Tomorrow is fast approaching, and before I know it 5:00 am will be here. I am both anxious and scared out of my mind. I have not put in much time on my bike since Bob and I signed up for Pedal to the Point, and I wonder if I have done that subconsciously on purpose. It's almost as if I am hoping that this 30 mile (yes, I have settled on just the 30 miles) journey will be hard for me, so that I can show Sarah that I will not give up even when the going gets tough. That if she has to endure hardships then, so too, will I. Now, don't get me wrong - biking 30 miles and living with Multiple Sclerosis are two completely different animals, and I know that. But since I don't have MS this is one of the only ways that I know of where I can show her that I am with her. That I did not give up even when I wanted to because I know that she cannot give up when she wants to.
I will think of all that Sarah has gone through in the last few months when the going gets tough. I will remember the CAT scan, the two MRI's, the EEG, the IVIG, the 3 IV steroid treatments, the countless neurological tests, the countless field of vision tests, the ophthalmology exams, the numerous IV's put into her hands and arms, the blown IV that woke her up out of a deep sleep screaming because the flushing of the line hurt her so bad, how the IV steroid treatments burned her hand.
I will think of the conversation we had last night as I put her to bed about the nightmares she has been having recently in which she goes blind, and does not regain her vision. I will think of how she told me that she is scared to wake up each morning not knowing if she will be able to see or not. How she is afraid that "her eyes will go bad" when she is sitting in her classroom at Lincoln.
When I feel like quitting the race because it is too hard, I will think of the game plan Sarah and I came up with to ease her mind about how if she does go back to school and she starts to lose her vision while in class she is to raise her hand and let her teacher know. That her teacher will then walk her down to the nurse, and the nurse will call me. How we will then head down to Akron Children's, so that they can restore her vision yet again.
I will think about how she seems to have aged so much in the 2 1/2 months since her diagnosis. How her eyebrows are furrowed with a worry that should only be carried by adults. How she lost her childhood magic, and how once that is gone it is usually never to be found again.
I will think of the countless people who donated their time or money to Sarah and our cause, and I will pedal on.
Even when it hurts, and even when I want to give up I will carry on. It is the only thing to do really. Quitting is not an option. I will take out my rage on that road, and I will pedal until my muscles burn, and the road becomes blurry as my vision is obscured by my tears. I will leave so much out on that road, but I will gain a lot in return. Hopefully, I can find another family that has a child (under 10) that has MS. Even if I do not find that family, I will be among caregivers and survivors of a horrid disease, and that in and of itself will be healing.
The kids are going to rise with us and see us off on our journey, and they will be there to greet us when we are done, and even though they will not be with us physically on the road in between they will be with us in spirit. I will carry not only Sarah with me, but Andy, Josh, and Elizabeth, too. This disease has affected us all, and together we will face it. Family first - always.
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