My hubby Tom and I decided to venture to Wendy’s for supper. I intended to order a chicken wrap and a sour cream & chives baked potato.
We never discussed this, but I assumed, we were using the drive-thru. After a short less than 5-minute drive, we arrived. Against Tom’s better judgment, I managed to convince him it would be a short walk from the car into the restaurant. I told him I would been more than able to use my walker. The fact that I can aptly use my walker around the house distorts my perception. To my surprise he parked in the lot and began to get out of the truck. I knew I couldn’t make it in using only my walker. But of course, trying to prove a point…to whom? I don’t know, maybe myself. I exited the FJ Cruiser. Took two hard-pressed baby steps and conceded I would just stay in the truck. Defeated, embarrassed and misunderstood. My new life.
So, what does any woman do at this point? As he began to walk inside Wendy’s, I called my mother, briefly updated her and her first response was, “Sounds like you were disappointed you couldn’t walk in.” Silence. I muttered, “I never thought about it that way. Okay, he’s coming back. I’ll talk to you later.”
Minutes later hubby and I were home. We ate dinner. I got in the shower.
To be a little more accurate, I was actually on my shower bench. A Justin Timberlake song was blasting, the door was closed, and I was crying my own river. Yes, that entire episode was about my own inability to walk. It never stops. The sadness disguises itself. How long can one mourn something? This time I let the tears flow freely, I was safe behind closed doors. I didn’t have to pretend. I didn’t have to be strong. I just let myself feel the pain. I recognize the resentment. I love my hubby, but sometimes I probably resent the simple fact that he can walk. How awful! So, I cried.
I never like him to see me cry. I’m confident he can’t hear.
So, I cried. I felt cleansed and soothed by the tears. A small victory now that I think about it that I was able to sit alone with myself and just let go and cry my little eyes out.
An hour later, there’s a knock at the door. He says, “Hey, you alright?”
I’m very late to this ‘party’. Feel for you on that, Nicole. It is hard for the non-MSers to understand that ‘home’ and ‘out’ are different. Sometimes even I forget. I had a similar thing last week – was having a ‘great’ dday around the house with no cane assistance at all – thought I could nip up to the shops without the cane but on getting out of the car, couldn’t continue. Lots of things come into play I guess – mainly that it is the brain, not the legs, that are mucking things up – a combination of less familiar surroundings, a little vertigo, the next ‘layer’ of noise and crowds, the uncertainty of going out but not knowing how it will be coming back… etc. Anyway, drove back, got the cane and all was fine – with the mental ‘security’ support as important as the physical assitance.
Thanks for your story. Beautifully written as always!
Ian, Thanks for the compliment.
Mental Security.That’s deep. I am very fortunate to have plenty of that in my life. Problem is often I’m the one trying to tear it down!
Nicole – A bit late to the party but… sometimes the journey for me as a single person seems so heavy. Yet other times I hear things like this and realize how free I am to experience / express what needs to be in the moment. I say this as it always surprises me how life will go on matter-of-factly for quite some time and then what will trigger the emotions.
Donna, you are quite right. They always say life is in the journey. I’m still trying to appreciate that one.
Been there, done that too. 🙂
Laurie, Apparently, the shower is a very popular spot. I missed that memo!
nicole, I love your blog! I’ve had ms since 1994, was married for 17 years, but…well, long story…suffice it to say, I’m now single, and have the most awesome apartment now, 1 story, 2 bedroom, 2 bath…and the only man i want in my life now, my great big gray cat, Truman! Oh, and I have a daughter who is 27, married, & happy (that’s important!), & at Marion Tech studying to be a registered nurse, and they have an awesome son that’s 1 & 1/2!
Unfortunately, I’m far enough into ms now that I need an aide to come here 5 times a week for help to get me on my shower chair, but I like her a lot…but I’d still rather walk & drive!!
Libby, thanks for frequenting my site. I may have to get an aide sometime soon too.
I (LOL) will to do it in style giggle giggle.
Oh the shower is such a wonderful place to let it all go. Yah – it pisses me off – the mustard jars, the bag of chips, an envelope, the spilled coffee – all the Oh here let me help you’s I hear – and forgetting what the heck it was I was gonna say or type like I just did now!
Yes, I forgot about the here let me help you’s. I thought I was crazy for letting those bug me. I feel like I’ve just been let off the hook.
I definitely know this road. “Oh yeah, I can do this.” Turns out… I can’t. But I had to discover that by failing. Not fun. At all.
But my first voice teacher recommended the shower as the best place to cry. The noise it makes covers the noise that you’re making… and when you’re done, you’re clean, both inside and out.
Robert, great I have a date tonight with the shower!
I can relate to the tears — there are times that I find I need to let loose in the shower. One thing: my P/T shared with me that MS tends to activate the same brain cells that are activated with depression. Not sure what to do about that, but when the tears do come it helps me accept/understand why — they cannot always be explained logically. Also, could you ask your hubby to use the drive-thru next time? He may not always think of it on his own…. Good Luck to you (all of us)!
Linda, Good idea! I just read in Lean on Me that the range of emotions we go through are similar to those of someone grieving the lost of a loved one. I asked when will it end…I guess it may always be there undercover.
funny how we begin to resent the very ones we love… ok not funny but you know what i mean…
i get so angry when i can’t open the damn mustard… i fight it and fight it…finally i give in and take it to coach to untwist the stupid little top…
and i get pissed…
and then i cry…
i would be we all cry like this….
aghh! Damn mustard!
I don’t think we can put a time limit on mourning our loses. Crying is sometimes a good coping method. I find it cathartic, and will often cry my eyes out when no one is home. I also scream into a towel sometimes…that scares the dog though.
Karen, I second that motion!