Crying In A Field

Crying In A Field

 

Where are the jokes?

Multiple sclerosis has stolen a lot from me.

It’s taken my ability to walk and run.

Affected the way I think and talk.

Disrupted how I sleep.  Erased my energy.  And squashed my vitality.

MS has changed the way I drive.  How I work, socialize & bathe.

Pretty much every aspect of my life has been overshadowed by MS, the dreaded ick, whether I like it or not.

My emotions are hand-cuffed too.  Packaged & tightly-sealed.  With a forever freshness date like a Twinkie snack cake.

Which is weird because all my life before MS, I had been an easy crier.

It started when I was wee-little, watching Lassie on TV.

Lassie would whimper being lost or hop on three-legs nursing an injured paw.  I would cry, wiping tears & a runny nose on a favorite stuffed-animal.  That toy dog of mine had more schnot & boogers on it than the underside of a kindergarten desk.

Through the years, I found myself crying at commercials, movies, songs even cartoons.

That is till MS entered my life.

Seems multiple sclerosis has also swiped my ability to cry.  I could tear-up but nothing more.  I was saddened but unable to let it out.  For years this went on.

Then last fall, I was home standing alone in a grass field.

It was morning, the dew still wet on my shoes.

Before me was a gray, granite stone.  A headstone.  The grave marker of my mom & dad.

My dad died in ’99.  My mom just a year ago in the fall of 2019.

This was my first visit to the cemetery since her funeral.

In a matter of moments I was overcome with emotion.  I didn’t just cry–I wept.  I wailed.

I shook and sobbed like I had never done before.  The feeling had ahold & wouldn’t let go.

The power startled me as I looked around hoping no one was witnessing my scene.

Though it probably only lasted a minute or two, my deep pangs seemed to go on & on & on.

Slowly I regained my calm and trudged back to the car.  Once seated inside I was exhausted.  Drained.  But I felt better.  Like something had been lifted.

I still don’t understand what stirred me so that morning. 

Grief, I suppose, crying in that field.  Grief for my folks.  Grief for my MS.

P.S.  So much for a humor post, huh?  My apology.

8 Replies to “Crying In A Field”

  1. I can so empathize with you Doug. I lost my mom in October and dad 2 months later to the day. Mom was my super hero, the strongest lady I knew. She too rarely cried. I guess that’s where I get it too. I cry when I’m alone, a lot. I damn my MS everday but never feel sorry for myself. I’m the strong one, and learned from the best: my Mom 💞

    1. Joanne,
      Wow, so sorry. That would have put me over the edge.
      I’ll admit–I am not a strong one.
      Thank you for sharing your story.

  2. I completely understand!! I don’t cry anymore…at least not like I used to. When my Mom died I wailed like a dog tied to a short lease. But crying doesn’t happen often. I’m kinda afraid that if I start it would be very hard to stop.

    1. Tina,
      I hear you. Thanks for helping me realize maybe it’s not me…it could be the MS.
      I appreciate your honesty & comment!

  3. Doug, thanks for sharing your personal experience. I feel the not having feelings response and rarely ever have them anymore. I often feel like it’s not normal…but obviously with MS it’s common to many of us. I know I’ve had this in my own personal life and with other people I know. But, it’s sometimes the closest of those events that really spark a memory proving we’re not abnormal…just a little bit suppressed. Hope you’re doing well these days. Keep staying positive and find those funny things to make us all laugh. We all need you rather you see it or not. 🙂

  4. I too can relate. I would also cry at commercials, movies, television shows. Sometimes I would even cry because of certain situations in my life. In 2007 I was diagnosed with breast cancer, in 2008 my mother passed away, and in 2009 was when I suffered a major MS exacerbation that put me in the hospital and a Rehabilitation Hospital and I was left paralyzed except for my left arm and hand. I was then transferred to a hellhole of a nursing home for a month and cried every night. Along with my Sister and Dad, I tried to contact anyone I could that could help me get placement in a better facility, to no avail.
    Finally, with the help of my best girlfriend, who will not take credit to this day, I left the nursing home against medical advisement I was able to make the arrangements to live in the comfort of my own home. Shortly thereafter I went to see a psychiatrist because I was in a deep depression. He prescribed me the medication “Pristiq”. It has not been medically proven, but I swear it dried up my tear ducts. I can’t even remember the last time I cried, even when I wanted to.

    1. Margaret,
      Appreciate you sharing your story. I don’t take Pristiq, but I do take an anti-depressant. Like you, maybe that is the reason for my lack of tears…hmm.

Making it official.