I see a neurologist to manage my multiple sclerosis. Even though I’ve had this ghastly disease for 11 years now, going to the doctor’s office always leaves me feeing down and depressed. I’m not entirely sure what I expected the doctor to say at this visit, but it was the same old stuff.
Sitting in the waiting room I kept thinking that MS wasn’t in my plans. Those thoughts would usually make me a blubbering idiot. But this time, I remembered some of my own words. I remembered the wonderful comments and support I’ve received both here and from family and friends.
I said before, I am never quite sure what the doctor will say. But that’s a lie. The feeling that I was misdiagnosed is always running in my heart and I thought he’d know. I secretly thought he’d feel that same vibe and would shower a little hope on me. After all, I thought only 2/3rds of the multiple sclerosis population ends up in a wheelchair? What happened to that? I told these statistics to my husband Tommy and he said, “You’re special and make the wheelchair look good.” It’s kind of lame, but I’m a sucker for compliments of any kind.
I thought people, who start out with visual disturbances, like I did, generally do well or at least don’t end up in a wheelchair? What happened to that? Again, all Tommy said was, “You’re special.”
I thought black Americans didn’t generally get this? Well, the gigs up. I’m black and I got it and yes you don’t have to say it I already know I’m special.
I read an article where Multiple Sclerosis Was Successfully Reversed In Mice. Too bad I’m not a mouse.
Somehow, I feel better but I still need a drink!