Today is one of those days ‘it’ hits me. I can’t ignore the lesions. I cannot will it away.
My legs disintegrate into quick sand on the hard wood floor. They struggle and wobble, searching for their rightful place. Days like this, they simply don’t belong. Anywhere.
I will them forward toward my son; his Star Wars hand-me-down shirt in hand. I WILL get his shirt on, even if it kills me. Days like this every small ‘thing’ is a mountain. I have climbed about 20 so far today and it’s only 10 AM.
I tell myself, “Just focus on this mountain in front of you, don’t look to see how many are hiding behind this one; take it one mountain at a time.”
I wonder if I would have any will, had I not had children. Having Multiple Sclerosis and the threat of paralysis hanging over my head doesn’t really inspire me much. Big things like that used to piss me off in a self-destructive way. I would simply get pissed and quit.
BUT, when you have children, especially small children, you have no choice but to go forward, with or without the use of your legs. It’s automatic. It’s reflex. If I had to shuffle on my stomach liked a beached whale, arms like paddles, I would.
Thank God for them, and for the infusion scheduled for tomorrow.
