Mom had an appointment with the new doctor she's been seeing for her....ahem, "multiple sclerosis." I put it in quotes like that because according to this doctor, she may not even have multiple sclerosis AT ALL. Mom said he took a look at her records, looked dumbfounded, and asked her who exactly diagnosed her with MS. This new doctor says she may just have suffered from a series of mini-strokes and not MS, and mini-strokes are treatable.
.............IT MAY NOT BE M.S.
Twenty years of being treated for it, suffering from it physically and emotionally and financially. And not just Mom. ALL OF US. That shit trickles down and affects those you love. Dad, Gramma Julie, and me and Hunter. Hunter could've had a somewhat normal childhood with a somewhat active mother because of their mistake. I wouldn't have had so many problems with her because of their mistake. She's Gramma Julie's daughter. And Dad's had to put up with so much. Just.............GOD, how can you make an accident like that?!
So yeah. When those tests come in, she and Dad will be looking for a lawyer to sue the pants off that doctor who gave her the MS diagnosis.
The new doctor told her that mini-strokes are treatable, which means she'll have to cut down on the coffee and quit smoking. (Which made me smirk on the inside. WHAT HAVE I BEEN TELLING HER FOR YEARS?!) And she'll have to go to therapy for a little while, and she'll have to just get out and not be pent up inside the house long-suffering. He's not going to treat her for depression and give her a bunch of drugs to numb the pain and NOT actively treat it (YAAAAY).
So. You know what this means? I won't have to feel so bad when I go away to art school!!!!! I won't have to stay around and be forced to help take care of her anymore!!!!