Acceptance: Served Up with a Hefty Side of Fear

I learned yesterday that once a person (or at least this person) has reached a stage of acceptance (of whatever it is that needs accepting in her life) doesn’t mean that fear (of whatever has been accepted) just disappears.  I actually thought yesterday, on my lengthy commute home: Can you accept that you have M.S. and still be holding your knees down from hitting the dashboard because you’re filled with fear?  My answer: “yes.”

Here’s how it all went down.  Just a few days ago I ordered up a healthy plate of acceptance.  A few days prior to placing the order, I noticed I was feeling a little fatigued.  That’s a normal thing for persons with M.S. and just as normal for anyone trying to make it through party after party during the holidays.  My order arrived, fresh and made to order, and by morning I noticed a number of my Moonlight symptoms were showing up.  (They weren’t invited to the dinner party). 

My legs seemed to be burning more than the new normal (they burn every evening but now they were burning during the day, too, and burning more intensely). My legs felt like lead weights.  A colleague had me do some minor walking around campus with her and I could barely climb sets of steps.  I felt like I was back to searching for words – occasionally — but still searching nonetheless. I was making mistakes while typing (and not just because I need to get my nails trimmed).  I woke up feeling like I had a fever, but the thermometer, which the hubby tested three times just in case, shouted no alarms (must be hot flashes).  The fatigue seemed to increase and so did my fears.

Then yesterday I read that the U.S. woman, who died from PML just weeks ago, as a result of being on Tysabri, presented with hot flashes, memory problems and speech impairments.  I scared myself silly.   Then I started talking myself down off the ledge, reminding myself that I’ve experienced the same exact symptoms even when I wasn’t on Tysabri.  You have M.S. Sunshine!

I quickly did a mental scan of my last four months: new and very demanding job, house for sale, Oboe’s passing, the hubby’s surgery, the father-in-law’s near-death 10-day stay in the hospital (haven’t told any readers of that drama yet), a couple of holidays thrown in for good measure – it’s no wonder my neurons aren’t firing as sharply. You have M.S. Sunshine!

Apparently You Have M.S. Sunshine didn’t work though and I knew I wouldn’t sleep a wink last night if I didn’t talk to my neurologist.  From what I reported she’s not overly concerned about PML, but we’re scheduling a priority MRI, blood work and testing for Tysabri antibodies just to be on the safe side.  It could possibly be a minor exacerbation – I will be extremely bummed if that’s the case (does that mean the Ty-Train ride has to come to a halt)?  Perhaps Tysabri isn’t working for me and new lesions have shown up in the Train’s dining car.  Hey! I know what it is: You Have M.S. Sunshine!  But I’ll jump up and down with glee just to know it’s not PML.  And, if it’s not and I haven’t built up the antibodies that make Ty not work, I’ll be showing up for my Train ride next Friday as scheduled.

Yes acceptance can still bring fear as a date to dinner parties.  I’m even more convinced that I’ve reached acceptance because it took a mere few hours to pick up the phone and make that important call.  Prior to my official M.S. diagnosis, I suffered (not so silently) for more than a decade – always afraid to really find out what was wrong with me. I avoided getting tested for medical conditions like the plague.  After being diagnosed and facing my first relapse just six months into life with M.S., it took days to make that call. Accepting that I have M.S. means that I have to deal with whatever comes my way, without denial and without delay. If I get any more accepting, I’ll be calling the neurologist weeks and weeks before any future rounds of symptoms arrive!