"FloridaMS.org"

AN INVITATION TO LAUGH, by Robin Williams The WHO is me, Robin Williams, happily married and the mother of three terrific young men. The WHAT is the ##1 leading neurological disease affecting young adults today - a disease of the central nervous system with a totally unpredictable course - a disease that is just the pits: Multiple Sclerosis. The WHEN is June 98, the month I was diagnosed. The WHERE is Vero Beach, Florida, a spectacular spot on the east coast. The WHY is unknown, yet it is not to continually question; rather, it is to accept and to put up a strong fight each and every day. REGRETS? I have none. My world has been opened to some of the most wonderful people I would have never crossed paths with if not for MS. Please accept the following: an invitation to a laugh.

Believe me when I tell you that June in Florida is pretty warm, especially on the golf course - even warmer when carrying a heavy bag of clubs! One particular day in June 98 proved to be quite a struggle. The numb, tingling feeling that I had experienced in my legs and feet for about 4 weeks was impeding my ability to walk down the fairway. Something is not right. I was concentrating too hard on placing one foot in front of the other. Tricky, downhill putts don’t even require this much concentration.

After seeing a few doctors and undergoing a battery of tests and MRI’s, the verdict was in: Multiple Sclerosis. Fear. Was I going to die? Confusion. What was MS? Anxiety. Would I soon be in a wheelchair? At this point, I felt totally overwhelmed. Immediately, I learned as much about MS as I possibly could. And yes, knowledge is power. My plea to any and all: whether you have been recently diagnosed or whether you have a friend or loved one who has been diagnosed - get as much information regarding MS as you possibly can. In the new millennium, we are most fortunate to have a wealth of information at our fingertips: the Internet. Moreover, the National Multiple Sclerosis Society publishes an extensive resource of education materials. Call. Ask. Listen. Question. Never quit learning.

After my dismissal from the hospital where I received high doses of SoluMedrol (steroids) for 5 days to help lessen the inflammation of plaques (scars) on my spinal cord, I felt exhausted. Drugs and I simply don’t get along. The closing of school for the summer made schedules a bit less hectic; hence, for some reason, I received a ton of attention. I was touched by the kindness of some truly awesome and caring friends. The weeks just after my diagnosis were filled with an overload of unexplainable emotion. But, life did go on and so did I.

In the following weeks, I stayed home and focused on recovering from this rough exacerbation. Surprisingly, one of the hardest parts of each day was my brief stroll to the mailbox. Inevitably, I would receive numerous letters that read: “I am so sorry.” Looking back on this unsettling time of anxiety and uncertainty, I realize that I was continually striving to flee a devastating diagnosis. I desperately wanted to resume my everyday life, but I was forever reminded of “it” in letter after letter… tear after tear. Pen on paper is so genuine when friends take the time to divulge their innermost (and most beautiful) feelings.

One day, I opened a letter and immediately did a double take. Is this for real? I read it once. No way. I had to sit down. I read it twice. I read it a third time. After a fourth glance, I could not help but laugh out loud. Recently sentenced to a life of MS, I didn’t have much to laugh about at the time. Hence, laughing felt great… a perfect medicine. The letter turned out to be an acknowledgement from the Muscular Dystrophy National Foundation. A nice donation had been made. And on top of that, the donation was made in my memory. (”In memory” implied I was no longer alive). Not only was I holding a notification confirming my death; I died of the wrong disease! I laughed and laughed and laughed. That, my friends, is the letter I keep on my desk, a letter that forced me to shed a tear, not of sadness, but of laughter. I invite you to find some sort of relief or humor in your everyday life - something that allows you to throw your head back and laugh out loud. With something as serious as MS in your life, I hope you will respond to this invitation and join me in shedding a tear of laughter.