Screaming At The MonSter

Friends and family provided me hope.

“A hospital bed is a parked taxi with the meter running.” ~ Groucho Marx

I never planned to live in chaos. But here I am again. Trying to steady my brain. Looking up at the sky. Searching for my purpose with the stress of my diagnosis sitting on my shoulders.

Endless doctors appointments, various symptoms and unsolicited magic potion advice builds the pressure. Until one day I blacked out. Fainting from the force of my burdens. Regaining consciousness in an all too familiar place. Laying flat on my back in a hospital bed. Waking to monitors flashing my status. Echoing like slot machines. Not knowing if I was dreaming or awake.

I silently looked around the room and saw my husband sitting in a corner chair. Eyes closed, slowly bobbing his head with headphones wrapped around his ears listening to Kanye West yell at him. Music so loud I could hear every lyric.

Above his head, there was a dry erase board hanging on the wall. The date, my vital signs and unfortunately my weight were written right below the on duty nurse’s name.

I glanced back at my husband and realized he had fallen asleep. And worst of all his music was still playing. I couldn’t help but think, if I die right now the last voice I’m going to hear is Kanye West. What a horrifying fate.

Why couldn’t he be listening to Adele or Beyonce? I love crying to their music. The distraction of sympathizing for them always makes me feel less sorry for myself.

For the next 30 minutes, I listened to muffled rap music and watched as twilight slowly pierced the window blinds and overtook the room. Creating a murky space with an aura of sadness. To ward off melancholy feelings, I concentrated on all the good times. The love I received from others and the love I had for myself. I diverted my attention to a tray table displaying a row of cards and flowers undoubtedly given to me by my friends and family. It provided me hope and a feeling of joy.

Then from the shadows, I noticed a nurse entering the room. She approached my bed and very cheerfully said to me, “Welcome back.”

Her acknowledgement confirmed I was not dreaming. So I smiled the biggest smile I had ever smiled. Because at that moment, I recognized I had once more faced and conquered my demon. I was triumphant. And thanks to the universe, I was allowed to continue living, loving and laughing.

So as my hospital room filled with the voice of Kanye West screaming at the world, I began screaming at the MonSter, “I’m still here!”


(The first things I saw and experienced after waking up in the hospital. And finally being discharged.)

Author: Nicole Lemelle

My name is Nicole Lemelle. I am a writer, activist and a person living with Multiple Sclerosis. I created My New Normals to educate those who do not understand MS, reassure people with similar plights and inspire everyone to seize command of their lives.

17 thoughts on “Screaming At The MonSter”

  1. I so want to hug you! I read your posts with anticipation and admire your strength. Some days I start to get down and know that I have done well for the time I have been diagnosed. It seems that things are starting to change and I have to remember that I am strong and I can adjust. I am glad you are better and glad you waited for the music you love! haha

  2. Beautifully written. I’m glad you’re still here! A fever of 101 would definitely have me flat on my back. I envy you being such a lightweight! I weigh 40 lbs more than you (and when I was diagnosed I was super skinny.) Makes it hard for my husband to transfer me.

    I swore off doctors 9 years ago, 6 years after my diagnosis. No meds. I’m on the healthiest diet possible, pure food, vegan, mostly raw. I swim daily, take some supplements recommended for MS. My own body is killing me, I don’t need doctors or drugs to help it along.

  3. Wow! If I had a fever of over 101, on the current medicine I’m on, Ocrevus, the same thing could easily happen to me. Glad to see you got through this very challenging crisis.

  4. You are still here, and you are still YOU! MS can’t ever take that away. Don’t ever forget that!

    So sorry to read about your recent exacerbation. I think of you often and hope the MonSter will give you some peace.

    Also, I couldn’t agree more about Kanye being the worst possible music to have to listen to! Your husband is wonderful and truly amazing, but there is some room for improvement in his music selection! 😉

  5. I’m glad you’re out of the hospital and still smiling. Thank you for always being so open. It helps a lot of us.

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