Aftermath

Probably, the hardest thing to explain to folks is the toll I pay for doing the most normal things. The extra-ordinary events come at an even higher cost. No amount of prepping, organizing, assistance, self management, meditation, or other techniques will mitigate that choosing to participate will cause me to spend time in the penalty box. It is four days after my coast trip and I still feel like I was hit by a truck. I've been in bed for most of that time, my hubbie says I have dark circles under my eyes, and my arms, hands, and left leg are driving me batty.
So, what do I do? Become like the troll under the bridge and be defined by the MonSter rather than the brave creature who dared to cross the chasm no matter the outcome? 
This past Saturday,watching the winter grey waves reflecting the unexpected gift of sunlight, spending time with friends, and reading a fantastic book; my answer to the do or not do question was easy. By Sunday night, say around 2am with my arm pain keeping me awake,I was questioning the sanity of doing such an ordinary thing. 
My bags from the weekend remain packed. The mountain of laundry is growing. And, my body shows no sign of improving. How can something as simple as a weekend trip make me pay and pay.
It isn't as simple as, OK, I shouldn't go, so don't even ask me. I want, more than I can express, to be a 'normal' almost 45-year old woman who works, gardens, cooks, takes the occasional trip and the countless other things that I should be able to do without weighing whether my body will go into an MS death spiral. See the Amazing Janine as she attempts to live while balancing precariously over the precipice of MS.
All I know for sure is that for today, I will take the best care of my self that I can and savor the memories of this past weekend. And, leave the future to sort itself out. 
I am aware, always, of God in my life. With Him daily survival is a soul thing. He is the constant in my lowest times, contented times, and when I am at my best. I read this Psalm and am reminded of this.

A Pilgrim Song

 ¹God, I'm not trying to rule the roost, I don't want to be king of the mountain.

   I haven't meddled where I have no business

      or fantasized grandiose plans.

 ² I've kept my feet on the ground,

      I've cultivated a quiet heart.

   Like a baby content in its mother's arms,

      my soul is a baby content.

 ³ Wait, Israel, for God. Wait with hope.

      Hope now; hope always!

Psalm 131

Complicated Math Equation that is Life with MS

I am too tired to write much here. This past weekend a dear friend or two helped me to overcome the inertia of MS and I made it to the coast. It was one of those rare winter days of blue-sky and sunshine that keep us Oregonians returning to the beach in these long rainy winter months. So a huge thank you to the 'angel' who helped me pack and prep on Friday afternoon. Long gone are the days of dropping a few things in a bag and zipping out the driveway. And, also, thank you to my cabin mates who made it so easy to be needy! I will definitely 'pay' to play and hope to not do too much this week (as if I have much choice). 

The view from the cabin

How I Spent my Saturday

I am home, curled up in my nest and thinking fondly of getting away from it all. Something I can no longer do without a flotilla of support logistics and post event recovery. Makes me tired to think of doing it again any time soon. But, hey, at least I managed one more time to take a weekend trip and who knows, maybe when I do the complicated math of prepping, packing, planning, subtracted from the pluses of wandering, hubbie breaks, and time with friends, in ratio to the cost of the aftermath, the occasional trip will come out on the plus side of the equation that is life with MS.