Exactly twelve years ago I was in Lyon, France. I was researching a novel I was writing and was in the throes of the flare that would land me a MS diagnosis a few weeks later. My legs felt like lead, I could only walk a hundred feet or so before I needed to rest, my left leg was numb and the right side of my face - including half my tongue - was numb.
It was a struggle. I had no idea what was wrong with me, it was cold and rainy and I was staying at a hostel in vieux Lyon, halfway up the hill to Fourvieres Basilica. Because I could barely walk I missed out on a lot - no Resistance Museum or historical traboules, no day trips to nearby wineries - but it was a spectacular trip, partly because Lyon is awesome, but mostly because it was the last of my many travels made before my MS diagnosis. I've traveled since then, and have plans to travel more, but that was the last trip when I was unaware that my myelin was disintegrating.
If I had known then what I know now I would have toughed it out and dragged my lead leg up the traboules shelled out the extra cash to take a cab to museums instead of putting that stuff off for another trip "when I feel better," but hindsight's a bitch and it would have been a waste of the past twelve years beating myself up for not anticipating my MS diagnosis or its effects on, well everything, but mostly on travel.
As I(very belatedly) come to grips with the fact that I am really, truly disabled, I need to silence the voice in the back of my head that says "put this on the list of things to do when I'm cured," and do what I've gotta do. Because, and I don't care how unrealistic this sounds, I don't want to have to adjust my expectations. And, as I finally get around to finishing that novel I started all those years ago, I can daydream about going back to Lyon. It may require extra planning and I may need Hubs' help, but I refuse to give up on my dream of going back, or of going to the million other places I hope to visit in my lifetime.
So take that, MS!
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