I’ve accepted
that I can no longer walk, and I’ve adjusted to the constant fatigue and the failing
memory. Kim and I have developed strategies for all sorts of activities of
daily living, so that I can be showered, shaved, dressed, etc. Everything this
damn disease has thrown at us so far we’ve handled, and pretty well if I do say
so myself.

What wears on
me, however, is this gradual, pervasive disease progression. Once
or twice I’ve been able to temporarily slow it down, but it always comes back. Of course I’d like
to reverse the path of this illness and actually get better. But that’s not
necessary for me to enjoy a fulfilling and relatively stress-free life. If my condition would just stop deteriorating, I’d be perfectly content to live the rest of my life with my current level of disability, or even some greater level. But that deal is not on the table.

It’s
this damn worsening disability, this insidious wasting away that threatens to
shake my resolve. Whatever I do, it’s never enough. MS cannot be placated. It
demands so much of me, and then it demands more.

You often hear,
“It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity.”

I say, “It’s
not the disability, it’s the progression.”