Today, I was asked about ms. To be exact, it went a little something like this.
Person: "So you have ms?"
Me: "I do."
Person: "what's it like?"
Me: "hmmm...it's a bed of roses."
Super long stem. Extra thorns. I mean that literally, not as some cheesy literary reference, or worse yet, shameless Bon Jovi reflection. I feel like they're stuck in my face, back, foot, etc. Sure, the first 5 years or so of that drove me crazy. But now? Pssht. It's old hat.
Let's go deeper to uncover more, shall we?
MS is the child tugging at my shirt saying, "mom? mom? mom?" until I snap and create a scene. Rather than tugging at my shirt, it tugs on my bladder. The 7th trip to the restroom in the same hour can result in me publicly yelling out, "REALLY???" I've missed the better parts of school field trips, sporting events, family visits, church services, Bible studies, ladies' retreats, and conferences...because of the countless trips to the bathroom. I am, however, very well versed in public restrooms. If this job thing doesn't work out? I could be a fierce restroom critic.
MS is like that Price Is Right shell game, hiding my words, swirling them around, and revealing them in a random order. SURPRISE! And sometimes it even hides tangible objects. Car keys. Deodorant. My left shoe. Okay, wear different shoes. Can't find the match to that one either. Screw it. Sneakers. Change pants to shorts. Change dressy top to t-shirt. Done! Where were those keys? In my hand. Where's my pink Phillies hat? On my head. Ugh.
MS is the tin foil you chew in your back teeth. Random shocks in my face and nose. So like, as I'm trying to carry on a highly intelligent conversation with a doctor on behalf of my grandmother? I'm getting a shock to the cheek. I feel the "bzzt" and touch at my face...(bzzt)...touch at face...(bzzzzzt)...touch.(bzt)at.(bzzzzzzzzzzzt!)FACE....temper temper...(bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzt to side of nose) SMACK AT FACE! I'm left to wonder if slapping the bejeezes out of myself in the midst of a serious conversation somehow diminishes my street cred?
MS is the 100lb dog laying on me when I'm trying to wake up in the morning. Getting out of bed is never simple. I've often wished for a Wondertwin Power like..."form of...LIQUID!", because then I could ooze out of bed. Feels like I ooze out of bed anyway. I've not felt up to exercising in awhile. Why? Sadness. Why? I don't get to see Pretty/Stylish Friend. Collective "awwww". We now work about an hour away from one another and have conflicting evening schedules, so our daily lunches, walks, and monthly cheesecake nights are no more. And yes, I'm 38 and sad over it. In the meantime, I've become gelatinous. Sad and gelatinous. Despite the visual, it's really not an attractive feature. PS Friend has always advised that one should look in the mirror every morning and say to oneself, "I make this look good". Hmm. Full set of eye luggage from insomnia and Jello jeans? I'm rockin' that look, and RuPaul would be proud!
Currently, ms is the catalyst behind the nerve pain I have across my shoulders, back, and spare tire. Makes sitting in this chair a very noticeable experience. Lean forward...leeeeean forward...ouch...
"That's what ms is to me." :::blank stare from Inquiring Mind:::
Were they not ready for that jelly? Like Beyonce says, "By the looks I got you shook up and scared of me...hook up your seatbelt, it's time for takeoff...I don't think you're ready for this jelly." I think how much fun I missed by this song coming out some 20 years after my club days.
In all honesty, as much as I've joked about these presentations of ms is as much as I'm seeing the blessings through it. These symptoms are nothing more than annoyances. Even on the really bad days, they're just major annoyances. It keeps me humble and fully reliant on God. It doesn't stop me from working, at least not most of the time. Migraines and the recent heart symptoms - sure, but ms is fairly innocent in that regard. It doesn't change the mother or wife that I am, nor the friend that I am. And I know what a true blessing it is to be able to say that. I'm not sure I'll always be able to say it doesn't keep me from working and living life as I do today? But I'll cross that bridge if I reach it. What I do know is...God will have built that bridge. And He'll give it ample weight limit. You know, for the jelly and all. (now that's just funny!)