b'Life with MSOOnnssllaauugghhttBy Elizabeth McLachlanMy daughter was 3 years old, my son was3 months, and I had been living with MSfor 10 years. We were living part-time in anapartment at the hotels my husband managed.Near Joshua Tree, the heat of the fall feelsmuch like a relentless summer. In this desert cozy and warm, inthe bassinet. My daughterenvironment a number of animals, including cried in the night and as I reached out to comfortinsects, live and thrive. her, I felt one of those armored, ghastly beetlesThe stink beetle is a large black beetle that tickling her face. I dealt with it, only to be wokenhas earned its name by the pungent, somewhat uplaterfeelingonecrawlingupmyarm.musty smell it produces when alarmed. It gets Worried they would crawl on baby, I shifted mydown on its haunches and pushes its thorax position, sleeping at the foot of the bed with myinto the air, ready to release its plume. Usually hand on his bassinet. The next day we left to visityou run into one of the beetles every once in myhusbandsparents,whilePestControla while. But, when its their mating season they sprayed and defeated the stink beetle army.descend in droves, and few indoor places are This story reminds me of the process of mysafe from the onslaught. own MS, because it too crept up on me oneOur apartment opened up to the outside night, an encroaching numbness that spreadexterior corridor, with a bristled bottom like a up my body until I woke with limited andbroom on the underside of the door to protect altered feeling in my feet, legs, hands, andfrom small insects entering. Still, there are the arms. At the time of this relapse, my daughterwater pipes and other crevices these beetles was ve, my son 22 months. We were livingexploit to escape the summer heat. Watching in Southern Californiaour little oasis withour daughter play in her playroom, I noticed, the fenced-in backyard, where I could let mycrawling across the dark blue carpet, a black toddler run in the grass and play.object. It lifted its thorax, ready to release.The change was hardest on my daughter.At rst when they started to invade our space, She didnt understand why Mommy couldntI had been picking them up in a cup and chase after her as I used to. I could no longertossing them outside. But by the time I had walk them to the park, pushing the tandempicked up my umpteenth beetle my patience stroller as my daughter hopped on, then o,wore thin. I began picking them up with a tissue, so she could walk beside me and run o herpartially crushing them, feeling the pungent abundantenergy.Theworldhadshifted,crunch, the release of musty stink, as I ushed changed overnightexcept it wasnt the world.them down. The day was spent in this fashion, It was my sensory perception. I struggled toin between cooking cheese toast, and nursing walk using a cane and the walls. What kind ofmy 3 month old. mother would I make now? MS had robbed meThe night was a dierent story. My daughter of my abilities before, but the last time I wasslept in the king bed with my husband and I; 22 and I could concentrate on myself and mymy baby slept in the plush swaddle he loved, recovery. Now I had two itty-bitties to care for.msfocusmagazine.org 56'