"She’s like a fifties movie star, so capable, so loving and energetic." and she just keeps on s'myelin : Media Meditation #1

Every once in a while, a person will stumble across something that will tug at the heart strings a bit. I am no exception. However, never have I stumbled across something that would shake me down to the core so hard that I wouldn't be able to finish it.

         In my Rhetoric class, we were given the assignment to read an essay called "On Being a Cripple".  Nancy Mairs (the author), wrote of her experiences, her fears, her aspirations and her frustrations with (what seemed to be) a progressive course of Multiple Sclerosis. I had been avoiding the assignment all week. One might think I was simply procrastinating but that wasn’t the case at all.
            Thursday afternoon, about forty-five minutes before my class, I sat down to read the piece. Ten minutes later it was safe to say that my limbic brain was fried. Why? The piece used humor to attempt to soften up a bad predicament. It didn't sit well with me.

I was excused from class. When I went to talk to my professor before class, he gave me two options. One: To leave class. Two: to offer perspective on the essay. At the time I was too thrown to offer perspective but I’m not anymore. So here it goes:

Twenty two years ago my mother was diagnosed with a relapsing remitting course of Multiple Sclerosis. In the past four years, I’ve spent a lot of one- on- one time with my mom and in that time, I have felt enlightened, burdened, proud, angry, inspired and scared but never all at the same time. Until now.

(Me with my grandmother and mother : The two women whose lives have been most affected by MS)

I sat down in maybe five different places trying to get a grip on myself to barely any avail. I called my father. I called my grandmother who had to take care of my grandfather when he was diagnosed with a progressive course of MS. However, no one seemed to have the same perspective as me:  a scared little kid away from her mother.

Having a parent with MS is a force to be reckoned with to say the least. The appointments, the chores, the questions, the constant jump in the heart, the loud noises are only a fraction of what it is like. My mother is one of the lucky ones. With her particular course, she should experience a full recovery from an attack. My mom takes each day in stride. She laughs a lot, picks on her kids and can find humor in any situation. She keeps the house running. She cooks and cleans and is really involved in everyone’s life. She isn’t a saint. Her pride can get in the way of asking for help especially when she needs it. We may be too paranoid, especially me but we all try to make it work as best we can. My mother is one of the strongest , willful people I know. She’s as stubborn as a mule and I wouldn’t have it any other way. She reminds me of Jed Bartlett from The West Wing whose character also had MS. He said “All I can promise you is that I will fight with every fiber of my being, with every weapon in our arsenal, and with every ounce of God's grace to keep us strong, and free, and safe.” I’m confident she’ll do the same.Well, I feel better! Imagine how long this post would have been if I had actually read the whole thing!

Clip from The West Wing: Courtesy of Youtube