Every November, I have the intention of taking part in NaNoWriMo, and every November, things fall through. At least this year it’s only the ninth before I have occasion to pause and think, “Crap, I missed it again.” At least those intentions—along with many others for similar intents—have paved a lovely, multilane, multilevel highway.
So, while this won’t be anywhere close to a thousand words, it is at least me sitting down to write, to produce something instead of merely consuming content from the vapidity that is social media. Here goes.
The first full week of November was a naturally busy one, but it was also a productive one in that I not only got all of my classwork and grading done(!) but I also got in 3+ hours of training in: Two sessions on The Sufferfest, a mountain bike ride, and an extra run on Tuesday night. The Boy & I also got to bear witness to a bonafide steam train barreling down the tracks through town.
But MS remained its constant, aggravating self. Nicholle & I, however, have started to nail down a routine for her, though, which helps. As unpredictable as MS is, when we can know what to expect, it helps. It helps even more when those expectations are on-point, and no curve balls are thrown our way. Most days kind of go like this:
Six AM wake-up to get ankle-foot orthotics (AFOs) on Nicholle so she can get up and be somewhat mobile; it’s time consuming and painful for her, but she’s a trooper. Make breakfast for her, the kids. Make lunches for her, the kids. Get myself cleaned up, hop on the bike, and get to work. Occasionally on time, too.
In-all, it makes for an exhausting day, an exhausting week, an exhausting existence because, let’s face it: This is not “living.”
Sure, it’s not being diagnosed with an incurable neurological disease that slowly destroys every bit of normalcy, independence, and humanity from you. It’s being tethered to it. Bound to it. Devoted to it. Til death do us part.
So I soldier on as husband, as father, as caretaker, as occasional whatever else time may or—as in the case of NaNoWriMo, yet again—may not allow. I still have this little corner of the web to write whenever time permits, no matter the month.
As always, thanks for reading.