It breaks my heart when The Curmudgeon has a bad day as he did yesterday. I also get angry. Angry at his Multiple Sclerosis and angry at him.

The disease for taking a strong man and destroying all that he once was.

Him for giving up and not fighting back. For sitting in his damned chair every day and letting the freaking disease beat him.

I wish we had a light at the end of the tunnel but we know there isn’t an end to this tunnel. Thus no light ahead of us.

Secondary progressive MS is not like cancer where you can cut away at it, radiate it, bombard it with chemo-therapy, and have some hope of regaining your life.

Yes, we have more days of hopelessness than hope.

Winter makes it ten times more depressing to be him and to be the person who loves him watching him fade away.

Somewhere there’s a beach house with my name on it. Heck, I’d take a beach shack these days.