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.