The Winds of Winter

by Debra Jo Myers

Winter. Many people love the beauty of snow falling, while others dread it thinking about shoveling or driving in it. We’ve had measurable snow already this winter, I thought it was a good time to talk about the wonder of snowflakes.

Snowflakes are intricate and unique displaying stunning geometric patterns creating delicate works of art. You can find them in a variety of shapes, depending on the temperature they encounter falling through the atmosphere. No two are alike because the complex process of crystallization is different as the water changes into ice. They are scientifically fascinating because of nature’s artistry in the unique formations. They’ve always fascinated me, even as a little girl.

And when I was a little girl, I couldn’t wait for it to snow. It seems like we had more snow then, but statistics show that snow totals in Indiana bounce around between two to four feet each winter between the months of November-March.  When I was young, we had ‘true’ snow days. Not like they have today when it snows two inches and school gets cancelled. Our snow days didn’t come until we had six inches on the ground. That meant a day of bundling up and playing outside until your nose froze.

I loved to go sledding up on a big hill in my neighborhood. One year when I was ten, a friend and I were coming down a hill when the sled tipped over. I landed face first in the snow. When I sat up, my friend started screaming. When I saw blood dripping from my head, I started screaming too. Mom came running down the hill. I had a big icicle stuck in my forehead. My friend’s dad picked me up, and by the time we got to the hospital, the icicle was melting. I didn’t feel it go in or feel it at all until the heat from my head warmed it up. I got 14 stitches that day, along with a great story to tell.

I loved to make snow angels and snowmen and have snowball fights. I loved catching snowflakes on my tongue. Now, though, when I see it snowing, all I can think about is how I now have an incurable disease that compares me to a snowflake. And in the ten years since my diagnosis, I’ve learned why.

Like the lacy ice crystals that branch out to form a flake of snow, there is a disease that is constantly splintering into fragments within my body. Out there among the falling snowflakes, I look closely, because I am there somewhere. Billions of snowflakes are showering down now as I look through the window. They are mesmerizing, stunning and beautiful.

I am one of those snowflakes, but I certainly don’t feel like I fit those descriptors.

The wind known as Multiple Sclerosis has blown away much of the woman I worked hard to become. My life is no longer chaotic, there are no hard deadlines, and there’s no one to work to impress.  Instead, there’s a different kind of daily struggle I wake up with. Like a snowflake’s hexagon, I live with six sides. Six symptoms that take turns with me.

They come in combinations. Severe fatigue, nerve pain causing spasms in my muscles, inflammation, numbness and prickling, balance issues, and cognitive problems are challenges I have every day.

Don’t get me wrong, I really am coping, finding a way to continue to adjust, and it’s not always as dire as it sounds. My neurologist says I’m stable, and that’s the best I can ask for. I still find myself asking why. Why did this happen to me? But we don’t get to do that.

I wonder if snowflakes realize there’s strength in numbers. Snowflakes packed together form a snowball, strong enough to break a window. Separately, they melt away.

I feel alone sometimes in my feelings. But I’m not alone. My husband, Alan, is my snow blower. He refuses to let me let my snowflake fall. I’ve lost so much of myself, but he tells me I’m not losing him. When I begin to feel depressed or I struggle with things as simple as showering, he is right there. I have my family and friends who give me a sense of normalcy, and I’m surrounded by kindness and love.

I had to admit to myself that for the first time in my sixty years on this planet, this snowflake needed help to keep from spiraling to the ground. Not the kind of help you’re likely thinking. I needed to talk about what my body was feeling. I wanted to be able to vent without guilt. I joined a support group of snowflakes, people who understand, because they are snowflakes too. No two of us alike, but all of us united to form a snowball.

I’m a new me – I didn’t ask for it, but I got it. It’s my broken body, and my disease. Mine. I try to remember all I’ve done, put away what I can’t do, and unpack and focus on what I can.  In this storm, I’ve found shelter in my husband’s love. Because anytime I feel my snowflake falling, he will catch it, and together we will make snowballs. So, let it snow!

Multiple Sclerosis is the worst tattoo, because you’re stuck with it forever, but no one can see it to admire it. - Christina Applegate