Last night, before we got into bed, my Mom looked at her phone to see what the date was and because it was after midnight, it was December 28. She said so.
Right after she said it, I said, kind of disinterested, just like that doctor said, “Look, you have MS. You’re going to go blind. And then you’re going to die.”
Just after I finished saying those words, I let them hang in the air for a moment before I covered my face with my hands. And I begin to cry, as my Mom said that she was sorry.
Tears these days are kind of clipped. I don’t cry for very long, but it is a heaviness that hangs in the air. I’m vaguely thinking of this song from the 90s and maybe I will write about it soon.
I’ve been telling my Mom that I never would have imagined that my life would be how it is now 24 years after I was diagnosed! I can’t believe this, but this is how it is.
Thinking about that doctor with those ugly glasses, she wasn’t wrong. My eyes have started fading so much so that I have a new sentence that I say. It started just before Christmas. That sentence is:
I can’t see that.