I was having a glorious Sunday. Feeling good. Lipstick was fire. All the things. I was doing my usual Sunday routine — drinking my Starbucks, listening to Spotify, and browsing social media.
It was a good day.
And then I opened up Facebook, and up popped a photo memory from 7 years ago. It was an adorable picture of my now 13-year old nephew and I at his kindergarten graduation.
The picture melted my heart and broke it at the same time. I remembered the day vividly.
I was still walking back then. Barely. I remember being late to the graduation ceremony because there was no parking (let alone a handicapped parking space), and I had to park a block away. It took me more than 30 minutes to hobble my way into the school. I was using a cane at the time (my pride still prevented me from using a walker — y’all know how that is).
Looking at that photo made me so sad. I felt sad thinking about how utterly exhausted I was in the picture.
Beyond that, I was grieving the Daana in the picture. The Daana who was still walking and driving. The Daana who lived a life that was not yet as ravaged and upended by MS.
Seven years have passed and I barely remember the life I lived back then. I was in control; I was the boss. MS shows me who’s boss now.
Fuck MS, y’all.