My Rock

I’m sitting in my comfy chair the day after I posted my previous blog drinking coffee and generally just minding my own business. My wife, Dalyce, sat across the room and finishes reading the blog. It’s a quick read and I dare not to interrupt.

“That’s not the way I remember the drive home,” she says to me with a curious look on her face.

“I remember the snow storm and how difficult it was to drive,” she continued. 

“It started to snow in Vancouver as we were leaving. We thought about stopping in Hope, but we decided to just continue on,” she said, looking at me with a puzzled look on her face.

We continued on to the Coquihalla Highway even though it was snowing heavily, and going over that stretch of the pass can be treacherous. So treacherous there was a TV series called Highway Through Hell that highlighted, from a towing company’s perspective, how difficult it was to drive through the pass.

“We got to Merritt and I had to stop and take a break from the blinding snow. I was exhausted. We both went to the bathroom there, and when we were back in the car you offered to drive. Do you remember any of that?” she questioned.

I thought briefly.

“Nope,” I replied. “I was really out of it.”

Then I reflected on that day. I dig deeply into my brain where I find I vaguely remember pulling into Merritt, and for some reason, I was sure I could be of use and drive the rest of the way. 

The Lemtrada drip had taken its toll on me. I struggled from the car into the house and flopped on to the bed. That was the Friday night. 

Once home and in bed I made that my go-to-place for most of the weekend,

Fatigue in Multiple Sclerosis is well documented. However, to just call it fatigue is a little insulting to the disease. There are days that just walking to the washroom can induce the need for 12 hours of sleep which never comes. Getting rest and then feeling rested doesn’t happen.

I spent most of the weekend in bed then the following weeks in a reclining easy chair we had set up in front of the television. 

Since my immune system, specifically my Lymphocytes, had taken a beating, I wasn’t going out into public for a few weeks. The Lemtrada literature says a couple of weeks. The Lemtrada nurse said six weeks. The Lemtrada continues to be processed in the body for at least a month. I was prepared to settle in for a while. No more seven am coffee for a while. No more lunches with friends and co-workers for a couple of months.

Having a great support system is vitally important and the value of a fantastic partner cannot be stressed enough.

That’s Dalyce for me. She is my rock while I’m in a hard place. 

While she works from home as a consultant she finds time everyday to look after my needs. I don’t think I’m a needy person, but I am grateful to her and all that she does to make my life easier. For the first week she made sure evening meals were prepared. She made sure my morning coffee was delivered to my lazy butt stuck in the easy chair once I dragged it from the bed. She kept me honest and realistic for the first couple of weeks.

After those first two weeks I began to perk up. I began to feel great. It’s the end of February and this wild animal has been caged for too long. Against Dalyce’s better judgement I believed I was ready to go for morning coffee. I was ready to go out into public as long as I had really good hand sanitizer with me. The plan is to get to the coffee shop early and wipe the table, and any surface I would touch, with the sanitizer. I began to feel so good that I was sure I could get rid of my cane by June. Confident and a bit too cocky.

Don’t underestimate MS.

I was then invited by co-workers for Friday morning breakfast. That was four weeks in.

So, I went. 

One person I never expected to show up to breakfast was a person that, because of a very young child, seems to have some perpetual illness. I didn’t think much about it – it was great to see all of them. Breakfast was great, and the social interaction was spirit-lifting.

Two days later I was sick. I had gone to bed not feeling well then in the middle of the night I had to crawl to the bathroom as my legs refused to cooperate. For the next five days I suffered through a sickness the likes I’ve never felt before. I thought I would never get better. I felt like I was knocking on death’s doorstep.

Dalyce, my rock, although very concerned and worried, reminded me how foolish I was.

She won’t let me forget. Thankfully.