The night was winding down, as were we. I was in the kitchen leaning against the counter. I was waiting-- listening for the popcorn that I had just put in a pot on the stove to start popping. Suddenly Mandy came into the kitchen, took something out of the fridge, and then walked past me and into the living room.
The caregiver in me woke. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that little ‘hitch’ in Mandy’s walk. Ninety-nine out of a hundred people wouldn’t see it. If you’re reading this, perhaps you too are a caregiver. If so, then you probably see it too every now and then. Sometimes it’s nothing, but more often than not it’s like that little change in the wind on a clear, sunny afternoon. Almost imperceptible-- but there nonetheless. Storm’s coming.
“What’s wrong with your leg,” I asked? A slight pause-- “Nothing,” came the reply. “Uh-huh, OK...,” I said. And that was that. But we both knew-- both feared-- the same thing. The monster is moving. If we’re real quiet, maybe it’ll go back to sleep; a sleep that it seems to have been enjoying for a good four months or so.
And that, in a nutshell, is what it’s like living with MS. That’s the part that most folks don’t understand. Of course, we can’t really expect them to. Prior to Mandy’s MS, I never knew much, if anything about the condition. Now I know too much-- and yet still too little.
But times are still good. Perhaps when I finish writing this I’ll swing over to my favorite travel site and see if I can find a good deal on a hotel somewhere. Just one requirement. It’s got to have a beach. I’d like to get away for a few days with Mandy-- and a beach of almost any type is the perfect place for us. But we’ve got to do it now-- before that monster shakes itself fully awake.
Published On: July 16, 2008