​Angels Among Us

​It had been a rough morning. I was late for my MRI. I "run" late a lot. I still haven't realized how long everything takes when you're crippled.

Then I had gotten lost trying to figure out where to park at the hospital. Finally I just parked somewhere, and hurried in to discover that the MRI place was on the other end of the hospital. 

I have Multiple Sclerosis. It affects me physically and cognitively.

Physically: At this point in my life I was still walking (never dancing), but it was difficult. I held on to walls every chance I got. I avoided, and later feared open rooms because my balance was so bad. I fell several times a day (eventually breaking my hip). 

Cognitively: The stress of the morning had been rough. When my cognitive functioning is off, I forget a lot. I also have an extremely difficult time making decisions. (probably explains why the parking was so difficult).

For some reason instead of walking down the hall to ask for a wheelchair, I chose to cross the hospital in a desperate attempt to find the place where I was supposed to be for an MRI an hour earlier.

After a few halls, I was leaning on the wall badly and wondering if I should just try to crawl or scoot there.* 

Enter my hero. Okay, I have a million different views on religion, but there was something about this guy. Angelic. I don't know where he came from. I was crying against the wall, waiting for my legs to collapse.

He was an old "volunteer". I don't know where he came from because the hall I was in didn't have many doors, and it wasn't by any entrance volunteers congregate near. Somehow, he was there. White hair, kind eyes, firm, but gentle voice. He asked if he could escort me. He put my hand in the crook of his arm and helped me lean on him. He talked to comfort and encourage. I blubbered about how rough the morning was. 

He supported me. That is an understatement, but that's the only way I know how to describe it. 

Funny thing is, I can't remember clearly the rest of that experience. Either - I couldn't walk all the way to the main entrance so he went, got a wheelchair and came back for me. Or - I could somehow make it to where all the other volunteers and the wheelchairs were and got checked in and whatever.

I can't remember for sure how I got there, but I was able to have the MRI. I can still feel his supporting arm and almost smell him, but I can't fully remember his face. It's a little freaky in a good way.

*Some people ask me why I don't want to walk again. Please understand, when you have had to contemplate sitting and scooting across floors because you tried to "walk" somewhere; the thought of walking loses much of its appeal. Falling so many times I broke my hip is another reason I don't miss walking. ​