Tomorrow is Thanksgiving Day. Five years ago, I was busting my butt baking pies, side dishes and homemade yeast rolls. I was fielding calls
from my kids about who was bringing what and who to our feast. The next day we

all ate too much, played games, watched the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade on

the living room TV, while the guys scrunched into the extra bedroom to watch football. I have at

least three dozen pictures of family, food, and me running around like the

turkey we were about to eat when he got his head chopped off.

Last year at this time, I was sitting in bed crying because I didn’t know what to wear to my
daughter’s house who was hosting the family get together that time. The girls

stopped calling me for baking instructions several years ago. I simply didn’t

remember how I made homemade bread and stuffing. That night I was up and down

all night with leg cramps. Rick spent half the night massaging my calves and

wiping the tears that were making a stream to my chin. The next morning, I took

some extra Zanaflex and pain pills with me. I maneuvered my power chair to the

van and toggled the switch to lower the lift I would ride up and into the van’s

dark, empty belly. I decided against the scooter because my legs would need to

be elevated all day after the night I had. When we arrived, the grandkids ran

to the van to watch me “download” and give the youngest a ride up the portable

ramp we bought for their house so I could get inside. The kids insisted in

putting it up the night before in case Nanny and Pappa got there early,

although getting there at all was a rarity. The day was filled with much of the

same things as always. I loved to play charades and win pretty often. Games

were no longer possible for me so I took pictures and video. I was so exhausted

that I slept sitting up with the one grandson who didn’t care about the

disability preventing me from joining in. He sat out the games and made sure I

had a drink at all times. My son-in -law gave a blessing on the food as all sat

around the table together, except for me and William in the living room. He

expressed thanks for all of our many blessings and asked that if it was

Heavenly Father’s will, Nanny would feel better soon. I could barely stay awake

and MS hug kept me from eating more than a few small bites of the cranberry

salad and apple carrot bake that I was once famous for making. Rick knew it was

time to go home, and announced our departure while the table was being cleared.

Little Sara said, “Nanny! You not gonna have some ‘zert?” The tears were welling up in my oldest

daughters eyes and I stayed for “zert” (pumpkin pie and strawberry cheesecake).

As soon as we could satisfy the little ones that I had had enough food , fun

and diversion, we said our good byes and went home. Rick was silent and so was

I. There was nothing to say, it was the same at most of the other family get

togethers.

Tomorrow I will be in the kitchen for the first holiday in such a very long time. Nanny is in charge of only the “zerts” tomorrow because I’ll be doing the main meal for Christmas.
This year, it will be in mine and Rick’s home, as it was in the past. The

scooter and power chair are in the storage room with blankets over them. We

sold the handicapped equipped van a couple of months ago. We gave the ramps away

too. We are playing charades again. I intend to regain the championship this

year. Everyone is so excited that a couple of the kids are coming to spend the

night tonight so we can start the celebration a little early. I’m babysitting

my grandson for a few hours with Pappa so my youngest daughter can run a few

errands. Rick is video taping him trying to walk. He doesn’t want to walk, but

grandpa wants the video. Nanny is staying out of it and hiding behind my

computer.

I can’t wait to get up in the morning and get busy. I can’t help but think about the last year and all that has transpired. I have friends
who could be writing this about their own Thanksgiving stories thanks to a life

saving procedure that made it all possible. This year I have more to be

thankful for then ever. But a couple of tears have still managed to slide down

the sides of my face as I think about friends who are still waiting and hoping

that they will join the growing number of liberated people who have suffered

the symptoms of Multiple Sclerosis for too long. I wish I could say that they

will all soon have their turn, but I know it isn’t true.

My Canadian friends are not permitted to regain their health and self respect. Those in my country
face difficult roadblocks to liberation as do many others around the world. It

is wrong, there is no equity or justice in this reality, but that will change.

We are strong and growing in number. Deep inside I pray that those who oppose

this medical advancement are doing so out of legitimate concern for their constituents.

I fear that is naïve and unrealistic, but at least I pray their hearts will

soften and the need to be compassionate human beings outweighs the need for

power and money. That will be my Thanksgiving prayer this year.