I wanted to keep a log for myself of what has been happening with my health. I want to encourage society to stop this insane bs of comparing weight. And I want to give someone insight on my treatment therapy in hopes of helping him or her.
The only way to summarize this hike is through a quote: “Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes. True love. Miracles.”
Alright, I’m setting a loose and lofty goal of going on at least two hikes every month. Lucky for me, I made new hiker friends and was able to pack my pack a second time, just seven days after my first hike.
It got to a point where I was wondering if I would survive. It got to a point where I was wondering if I should have been honest. I was after all just a girl that purchased new hiking boots and socks and a pack.
Who makes these decisions? Who finger-points which people “survive,” which benefit?
My point is this: Facebook can blow up with stupid viral videos of old not-even-good movie clips with the words “Bye Felicia” and deep debates on the color of a dress, and people can bitch about our government as those running constantly say bigoted, racist remarks while still being handed a microphone . . . but practically nothing is being done to actually help anymore.
I had a flare-up which (to me) is basically a reminder that you have MS, a sign that your body is still trying to hurt itself.
November is a hard month. November is a painful month.
We feel it’s our beginning, like we’ve been behind this door – hiding from people, ourselves, the world – and now we are opening it, stepping out. The future is ours now. We hold our future.
Here’s the latest on my check up with Doctor Number Three. And the result (I’ll ruin the suspense): Not a success.
Foreshadowing? In all of the above moments? I cannot stop asking myself this….
It has been three years since I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. In the beginning, people and articles said, “Things would make more sense soon.” This filled me with more anxiety. What “things”? When was “soon”? It seemed to be a riddled threat, one I could not figure out… until now. I realize I was looking at it all wrong. The articles and people meant things — the ticking time bomb — had already gone off and that I would get answers as to why soon, now.
This year marks a decade of me standing by my team. And that’s pretty special, pretty huge for me. But it’s not just me standing by the Red Sox; my team has stood by me. In each game of those ten years, they’ve made me want to gain more baseball knowledge than the previous year. It’s here the Red Sox taught me the most important lesson, too: Baseball is a symbol, standing for something larger. Baseball is not “just a sport.” Baseball is life.
It’s strange because sometimes when I talk about MS in person, I feel furthest from people. Yet, here — with the light of my computer screen — I feel like I have someone with me. I’m not judged. I’m not told I’m wrong or right… or how I should act or what to think. I’m not told anything. I’m just given a space. A space to think. And I believe when one can delve into their own thoughts — be allowed to fully think — that person is never alone.
Our wedding was beautiful. I don’t know how else to describe it. Okay, maybe I do. Romantic, gorgeous, magical. Intimate. So very special. Beautiful. It was all so beautiful.