It's six p.m. Sunday and I just woke up from a long
nap (for me, sleep has become heaven ever since I joined the graveyard
shift). My boyfriend was sitting beside me asking me what do I want for
dinner. Earlier that day, I was craving for grilled fish, so we planned
to go to the supermarket to grab the makings for it. But since I woke
up late and there's no way for us to set up the grill and everything, we
just decided to go out and look for some grilled stuff that we can
bring home.
As soon as we gone out of the house, I felt my knees
trembling, and my legs wobbling. I have multiple sclerosis, and I know
what I felt were its manifestations. I tried to keep it cool, and walked
properly, holding his arm as we walked. And just when we were crossing
the street I fell - flat on my stomach. I tried to get up and he was
holding me, lifter me up and asking me what happened, if I was okay. I
just shook my head and said I was alright. I brushed the dirt on my
clothes and my knees, but they were painful enough without being
touched, so i just decided to wash them once we got back home.
I couldn't
remember the last time I was wounded, and I can't believe how painful
they could be. Aside from my wounds, my knee joints were swollen,
bruised and aching, especially my left knee. I washed them with soap in
running water, ever careful, wincing in pain. When I went back to my
room, my boyfriend was waiting for me - dry clean towel, antiseptic
solution and cotton in his hand. He was sitting at the edge of my bed
and told me to sit beside him so he can clean my wounds. I smiled, that
was sweet. He used the towel to dry my legs and my feet and then started
cleaning my wounds. It hurt so much, I begged him to stop but I know he
should do it. I looked away from him, from my wounds, gripping his arm,
tears cascaded down my cheeks. When it was over, he asked me why I was
crying. I said, "It hurts". He smiled back and asked me again, "Which
one hurt? The wounds or your feelings?"
I didn't
answer. A surge of emotion flooded and rushed over me and I knew there
was no point in denying... he already knew. I have been dreading about
my sickness for months now. I often cried, alone or with him, repeatedly
saying how afraid I am about what this could bring, or where this could
lead. I never said a word this time, I wiped my tears using the back of
my hand and he pulled me close.
"Everything will be alright," he whispered and kissed
my hair. "I will always be here... I love you."
That might be
true. After the doctor told me there's no cure for MS, I was sort of
doomed, so how can everything be alright? But maybe someone who would
lie to me is all I need. Or maybe it wasn't a lie after all. Here I am,
with my legs stretched and scraped knees infront of him, with bruised
pride because once again I failed, and I felt useless and weak for
bawling like a baby. And yet there he was, sitting next to me, actually
telling me that everything's okay, and that I am being loved despite of
being such a clumsy failure. I looked above me, and thought of how must
he be someone God has sent to take care of me. I held him back and my
tears stopped from falling, because I knew in my heart that I love him too.
