Prepared with recommended pinhole camera viewing devices — the most technical of versions worthy of a second-grade class project — we woke with great expectation of the rare and wonderous site. For those who have been reading the Life With Multiple Sclerosis column for any length of time at all, you’ll know that I often draw analogies between day-to-day occurrences — and sometimes more extraordinary ones — and my life with multiple sclerosis (MS).
The Rarity of the Eclipse Makes It Unlike MS
A major celestial event like a solar eclipse would seem a fitting target for such an analogy. However, my observations have less to do with the partial eclipse than with the experience around the rare occasion of our moon’s shadow passing overhead. The comparison of the light of the day being blotted out by MS would surely be an apt one if our planet, our satellite moon, and our star aligned as frequently as multiple sclerosis can come calling to blot out some or all of our day’s radiance. That these alignments happen (well, at least happen in habitable parts of our planet — and that’s a whole other analogy) rarely, it just doesn’t seem fitting to me to make a comparison.
MS Frequently Clouds Over Carefully Laid Plans
What did come to mind as, as has happened on more eclipse days I’ve experienced than not, our much-anticipated viewing of a solar Pac-Man was obscured by a thick layer of cloud here on our peninsula, was this: Be it a wedding, graduation, birthday, dinner with friends, even a trip to the shops after months of pandemic lockdown; a chronic illness can cloud over the day and either make a much-anticipated outing less enjoyable or take it right out of the realm of possibility. Like a marine layer of overcast, MS has stolen joy by obscuring an event from my view more often than I care to remember. Sometimes, with great care and planning, we even take into consideration how the gray of the disease may cloud our plans: We pre-cool before a workout. We budget time to rest up and recover from a party. We spread large preparations over a longer period than most would consider necessary because we know that even if it doesn’t always work, it’s the only way such preparations have any chance of being accomplished.
We’ve Learned to Take Joy in a Cloudy Day
Just as the terrestrial weather can blot out our enjoyment of celestial occurrences — be they meteor showers, solar eclipses, blood moons, or a simple sunset over the sea — life with a chronic illness can be one disappointment after another if we let it be. We were all let down by the weather on eclipse day. We were saddened to miss our chance to knowingly witness an event that might have frightened our ancient predecessors. We felt a bit done-in by nature. But those of us living with MS learn not to be disheartened when plans are scrubbed or experiences diminished. Somehow, after months, years, or decades of living with a disease that takes away our abilities, we’ve learned to make whatever we can of an event and take some joy in the beauty of a cloudy day. Wishing you and your family the best of health. Cheers, Trevis
