Maybe I Just Forgot

I was diagnosed in late 1999. The physician stated: “The MRI shows there is plaqueing (what?) in your brain. That, along with your symptoms, likely means you have Multiple Sclerosis. Judging by what I see, I would say in five years you won’t be ambulatory (again…what?). Make another appointment on your way out.” Just another day for the doctor, but for me it was a day that is burned into my being. MS… so dizzy I couldn’t walk… throwing up every time I turned my head… a doctor who was as understanding as a piss ant… and no hope. That was a couple of months into this journey that had quickly become a nightmare. If it were not for my wife, Liz, I have no doubt that I would not be here today. She took care of me, cleaning me up like a baby, urging me to eat, speaking of a future that I could no longer see, and, above all, offering Hope at every turn. Fast forward (and trust me when I say it was not fast) to 2025. I’m still here. I know I have MS most every minute of every day, but from the outside, everything appears to be fine. I’m glad it doesn’t show outwardly like it used to, but the flip side of that is people expect me to be normal, not just look normal. Normal. That’s a word that means absolutely nothing beyond everybody expecting someone else’s normal to be like theirs… whatever ‘their’ normal is.

Living with the invisible burden

My biggest issues are mental/cognitive deficits. I can’t remember things… unless they happened before 1999. I honestly forget that I can't remember things... talk about a vicious cycle! Oh yes... I have no filter when it comes to emotions. Or emotion (singular), I should say. Anger can spring up and go from 0 to 90 in a split second—too fast for me to recognize, remember, and stop it from spewing all over those I love. My two youngest granddaughters, aged five and seven, call me grumpy. And they’re right. I am more likely to correct than praise. More likely to respond in anger than with understanding. Of course, I apologize… but you can’t ‘apologize’ angry words back into your mouth. They’re out there.

A new path

Stevi, the youngest, asked me why I was so grumpy. I thought for a moment and said, “Maybe I just forgot how to be happy.” Then she said, “Can you forget how to be grumpy, Papa?” Out of the mouth of babes. I don’t buy into ‘new normal’ or ‘live your best life now’ or most of the other phrases I often have thrown at me, but Stevi’s question has started me down a new path of thinking. Maybe I’m not really the monster that I feel like I am every day of my life. Maybe I’m not ridiculously ungrateful or the uncaring ogre that I seem to have become. Perhaps.... Perhaps... Maybe I just forgot… how to be happy; how to be grateful; how to enjoy today; how to reach beyond myself; how to hope; how to show love. I'm not there yet, but I will be. And it wasn’t a doctor, or a therapist (I've had several), or a sermon, or a ‘talkin’ to’ from a friend or loved one that is altering my course. It’s my granddaughter Stevi’s question. Maybe I can remember how to be happy. Maybe I can forget how to be grumpy.