(The Day After) World MS Day

I failed to post my two cent blog in honor of World MS Day (yesterday). The theme this year was Independence. And that is exactly what I was doing: enjoying what limited independence remains within me.

I walked down the road to visit with an older widow who shared some inspiring conversation; I helped my youngest daughter move furniture; I ate a Ham and Swiss sub at the new Blimpie in town; I grocery shopped; I accompanied my children to the park, then treated them to a Baskin-Robbins ice cream afterward; and I watched a late-night movie with my family. All good things. But, my favorite part of the day was engaging in some physical activity.

What may seem light to most is now a grave challenge for me: playing tennis. Summer recreation programs in my youth taught me the basics. And through the years I have come to appreciate the simplicity of a casual match (I even took a tennis class in college). But the past couple weeks have actually proven how empowering playing tennis can be for my psyche. Who knew?

Each game begins with my undivided attention. My concentration is focused. I backhand, I forehand, I shuffle here, I zip over there, I scurry across the court to make contact; I am in the zone. I win a few, but mostly lose. Scores don't matter. Not anymore.

My oldest son is a true athlete on the baseball field, but he is the super champ maneuvering across the court from me. His skill level increases while mine rapidly decreases. Yet, his patience with me knows no bounds. I am notably the laughing stock, so my success on the court is measured in giggles.

Tennis is downright fun!

By the end of the set, I am stumbling over my own feet, sizzling from every synapse, and slurring my words. The cog-fog is immeasurable. Guaranteed, I will twitch through the night, plus have difficulty walking or breathing the day after. But the time spent with fine company on the court is worth every crippling result.

And that, my friends, is a game, set, match.