Perseverance

We were not put on this earth to live a life that travels down an easy road. Traveling down a path always leading in the right direction may be something many of us could only hope and pray to be given. Never feeling pain, never experiencing doubt, never questioning why can seem like a dream come true. Always having the map to properly guide us during our life-long journey seems adequately sublime.

But…

If this was the life we were continuously granted, would we be capable of enduring the travels of a difficult road? During a winding journey of pain, doubt, and questions, would we thoroughly be able to complete our journey with a better understanding of the life around us and ourselves?

Absolutely not.

For a while there, it seemed like everything was falling into place for me. Everything was easy. Any question that I may have had was always answered, and doubts never crossed my mind. I was concerned with my happiness. I was concerned with my well-being. I was concerned, ultimately, with just myself. Though I was caring regarding others, I was undeniably selfish and uncontrollably incapable of being humble.

Sadly, things I had endured previously may have prepared me to overcome slight threats. However, what was about to knock me down was strong enough to overshadow what I originally believed I could endure.

I was not invincible.

In November 2005, I developed what I believed was the flu. Fast forward six and a half weeks and my body tried to give up the fight. Six and a half weeks being void of any nutrition. Six and a half weeks being incapable of functioning as a normal human being.

Six and a half weeks…

45 days…

1,080 hours…

64,800 minutes…

3,888,000 seconds…

Introduced me to a life of perseverance.

I remember the events leading up to the introduction of life-long perseverance like it was yesterday. I was going through my day-to-day routine as any other 20 year old would do: I was constantly wishing Friday would come sooner rather than later, constantly whining about exams or the amount of time it took to study, wondering why coffee could not come as freely as water, hoping that work would become more fulfilling, and always looking for the snooze button every morning seeking five more minutes. Through it all, I was able to pride myself in being optimistic and knowing that, eventually, Friday would be here, graduation was in the not-so-distant future, somehow somewhere, a coffee tower would form allowing coffee to come from a faucet, a newer more fulfilling job would be acquired, and five more minutes would be an afterthought.

These thoughts, however, soon escaped from my mind.

The inability to keep anything in my body was overwhelming. I honestly believed I had developed the flu which infuriated me since I had received my flu shot that year. However, two and a half weeks of constant turmoil of being void of food, water, nutrients swept through my body resulting in an indescribable pain.

Sadly, hearing that things only get worse before getting better is quite accurate.

I lost hearing out of my left ear.

I lost sight out of my left eye.

I began having issues forming coherent sentences and thinking clearly.

I lost feeling from the waist down resulting in dragging my limp, near lifeless body across the floor of my third story apartment.

Thinking I could alleviate whatever was going on with me by taking a hot bath soon became a worthless assumption. After dragging my body from my living room into the bathroom, running the bath water, and pulling myself from the floor, and somehow, managing to throw myself in the bath made me feel like I had completed a lifetime of marathons.

I was terrified.

I was confused.

I felt hopeless.

Alone.

My last memory was looking down at my legs to see the blisters from the heat of the bath water I could not feel.

I do not remember the ambulance ride to the hospital. I do remember, however, talk of a potential overdose, stroke, or seizure but was incapable of answering questions. With numerous MRIs, CT scans, five lumbar punctures, blood work, tears, confusion, hopelessness, and anger, I was told the unthinkable.

“From this day forward, your life is going to change. You may not understand it now, but one day you will know the true reason behind the struggles and adversities you face. Desireé, you have Multiple Sclerosis.”

Emerging from the news, I discovered what had been stolen from me: I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t hear out of my left ear. I could barely see. I couldn’t feel from the bottom of my ribs down to my feet. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t zip up my jeans. I couldn’t button a shirt. I couldn’t write. I couldn’t hold a utensil. I couldn’t unscrew a bottle cap. I couldn’t remember my birthday, my middle name, where I lived, what I was going to school for.

Everything was gone.

I could, however, feel pain. I could feel the excruciating burning sensation in my extremities. I could hear the siren-like ringing in my ear. I could feel the sensation of being crushed by a boa constrictor if I tried to breathe. I could feel my body trying to give up if I sat up in bed or when I put on a shirt because of the fatigue.

Fast forward a couple of years, add 27 different medications, the strongest steroids one could find, 9 MS relapses, hair loss, the disappearance of self-worth…

Years of struggle.

Years of uncertainty.

Years of doubt.

Years of terror.

Prepared me for something much greater.

There were multiple times when giving up seemed easy. When shutting down seemed like a dream come true. When walking (or rolling) away seemed like a blessing. When closing my eyes and wishing for everything to end seemed normal.

However, I had developed a mindset that consisted of yelling at myself if I couldn't do something then trying until I could eventually do it. Walking, running, talking, forming coherent sentences, giving myself a shot, typing, buttoning shirts, zipping pants, opening a car door, unscrewing bottle caps, taking a shower...everything - even if it took me hours, even if it hurt, even if the frustration was so immense that I sobbed like a child while doing it, I still did it.

There were countless times that praying for my life to be over ended in a screaming match with myself because opening my eyes proved that I was still there. I had finally decided that the life I was given, the struggles I endured, the adversities I faced, and the tears I had cried were preparing me for my ultimate journey. I was being prepared for something much greater than even I could imagine, and I decided to hold on and travel along this journey with my eyes open.

My life-long journey of perseverance, though merely just beginning, has shown me that giving up, shutting down, or walking away may seem easy. I was not given this life to travel along an easy path. I was given this life to show others that what may seem like the end is really an updated map to guide us along the path we are being prepared for and meant to be on.

More importantly, our perseverance radiates to others. It is our job as parents, as leaders, as mentors, as friends, as brothers, as family to take the hand of those who beg to give up and show that giving up may be easy, but the ultimate test is to continue moving forward. Tackling our fears, our doubts, and our questions are never easy. Coming through these fears, doubts, and questions to the other side ultimately proves that we are capable of more than what we originally believed and shows that we are, absolutely, being prepared for something much greater.

Fast forward nearly eight years of the introduction of my life of perseverance:

Now, instead of giving up, instead of allowing something to take over me, instead of constantly questioning why, I use my experiences, my hopes, and my drive to move forward to help others. Now, I find myself better capable of empathizing with others and being the support they desperately need.

I was told I wouldn't walk normally again? No, I walk perfectly, and it is very uncommon for someone to physically see that I am enduring Multiple Sclerosis.

I was told I wouldn't be able to finish school? No, I earned my bachelor's a year and a half ago and am going back for my master's in September.

I was told that I would be forever required to be on medication to sustain myself? No, I've been away from MS therapy for nearly two years and am healthier now than I was over two years ago.

I was told that I wouldn't be able to have a lasting relationship? No, I'm with a man who celebrates my triumphs and picks me up when I fall.

I was told that my life was over? That's just funny.

It’s easy to give up. It’s easy to shut down. It’s easy to walk away.

It’s difficult beyond measure to stand up, fight, and continue moving forward to reach our ultimate goals. Persevering through what seems to be easy will, ultimately, allow others the opportunity to stand up, fight, and move forward by example.