LATE NIGHT

 Hi, my name is Lynnet and I am an MS (Multiple Sclerosis) warrior.Those were the closing words of my book, marking the commencement of a new chapter in my life with this condition. Do you recall Michael, the nurse whom I had envisioned as an angel? He proved to be a true savior during one of my severe MS flare-ups. Following my third Solumedrol infusion that night, I experienced an intense and inexplicable itching sensation on my arm. I writhed and tossed in bed, desperately seeking respite. What could possibly be causing this distressing sensation? Could it be the neuropathic pain I had read about? Was this its peculiar manifestation, inducing an overwhelming urge to tear at my own skin? Then Michael showed up during one of the rounds and told me to follow him to which I obliged.  Anything to distract me.

We were seated at the nurse's station, devoid of steaming coffee to complement our conversations. Engrossed in dialogue, the world around us faded into oblivion. In that moment, the hospital setting seemed to vanish from my consciousness. I absorbed the narratives with rapt attention, realizing that my struggles were not unique in the realm of humanity. There existed individuals grappling with even more harrowing circumstances. I learned of a young woman who, defying all odds, chose to confront her adversities head-on. Undeniably, the specter of cancer is formidable, yet she valiantly waged war until her last breath. A profound silence enveloped us, imprinting upon me the certainty that my journey was far from over in the grand design of the divine. The affliction of relentless itching was but a minor tribulation, and I held firm to the belief that I would emerge triumphant. It's funny how hospitals can get dead quiet when pretty much everyone is fast asleep.  Everyone but myself and a few other nurses on night shift.  In a way, the conversation was therapeutic because I seemed to have forgotten about the itchiness.  And so, we talked on...