I suppose there will be days like this

There will be good days, perfectly productive, pleasant days on the surface but for the minor fact that when you go to walk somewhere in public (not far) your legs don’t appear to be operating as legs anymore.

You might get overwhelmed with the feeling that walking across the street to get in your car (that is parked in the handicapped spot, mind you) must be way more than 100 meters away because your un-legs are struggling to carry you there. And you are a 4.5 goddammit!

On these days you might have vivid images in your mind of, you, rolling around on 6th Avenue hoping a stranger helps you back to your feet before a bus runs you over (it won’t happen by some miracle of the universe).

You might have a day when you call your friend to meet you in the food court because it’s 12:45PM and you need to eat something but you’re afraid you won’t make it to BOTH the food court AND back to your office AND back to the parking garage on your new un-legs.

Then you might sit and eat your stupid beef stew while also crying, in a very public place, about your un-reliable un-legs while said friend valiantly watches, says soothing things and tries to make you stop panicking.

On days like this, you might franken-walk back to your office, with your friend at your side for support, because you really want to see the friends visiting from out of town that you almost never get to see, while all the time wondering how your un-legs will carry you back to the parking garage (again, parked in the handicap spot for least possible distance) without turning into solid blocks of lead (they feel like lead already).

You might stumble down the walkway to the elevator in your therapist’s office building, and pathetically thank the smiling elevator operator for helping you get up one stinking floor.

Then you might hold on to the wall as you lurch toward the room where the magic happens, because crawling in public is generally frowned upon. And then you sit in that room and cry for one solid hour. While your beloved therapist says over and over again:

You will not always feel like this. You WILL get better. Tomorrow is infusion day. It will help you. You WILL NOT ALWAYS FEEL LIKE THIS.

You will let her say it, because she has MS too and she really does get how empty those words sound. She knows those words sound pretty and hopeful when they hit your ears but feel like ugly lies deep in your heart.

I suppose there will be days like this.

Tell me what you think...