Last week, there
was a long waiting period in my doctor’s office. People were more than cranky-they were plain
delusional...you know, that type of paranoid, I-was-here-before-they were type
of mania. Years ago, when I was on the
other side of the waiting room door working as a medical assistant, we would
try to hide from the angry/rude comments by simply shutting the little sliding
glass window to our otherwise quiet haven.
Since those days are long behind me, I had no choice but to sit there
and wait. I found what was left of an
old Readers Digest (1970, I think) and found an article entitled, ‘What is your
idea of bliss?’ Good question...
If you had asked me what my idea of
"Bliss" was ten years ago, I would have looked at you dressed in scrubs
covered in blood, snot, (or other people juice) and would have replied, (after a yawn from being up too
late the night before with a sick child and awoken way too early by the other
child- who was not sick and very full of energy) that my idea of Bliss would
be:
"A day spent in a
spa that has no rude patients or overly egotistical doctors...a day spent away
from the kids and their chaos, far from the responsibilities that come with
life as a working mother and a wife/homemaker to my husband...and a never
ending supply of chocolate”.
Of course, I wasn't
planning on TODAY.
I didn't expect a today
where my world would be turned upside down by an illness and a disease I didn't
understand.
I was diagnosed with MS in
2006, and had to learn how to deal with being a "disabled person" and
still be the same mother/wife/daughter/friend that everyone knew before the
diagnosis.
Now, my idea of Bliss
would not only include the endless supply of chocolate, it would also include a
day where I had the energy to do things with my kids.
Bliss would be an evening
where I felt well enough to go on a "date night" with my husband,
where we would go with our friends and have a great time.
Bliss would be working
full time in the field I went back to school to study for at age 38.
Bliss would be not having
to ever set foot inside a doctor’s office again (as a patient) or ever
needing another medication for as long as I live.
Bliss would be being able
to make plans with a friend and actually committing to them ahead of time
because I don't have to worry about how I'm going to feel in a week.
Bliss would be having my
daughter or son look at me with confidence and excitement because I told them
that we were going somewhere on Saturday, instead of looking at me with
apprehension and worry that I might not be able to see well enough to drive us
or not have the energy to get out of bed at all.
My idea of Bliss today is
to fight a disease that I am now well educated in, but still don't understand,
so that I can be a part of my life instead of being stuck in the bleachers as a
spectator. I want to fight MS and win. I want to live a full life.
Bliss would be not feeling
ashamed of needing help- and not feeling unworthy of receiving that help.
Bliss would be a life
filled with laughter, love, and family.
Bliss would be a life
filled with energy and adventure.
Bliss would be a day
spent in icky spattered scrubs or with a full client load.
Bliss would be a night
spent being up too late taking care of a sick child and then waking too early
by a child full of energy and excitement about living another day.
And, of course, Bliss
would be a never-ending supply of chocolate.
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