Each Day is a Gift, A Life With M.S. Post

The music pulls me into a place of clarity as I focus on the tiny spaces I am desperately trying to color with colored pencils. I press too hard and the highly sharpened pencil’s lead breaks again. Pieces skitter across the paper leaving tiny marks I’ll have to try and erase later. I put the pencil in the sharpener and try again, it’s all I can do.
I won’t stop trying. Even in the face of my softly diminishing fine motor skills I won’t quit. The detail is what I miss most about drawing. My two handed style of drawing challenges my brain in a way nothing else does. Yet those detailed, tiny movements in order to color these cards for my project I’m doing, this is almost beyond my abilities.
Does this make me angry? Sometimes. Most days I simply accept this is where I’m heading again. The Multiple Sclerosis steals things away when I am forging ahead in my life. It reminds me, sometimes harshly. “I am still here, you can’t get way from me.”
I can never get away from this disease. This I know and no longer stress about it. Yet others do and perhaps this worries me for them. They don’t understand how long I’ve lived with this disease’s insidious ways. Of one day being a great day, I can do everything I have on my list for the day. The next day I can barely do anything at all.
In the year 2000, after antiviral therapy for an entire year, I celebrated being out of the wheelchair. I hope, I pray for good. My life has been an amazing gift each day. I never forget this even if others do.

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