Friday, January 6, 2012

Can't think of a title...

I should not have written that John had not experienced much discomfort on account of his MS.  I seriously think I’ve jinxed us.  For the past week, he’s been having one episode that just doesn’t want to go away.  This time it’s in his leg.  He describes it as if his whole foot has gone to sleep and it’s numb and then painful.  He can’t judge his steps.  He can’t figure out how much weight to put on his leg.  Running is out of the question.  This is the biggest episode in a long time.
Multiple Sclerosis is a very interesting illness.  There are several different kinds of MS, and there are varying degrees of those kinds.
Ten years ago, when John was diagnosed, we both went into panic mode because we thought that in 10 years’ time, he would be in a wheelchair.   I went to school to get my license to be an administrator because we thought we would need me to be making more money because he would be unable to work.  Fortunately, we found out that John has a form of MS called Relapsing-Remitting MS.  This means that he goes through periods of relapse (called episodes) and then periods of remission when there are no new episodes, just the feeling of the effects of past episodes.   Because we’ve been so lucky, I’ve decided that I really don’t want to be a school administrator.  I don’t think that kind of job will be good for me or for the family, honestly, and I’m happy in my classroom.  I had started to think that we’d be OK without my doing it, and I haven’t seriously pursued anything in that area.
John doesn’t believe in being “weak.”  He tends to keep things to himself, so I’m not really sure how many episodes he has a year.  I am only aware of the ones he talks about, and he only talks about the ones that really interfere with what he’s got going on.  He’s the guy who went to work the day after he crashed the race car and had contusions in places a man really shouldn’t have contusions.  He’s the guy who refused to go to the doctor ten years ago when he had his first major episode and thought he’d had a stroke.  If I can see something is up, then it is something big.
The thing is that not only can I see he’s having a difficult time walking, but he’s telling me about it, too.  This is a big thing.  This episode is not as big as some of the other big episodes he’s had, but it’s big.  And it’s scary since it’s been a long time since he’s had such a big one. 
We’ve been lucky.  What happens when our luck runs out?  Right now, when he’s in pain, it’s not so hard to see it is a reality.  Last week and the year or so before that, I couldn’t picture our luck running out.  Now, especially today, it’s a vivid image. 
And he’s so good to me. 
On Wednesday, Anna and I had a showdown.  She’s decided she doesn’t want to go to dance class any more.  I don’t understand why.  She loves the people—the kids and the teachers.  She loves the dance and the routine they’re learning.  She pretends she’s Miss Heather and with the radio on in the kitchen, she leads her imaginary class through the routine.  I didn’t want her to quit because she loves it so much, but she pitches an absolute fit when it’s time to go to class.  Won’t put her dance clothes on, won’t just go and get in the car. Even the threat of me calling Santa and telling him not to bring her presents wasn’t enough of an inducement to get her to go.  So I withdrew her from dance class. 
In the meantime, I had tried every possible technique to get her to go to dance and she was having nothing to do with it.  She just was sobbing and clinging to me.  And she clung to me pretty much for hours.  I was so done with her by the time that John came home.
And when John did come home, he convinced her to go with him and Jack to tae kwon do so I could have some time on my own.  Never mind that he was feeling poorly.  Never mind whatever else was going on in his head.  He took both kids so that I could have time to decompress.
Amazing, really.  If it were me, I’d have gone up to my room and cried.  He took them both out of the house on a cold, cold night when he wasn’t feeling well.  Heroic, really.  It makes me feel bad because I can’t hold my temper with the kids when I’m uncomfortable with my headache that will be gone tomorrow.

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