Not to long after I was diagnosed with MS, my 70ish year old neurologist confidently told me that he thought multiple sclerosis would not be cured in his lifetime but for sure it would be in mine. Quite comforting at the time, but now the clock is ticking very loudly. Each new symptom reminds me just how vulnerable I am. I was in my early 20’s at the time he made that statement. Now I’m knocking on 40! My cure confidence is slowly fading away. First of all, I never thought I’d get this disabled. After all, a cure was just around the corner. Right?
I don’t see that neurologist anymore and I wonder how he’s doing. I wonder if he’s still alive. I wonder if he knew how great I thought he was. I wonder what he would think if he saw me now. I’m sure he knows that a chronically progressive disease does just that…progress. The best things I can do are to dig deep into myself, find peace and adapt.
To tell you the truth I don’t even wish for a cure anymore. It takes too much out of me. I rather just try to make it through the day. It’s much easier for me to take it one day at a time. On rough days it downsizes to one moment at a time.