Ghost under my bed photo #6

Often I ignore the thing living under my bed, pretend it doesn't exist and pray that it goes away. My disease lingers like the ghost in this picture with eerie disregard for anything else in my world. It waits.

I have purposely not addressed my Multiple Sclerosis or my past brain tumor, lately because I am afraid that some over zealous social worker may google my name (yes, it is my REAL name folks) and find my blog. Not that I have anything to hide at all here, they have copies of my medical files, but I just worry. Heck, I have even e-mailed her with my blogspot name in my e-mail signature, which is why I changed it recently.

I am a perpetual worrier.

This morning though, when I saw this picture, I thought that this is exactly what having MS feels like. Like there is a monster under my bed. It lurks there and I, most of the time, I am blissfully asleep, unaware of it at all.

But it waits for me.

MS is a patient lover.

Last night, as I was getting ready for my Rebif injection like I do every Monday, Wednesday and Friday night, I went to the fridge and got out the Nyquil (cherry flavored, I prefer it cold.) Off came the little cup thingy, off came the lid and with the fridge still open I wandered into the den/office to look at my books on my book shelves.

I looked at A Separate Peace, The Old Man and The Sea, The Sound and The Fury...I wondered why I have two copies of A Farewell to Arms. I thought about starting East of Eden again...and then I wander into the kitchen and thought:

"Why did Charley leave the fridge open?"

See, that is the thing with MS, it lurks and I never know when it might creep out from under the bed.

I worry that I may be suffering cognitive problems because 38 isn't old enough to be that absent minded, I mean who forgets that they are in the middle of getting something out of the fridge and goes and pursues their book selection? I took my shot of Nyquil and then went and took my injection of Rebif, which hurt like the dickens. Sometimes it hurts so much I threaten to cold-cock my adorable husband.

Really. Me, the nice Christian woman.

But see it is just my over active imagination making too much of nothing. I have gotten easily distracted my whole life and it could be a part of being creative. Do other creative people find it hard to stay on task? When is it time to worry? Try going shopping with me, forget it. I am like...ooohhhhh looky, preeeetttyyyyy.......and I TOUCH every little thing.

One of my favorite movies is What About Bob...I really get that movie. Cracks me up pretending a heart attack so he doesn't get one.

How do I reconcile and make peace with the ghost living under my bed?

So this is my non-fiction response by Christina K. Brown


TJ said...

I think you left a window to your heat open here...you give so much of yourself in this piece.
I share many of the same places with you...TJ

Globetrotter said...

Hi Christina,

This was such a candidly honest and beautifully written post. I wish you were right next to me so I could give you a hug and so that we could have a long discussion about many of the things that you talked about in your entry.

First off, regarding the memory thing...I do think that people who are exceptionally creative are very selective about the things that they allow their brains to think about. They just discard what's trivial and focus on the important stuff! When I had my ballet school I noticed that these very intelligent and gifted teachers of mine had no clue about mundane things that some people think are essential, and yet they would produce the most incredibly gorgeous choreography! So try not to worry about that. Your mind is absorbed in deeper things than the fridge and that's OK.

Regarding the MS...

Lord, I just admire people like you and Tammy so much for your beautiful spirits that shine out and the thoughts which you share with us on a daily basis. I can only believe that God has allowed this to happen to good people like yourselves because he knows that you can deal with it and use your restrictions in a way that allows for a greater level of creativity and sharing of beauty.

I was diagnosed with Lupus in my early twenties. I attribute the ballet to keeping me relatively fit,healthy and mobile over all these past years of child-bearing and rearing. But the disease recently came out from it's little hiding spot (Under my bed?) and is making my life a living hell, too.

I haven't talked about this in my blog because I, too, feel very strongly about privacy and guard mine possessively, and in truth what I am going through is hardly significant compared with what you have had to deal with.

But infirmity certainly changes the way that you think about life and things, and I am just grateful to God for loving me and sending me a loving husband and children who adore me. In truth, I can't complain about anything, and now I feel a little silly even writing about it. But I wanted you to know that your readers adore you Christina, and we hope that each day brings you special moments of joy and discovery that you can translate back to us in your beautiful poems and writings.

Thanks you for that.

Tammy said...

I knew the moment the new expressions came out, you and I would connect to this one. I hesitated, but once again your heart inspires me. I understand your words. May God continue to use you as his vessel to inspire!


Bon & Mal Mott said...

You do an excellent job of keeping the creature at bay. May your defiance be ever thus.

Bedazzzled1 said...

I addressed this writing of yours in your journal. And I stand by what I said there. You are a ray of sunshine to me, friend.

V said...

Well, here I am, back again, re-reading.
The comments your post inspired say everything. Brava!