So, here I sit, awaiting the storm of the year with 7.5 million other Americans. And.And it's definitely coming. I witnessed the first snow flake only minutes ago. It was deceptive, though. Just one little, delicate, angelic flotation free-falling from the sky. So innocent, so representative of all those anticipated snow days from my youth: the sled riding parties and bonfires; hot cocoa a freshly baked cookies afterwards; the nights when winds knocked out our power and my family snuggled together around the gas oven to keep warm; the endless hours of card games...
Those were the good ol' days.
I love winter. I love snow. Until this year, I thought winter was my friend and that the heat aggravated the MonSter that roars within me. I am beginning the think I as wrong. Anyone afflicted with a drop foot know the frustration of trying to keep up with the rest of the walking world. Normally my own condition improves in cooler climates. This winter, not so. The simplest journey has become quite taxing this winter. Is it the temperature or is it the relapsing side of my relapsing/remitting MS?
That is, of course, the most exasperating aspect of this disease. It always poses an unanswerable question. No matter the level of medical expertise a neurologist posses, these questions will not be answered. Because no matter the extent of study, there is always another question of challenge. The more I read about MS, the more I realize that NO ONE knows.
So, with this intolerance to my preferred cooler temperatures, does this mean that this summer may be a beach summer for me? Will I be able to bathe in the sun and frolic on the beach (hardly) of the Atlantic? Will I participate in the many activities at my summer camp that I have eliminated in recent years? Will I be able to sit on the river bank and fish?
What's the deal, MS? I'm running out of seasons.