You know the feeling. Your heart speeds up, your extremities get cold, you have that feeling of dread/excitement in your gut as you start to wonder why on earth you've decided to do this. Then you reach the top, have the last moment of utter fear and you tumble down, around the curves, clicking and clacking all the way. Instead of happiness, though, it's adrenaline, fear, and a lot of questions. Thought I was talking about a real roller coaster? Rather, talking about the roller coaster that MS has been.
There's really only three options when dealing with a family member with multiple sclerosis.
1) Blind hope and denial. I find it hard to believe this is an option but it can be for some I suppose. Ignore that the disease exists and feel utter surprise (and not in a good way) every time a symptom rears its ugly head.
2) Believe the worst, always. This is a pretty crummy way to live. It sounds appealing because you're never surprised. You always wait for the other shoe to drop. If you think about it, disappointment is the result of hope not met. In this strategy, you would always be ready for something to happen. Thus, no surprise. Seems perfect right? Well, maybe in some ways but the reality behind living this way is that you are never ever pleasantly surprised because even when something good happens, you are going to be waiting for something bad. I lived this way for a long time. I found it very unpleasant. The loss of hope leads to despair and depression.
3) Live in the present, plan for the future. It's true that you will never know what's coming but you're not waiting with bated breath for something bad to happen. You are prepared with the knowledge of what's likely to happen or what may happen, but you're not pre-depressed with what might happen.
By no means is it easy to live with MS or be the family member of someone with MS. There's a certain sound of resignation I've heard in the voices of Working Man's parents and friends when I tell them he's in the hospital again. They're always worried about him, of course, but it's not the same level of panic as when it happened the first few times. Usually they wait for the explanation and the information about when he'll get to go home again. A few days here, a week or two there. The hospital is familiar and almost homely at this point. We recognize the nursing staff, ER doctors, and even the laboratory technicians.
We went awhile without being in the ER or the hospital and when I walked back in there this week, a lot of memories rushed back and I felt...relieved. The staff has him in great hands. Now if I could just keep the house from falling apart and the dogs from escaping the yard, I'll be in good standing too.
