Happy Valentine's Day (2002)

12 years, 8 months and 16 days ago, on Valentine's Day 2002, I learned that I have MS.

You can't always get what you want

After a rushed visit home, having seen a lot of my close family in just a few short hours, we were headed west, towards the Mississippi River and I found myself flooded with emotion. My husband noticed that I was quiet, having just sighed and pressing my lips together tightly, trying to fight back tears.

"Hmmm." He stated. "Are you mad because you don't get to drive or because you can't just drive down the street to be home?"

"Sad."

"You don't live there anymore... you just think you do."

In my mind, I justify how great it would be to live in my hometown again. I imagine how nice it would be to be surrounded by family and friends again. I recall countless family dinners... fun... laughter... adult conversation.

Earlier in the day, as my aunt and cousin left my mom's house, Aunt Sue announced "you know there's TWO houses for sale down the street..... wouldn't THAT be nice to have all three of you on the same street again!" (My brother's new house is three-tenths of a mile from my mom, just two blocks down, on the same street.) Funny how all of us call the homes by the names of the old owners... VanDeSande and Block.... and all know exactly which homes we are referring to.)

"I wish..." I replied with sadness. "Not very good odds of that happening though."

"Wouldn't that be cool if Mike could come back to this store?" she asked.

"Not likely. Not impossible, but NOT likely. I heard there has to be 80% turnover before they would ever bring a GM back and they've got to be close to that because there is almost no one left from original store set-up."

My cousin flashed me a hopeful smile. "Maybe then?"

As we drive on Hwy. 11 west, I relive in my head many walks with my mom on that very route. I fight back tears thinking how if I lived there, I could walk with my mom every day... like we used to do together. I remind myself that I have found no one who walks at a more comfortable pace with me than my mom and how much I enjoy that time we spent together... walking and talking.

I rewind my brain to witness the boys playing with their cousins. I imagine how much fun we would all have living closer. The boys had protested leaving today as well; I truly felt their pain.

I recall how much I loved hanging out with my two cousins and how we often referred to them as my little sisters. I enjoy their company so much... even more, now that we are all adults. It feels like déjà vu to look at or hold my cousin's oldest daughter... a spitting image of her mother. I love watching our kids playing together and listening to their giggles.

I feel sadness that I didn't get a chance on yet another trip to visit with my high school best friend and her two sons. (More playmates for the boys and I...) With them, it is always SO EASY to pick up right where we left off.

I find myself battling jealousy and heart-break every time I hear that my mom stops down the street at my brother's new house or how they are enjoying a meal together multiple times per week. I envision how nice it would be to have family IN TOWN and how uplifting it would be to have a babysitter and some free time away from the boys once in a while. I think how fun it would be for the boys to have sleep-overs at Nana's house. (Mike and I had JUST had a conversation of how WE should stay at my brother's house and let the boys have a sleepover with Nana.)

I recall how much mom and I enjoyed making cards together. I reminisce on all of the holiday baking sessions with Kerri and mom.

I remind myself how incredibly lonely my life is now; although, I don't need much reminder.... attempting to live through it almost every day. (At least I can talk to family on the phone and can enjoy virtual visits through Skype or FaceTime.) We just don't have (any) friends (here).

As tears trickle down my cheeks, my cries turn to laughter and Mike mistakes it for sobbing at first. On the radio plays the introduction of a 1969 Rolling Stones classic that Mike is unfamiliar with. I laugh, wiping away my tears, and Mike questions WHAT is so funny.

You can't always get what you want is right on cue as a reminder that I can't live in my hometown. Marriage has changed the rules so that HOME is where my husband lives. I'm just making myself sad with the notion of NOT living there again.

Thank you, Rolling Stones, for the perfectly appropriate song at JUST the right time.

Round peg in a square hole

I felt sadness recently when I opened Pinterest on my iPad because it brought up a list of recent search items under my account. Coincidently, I could see what my husband has been manually looking for while he spends time on the computer version of Pinterest.

Pinterest search: Hot girls

Yeah, I get it.... He's a guy and I "get" that he likes to look. I only wish that he would JUST ONCE think that I am pretty or to let me know that I am enough. Sure, he can infuriate me by answering "how do I look?" without even a glance in my direction and assures me that he likes me best WITHOUT MAKEUP ON, but deep down, I know that any girl that catches his eye likely DOES wear makeup.

For Pete's Sake, stare into my eyes or whisper in my ear... tell me that you love me (and mean it!)

I'm getting used to his exasperated sigh and his eye-roll whenever I ask him for a hug. Of course, ever since I read about the extended (six to twenty seconds in duration) hug releasing special feel good chemicals in your brain, I try to hang on for eight seconds. Naturally, I feel his rigid body start to pull away after a few short seconds so, I often announce "Miss-is-sip-pi" to remind him to slow down. He teases me for my math-challenged brain, assuring me that it was long enough. Our lack of connectedness makes me feel downright lonely at times. He's not really "a kisser" so I INSIST upon hugs; I can't give up both. Pawning off the hug and kiss duty to our children doesn't really make me feel any more loved by my spouse; that just makes me sad.

Pinterest search: horse girl photography

I am a city girl, born and raised to believe (far longer than I should have) that brown cows make chocolate milk. I don't willingly listen to country music. I prefer to read a book over watching brainless tv. I admire the thought of couples who enjoy sharing a pot of coffee together first-thing in the morning or a bottle of wine shared by a fireplace at night; unfortunately, I don't drink either. I've never liked to get dirty and (still) gag at the smell of manure. I wasn't raised around animals, except for a pet fish for a brief time. I've only been around a horse a few times in my life, never demonstrating confidence. I feel inadequate in his search for a woman who likes horses.

Please remember that you married me for who I am... 

I feel as if our relationship is a round peg in a square hole; the peg fits inside, but our differences slip through the cracks in the corners, allowing us to be our true selves.

Take the stairs

Recently, my three year old accompanied me to a doctor's appointment and was disappointed that he didn't get to ride in the elevator.  While I marvel at the existence of an elevator and its fluidly smooth ride, I prefer to use my legs; an invaluable part of my own incredible machine.

For years, doctors have encouraged me to exercise regularly. Yet, with each passing year, I continue to make excuses for why I can't exercise (notably a husband's rotating work schedule and an abundance of his hours spent sleeping or away from the house) and I argue that raising small children and running a household IS exercise. (Sadly, for me, doctors do NOT think that this classifies as exercise while I remain convinced that their wives raised their children and ran their households.)

Each time that my neurological ticks, twitches and weaknesses unexpectedly present their ugly faces in my life, I suddenly feel remorseful for NOT exercising and HOPE that I didn't miss my chance to begin. Ironically, when the moment of weakness has passed and my life returns to so-called "normal" again, I am still yet to begin exercising.

WebMD reports:
Exercise is an important part of home treatment for people who have multiple sclerosis (MS). It has benefits in both early and advanced stages of the disease. Regular exercise can help you:

• Maintain muscle strength and improve coordination.
• Maintain and increase endurance.
• Improve flexibility and range of limb motion.
• Improve cardiovascular fitness.
• Prevent pressure sores.
• Control weight.
• Reduce the likelihood of becoming constipated.

Exercise can also promote a sense of well-being and improve your mood.

Who doesn't want those things? WHY am I setting myself up for failure? Why am I not doing my part for the betterment of my own health?

In an attempt to add little bits of exercise to my life, I tend to park farther away from my destination so that I am forced to walk a little farther. I go up and down the stairs in my house countless times per day. From time to time, I take the bike trailer to pick my son up from kindergarten (1.4 miles, each way), towing my three year old both ways. (Thankfully, transporting only ONE CHILD in the uphill stretch.) Sometimes, we walk (or skip... because you can do that sort of thing in the presence of children) to the local library (.8 miles each way). Oftentimes, I am forced to carry at least one child for much of our journey.

Notably, whenever I am given the option of taking an escalator or elevator, I choose the stairs. These legs of mine are a gift; I'd like to get the most use out of them while I still can.

Maybe one of these days, as my children grow older and I find more time for myself, I will make the time to exercise. Hopefully, I'm not too late...



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Sarah Guard was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 2002 and tries to live her best life everyday. She serves as a volunteer group leader since June 2013 and served as the National MS Society Ambassador for WalkMS Dubuque in May 2014. She uses a healthy diet, the power of positive thinking and humor to enrich her daily life while chasing after her two young sons.