Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Humility 201

This is what steroid treatment looks like. 

This is what your entire family in RI looks like- as you're Skyping your son's first steps. 

This is what pure love looks like. 

For the past six days I've been undergoing this extreme steroid therapy to try and drive out the palsy that the MS is causing in my right leg. So far... Eh. The nurse comes every day. I take time off work- time I do not have pay for- and I lay there for an hour while the chemicals flow into my body and try their best to bring down the inflammation in my right leg. 

I get fairly drowsy after this and I have to relax for a bit, but sometimes I can go back to work. 

The problem lies that I can't bathe properly with that stupid IV in. And I hate to ask my husband for any help with this. So as soon as my mom got home from RI, I made the call. 
"Mom. I need a shower."

We wrapped up the arm and got to it. My mom made no big deal about it, just washed my mop of hair and scrubbed me with a loofah. I felt like a million bucks after she was done. 

Except that I was so vulnerable. I started to sob. I am a grown woman, with husband and son. And my mom is washing my rear end. When is her job over? When can I be a "big girl" and take care of myself? Has MS really robbed me of all of this?

My mom of course just held me when I cried. Dried off my leg. Combed my hair and helped me put on my night clothing. 

The IV is out now and I was able to shower on my own- but there's still this level of humility. That even though I am capable of being on my own, I still need an advocate. Just like my son needs me, I need my mom. And maybe there's a part of a mom who needs to be needed, no matter how old her "baby" is. 

I imagine it was hard for my mom to look at me. To be thinking- my perfect daughter whom I held in wonder 28 years ago, has suddenly been diagnosed with an incurable disease. 

What if I have to look at Liam in 28 years and think the same thing?

Time will tell. I am not MS. Is isn't going to define me. There's no way to know what the future holds so why dwell? For now, I'll watch Liam's first steps away from us and encourage him to run. Soon I'll run after him.