I was not made for the heat. I can’t do it. It’s 1:31am on Thursday, August 2nd and it’s so darn hot that I can’t go to bed. It’s been another crazy day, and I’m exhausted – you think I’d go right to bed, but my mind is spinning and I don’t know how to feel.
I hate rollercoasters. I’ve only been on one. I don’t remember where – maybe Cedar Point or Boblo Island (probably Boblo), but I remember I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the anticipation of going up the hill and then once the hill clears, the acceleration down and around. Too much for my spirit – and my tummy.
I feel like I’m on a roller coaster now. One minute we are going up, up, up and then all of a sudden, things are crazy, we’re spinning up and down, I’m ready to lose my lunch and all I want to do is hop off, but it’s moving too fast – well beyond my control. When my vision started to go, it was if the coaster started moving again. Slowly taking me through the solu-medrol IVs, all of the blood draws, the trips to the pharmacies, the phone calls to my parents letting them know what’s going on (without worrying them). Then all of a sudden I need a CAT scan, so the coaster starts going up hill, then another MRI, going up, up, up, until we got to the tippy top with the phone call on Saturday night at 9pm saying that everything was alright.
Monday afternoon came another phone call and BAM – we are flying down that hill – flying so fast that we can’t even think. He who shall not be named is cancelling out patients, my sister’s coming up to take care of the kids, I’m reading Multiple Sclerosis therapy treatment information, thinking about becoming handicapped or even worse. I soooo wanted out of that coaster, but it was moving too fast. I’m not thinking of getting the kids to their swimming lessons, or making sure they have school supplies, I’m thinking about how much the shots are going to hurt. What are the side effects? Will I be able to stand at my daughter’s wedding? Will I even be alive when she gets married?
Then today happens and BAM. The coaster stops. It stops so suddenly that we’re jolted – quite literally. It’s as if we never even got on the coaster. We met with the Neuro-Opthamologist today, had many, many tests, and I don’t have MS. In fact, he’s not impressed with these lesions at all. So the coaster starts to move again, but this time very slowly. I still can’t get off – why? We don’t know what this is! One more blood test. Yearly MRIs. Praying, hoping, wishing that this doesn’t happen again. Changing our insurance to be sure we’ll be covered “IF” MS becomes a part of my life. I want off this coaster. I wish it would all just go away. I miss my life before I got on this horrible ride.
Yesterday on the way to Lansing I started to cry. Of course, he who shall not be named was concerned and asked me to talk about it. I told him, am I at my lowest? Or is this my highest? Will I be saying in two years, “Gosh, remember how awful things were then?” Or will I be saying, “Gosh, remember how good I felt back then?” With MS you just never know…
He who shall not be named said something very poignent (to me) when we were walking out of the clinic. He said, “Welcome to Satan’s Themepark. You are currently on the Rollercoaster of Hell” – boy he nailed that one.
On a lighter note, I don’t think I’ve ever prayed so hard in my life. I’m not praying necessarily for me, (well, kind of), but for he who shall not be named, the kids, wisdom for the doctors, CloverGirl from SS (and all of my other SS buddies), and for all those people who have been diagnosed with MS. It comforts me to pray for them.
I should hit the hay – even though it’s still incredibly hot here…