My father was never one to show emotions. Since the diagnosis of my MS, he had thought he caused it. Even though numerous Neurologists have shown studies that prove genetics have nothing to do with it, he still believed it.
His sister Joyce had a son named Johnny. Johnny was diagnosed at the age of only 17. Now, I’m not sure if you had any knowledge of this, but when men are diagnosed at a young (or even older) age, their MS progresses much faster with a bad grudge. Johnny did go on to marry and carry on a “regular” life, but my aunt still tried everything in her being to help him. Help would include trips to get self-injected bee stings; snake venom or other rumors that circle in the MS community. His immune system later in life would catch up to him and Joyce would lose a son.
My aunt Joyce truly loves me. I feel she sees Johnny in me, so do my father, sister and my brother Frankie. I couldn’t be any luckier to have such a person in my life; my aunt is a true super woman.
Since the stress was aggravating my MS, I was using a wheelchair again. However, I was also using a walker (with pink balls at the tips) to walk short distances. This would become a problem with my living conditions. My parents realized the nice (but cramped) apartment would have to be traded up for a home. As quick as you could say, “move”, we were living in a 55+ over community in really nice suburban town. The house was very modest but homely. My father had the carpet ripped up for hardwood floors, door frames were ripped out to make room for wider space and my father even built me a wheelchair ramp. For a man in his early 60’s, he sure broke his back (literally) making a better home for me. My parents are not the most financially stable people. Their paychecks went directly into my well-being. I will be forever grateful to them.
My sister would also buy something that would be key to my recovery. Since I no longer had a private gym to do my therapy, my sister (Carly) invested in a very expensive treadmill. The treadmill was designed for the therapy I needed; with large handlebars for support, emergency break and a large tread. It was also easy to move from wheelchair to an upright position. Every day I would walk for 15-30 minutes on the treadmill, practicing the “marching step”; knees high, land toe to heel. Between the treadmill and using my walker for short distances, I was making process.
My father became my safety, my mother became my, well, mother figure, and my sister would become the ear I needed since she lives in Buffalo.
I would also have one other person for support; my best friend Monica who I have known for almost 20 years now. We met as kids on the Internet in grade school and kept in touch since. During the late summer, Monica paid me a visit. By that time, I was walking on my own and with a cane if I really needed it. Monica’s visit would prove to me that there are truly beautiful people in society and I am fortunate to call her my best friend, even something close to a sister.
During a visit to New York City, I bumped into J (the on/off again boyfriend). As nothing happened, I would visit him a few days later after Monica left. While my visit at his new apartment, I couldn’t think of anything else but his hanging up on me in the hospital. I had an awakening looking into that face I once loved more than anything. That visit would be my last, our communication would be nothing but cordial, and I would stay the hell away from men.
Throughout those four years, my dating life came at a standstill and J became the poster boy of how my wall was built. My efforts in love would be dedicated to helping others with Multiple Sclerosis and earning my Ph.D., in Clinical research Psychology. Easily one of the best things that has happened to me. Thanks J.
