For the past 10 days I have focused on Friday's nerve injection as the answer. If not a cure for MS, at least a 'sure thing' to ratcheting back the pain and improving every corner of my life. As if, I would come home from the doctor, dance a pirouette, find my kitchen remodeled, and my own personal rainbow decorating the backyard. What I let slide into the dark corners of my mind is that I have an incurable, pain in the neck illness that has the habit of flooding every area of my life.
I made the mistake of starting to think that 'normal' would return instantly and that that 'normal' was something other than life with progressive MS. Instead, it is Sunday morning and I am struggling mightily with head pain, fatigue, and the disappointment of only incremental improvement. As I have cancelled one plan after another all through Saturday and into today, I am having to face that Friday morning was a bandage and not access to an elixir.
Yesterday morning, I did too much. On a sunny Saturday morning, one might read that and think I woke up, made pancakes with bacon, spent a couple hours in the garden, worked out, then did weekly chores as well as some Spring cleaning. In reality, doing too much meant rolling around the neighborhood for 10 minutes while my hubbie walked the dog, then coming home and writing a Thank You card. By 1pm I fell into bed and slept like a dead thing. Then my dad came by, trounced me at cards and left after about two hours. I laid on the couch for the rest of the evening and was in bed by 8pm. I had hoped to go to church for the first time in a month this morning, but by 8:30am knew that wasn't to be. It is 12:30 and I can't seem to work up the energy to get out of bed. My head still hurts, although maybe a little better, and I feel like a rung out dish rag.
Maybe one of the hardest things is responding to the hope I hear in people's voices when they ask how I am. I feel like I am disappointing them when I can't give a better report. Even though I realize that the question comes from deep care and concern as well as the hope we all have that something, anything will help. I am only reminded that once again, this illness rather than my desires control what I am able to do. No amount of rest, or planning, or any 'magic bullet' can make me able to do something, no matter how much I may want to.
A little earlier, my hubbie brought home a bouquet of purple alstromeria and mums from the store. He is putting them in a vase that a dear friend gave me for my birthday. I am listening to soothing music. My dog is curled up next to me. This will have to be enough. Cataloging these many simple blessings becomes my own rosary. A prayer of thanksgiving for life.