I calmly said to my husband as we headed to my weekly hairdresser appointment, “I wonder when I’m going to die?”
His very masculine answer was, “Is it your time of the month?”
I told him that was beside the point (Although it actually was).
Sometimes I get reflective. Often when things aren’t going my way, I morbidly tend to wonder when all the struggling is going to be over. Not that I want to rush it or anything. I’m just always looking for some kind relief.
I have to keep reminding myself that there was a time when I was hospitalized hundreds of miles away from my family. When going to the beauty salon was not on my mind. My utmost concern was just making it through the day. Like we all do.
As we continued toward the salon my husband saw I was a bit agitated and retorted with, “We all wonder when we are going to die Nicole. Personally, I plan on living as long as I can. Remember that because when they ask you about pulling plugs on me you yell, hell no. He wants everybody in here to come jump up and down on his chest if need be!”
I said okay, because I want to die first anyway. Is that strange? I just can’t imagine being a big burden on anyone else besides him.
Don’t get me wrong my health is stable. I’m going to the gym as often as possible. I take my medication and I pray to a God that has me on this path for some unknown reason. So at the end of the day, even though I don’t like it, I might as well make the best of the life I’m blessed to have.
Others aren’t so lucky. At the worst, my life with MS has been a multitude of astronomical inconveniences, but not deadly. That’s going to have to be enough for now.
Then we entered the hairdresser and everyone shouted, “NICOLE!”
I in turn, smiled and figured I’d stick around one more day.