The old street

There is an old city street near my house. Ancient tree roots have cracked the pavement, leaving light and air for grass to grow out of the openings. Potholes are everywhere,some as large as manhole covers, others so deep they show the old brick under the pavement. To all of this, speed bumps have been added, as if they were really needed, which they are not.

For me, 2018 was like navigating this street in a wheelchair. I am currently sitting stuck in the largest pothole. Having tried every one of the fourteen available disease modifying therapies, I’m left with none that have worked and a brain inflamed for more than a year now. I am currently moving through a six month round of chemotherapy, a Hail Mary pass by my frustrated neurologist. The MRIs all show more and more new lesions. Each has brought its own charming new symptom. When 2018 started I could walk at least 50 or so paces. one sunny day, my trainer and I made it all the way uphill to our local park. Now, I have not left the wheelchair for weeks. I can’t even stand up on my own. My vision has deteriorated to a point where I can’t even think about reading normal sized print. I have to rely on enlarging all text on my iPad. My voice has become week and scratchy, as if I had larengytis.

I have a home health aide who gets me ready for the day and another who gets me into to bed.

I have made peace with these changes, and I realize the old city streets may never be paved smooth again. I work on the things that can be helped, and I try to accept the things that cannot. When I get the decision wrong in terms of what I can work on, my mortal enemy regret circles around. I can live in regret over not having worked out more or not having done more. most days I can easily dispatch these feelings of regret by reminding myself of all the things that I did do and how much they helped for as long as they could.What I do know is that every day you will find me trying to make my way around and over the speed bumps and potholes.

8 thoughts on “The old street

  1. Helen Young

    Gil, this old street was paved smooth and like most of us speed bumps, and potholes are inevitable after a wintry storm. We tend to live with the potholes until someone files a complaint to the city or county. Suddenly, the paved street is smooth again.

    Gil, I’m filing a complaint for Help for your old street, to the highest person who ever walked the earth. Help is on the way, keep pushing on and lastly, keep the faith!

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    1. Thank you very much for your comments. It was wonderful to hear from you. Unfortunately I cannot read your comment due to the multiple sclerosis causing offered to write this in my left arm. Please email me at ggreenman@wc,com

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  2. Kevin B.

    Gil,

    Your messages continue to inspire and to remind us of all that we have to be grateful for. They also reveal you to have a gift that MS cannot take away—an ability to observe, to reflect, and to communicate that is really quite extraordinary. Keep it up.

    Kevin

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    1. Thank you for this comment. It has taken me a very long time to get through the comments because I am not able to read them due to the optic nerve minus cost by the multiple sclerosis

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  3. Tom Shepherd

    Gil, reading your blog(s) gives affirmation to what a cruel, unpredictable disease MS is for both of us. My issues are minor to yours and for that I am thankful. That said, I do share your pain and frustration in a way non MSers can’t. Anytime you would to meet please call. Thinking of you. Tom Shepherd

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    1. Hi Tom. I am sorry it has taken me so long to reply Shehryar Khan Amon. The object arises in my heart caused by the multiple sclerosis has kept me from reading the comments. I hope all is well for you

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    1. Hi Jack. Thank you for your comment. I am sorry to report that I am unable to read his comments because the text size does not expand to a level that will allow me to read them.

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