For Serious?

.... So I guess my response was not as the doc expected.
I assume my nervous anticipation had thwarted to some degree by the cigarette I had just smoked and the restroom down the hall.  A highly inappropriate activity, but it was cold outside, I couldn't walk, blah, blah, blah.

Bottom line.. I could care less, what is the most that can happen... I'm dying.

So imagine this, the doc has probably administered the same diagnosis to hundreds of people. I'm sure he had refined his delivery and I am positive he expected great emotional despair -tears even.
As he gave a dramatic pause, he asked me to speak.

I guess that diagnosis, being very ambiguous, allowed my arrogance to fester out of control.

I am a 22 year old male, having just been offered a diagnosis that should have been life altering at that moment, and guess what I said?

 "Is that all you've got," rolled off my tongue first. I guess because my arrogance was bigger than I was. At this point I had the golden touch: everything I cooked was a culinary masterpiece, every song a grammy winner. I traveled, I made stacks of cash. I had fed movie stars, politicians.. your basic A list. I only dated the prettiest girls and did the best drugs.

**we will discuss that in its own post later**

So I asked the second question, " Am I going to die?"

At that moment I knew he was The Devil. He said with a very confusing tone, "No, no not at all. You will not because of it.. but you will die with it." As if ripping off a bandaid, he began the MS spin on me.

"MS is a chronic progressive disease affecting the central nervous system," At that very moment I had flash backs of my youth, raising money for bike-a-thons, walk-a-thons, for MS research. This was in the early 80s, I remember seeing people in the wheels chairs, and with crutches and canes.. I witnessed their obvious physical struggles... but I had no clue, it was just MS. Even with those memories, I was not yet humbled.

So the Dr. Devil proceeds to tell me I will have to make adjustments in my life. He suggests no longer working in the food industry, and stop playing music. "You will not be able to handle the heat or stress of either career, and oh.. we don't know what caused it, and there is not much you can do it for it but grow old with it."

Now you have to understand, this is the MS culture circa 1994.  (Though he did go into his talk about certain new medicines)

So let's recap a bit: By now, my great grandmother had died, my father had died, the girl I was in love with left me, my mother had recently recovered from breast cancer, and I was severely ill with bronchitis. I couldn't walk, I couldn't talk, and I could barely see in front of my face - all within months. While earlier in the year, I was living a wild lifestyle in Hawaii, I was cooking great food, playing great music, and making great memories.

So I'm in a full blown, arrogant, asshole state of mind at this point. I say to the doc, "Not me."

So now you have heard my story.. now I'm about to get real 

"It is what it is"

So what you gonna do? 

From This Day Forward

Traffic seemed to be very slow this warm, winter morning. The day had already begun a little different. It's December and I could care less about Christmas and what tomorrow would bring... I was focused on the hospital, the exam room and the possible answer of what I did not want to hear.

As I sat and waited in that room, the old me poured out. I refused to put that damned hospital gown on. I refused to sit on that cold table. And oh.. leave the freaking door wide open... I wanted to see the Devil coming.

I have walked the Earth about 8, 215 days, and I had been very blessed. I had many great experiences and adventures by now beyond my years. I was blessed with talents such as music and food, the ability to understand, as well as communicate. With the exception of my ongoing journey in a subculture, life was grand.

I might not have played life right, but more like Sinatra, "I did it my way." The word excess had become my middle name. Humility was never in my vocabulary, but more so arrogance was the banner I draped myself with. But now I have a man to see, a man to listen to, and I must shut my mouth, my stupid mouth.

At this very moment life had caught up with me.

This man I must listen to, was an older gentleman, a very put together fellow, with advanced medical education- that I would never forget.

I watched him walk down the hall towards me, almost in slow motion. Please remember.. I wanted to see the Devil coming, but that was my choice... alone. He did something to me to that day, that no doctor had ever done.

He stepped into the examination room and closed the door behind him.
He laid his hand on my shoulder and said, "Son, I'm so sorry."

Then with some sort of dramatic pause...
He phrased the following in a very tender, and compassionate tone,

"You have Multiple Sclerosis."

One More Again...

I'm still dying. But I'm going through the motions. It's time to return to the college for my test.
I had just limped through Izzy's funeral, and didn't know it would be 19 years before I felt that hollow again.

It looks like it will be an uncomfortable battery of tests, but it must be done. On this journey, my 69 year old mama has chosen to be my chauffeur and it looks like an overnight stay. A modest hotel was chosen. I felt shame that day, as she carried the luggage by herself as people stared in disgust at a healthy looking young man that allowed her to do so. They had no idea of my boggled state of health.

There wasn't time to get settled in the room, my destiny awaited.

My first step on the curb of the hospital seemed to reach out to me in one of my most miserable falls ever. Followed by a swarm of nurses and such, "Are you okay? Don't move." I had fallen backwards on the hard sidewalk. I stared at the clear blue sky and was prepared to float up or down.. whichever was decided for me. But I was tenderly taken care of by the medical staff. I refused all attempts of emergency room treatment, because I just wanted this over with.

MRI, spinal tap, visual tests... I had no idea they were not testing but merely confirming their hunch. The tests seemed to take all day and I was physically spent and overwhelmed with fatigue.

We made it back to the hotel, but we were required a return to the hospital in the morning. I had become tired and extremely frustrated. I'm walking at this point, but only with the aid of two canes. This night was very vivid in my memory, as it was the first time I ever remember my mama crying.

I didn't see her, but I felt her sobbing, late at night. She was crying for me and I felt the sorrow fill the room. Till this day, I wish I could block that sound from my memory.

A 6 am wake up call is literally a 6am wake call - but my potential diagnosis had kept me awake the entire night. Just three more hours... let's see what they have to say.