Patty Thorpe - Team Captain
Running With It
I have little patience for emotional displays. So when I was first diagnosed with MS, I did what all people with low tolerance for commotion do: I refused to talk about it and pretended it didn't exist. MS? Who, me? I've come to learn that chronic illness isn't a personal fight that can be hidden away or ignored- it's a battle fought by friends and relatives who share the pain and uncertainty of life with MS.
My MS doesn't show. I'm often told how good I look, and sometimes, those words are said in a reassuring tone ("Don't worry about your progressive, incurable neurological disease - you're still attractive for someone your age") and other times, I think I hear disbelief in the but-you-look-so-good statement ("C'mon, how bad can this disease be when you look as healthy as you do?"). For the most part, though, I believe the majority of people simply don't understand what living with MS is like. For that matter, sometimes I forget, too. And then something happens, a big wake-up call named Relapse, and instantly, I remember how nasty MS really is.
Last fall, after the Challenge Walk, I had a call from Relapse that meant multiple hospital stays and a recovery that took months. During that time, the Blister Buddies were far more than a group of friends raising money for a good cause. These wonderful, amazing people were my lifeline. They made me laugh when I didn't think I had it in me. They made me feel strong when I wasn't, and they let me pretend all was well when things were far from okay.
At this stage in my life, I've stopped running from MS and, instead, I'm focused on learning how to run with it. Maybe the phrase "run with it" is metaphorical, but it's also a physical description. The Blister Buddies spend the better part of a year training for the challenge of walking 50 miles. Okay, so we don't actually run, but we do walk really, really fast sometimes. We also laugh a lot, and along the way, we raise a significant amount of money for the National MS Society.
So how do you learn to run with a disease? You tell your family and friends. You accept their love and support. And gradually, you come to know that disease isn't a shameful word.
Living with an illness that has no horizon is difficult. There's no cure to stake hope to. The physical toll of MS is obvious, characterized by hospital beds, wheelchairs and dark glasses, but the unseen effects are the ones that are the hardest to live with. MS challenges emotional strength, tests relationships and can make any goal seem impossible to reach. Thanks to the Blister Buddies, I know what seems impossible isn't. While there's no cure now, there can be one, some day. Eventually, MS will have more than a horizon. It'll have a sunset.
I'm still learning to run with MS. Here's the good news: my family and friends are running with me. What a long, strange, wonderful trip it has been.
