Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Introvert

There are many, many words people may use to describe me.  I'm not going to list them.  But ask someone who knows me to describe me and make your own list.

Introvert?  Not even close to being on that list.  Not even the long list.  I enjoy going out with people.  I get excited about visiting places.  I enjoy meeting new friends.  I'm not "shy" and I'm definitely not "quiet."  Except for those times my MS is owning me.  Which it has been.

The scene is my BIL's apartment in Providence.  He shares it with his room mate, a gay man who is in love with a woman.  The apartment is perfectly decorated in a kitschy Art Deco- everything is there for a purpose.  Everything in the home has meaning.  The fire is roaring.  The bar area is lit in a romantic glow.  No actual overhead lights in the home except the kitchen, which is a flurry of activity as my BIL cooks his little heart out.  The music is about two decibels too loud, but over the laughing and the merriment, it's...still two decibels too loud.  The windows are open, because the fire is so intense for the tiny space that it becomes a distraction.  My son is taking this all in.  He's starving.  It's almost 8 and we haven't eaten.  I'm busy feeding him cashews from the bar because there's no kid food in sight.  He sits there like a little man, drinking juice from a tiny glass out of a tiny straw.  He doesn't mind any of this, of course.  It's all new and fun and loud.  To him, it's an adventure.

Room mate's love interest comes.  She doesn't just enter the room, she comes in and takes it over with her mere presence.  Everyone cheers her name.  I see her fancy shoes and immediately know she's out of my league.  She says things like "oh honey" and "be a doll and" and "aren't you scrumptious."  She's a Gusher.  My head is on fire.  She sits next to me.  Liam is done with supper.  He hasn't eaten anything.  He doesn't like it.  I'm starving and there's salad.  I ate four helpings of salad.



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What people don't know is that my day up until that point was a living nightmare.  My MS is flaring in ways it never has before.  I'm recovering from my grandmother's passing and crying.  Every.  Day.  The night before, Liam was up coughing all night so I slept sitting up with him in my arms.  The next morning my husband and his brother head off for the Comic Con and manage to wake Liam up at 8am with them.  He wakes up running and never stops.  It's 1:30 and we haven't eaten yet.  He's starving.  He throws FOUR TANTRUMS in public.  I spank him three separate times after MANY failed attempts at quieting him.  I buckle him in.  He unbuckles himself.  People most likely think I'm abducting him.  He stiffens himself out like a board.  Screaming.  My MIL intercedes by grabbing his arm.  I shoot her a look that she seems to understand.  Let.  Me.  Parent.  He doesn't want food.  He doesn't want anything.  He's exhausted.  I take him home for a nap.  He's not sleepy.  He jumps up and runs away.  I catch him.  He turns the light on.  I turn it off.  He turns it on.  I say no.  He says "I'm the boss."  I say no.  I grab him and hold him against his will while he's screaming and kicking me.  "You're MEAN!  MEAN MOMMY! LET ME GO!"  No.  You will sleep.  You need to take a deep breath.  He doesn't want to breathe.  HE wants to be angry.  I cuddle him up and rock him to sleep.  The car he's been clenching in his tight little fist all afternoon falls from his hands and he's out.  I sit there and watch him sleep.  He's beautiful.  He sleeps for 1.5 hours and I watch him.  He wakes up screaming.  Nightmare.  He doesn't know where he is.  Screaming.  No consolation.  Screaming.  Here!  Have the Kindle! Anything.  Please, calm down.  Time for a shower.  He doesn't want to take a bath.  He runs to the bathroom.  Screaming.  Screaming.  Screaming.  I know my inlaws can hear it all through the floor.  No bath.  Yes bath.  I take his clothing off of him.  Screaming.  He throws himself around.  Fourth spanking of the day.  We do not act like that.  You will get in the shower.  You need to breathe.  "I not want to breathe."  And so we're in the shower together, because I have no other way at this point, and he asks to be held.  He breathes deep with his hands on his belly.  "I love you mommy."  I love you Liam.

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When you have MS, social situations can seem like you're tripping on LSD or something.  Like you're listening to Pink Floyd while watching Wizard of Oz.  So I've got about 20 things going on in the room.  Candles everywhere.  Fire roaring.  Son not wanting to eat.  Music.  Food.  Eccentric guests.  Loud voices...Music.  10 people at a table for 4...Son wanting to play.  Where are the toys I brought...so hungry...darling where'd you get that dress...music...mommy I'm hungry I don't like this........can you pass me the........if it's not too much trouble............shrieking laughter..........clapping.......music music music....honey don't touch that.......bite of food......breeze from the window........take a bite of the music.......candles....don't touch that.....tell me a little about yourself.................................................how are you.......what do you like to candles......music.......breeze.......don't touch that...........so you work in.............oh Libbie can do that................Liam you need to eat......................at last my life is like a song......................please don't touch that................................................................everyone talking at once...................andy he had a terrible day I couldn't eve............oh your grandmother just died........................I'm sorry.............hug me........................mommy....................................................music.............................................fire..................................................................this...............is................not...................fun.....................
and then they wonder why we don't like going out in social situations.

The Gusher asks me where I got my dress.  "Ann Taylor.  Clearance.  Gift card."
The Gusher asks me where I get my son's clothing.  "Consignment."
The Gusher asks me how I like my short hair.  I touch my hair.  I hadn't styled it.  "I like it."
The Gusher asks me if we're having more children.  "Maybe?  Not now."
The Gusher asks if it was a medical concern.  "I have MS."

Silence.

And here it is.  The huge elephant in the room.  Gusher of course gushes.  Tells me I'm beautiful.  Asks if it's terminal...  terminal...really?  Grabs Andy's hands and tells him she's SO SORRY.  This must be SO SAD for him.  Then she calls her Uber car.  She drinks another glass of wine.  Someone spills her glass of wine. The party stops so they can clean it up.  The moment is over.  I take my glasses off, hoping they're adding to the insanity and lack of clarity of it all.  It doesn't help.  Gusher's arm movements are too big for the tiny apartment.  She leaves.  I think I like her...I think she'd like me if I wasn't flaring so badly.  If I hadn't spanked my child 4 times that day.  If I had not spoken of myself and turned the conversation back to her.  If I was on my A game.

"I know all about MS."  Room mate exclaimed in a wine-drunk kind of way.  "The mylar is being eaten by your immune system and you have to take shots and shit.  Interceron and all that."  Yes.  Mylar.  Like a balloon.  Shots and shit.  Exactly.  Interceron.  You're an expert. Clearly.  "My MS has made me what I am," I said clearly, "I own it.  It's mine.  It changed my life.  It changed our marriage.  Andy and I fight it together."  "WHY would you celebrate that?"  He slurred.  "You have faith in GOD, so why not just celebrate that by His stripes you are healed?"  I stared at Andy.  Gusher threatened to call for an Uber again.  Room mate assured her he was fine to drive.  Liam asked to pee.  Pee.  Uber.  MS.  mylar.  interceron.  faith.  the music is so loud.  We need to go.

I didn't say goodbye to anyone.  The stairs in the place are ridiculously treacherous.  I told Liam to go down on his butt and not stand up no matter what until he got to the bottom.  I held on to the walls as I inched my way down, mentally calculating how to fall the most agile way, so as not to create ruckus, should I fall.  I didn't fall.  I breathed in the fresh air.  Over.

"I wish I was the woman you married."  I whispered to Andy in the car.  "I wish this wasn't me."  He held my hand.  "I know."  He said.  "I know."