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Marc, the infamous Wheelchair Kamikaze, pointed out the slithery dread in his blog today in talking about why there seems to be such a split between neuros and MS patients regarding CCSVI. The thing is, all the stuff they offer us just delays the inevitable. Our brains remain twitchy, swollen, and the MS continues to kill off the myelin or astrocytes or whatever they are figuring out now, even when we appear fine. I have a good friend who has pointed out several times that we none of us know our fate, and tis true I may be run over by a bus tomorrow - but the difference is, we do know what our future MIGHT be, and it causes fretfulness. We would prefer a cure, thanks.
Every time I feel my body slipping, I can feel that dread. I can usually compartmentalize it, promise myself that I will worry about it tomorrow, so needn't do so today, but when I head to bed and notice that, despite the medication I am on that used to work to stop my leg spasms, they have returned - well, it's scary.
Or when I go to an event and see people with MS much further along than I am - it's hard not to put myself in that wheelchair, imagining how I might cope, wondering how they find the strength to do it.
Then I shake myself and tell myself that really this just means I should squeeze joy out of whatever fit days I have left, and find extra joy in wherever I need. It's true, but it's not always easy. Pollyanna-ishness is tiring.
It makes me want to punch things.
1 comment:
There's a Mother Teresa quote I got told recently that goes along the lines: God only gives you what she thinks you can handle ... I just wish she didn't trust me so much.
hmm?
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