"It's all in your head," the doctor announced as he showed me my MRI that sticky July Friday afternoon. There were white spots.everywhere. Oh, no, my beloved brain was broken. How could this be happening to the most important part of me?
I took a deep breath, a big gulp and calmly asked, "Is it a brain tumor? "
He rambled through confusing medical terms explaining what wasn't wrong with my brain. Finally, he told me what it was.
"Whew," I sighed. It's only Multiple Sclerosis.
I knew Multiple Sclerosis. I had participated in many MS Walks. Not a life-threatening event but a chronic disease where the immune system mistakenly attacks insulation surrounding nerve cells that control all bodily functions. Finally, some scientifically substantiated answers for the wobbling and wall banging I had experienced the previous 5 months. And more good news: surgery was not an option.
"But, what can I do now?" I asked.
"There's no cause nor cure," the neurologist said, "the best I can give you is a prescription for prednisone to settle your physical symptoms and a recommendation that you reduce stress."
Since I didn't have a cross-country plane to catch until Sunday afternoon, I'd have some time to read everything I could about this physical phenomenon. I'd also schedule some time to make any modifications to how I ran my management consulting business with clients from Bristol, Tennessee to Trona, California.
Over the next few weeks, while the oral steroids solved some problems, new symptoms appeared. Like fatigue. It arrived and I thought it would never leave. I tried large doses of rest, relaxation, sleep, chocolate, caffeine, and mountain dew but nothing worked. My right side was becoming less functional and something, maybe fear (?), made me swap my standard transmission Integra for an automatic one. And I did something I hadn't done in 8 years: I told myself to take a vacation.
So I did nothing. For weeks and weeks and weeks.
Doing nothing didn't mean nothing doing. I accomplished much that sizzling, steamy summer. I learned to love laziness. And discovered how my fine-tuned left-brain skills could help me reexamine my priorities and revise my to do lists.
To maximize my sitting down time, I ordered pads and pens and restarted journaling. When my right hand lost its senses, my left hand pitched in and in time furnished some pretty neat material. I discovered I had a right brain that helped me reupholster some unhealthy attitudes and behaviors.
Some days my entries bored me. Sometimes my brilliance baffled me.
My words, phrases and sentences prompted me to ask myself, "Where did that comment come from?" "Who told me that?" "How did I ever think that?" Always curious, I asked my pages more questions and more questions and surprisingly, in time and patience, received answers. I discovered that MS was giving me an opportunity to change what I'd been doing for almost 40 years--emotionally and intellectually mistreating myself.
Now, I could choose what messages I gave myself and what tone of voice I used. I selected different words for my vocabulary. I eliminated perfection and made excellence my new goal. Rather than continually questioning everything with why, why, why, it felt healthier to use "hmmm, that's interesting what's that all about?" Hard work and sensitivity replaced pain and suffering. And I even found space for success.
Before that summer, I never thought much about my life. Home was someplace I passed by on the way to somewhere else. But now, I paid attention to myself. I started understanding and accepting my strengths; I began entertaining my possibilities.
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