...and now it appears Mack has MS. When I was a kid, the tag l ine on the ad said, "MS, the great crippler of young adults." But we're not young. It appears Mack's symptoms came on 10 or more years ago, he just never pushed for answers from the doctors. He didn't schedule the MRI's they ordered, he didn't follow the physical therapy regimen prescribed, he didn't follow up with doctors on the schedule requested. And now, at least, we know what it is. There are treatments for this, at least, right?
I admit I'm a bit freaked out about this though. I don't like it when my husband is uncomfortable, when he's embarassed by his weaknesses, when he falls in front of his friends/coworkers/employees. I asked him tonight what sort of improvement he's hoping to find in treatments offered. He said, essentially, he's accepted there's nothing to help him, that he's stuck like this and that he'll never regain any function. Maybe, he admits, it will slow, but he'll never be any stronger.
That would be ok but I can't imagine giving up. I commented earlier that "I'm not feeling very loved today", to which he said nothing. He assured me of his love, but again, how would I know? I talked briefly with Mack about my 'love languages'. My primary love language is clearly Quality Tiime. (I need time with you, not time spent watching television, by the way. Just in case you're reading, dear Mack.)
...and now I can't sleep.
Thanks for listening -