The Diagnosis in Cursive

When the doctor's assistant called to schedule the follow-up to my spinal tap, I knew that she knew.  Her positive tone actually made me suspicious.  My mother and husband both wanted to go to the appointment with me.  I knew that my mom really wanted to be there to support me and I hated to have Jack miss another day of work.  I also felt that by not having Jack go, I was proving that I was hoping for the best.

The doctor came in and sat across from me at a close, yet comfortable distance for a nice long chat.  My mom sat to my right with pen and paper propped up on her purse to take notes.  My chart was opened and she proceeded to tell me that my tests for cancers and then bla, bla, bla (it's all a blur)...came back "negative".  It all looked good...."BUT"...(a Pee-Wee Herman quote came to my mind for comic relief)...I did test positive for M.S. I don't remember the doctor's exact words.  All I can remember is that on a small folded piece of scratch paper, my mom wrote, "does have M.S."  That's the one thing I remember most from that day.  When I close my eyes, I can still see her cursive hand-writing across the page.  My heart sank for just a brief moment but strangely lifted at the realization that I was not really just going crazy.  I resolved to soak up all the information that the doctor was trying to impart. In an effort to avoid overwhelming me with too much, she pulled a book down from her shelf, M.S. for Dummies.  I chuckled at the thought that maybe there was a copy of M.S. for Smarties in her collection but she chose the former.  We sat and talked for a few more minutes, my mother taking careful notes. The doctor allowed a few weeks until my next appointment so that I could consider my treatment options.  Which meant: shot A, shot B, shot C, shot D, shot E or shot F.  Some had risks, some were inter-muscular, some were steroids, some once a day, others once a week or month, etc.  But none were a cure.

All I wanted to do was get to Jack.  We drove just a block across the street to his office where I immediately met him in the hallway.  I told him the news without any show of emotion because I knew that he would feel bad about not being there with me during the appointment and even worse that he still had a whole day of work ahead.  I told him that we could talk later, enjoyed a long hug, and went home.  Fifteen minutes later, he walked through the door.