Jealousy? No, not that green monster. The monster is fear. Real or imagined, fear can paralyze you. It’s one of the major regrets I have now, since my Mom has passed. When she was alive and free of MSA, just fighting her normal day-to-day battles with heart issues, I worried about her every minute. I worried about if she was ok, called her all the time. Now this didn’t happen all the time, mind you, but I did obsess about it some times to the point of ruining vacations, work days, and all sorts of time I will never get back. In this case, it was imagined fear. My mom was fine. This past year, when I traveled to the Mayo clinic with my Mom and Dad, just about this time last year actually, I found out what real fear was. I found out my Mom really was dying this time, and that no amount of doctor intervention would help. A miracle would do it, but God had decided this was her last battle-something I realized after a few months.
Lately, the green boy is back. I don’t have my Mom to obsess over, so I have turned it onto myself. I have been concerned for some time that my Mom’s disease might be hereditary. Though it states in the literature that in 95% of cases its not, my family has a tendency to fall into that 5% all the time. My Grandfather died of Parkinson’s disease combined with several strokes. His brothers all had some sort of neurological disease. Either Parkinsons or Alzheimers. My mom was my grandpa’s only child and I am her only child. So, you do see my concern.
So lately I have noticed little things that remind me of my mom’s issues happening to me. All of them could be explained by stress, possible perimenopause, and several other things. But my mind has leaped to the possibility that I will be another MSA stat and that I will be one of those young people who get this dreaded disease. I have a talent for leaping to the worst possible conclusion because in my lifetime, many times, it always seems to be the worst possible thing. My mom was told she was going to die more times than I can count, after all.
What makes it different this time is that I have her experience to bring some of this into perspective. Worrying does no good. If you get it, you do. There is no cure, so knowing ahead of time really isn’t going to make things any better. So each time I accidentally drop a cup, feel my fingers wanting to move a little too hard on my mouse when I didn’t expect it, or I trip over something (usually my cat!), or can’t find the word for something I am trying to say, my mind tends to think, “Oh no, is this the start of it?”
Who knows. If God intends for me to be another in our family to die of a neurological disorder, then I will, right?
But, God? I’d really rather not.
Green monster wins again I guess