Different emotions come with falling, especially when you have multiple sclerosis. Different emotions also come with various types of falls. Falling in the woods on a hike with no witnesses, other than a furry companion, is typically not as stressful. You do the usual rundown before standing. You have time. No one is running to the rescue or, better yet, standing on the other side of the street acting like they did not see anything. You have time to sit on the ground and ensure nothing is broken. You have time to debate the best way to get up. You can flounder on the ground with no witnesses as you try to maneuver your legs back underneath you in multiple feeble attempts to stand.

When you are around other people, it is difficult to keep emotions in check and not feel rushed to get up. It seems that as much as you want to get up, they want you up even more. You feel obligated to get off the ground as quickly as possible to make them feel better about the situation. Having someone on the ground in front of you wallowing about trying to stand is just as unnatural as it is for the person doing the wallowing. It most likely is not the person’s first time falling, but it might be the other person’s first time witnessing such an event.

I have fallen five times while walking around the neighborhood. The first time I tripped over my own feet while walking in a straight line. It was summer and I was wearing shorts. My knee hit the concrete sidewalk and the skin split. There were witnesses across the street who decided the least embarrassing thing for me would be if they acted like they did not see anything. I pulled myself up. There was already a trickle of blood running down the front of my leg. I still functioned well enough to walk home. I was bruised and bloody, but okay.

The second fall was more traumatic. I was walking alongside a busy street when a neighbor’s small dog ran into the road. I was so concerned about the little dog being hit by a car that I forgot how my own dog reacts when he sees a potential playmate. Wallace is sixty pounds. It took no effort for him to swoop around my side and pull me over. My elbow struck the sidewalk. Traffic stopped. People actually pulled over to check on me. It was all very dramatic. I was in tears, not from the pain but from how frightening it had been. A very nice gentleman urged me to go home and tend to myself.

The next fall still angers me. Wallace and I were nearing the end of our walk. We were steps away from turning down the sidewalk onto our street when I sensed someone or something directly behind us. This would be when I discovered that I lose all balance when I turn my head to either side while walking. I looked behind to see a man directly upon us. He did not indicate that he was behind us or that he needed to walk around. I was immediately frightened because Wallace does not do well with strangers. I feared his reaction if he discovered someone had come upon us so close and fast. I fell as I turned my head back to the front.

I hit the pavement on all fours skinning my knees and hands. I wanted up. I was directly beside a busy street. I did not want everyone to see me on the ground. But this was the end of a long walk after a long day at work. I struggled to regain my footing. Every car that passed by was witness to my torture. The guy who was behind me offered assistance. I told him not to touch me.

The next fall was less dramatic and almost comical. It was early morning before work and still dark outside. You would expect zero witnesses to what happened, but, as luck would have it, a car was pulling out of the driveway of the house we just passed.

It was a simple blunder of Wallace crossing the sidewalk before me. It would have been an insignificant event if I was a healthy person with normal balance. However, I tripped over his back and again found myself on all fours. I hate falling, but I love his face when he sees me on the ground closer to where he is.

The fifth fall was devastating and would permanently change me. It was November and freezing cold. I remember this detail because I was telling myself to be extra careful because of it. Walking is difficult enough under perfect conditions, but freezing cold feet can make it treacherous.

We cut across the street to head toward home. We were less than a block away. I am still not sure what happened. I assume my right foot did not entirely make it over the curb. Regardless of what happened, I tripped. Both hands hit the sidewalk in front of me. It was a hard fall.

I pulled myself back to my feet. Being halfway off the curb worked in my favor. I was not on a completely flat surface and regaining footing was easier. I looked around for witnesses. A neighbor four houses down was outside but if he had seen anything he pretended not to. I felt the tears welling up. It had happened again. Another painful fall. My anxiety took over. My breathing became erratic. This was life now and there was nothing I could do about it.

I stumbled home and collapsed onto the couch. I sobbed. The uncontrollable sobs that I try so hard to stifle because they make my disease worse. At that moment, I did not care. I was overcome with so many emotions I could not keep them inside. The simplest task of walking my dog was no longer safe for me to do. Hiking had been taken away. Cycling had been taken away. Running had been taken away. And now, walking was slowly being stripped from me. What happens when it is gone and I have nothing left to give to this disease? The thoughts and emotions were so overwhelming I did not realize my throbbing hand.

The next few months were going to test my breaking point…