Staying normal with a mom who has multiple sclerosis
Lilly Huxhold
-Graphic Design Editor-
I wake up to a loud ‘BANG’ down the hallway. It is 3:30 a.m. and in my current state I am not sure if it is the ‘‘Woman in Black’’ out to get me or just another run-of-the-mill Huxhold incident. After waiting for what I call the ‘all clear, it’s just the house trying to scare the living daylights out of you,’ I snuggle back under my blankets in the vain hope that classes will be cancelled and I can sleep until 1 p.m.
Class started 10 minutes ago and I, of course, just rolled out of bed. You see, retired parents make leaving the house all that much more difficult, because here they are at 10 a.m., eating their breakfast, watching TV and you have to leave. As I stumble around the house, unsure where I left my left shoe, they watch in mild humor at my inability to embrace the daylight. Distracted by what I need and how I am going to get all this crap to the car, I forget to run back to my parent’s bedroom to say goodbye. The door to my car had just swung closed but it did not stay shut for long. I hate leaving the house without saying good-bye; my kind of superstition.
“How late are you going to be tonight?” My parents have never held me to a specific timetable; instead they just keep a general knowledge on my whereabouts.
“Um, no idea. Late probably. I’ll call.” I tap my foot not out of impatience, but the need to move. I am now 30 minutes late to class. Mom holds her hand out to me and I grab it. She smiles as she usually does every morning and says, ‘Hey, babe.’ I am a fast-moving person with piles of obligations between work, school or social events. I am afraid I take her presence for granted sometimes.
It is always right before I lie down for bed that I really let myself worry, because it is when you wake up that you forget why you were scared or angry. You wake up with a bright, new perspective. My mom has multiple sclerosis; a disease that can take away your mobility, your health and your livelihood. I have never seen it take her spirit. Life is precious to me and I know my time with my parents is limited. My family is strong. They are the dorky kind that get together over popcorn and actually enjoy telling each other about their days, but we have had some rough times too. There are hard days that sometimes make you wonder if you want to see what tomorrow brings.
With a reassuring smile I know that I really should call in the middle of the day—she worries a lot and I do not want her to dwell on it. My mom has limited access to a phone and no cell phone or email to speak of, so her contact with my sister and me is sparse. Letting go of her hand, I rush out the door, leaving an ‘I love you’ behind and probably today’s homework.
I am completely unprepared. Three projects due and nothing to show. I really just want to go home and watch “Grey’s Anatomy” with my mom in the family room. The idea is just too tempting and if my partner in crime was not in class, I would have been gone three hours ago. Rubbing at my face, I grab my handy-dandy Post-it notes, writing the second to-do list of the century as the first was written last Monday.
STLCC-Meramec is a black hole for cell phone service and when I see the missed call on my phone from home it reminds me that I forgot to call. The irrational worry starts to set in, but I figure I would listen through the message first before letting my imagination run wild.
“Hey, it’s Dad. No emergency. Just was wondering where you put the phone charger. Call me when you get a chance.” The message is simple but includes the usual mantra ‘no emergency’. You see, you are officially inducted into the Huxhold clan when you say ‘no emergency’ on a regular basis in your voice mails to each other.
The afternoon sets in and soon I am in a Mexican standoff with the clock. In my mind I am watching my sister run through the door in a flurry of coat and purse while my dog barks her welcoming ‘hello’. My parents have settled in the family room with the night’s TV festivities and dinner is laid across the kitchen counter in an array of Pyrex dishes. A part of me always hates late classes just because I feel like I miss out on the lively parts of my family’s days.
“Well now, who is this? Is this? Maggie! It’s our lost daughter!” says Dad. As I drag my bag into the kitchen, my mother claps, chanting my name. It’s 8:30 p.m. and though my family stays up pretty late, I am limited on social time with them. Ruffling my mom’s hair, I drop into one of our big recliners; the day I had just experienced already rattling through my lips.
I wonder sometimes if this recall of my fairly mundane day—while boring to others—is an exciting adventure for her. I hate that while the rest of us can leave the house, she cannot on her own. The values she instilled in me I know are in her as well. She raised me to be an independent woman; always willing to find the next challenge in life. It was hard to see her lose the right that all of us take for granted: independence.
The ‘I love you’ in the morning, the midday phone call and the nightly chat are not enough to me. There is never enough time, but it is a way to look forward to tomorrow and know that no matter what bangs in the night, my mom is there to tell me that it is going to be alright.
“Multiple sclerosis (or MS) is a chronic, often disabling disease that attacks the central nervous system (CNS), which is made up of the brain, spinal cord, and optic nerves. Symptoms may be mild, such as numbness in the limbs, or severe, such as paralysis or loss of vision. Most people with MS learn to cope with the disease and continue to lead satisfying, productive lives.”
Information provided by National Multiple Sclerosis Society.
