Better left unsaid
Unexpected emotional moment in my English class today. She was announcing the readings for the final unit of the semester, and one of them was a personal narrative by a woman with MS. I finished our in-class reading early, so I reluctantly flipped to the MS piece and started scanning over it. I knew we'd have to read it and write a journal about it before the next class, so I figured I'd see what I was getting into.
The backstory here is that my grandfather died of/with/had a worse death because of MS. He ended his life in diapers, in a nursing home, until his body shut down. Because of this, I had no relationship with him that I remember, other than bearing witness to my mother's trauma and grief during the last years of his life.
And my mom was diagnosed with MS roughly twenty years ago. Her physical symptoms are relatively mild, although she does have an injection once a week to keep them under control, and can't tolerate hot temperatures to any extent.
The pattern here is, both my grandfather and my mom were the oldest children in their families. I'm the oldest in mine--so if there's any illness I'm "supposed" to get, it's MS. I don't think much about that chance, since all I can do is cross my fingers and take care of myself and hope that makes a difference. But if I make it through my life without getting it, I'll consider it a bullet dodged.
Anyway, the essay was written by someone who defiantly declares herself to be a cripple, and talks about her illness in really frank language...which I knew was a deliberate choice, a way of speaking to healthy people and conveying "I am not weak, nor am I afraid to discuss my illness in a very blunt way. Don't assume I'm fragile because I'm sick."
Except, it rocked me. There was a passage talking about neurological symptoms, personality changes, and my brain went from "objective bystander" to "emotionally overwhelmed" in about two seconds. I mean, ok...what if my mom's personality changes over the years have more to do with MS than I'd like to consider? How would I even know? How would that affect how I feel about her? What would that mean about her relationship with me, my relationship with her? What does it say about our rocky history with each other? How would I treat her if I could verify it? Will she get worse over the years--and if she does, how could I tell what was her, and what was the disease...?
The author also announced glibly that she was diagnosed when she was 28. I already know I'm fast approaching/already in the window when most women are diagnosed, so that didn't exactly help the internal bonfire that was blazing up inside my chest.
I shut the book and tried to make my feelings shut up too. Class finished, and I tentatively walked to the front. My professor and I get along pretty well, and I guess she could tell something was up because she immediately asked if I was alright. I paused, then mentioned my background on MS, and asked if there was any way I could do a journal about the piece we read in class, instead of delving further into that essay. The brief skim through had been enough for me.
She responded in a way I didn't expect. She's usually pretty straight faced, but she immediately frowned with concern and said "Oh god, of course, that's no problem. And really, you probably shouldn't come on Wednesday for the class discussion, that will be too much."
And my freaking eyes started watering up. I dunno...something about her sudden show of empathy just made my feelings seem more "real" or something. I thanked her, and she changed subjects, asking me to forward my last essay to her so she can use it as an example next semester (!!), and I left.
That was basically it, although I cried a little when I was conveying what happened to JR. In that "Oh god I'm kind of annoyed that I'm crying over this unexpected thing, but at the same time, I didn't realize it was a sore spot" kind of way. I still don't really want to think about it...although I feel like the damage has already been done. My relationship with my mom is SO complicated, and I've just barely reached a point where we're able to be amicable and respectful and friendly and totally non-parenty with each other. I just don't need to start feeling misplaced or unsubstantiated emotions that will only complicate it more, but, those questions are out of the box now. Seeds of doubt.
As long as I don't nurture them, they won't grow and tangle everything up--but I don't know if I can put them away again, either.