanted to be in that study, but she was too late to get involved.
“How long have you had MS?” I asked. She answered. I’m sure she answered, but I found but her fidgeting very distracting
“What is that? She said as she pointed to my Lemtrada package.
I showed her the cover and told her it’s something that my doctor believes would be beneficial for me.
She started to tap furiously into her phone. “I’ve never heard of Lemtrada,” she said.
“I’m going to have to research that.”
“Maybe I should take that,” she immediately followed up.I told her I don’t know much about Lemtrada, but will be looking into its benefits and dangers, and, after much consultation, will come to a decision.
My ride appeared, and I bid the woman all the best for the future, and quickly exited the building.Now for a long drive and some reading.
I really just need time to clear my head of the thought of shoving someone else’s poop inside my butt.
On The Road With MS 