The Handwriting on the Wall

When we are told that we have a disease, most of us panic.  Doom and gloom are our first thoughts.  We think of all the people we have known or things we have read about that particular disease and only think the worst will happen to us.

When I first learned that I have MS, I was in that category.  My outward appearance didn’t change, but inside I was in turmoil.  All I could think of was being in a wheelchair, unable to feed myself or do any of the things we consider “normal”.  If a doctor told you you had cancer, the first thought would be that a painful death was in your future.  Once you had time to think about it and learn more about it, you might calm down and have a more reasonable outlook.  This is the way a MS diagnosis affects most people.

Although most MS patients lead a fairly good life, many are in terrible pain and crippled from the disease.   Normal life is no longer in the picture, but most of us are able to still enjoy the lives we have.  Only when you let yourself totally give in to a pity party do you let it defeat you.

I remember really hating the chore of having to wash dishes when I was young.  (We did not have the luxury of a dishwasher back then!)  It seemed like no matter how often you washed them, there was always more to wash!  It was a never-ending cycle that I truly dreaded.

As more and more of the chores I once did are taken over by my husband, I long to do them.  I guess that is part of the “grass looks greener” saying.  You always want things you can’t have and fail to appreciate the ones you do.

Which brings me to the handwriting thing.  My handwriting was NEVER pretty, but I loved writing.  When I was young, I wrote short stories, poems and such all the time.  We didn’t have computers and few people had typewriters, so it was all done by hand.  I loved writing and receiving letters and cards.  I used to put notes all over the place so I would not forget a doctor appointment, grocery item or such that I needed to remember. 

I don’t handwrite much anymore.  I have a hard time holding a pen and when I do write, even the most expert code breaker could not decipher it.  But every now and then I do still try to write.  It makes a lovely mess.  Maybe I am the next Picasso in the making??!!!