The wait

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The clock whirs slowly – so so slowly. Tick … tock …. tick!

Silence.

That long, drawn, aching silence. My mind rushes to fill that space.

“You can’t escape me forever,” it whispers.

My stomach flips. I’ve struggled to eat all day – the fear pulses through my body – ripping across it in what seems like a split second. And yet it’s so familiar – it has always been there. I’ve pushed it under the surface. Locked it away. But I don’t have the strength today.

Today I need that fear – I need them to see. I need them to understand.

I’m tired of plastering on a big smile and extra makeup while underneath the facade the pain claws to the surface – gnawing away – always gnawing – me always bargaining with it. I’ve pinned everything on today.

I squeeze Niall’s hand as we approach the doors and I’m so scared. This place feels like prison and yet without the help behind those doors my body could become the prison.

I learn today if those dots on my last MRI are lesions making their way down my spine. I learn today what shape my new poison will take. “Pick wrong and you’ll relapse again,” my head screams. As dramatic as it sounds, I feel like my future hangs on the next 60 minutes. It’s like throwing a dice and hoping I pick right – Gilenya or Tysabri – relapse or not? If only it were really that simple, right?

But the pain – please tell me they’ll understand. Please tell me they can fix that at least. I knew MS could get worse but not yet. Please not yet?

And so here we sit in the waiting room. The clock whirring. The silence deafening.

… the fear.

… the hope.

Tick … tock … tick.

The waiting – always waiting.

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