A few days ago, I shared the story of the first day ‘Love of My Life’ (LOML) became aware of and was impacted by her Multiple Sclerosis (MS). ‘Jack Frost and the stories he tells...’ describes the morning of discovery. 

After an incredible series of specialist referrals including a mis-diagnosis of Lupus, her MS was confirmed. The early days of this pronouncement were met with anger and anxiety. Anger is a devilish little beast always on your shoulder forcing you to ask “Why me?” Oh yeah, he’s a bugger. Anxiety, quite simply, is fueled by the fear of the unknown. A more dynamic duo of destruction you may never find when navigating personal drama.

There was such a profound sense of loss and we didn’t even understand what the loss was about. Each day was announced with clouds of confusion and finished with a storm of emotions.

I’m a passionate and purposeful kind of guy. I was working in the healthcare industry at the time and thought I would face the challenge ‘head on’ with my own brand of piss and vinegar. It wasn’t pretty when I assigned myself to the task of beating MS. Lacking  maturity and as any wise old Russian could offer in the most gravelly of voices, I was “Shtrong like bull, shmart like streetcar. Always go straight line.” Oh yeah, I was a piece of work - it was all about me.

The more LOML needed me, the more I escaped into work and drove myself to find a way to eradicate the disease from her body. Talk of not having children came into the rare discussions. We grew distant. We were losing each other. 

Her path was a solo journey of pain and loss. Mine, a climb without any gear or training - and truthfully, a path of escape. Days turned into weeks and then into the first few months. We needed help. LOML suggested counseling and I didn’t want to hear it. I was too proud and stubborn to know better and so she started her sessions without me.

Russell Peters is a Canadian comic who uses humour to poke fun at the subjects of race, class and culture. In one of his routines he describes an interesting shop owner who is trying to convince him to pay a higher price for an item he wants a discount on. Russell feels he isn’t getting anywhere and indicates he may come back later. The shopkeeper says that maybe the price will be higher when he returns. He further tells Mr. Peters to “Do the right thing.” and “Be a man.” Confusing to say the least however, it does give you pause to reflect on the madness of the moment.

LOML returned one day from a counseling session indicating that T wanted to see the both of us together and that the time was right. I was, in fact, being asked to “Do the right thing.” and “Be a man.” When you’re young and immature and a guy calls you out, you go. “OK” I thought, time to show him where the bear lives.

I was nervous. I felt like I was going in with no clothes on. Some highly trained social pathologist was about to sample my brain. Was I up to the task?

Nope!

I joined LOML on her next visit, a reluctant hero. We were in the appointment for about forty five minutes and, I believe, I had exhausted T’s patience championing my cause and describing all the great things I was doing. T thought he had a good picture of what was going on between LOML and me. The diagnosis was clear, compelling and memorable. I didn’t see it coming. “You’re an a--hole.”

Huh?

He clarified. “It seems to me you’re being an a--hole.” LOML nodded in agreement. They were right. I must admit, this cold reality felt like getting beaten by a nice piece of hickory. 

I was a mess and it was far past time for my own counseling. I met P through the Employee Assistance Program offered by my employer at the time. She was an angel sent to save me and my marriage. She helped me to understand that the only thing I really needed to be good at was being a husband. That’s it, that’s all. It was confusing for me at the time. Having to release myself to the knowledge that I did not need to know or do it all was humbling. To let go was the path to have it all. Imagine that.

We’ve been in a great place for a very long time with two beautiful daughters and the love and support of family and friends.

The other day I spoke about incredible people, my heroes, who have shaped my life the most and how they have all had to go through rough journeys only to endure a tough journey. Their biographies when distilled into my essence effect my ‘herography’. That is, my life story. 

This was another one of these stories - about my wife, who has taught me how to let go.