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It’s hard to believe a multiple sclerosis moment of genius for me came from an unintentional lesson I learned in Cub Scouts. 

I distinctly remember the one red-tipped yarn tube, six green pipe cleaners, four neutral popsicle sticks, three light tan corks, three feet of white string, a 12-by-12-inch square of purple cloth, one small Baggie of assorted crafting items, and a small tube of all-purpose Elmer’s glue.

These were the items in each “Genius Kit” I and the eight other Cub Scouts in my den had received from our den mother, Nancy (who also happened to be my mom). Our task was to use our creativity and imagination to turn the collection of odds and ends — conveniently packed in a heavy-duty brown paper bag — into something new. We didn’t have to use all of the items; we just couldn’t add anything.

“Yes!” I silently screamed in my head. I thought to myself, “I am so creative, and I'm going to come up with the best new thing that anyone else in my den develops. I mean, they are my friends, but I'm sure my Genius Kit invention is going to win a prize for being the best one.”

I was so excited about the chance to create something from nothing. Maybe a rocket ship to hang from my bedroom ceiling, a plant basket for my grandma’s flower bulbs, or a decorative doorstop. The possibilities were endless.

The Den meeting couldn't end soon enough. I had to get going on this project that only had a two-week window to complete. As soon as the meeting ended, I set up the card table in our basement and dumped out all of the Genius Kit contents. I had to see what I was working with to get my creative juices flowing.

The juices dried up the second I realized there was no Scotch tape.

One step away from a sticky sort of meltdown

What? What do you mean there's no tape? How the heck am I going to get everything to stick together? Yes, there is glue, but that only works so well, and it takes forever to dry. Frustration began to boil the blood in my fourth-grade heart. 

How am I ever going to create something without tape?

At least I had the common sense to step away before I got too angry. I assured myself that tomorrow would be a better day, and that it would give me time to think and dream about the awesomeness I was about to create.

Plus, I had to eat supper so I’d be done in time to watch “Happy Days.”

The 24-hour Genius Kit hiatus didn’t help. I returned to the card table, stared at the stuff, and started to cry in frustration-turned-to-anger-turned-to-defeat.

“Why isn’t there any tape in this stupid kit?” I screamed as I slammed the red-tipped yarn tube on the concrete basement floor.

I heard Mom sternly walk across the upstairs kitchen to come downstairs. “Uh oh,” I thought. “I think I’m in trouble.”

I was, to a point. Yes, Mom, wasn’t too happy with me and my major outburst, but she quickly shifted to den-mother-Nancy mode and offered some kind encouragement.

“If there was tape in the kit, how could any of you show how creative you really are?” she asked me as I started to calm down. “Instead of focusing on what isn’t in your kit that would make this easier, step back and see everything that is there and imagine what you can create. I think you will surprise yourself at how creative you can be.” 

Thanks, den mother Nancy. Er, Mom.

Forget the tape, remember all the kit has to offer

And so, I picked up the red-tipped yarn tube and reimagined what it, along with everything else on the card table, could be without any Scotch tape. 

My Genius Kit was converted into a bed for my sister, Dawn’s, dolls. I made it in time for Dawn’s birthday, complete with cork feet, popsicle-stick framing, white-string suspension, and a purple cloth-covered mattress. I didn’t have to use the yarn tube, but I did use the brown paper bag that contained the kit as stuffing for the mattress.

“Genius!” I thought.

While I didn't win the prize for most creative then, my payoff came later when I was diagnosed with MS and was forced to get creative in how I move forward with this chronic disease.

It is easy to get mad and cry in frustration-turned-to-anger-turned-to-defeat when all I want to do is think about what I have lost — including feeling in my fingers and feet, consistent bladder control, sustainable energy levels, ability to stand and walk for long periods of time — and what I need to make things easier for me. 

I give myself those moments to scream and cry, but then I circle back and retrofit the wise words of my den mother, my mom, Nancy, to help me, and I hope they, in some ways, can help you find your moments of MS genius.

Instead of focusing on what isn’t in our respective MS kits that would make our journeys easier — such as longtime friends who have given up on us, regular employment, and basic functional skills we once had — may we take time to step back and see everything that is there and imagine what we can create. 

I think we’ll surprise ourselves with how creative we can be with all the people, skills and resources that we still have to use and flourish in new ways.