It was a frigid winter day when we hiked to one of Shenandoah National Park’s most famous waterfalls, White Oak Canyon.
We made my first multiple sclerosis infusion be a celebration of sorts and once it was done, I realized there is power in positivity.
Since determining I would be moving onto new Medication Number Three, I have been busy preparing my body for Ocrevus — my first infusion-based multiple sclerosis medication.
Every time I wear my backpacking boots, I gush over how much I love them. Wanna find a great pair for yourself? Here’s one I fully stand behind!
This hike made me feel calm, gleeful, and child-like — giggling with Andrew as the wind gusts pushed against us and squeezing inside tiny crevices of gigantic boulders. This is love amplified in countless forms.
And this is Richmond, our Richmond — a big little city (as residents say), one that boasts of its river so much the area is nicknamed “The River City.” Here’s more on our walk along the floodwall . . .
On to a decision, on to Disease-Modifying Treatment Number Three: Ocrevus, an infusion medication.
It felt a mighty battle between gods for light and darkness. Deep grey clouds suffocated the sun and loomed over the blue valley while the sun struggled to pierce through in broken patches of light.
This is our home. This is where we feel most comfortable — where the sun and moon shine together and where colors are at their prime. This is where the world stands still but also blurs by and we grasp — keep trying to grasp — that moment where we, too, can freeze in time.
Here, the white boulders were streamed with hints of pastels — yellows, oranges, and pinks — as we watched the sun set until it faded behind the Blue Ridge Mountains.
This hike is packed full of so much rain that my camera refused to work and fog so thick it became mesmerizing. But in all of that rain and fog: The most amazing Virginia waterfall and sheer cliff drop we have yet to see.
My second trip to England felt different than our first and it also made me more aware — aware of two dramatically different homes that Andrew and I now share.
Here I finally have a chance to explore Sheffield, Andy’s home, though he hates it when I say that. So maybe Sheffield isn’t his home currently but it is his first home — the home that made him who he is, and there is something powerful to be said for that.
“You come up with some stupid ideas, but this — ” and he pointed in the direction from where we had come, “has to be the stupidest.”
This is what Andrew had to say to me as we were stuck in the middle of our most terrifying hike yet. Here we took to England’s almost-mythic mountain, Helvellyn.
Maybe this is the news I needed to shake me out of my own safety net. Maybe I needed to hear this to stop holding myself back. Maybe — in some warped way — MS will free me.