Month: May 2018

Oh no ! It couldn’t be? I found myself in some sort of horror sci-fi movie at the tender age of five. I stood frozen watching my  sacred source of liquid comfort fly through the air in slo-mo, like something out of the Matrix. It had landed in the corn fields, between stalks ten feet high. My bottle had been banned from the village by my older sister. I was going to start kindergarten and she had deemed it time that I no longer needed such an infantile crutch.

In retrospect, I’m thankful now that she spared me the ridicule and sheer terror I would have faced boarding that school bus with a bottle of milk in my hand. She obviously had a level of wisdom I had yet to develop. At the time, I felt like a desperate addict wondering how I was going to get my next fix!

This was a defining moment in my life as I stood at the great abyss, that massive field with hundreds of rows of terra cotta warriors staring me down. I pondered my next move.  Do I risk my life, go into battle and perhaps never return? Do I risk being maimed for life by a land mine or being decapitated by some wild agricultural creature that had yet to be discovered by the scientific community?

Or do I adapt and become a new and improved version of FatRat.   A stronger, wiser version, free of her “crack-cocaine-in-a-bottle” addiction. I  had no AA, no support group to stop this addiction. “ Hi, my name is FatRat and I’m a Milk-A- Holic.” This was cold turkey, old fashioned detox, sweat it out, face your demons girlie…move on.

And so I adapted. I became more resilient. I learned that I could live bottle free. And a funny thing happened on the way to the forum…I liked “me” better! I felt more resilient, more liberated. My sister knew what she had to do to help me advance to the next phase of my life. Thank you my dear sister. Without this act of kindness, tough love, self preservation or whatever you want to call it, I wouldn’t be the strong woman I am today.

At the time, I felt as if my world had caved in on me. I felt I had no inner strength. For five long years, I had been under the assumption that my “life source” sprang from an 8 oz plastic bottle. But low and behold, I came to realize that my “life source” was from within. It was there all of the time. I just needed to impetus to tap into into it.

And so it goes, with MS or any other crazy chronic disease or bump in the road…we adapt, we forge on and we find our inner strength. Its our essence. It is that inner being that allows us to wake up each morning and be thankful for another sunrise, a bird’s chirp, a smile, the hug of a loved one , a warm cup of coffee. And so it goes…One day at a time.

I remember the hydraulic swoosh of the big yellow bus door opening..the large black rubberized-steps staring me in the face…the soulless gaze of the bus driver staring down at me…the walk of shame down the isle, slowed by the shackles around my little ankles…there was no turning back. I was on my way to prison and no one heard my screams. Wrongly accused with no representation!

Kindergarten was hell. Ok, I know it wasn’t the state pen but it was a close second. I had to wear clothes and leave my animals to fend for themselves. I had to abide by rules and eat prison mush. I had to listen to the Warden tell me how to color within the lines…Oh no, this ain’t gonna fly. I had to find my escape route to get back to my life on the farm with fresh air and nothing but time. My time !

Then one day, Wilma joined the chain gang. And in one glorious, nauseating instant,  I had found my ticket to freedom…vomitus. Who knew 6 yr olds could have body odor. Who knew that body odor induced vomitus? Who knew that vomitus produced a Warden-to-Mother phone call and an automatic “get out of school free card”? Without the need for a shank, it was as easy as 1-2-3.   1) Hug Wilma in the cloakroom  2) Vomit  3) Hasta la vista baby !

I almost flunked kindergarten. My Angel of Mercy, the artist formerly known as Mommy, convinced the prison board that I should just be allowed to continue onto first grade despite missing 65% or so of kindergarten attendance. Now that’s a defense lawyer if I ever did see one !  So when I found out that I was returning to prison after “ time served”,  I informed my legal counsel…”You may be able to force me to go to first grade but I’m never going to college “.

Funny, how what looked like one thing , ended up being another. That prison bus liberated me. The educational system I so despised was my ticket to freedom. It allowed me the freedom to become a doctor and realize my dream of helping and healing. It was a life sentence of sorts, but a good one.

And so it goes with my MS. What looked like a death sentence to me at initial diagnosis,  a large looming bus ready to take me away, was actually just a paradigm shift in my life. Yes, I had no choice but to climb on board. . And yes, I resisted every step of the way with denial and anger and “why me”.

But now that I am on board, I realize I am not alone. I realize that it’s gonna be bumpy and out of my control. But this ride has created a new template for my life.  One that includes the need to reprioritize, to live more in the moment, to slow down and look around. There is no EXIT sign in sight but  that’s OK.  I don’t need Wilma, or a shank, or vomitus…I just need to enjoy the ride, do my best and be joyous…Who knew?