My Life As A Miss With MS

by Lenore Nicastro

Being single definitely has its advantages. Your time is your own. You’re free to do whatever you want and go wherever you want whenever you want. You’re not responsible for anyone but yourself.

Sometimes though, I wish I weren’t still single.

I was diagnosed with MS seven years ago when I was thirty-four. The first few years my symptoms were minimal. The last two years though, things have gotten tougher.

Fatigue is my biggest obstacle. My energy level seems to be permanently stuck on low. I can’t get as much done as I would like. I can’t move as fast as I used to. My right leg reluctantly drags along when I walk. I can’t run anymore. My muscles stiffen up a lot. In spite of it all, I try to stay upbeat and have a sense of humor about things. Otherwise, I could easily get consumed by depression.

I like living alone. It’s quiet and you can be alone with your thoughts. Of course the downside is you have to do everything around the house yourself. I manage slowly, sometimes painfully and with cries for help from the heavens to keep my home in order and clean up after the three cats who live with me.

I’ve read articles and heard stories from married people with MS who talk about their spouse being such a help to them – giving them their injections, helping with the kids and so forth. I don’t have children, and I’m not on any treatment, except the occasional steroids. I go alone to all my doctor appointments and get through treatments by myself.

Sometimes I fall down. And I alone get myself back up.

I have mixed feelings about being independent. It makes me feel strong, and I like that. My sister criticizes me for not asking for help, but I figure as long as I can still do things, I’m going to do them. And even if I were married, I’d still want to do things by myself. But every once in a while, I resent it. Why am I all alone when everybody else has someone? It’s not fair! Why do I have to do everything myself? And some of the things I have to do have become almost like a form of torture.

My least favorite activity now is grocery shopping. I feel like everyone is watching me as I hobble into the store and slowly push my cart up and down the aisles. I nearly fall over reaching for the bottled water I like, which is conveniently located on the top shelf. I practically careen into those annoying displays they put in the aisles. I patiently wait for people to move out of the way because I’m too weary to go around them.

Then after checkout I awkwardly maneuver my cart to the car and unload the groceries. I usually end up having to do some creative re-packing of the bags to lighten the load. Who do these people that bag my groceries think I am? Superwoman? There’s always one bag that weighs at least 100 pounds. Why do they have to cram a 2 liter bottle of pop, a half gallon of milk, 3 pound bag of cat food, two jars of spaghetti sauce and a whole chicken into one bag?

Then of course I still have to schlep all the bags into the house. This is one instance where I really wish I had a husband.

These days, with my MS being so much more pronounced I sometimes wonder, “Will anyone even want me now?” Dating me will mean staying in a lot or not being able to stay anywhere for very long because of my fatigue.

And of course there’s the insecurity about my physical attractiveness. After all, having a gimpy walk is much more noticeable than a zit or a bad hair day. Will it drive men away or just make them feel sorry for me?

Are they going to feel as though being in a relationship with me would be too much work? Will they be afraid that they’ll end up having to take care of me?

Sometimes I get scared. Living alone with MS is hard work and sometimes the future looks pretty bleak. I have to remind myself that uncertainties are a part of life. Everyone has them.

I know I have some things working against me when it comes to finding a mate, besides the fact that I have a whole new crop of insecurities because of my MS. But I count my blessings. Aside from my MS, I otherwise have my health. I have my home. I am still relatively young. I am still standing (literally). And I think about my good qualities. I have a good sense of humor. I am loving and caring. I recycle.

I also try to maintain a positive attitude. Outwardly, I am cheery, and I smile at everyone. Even when I feel sad, exhausted or just generally awful. Even when I’m at the grocery. Even when I’m worried I might be alone for the rest of my life.

When I was younger, I was accused of being too “picky” when it came to men. I think that’s changed.

I was talking with one of my former co-workers a while back about how helpful it would be if I had a husband. She said, “As long as you’re in love with each other, that’s the most important thing.”

And I said, “Love? That ship has sailed. I just want someone to take out my garbage.”

But seriously, I do want to be in love with someone, to have someone who loves me. That’s what we all want, what I suppose we never stop wanting, until we get it.

I want someone to come to the doctor’s office with me. Someone who will hold my hand and reassure me when I get scared. Someone who will help me get back up when I fall down.

And someone to carry in the groceries and take out the garbage.

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