Fighting to Live with MS and All the Rest 2008 Ends

Big guy jumped up and on top of the wall that separated the wheelchair ramp from a small hillside of bushes and a few trees. He threw his large body back down to get behind my gurney and he began pulling with all his might. Inch by hard earned inch he was pulling me up the ramp. "Joe! Look Out!" shouted his smaller helper who had finally found his way to the top of the steps which led to my apt. building's front door.

I lifted my snow covered head to see a large tree limb had fallen over our path. Behind me, so close, I heard the icicle hit the ramp, missing me by maybe a foot. The sound of ice and limbs falling were like birds chirping, all around us, so frequently that most fell into the background--white noise. Again I was trapped between a wall and a limb place, in a foot of snow, wearing a hospital gown. In a third floor window I caught a glimpse of the black cat who enjoyed sitting there, in her warm apt., watching the goings on outside. Usually, if he she saw me look at her, she would jump away, but not today---the show was too fascinating.

With little hesitation, SuperJoe bent his knees and began pushing the tree limb, grunting, shouting for his helper to HELP him, but the smaller fella was still trying to push through snow and ice with his boots, to clear a path for Joe. Then little guy crawled into the tree area and tried to grab a side of the limb. Together they moved it just far enough up to pull me past. One more flight of stairs and we would be at the entrance! Joe lifted the heavy rear end of the gurney and we all made it to the locked door.

"How do we get it? a huffing Joe asked. My mind went blank. What was my code again? I had no clue. They started pressing any number and finally some kind person buzzed us in. The unheated lobby felt like a summer day in Maui. I was home. The guys brushed snow off me, covered me better with the snowy blanket from their cabulance, shook their boots and we made it the half block to my apt., where my partner was anxiously awaiting.

They lifted me into my lift-chair and off they went. My loving partner had warm clothes and blankets waiting. As I laid back in my chair, I could hear the cabulance wheels spinning in the icy grooves in the street. I'm guessing one of the toughest drives of just blocks that they have had to make.

After I slept, we accessed my situation. My quad cane in position---I was too weak to stand. My partner had called every caregiver company she could find and no one could get to us. One company swore to come, but they never called her back. The student nurse who lived down the hall was on vacation and our body builder, deaf neighbor was vacationing in Hawaii. We were all alone. Depends in place, nothing we could do but wait out the storm until our regular caregiver could make the long drive in.

Living in a chair covered in plastic with paper towels and anything we could find, SHE, my much burdened partner who was dealing with her own illnesses, could gather, for two of the longest days and nights of our life. Luckily we had electricity both days. But as long as we live, we will never forget how horrible those days alone were. My partner and I decided it was long overdue for our move to assisted living. We could no longer care for ourselves or each other without help that would always be with us. Though we had planned for this day, it was bat to ball fast---a pitch we were not expecting so soon.

There were many moments that we considered letting go of our lives, during that Seattle snow storm of 2008. A suicide pact. One like we considered after our return from NYC in 1982. Our life together just beats up on us over and over, year after year...it is an option I think 2008 finally put to rest. If we could survive that, lose both our jobs to illness, find love enough to want more, refuse to let the worst end our story too soon...then we will start over again and probably again. We do ask ourselves, "What fated us to be together and why?"

And each day we answer those questions anew.