I’ll never forget him in his ill-fitting trench coat and his cartoonish large head towering over us, just a bunch of wide-eyed, snot-covered children at Tonawanda Elementary School. His name was Officer McGruff, the Crime Dog. He pointed his furry finger at us while an accompanying, un-costumed police officer warned us against the dangers of drugs.
I looked up to McGruff. We had a bond. We understood each other. I knew this because a year or two earlier, I had won a safety poster drawing contest and was awarded with my very own plush McGruff doll. It may as well have been an official sheriff’s badge and a key to the city. I was now a safety expert. I took everything he stood for to heart. I mean, he had a trench coat and everything!
My nemesis, the alarm clock, is shouting at me, urgently notifying me that it’s time to leap out of bed and go to work for the day. My eyes snap open. I can see! Without thinking at all about it, I contract the appropriate muscles in my side and my arm to slap the snooze button for the fifth time this morning. I have to use the bathroom, but I can hold it and I take a moment to appreciate that fact.
Sunlight is seeping in between the window blinds, slowly illuminating the room with its warm glow. What else can I see? ...
July 1, 2013
Look at you sitting there, tapping your feet and fidgeting with your hands in that cold, grey exam room. You’re moments away from receiving medical confirmation of that little monster that has been haunting you over the last few months, probably years:
You have multiple sclerosis...
My heart is in my stomach.
My mouth is dry and he’s standing there, almost bracing himself, scanning my face for a reaction.
But I am numb—not in the tingly MS way, but I’m briefly stunned, mentally and emotionally.
My husband has just revealed to me that a longtime friend of his, someone he trusted in moments of private human emotion, has likened me to a child and, further implied, a burden...
I was diagnosed with MS in July of 2013, shortly after my 29th birthday. While doctors told me that it likely manifested years earlier, when weekend-long bouts of vertigo were brushed off as a possible symptom of a sinus infection, I don’t see those as my first attacks.
Much like your first kiss, you never forget your first attack—the one that really counts...