Seven months ago, in the frigid pre-dawn hours of January 5th, two New York state police officers stood in our kitchen. They explained to my husband and me that our beloved, yet very troubled, son had taken his life, and at that moment I forgot I had MS.
Oh, there have been other times since being diagnosed in 1999 that I wasn’t aware of my condition, but it was always lurking, ready to once again take up too much of my thought. On that morning it was the furthest thing from my mind, and it stayed that way as our now family of three stumbled through the next few horrible weeks.
In the past, I would look at any major event in my life in terms of its impact on my MS. The enormity of this situation changed that. And, with the help of devoted family, dear friends and my aide Lori, I was able to focus on and accomplish the daunting tasks that death brings to a family. When you have MS – especially for many years – there is a tendency to forget just what you’re capable of doing or being. My husband needed his wife, my daughter, her mom.
Now, seven months later, the anesthesia that such tragedy brings has worn off. I remember I have MS, and my symptoms have been as hard to handle as the overwhelming grief. But, life does go on and I am needed to help and guide my daughter while she tries to put her life in some semblance of order (she is starting her senior year of high school this September). My husband, who has taken such exquisite care of all of us needs all the support and love I can give as we grieve for our son as a couple.
I’m trying hard to keep my thoughts on other things that are so much more important than MS, and I truly hope that one of life’s happy events makes me forget again that I have this disease.