The pile of MRI films I had received from the clinic laid on the table in front of me. Numerous anatomy and physiology classes had taught me enough to know the white spots on my brain were not supposed to be there. The final diagnosis would come from the neurologist in a few weeks, but in my gut I knew. Multiple Sclerosis. My optometrist had first suggested this when he referred me to the optic-neurologist, but the images were the final proof. This would change our lives forever, but at that moment I couldn’t have known how much.
I slid the films back in the purple plastic sleeve. Falling apart now wasn’t an option. I had to stay together until Arman got home. If I lost it now, I didn’t think I could put myself back together before he walked in. With a few hours to kill, I started cleaning the kitchen in preparation to make dinner. If I could keep my hands busy, I hoped my mind would follow. No such luck.
First came all the why questions. Why me? I had finally put my wild ways behind me, settled down, and was focused on a solid path. The second year of my pharmacy education was starting in a few weeks, and I was so looking forward to the challenge. Why us? We had recently celebrated our first anniversary and were in the process of having our first house built. Our story had barely started. Why now? Everything had finally come together.
My second thought was about money. Arman was a contract worker at Lexmark, so he had little to no health insurance. I was a student with no full-time job, so I had none. In 2003, we were only 24 and had minimal savings. Our new house was only possible through a FHA loan which made closing costs negligible. After seeing the bill for the MRI and lumbar puncture, I had no idea where we would find the money for this new huge expense and all that might follow.
The final place my mind went was the most gut wrenching- Would Arman still want me? This isn’t what he signed up for. I know he said ‘in sickness and in health’, but sickness usually doesn’t come this soon. This would definitely affect our future plans in some way. What if I can’t have kids? What if I can’t walk? What if I can’t work? Could he handle the possibility of these changes and challenges? We were already in the boat together. Was he willing to stay and row to help me navigate the rough waters ahead? Or would he jump and swim for solid land? I didn’t want him to bail if the waters became choppy. It would hurt to lose him now but devastating to lose him later. Of all my thoughts, this one scared me the most.
As Arman walked through the door and tossed his bag down, he looked at the transparent MRI sleeve on the table knowing the outcome could go either way. His presence in the room had relaxed me enough to let my barriers down, so by the time his eyes reached my face I had already started quietly crying. I was instantly encased in his arms, creating a snot patch on his shoulder. He let me sob until the sniveling started, then told me ‘We can deal with whatever happens. We can do this’ and sat me down to explain the scans to him.
My mind cleared and a weight lifted from my chest and filled my heart.
I, no We, can do this.
Author: Katie Yusuf
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