One of my major issues is weakness, particularly in my right hand. Given I am right hand dominant makes it even more problematic. My ability to grip is nearly nonexistent and anything that requires my arm being raised is a chore. For instance, you will rarely see me with my hair pulled back behind my head. It is too difficult for me to keep my arm raised long enough to pull it back. Instead, I usually wear my hair to the side where it is quicker and easier to get to without stretching my arm up and behind me. If you do happen to see my hair pulled completely back know that I am either having a rare and awesome day, had help, or was at some point in tears of frustration getting it there. Chances are you just won’t see it.

It is not only weakness and grip strength, but a typical four-year-old has better fine motor skills than me. I have difficulty using eating utensils, tying shoes, buttoning clothes, and writing. These are things I am still able to do, they just take more effort and time.

I rarely get a laugh out of having multiple sclerosis. Every now and then I will at least chuckle at the absurdity of it. There have been countless times that foot drop has caused me to catch the toe of my shoe on the pavement and sent me flying forward uncontrollably. My usual reaction is anger and frustration. I’ll huff and puff the rest of the way to my destination, mad at the disease for almost making me fall again. But every now and again, I will have a good laugh about it. I imagine how ridiculous I must look with my arms flailing trying to catch my balance after tripping over a perfectly smooth sidewalk.

The difficulty with my hand is something I am yet to get a giggle out of. Maybe because it usually starts first thing in the morning before I have even had a chance to properly caffeinate. I drop the shampoo bottle in the shower, I struggle to pull my socks over my feet, I can’t keep a grip on my electric toothbrush for the full two minutes it stays on, etc.

When I drop something, my initial reaction is anger. I get mad at myself. At this point, I know I shouldn’t. It isn’t my fault. It’s my disease’s fault. If I have had a particularly bad day and have dropped nearly everything I have touched, an anxiety attack ensues. I get short of breath, my heartbeat gets erratic, I feel my face flush and the tears well up. I have to walk away. I have to physically put distance between myself and the thing that did this to me.

Last night I was at the grocery store. It was the end of a long day. I left work and went straight home to tend to Wallace, my dog, and then straight to do the grocery shopping. I was still in my scrubs and already well over ten thousand steps for the day. I was dragging my leg and ready to just get home and sit for a bit.

The last thing on my shopping list was berries. I made my way over and picked through the pints of blueberries to find the perfect container. With everything being so expensive right now, I am going to search and find the plumpest container on the shelf! I found my blueberries along with two containers of raspberries. I was brave and decided I could carry all three to my cart at the same time. And I did! Success! I set my berries on the little tray on the front of the cart. I picked up the raspberries without a thought and placed them in my reusable shopping bag. Then, I reached for the blueberries.

I told my brain to grab the blueberries, but I guess my brain did not get the message to my fingers in time. I’m not sure what happened after that. It was like a slow-motion reel in a movie. I saw the container falling to the floor. It was happening so slowly it was almost teasing me to try and grab it. I knew that was not going to be possible, though. All I could do was say a silent prayer it would not break open when it hit the floor. Which it did.

Blueberries scattered for what seemed like miles. I could feel the store get quiet and everyone’s gaze turn in my direction. I may have even heard a snicker. I don’t get embarrassed in these situations. Accidents happen. What I did get was angry. I was so mad at myself and my stupid fingers. Why do they have to drop things all the time?! Why can’t they just do what I want them to do?! I feel my breath change and my chest flutter. The tears I am all so used to begin to pool in my eyes. I am going to have an anxiety attack in the middle of Meijer.

I know all of this sounds very dramatic. It is just a pint of blueberries. But it is actually so much more than that. It is not necessarily about the inability to pick up a twelve-ounce container without dropping it on the floor. It is about not being able to successfully do the most simple and mundane things you didn’t even have to put thought into a year ago. It is about feeling like no one understands your frustrations. It is about how alone and isolated you feel standing in the middle of the mess you just made.

I stand there staring at the mess of berries under my shopping cart. I start pushing the cart and the wheels squish and smear the berries across the floor. I have no choice but to step on them and spread the mess even more. Defeated, I look for an employee.

I found Gerard, a greeter, by the entrance. I lean in and shyly tell him, “I am sorry, but I accidently dropped a pint of blueberries and made a huge mess.” He stares at me blankly. I assume trying to process my expression and flushed skin. I stare back waiting for him to roll his eyes and grumble about the extra work I have given him.

Instead, he tells me it is okay. He is wearing a mask, but his eyes tell me he is smiling at me. He tells me he will take care of it right away and starts to walk off. After a few steps he stops and turns and comes back to me. He leans in this time and sincerely thanks me. He says most people would not even bother to let him know and he really appreciates me saying something. I am unsure if he sensed something more was wrong, or if he thought I was honestly that torn up over some spilled berries. Either way, he knew he needed to say a few more words to set me at ease before he walked away.

Again, I know that all sounds very dramatic. But, when you are holding on to the last fiber of anything left in you to keep from losing it in the middle of a grocery store, a little kindness from a stranger may be the only thing that keeps you together. I was expecting a snide remark or rude comment. I was expecting to leave that store with my face red and wet. Instead, I smiled at everyone I met on my way out, something I do not do that much of anymore.