Shortly after eleven, when it’s time to leave, Mom walks into the living room, looking in her purse for her keys. I get up from the couch and shake my head. “Actually, Ellie is going to drive me,” I say.
She falters. “Are you sure? It’s nearby and no trouble for me.”
I play the I’m-so-grateful card rather than admitting that I could use some space. “I really appreciate it, but your life’s been disrupted having to take me everywhere. I’ll call when it’s over if you want to get me afterward.”
I make my way to the front door and wait a minute for Ellie to drive up. I press the button to open the gate. She parks, and I glance back to make sure my mom isn’t looking out the window.
“Hey,” Ellie says as I open the car door, wringing her fingers together uncertainly.
“Hi.” I get in, unsure what the boundaries are here, but I know I need to set them for myself. It’s harder than I thought, seeing her in person. I think taking time apart will be a good thing, but I also want to hug her and forget everything. “Thanks for driving me.”
“Anytime.”
I fumble with the seat belt. Our fingers graze as she hands me her phone to plug in the address, and we take off.
We listen to some pop music and arrive at the hospital a few minutes later. It’s much closer than I remember. She drives into the half loop at the entrance to drop me off.
Was this short ride together worth it? I couldn’t bring myself to let go of Ellie completely, and knowing I’d be seeing her today made it easier to sleep at night. Yet it just served as a painful reminder that things are different between us now in a way that feels bigger than I can fix.
“Don’t forget to give me five stars,” she jokes. But her eyes are wide, loaded with questions. “Want me to stick around?”
Her question replays in my head.Do I?“Not right now,” I say, realizing the double meaning in my words. “But thank you for getting me here.”
The blare of an ambulance siren grows louder as it nears the other hospital entrance. “Well, you have my number.” Ellie seems to blink back tears, and I feel awful.
I wish I could say more, but I just walk away into the hospital to find where the MS support group meeting is held. This November meeting got pushed to after Thanksgiving, so the nurse told me to expect a smaller crowd, which is a relief for my first visit. From the lobby,I turn a corner to find a small conference room on the entry level, five floors below my neurologist’s office. Except the door is still locked.
A few others arrive—a fairly diverse group of mostly women. I’m easily the youngest person here, though. But I guess we all have at leastonething in common.
Soon, a nurse opens the room from the inside. “Welcome!”
Letting the others go in ahead of me, I wait to follow suit, wondering how exactly this meeting’s going to go. There’s a lot of talking among the other attendees as they take a seat in the circle of folding chairs.
“Sit wherever you’d like! I usually wait a few extra minutes to start.” The nurse goes to grab a few more chairs from the storage closet to accommodate everyone. She also brings out a large fan, plugging it into the wall and setting it to rotate. “I’m so sorry it’s warm in here. Let me know if anyone needs an ice pack to keep cool.”
Now that she’s mentioned it, I do find my body is reacting to the temperature, even though I’ve already taken off my jacket. The usual suspects creep in, subdued but ever present—my right eye vision slightly fading and my feet tingling.
“Can I crack these open?” one woman asks, jumping up to reach for the windows along the wall.
“Sure, that’ll help cool things down,” the nurse says. “We can close them if it gets too chilly.” She gives a big smile. “So, like I was saying, we’ve got a great group today. A mix of new and familiar faces. Maybe we start off going around the circle and making introductions?”
The woman to my right volunteers to go first. I start sweating, nervous I’ll have to go next.
“Hi, all, I’m Emily.” There’s a smattering of hellos said back to her. “I was diagnosed almost ten years ago now. A real nasty flare-up likely brought on by the stress of planning my wedding. Made it throughthe ceremony! But spent what would’ve been my honeymoon in the hospital, oof!” she says with a sort of laughing-at-herself-type cheer. “Don’t worry, we rescheduled and had a lovely time in Paris, but then all that walking tired me out. Lately, I’ve been doing all right but wrestling with a lot of chest tightness, as well as a very persistent phantom itch, gah!”
Many around the circle nod knowingly. There’s some “nice to meet you” or “good to see you again” comments before all eyes turn to me.
“Um, I’m Jackson. And I was just diagnosed this year.”
“Aww, a young one,” Emily says warmly. “How are you feeling?”
“Well, yeah, it’s supposed to be my senior year of high school, but with everything, I fell so far behind and had to take the semester off. And everyone’s just sosorryabout it, but no one seems to understand what is going on. Some days I realize that I don’t even get exactly what’s wrong with me. I wish we knew more abouthoworwhythis is happening tome.”
Someone in the circle snaps in agreement.
“I guess, um, I’m still learning what my day-to-day looks like now. Recently I felt good enough to go out and try running again, but I’m nervous about playing soccer this spring. We almost won state last year, until I…Anyway, it’s just hard not knowing what I can count on my body to handle anymore.”
“Have you tried a cooling vest?” Emily asks. “It might help you manage soccer, especially outside in the heat.”
