A few months ago I mentioned how I cried over MS/pickles after the hospital called me to schedule MRI’s. I was sad I was forced to think about pickles, I was anxious about what the results would be, and I wanted to stay in my oblivious bubble. Totally ignoring, or in deep denial about, pickles.

I ended up telling myself I could do the MRI’s and just…not get the results if the results were what I truly feared. I had time to think about what to do. 

Yesterday I got a call from the hospital that the doctor would like to meet me in person to discuss the results of the MRI’s.

For the next couple hours I tried not to think about it. But as I was doing dishes the effort to NOT think about it was too much. I got scared, I got anxious, I got mad, I got sad, I cried, so I went to have a moment in the washroom. I was upset that the date I was supposed to be in Switzerland, living, I would be spending in a doctors office instead. The trip would of been cancelled regardless. But there’s something very upsetting about being some place completely different then what you had hoped. The connection, the metaphor, was blatantly obvious. The disappointment familiar.

I considered calling friends, running into Dean’s arms. But I looked at myself in the mirror instead and told myself what I needed to hear.

I am strong

No matter the outcome, I will continue to live

I will turn the good or bad fortune into something meaningful, something of value

I can handle this