The Meaning of Life

I was told yesterday that I have probable MS. My husband cried when I told him, and to be honest, so did I. I am 43 next week, lost my dad to cancer last year, have an utterly dysfunctional relationship with two of my sisters, and now may have MS. But weirdly I am OK with it all. Maybe I am in denial (oh yes, I know all the stages of grief by heart). What I do know is I am angry. I might have this new label, but I am still ME, not MS. So, fuck off MS. If you come, I will deal with you. Some days you eat the bear, some days the bear eats you. Until the bear eats me I will carry on dancing, laughing, singing, nurturing, loving, arguing, questioning, eating, drinking, contemplating.