Going To California

We’ve been contemplating going to Sacramento during the Thanksgiving weekend because Bob’s mother is hosting a family reunion with all the folks from the south attending. We think it might be fun to see some of them. Then of course there is the 608er’s. I do want to see those two old people who brought me into this world fussing and fighting all the way through. So after putting it off for awhile we make all the necessary arrangements. We got it almost all together as figured out the details. I made all the arrangements of getting my hair done, picking up the toiletries, and dropping clothes off to the cleaners. Then of course an MS attack happened as it enviably tends to do whenever I plan something detailed. I was shaking and unsteady for about three days wondering if I could even make this trip and if I did I wonder if I am going to be attacked while there. That is the problem with Multiple Sclerosis; it has a calendar of own. It shows up when it wants to and stays until it decides to go. Then Bob’s foot got bruised during his daily run around Greenlake. So he is limping and I am shaky and now I thinking I need to keep my behind home where I can at least control my surroundings and my situation with some familiarity. Damn. I hate when that happens. Now I have to go and really pray hard that God will have mercy on me and hold back an attack while I am there and that Bob foot has healed well enough for him to stop limping. I had at least three offers of staying with folks from both family and friends and although I know that would save us some cash and we would feel safe and welcomed, we both agree that it is better for all if we stayed in our own spot so I can heal properly without bothering anyone with MS or Bob dealing with his wrapped up foot. I wish I could explain that this is not the part of the disease that I want to share with anyone or how I much I feel guilty having to depend on Bob for every immeasurably small detail of my life while I am having an attack or that Bob hates the fact that he cannot run and has to watch his foot for more discomfort. I don’t want to explain that now my life is measured by my tremors: today only a slight quiver while bring fork to mouth, tomorrow I won’t be able to walk without some assistance as I have no control over the tremors in my arm and leg. There is also the fact that we chose not to inform Bob’s family about my disease. They are not really part of our lives much and we do not feel that telling them is necessary. I think I have it figured out but only the trip will tell the story of us being able to duck out of social gatherings when we feel like it and not having to explain to anyone about why. The runaway in me thinks this is going to one of those trips that determine that we won’t be coming back for a very long time. Sigh.