Multiple sclerosis is a very cruel disease, says a friend. And I understand that called cruel because it gets quiet, surprising, moving and gaining ground. One day you're fine and the next you feel that your body is not yours, there is no way to do obey; feel that your voice sounds distant, your eyes lie. You can feel all that and then again wake up as if nothing had been different.
But multiple sclerosis affects more than the person with the diagnosis. Affects the entire family: I have been mentally sobbing mothers, brothers, avoiding contact with the eyes of sick children being afraid of changing parents, and friends away.
I have seen many many friends and family who keep away who choose to remain silent, in families that have a dramatic before and after arising from a neurologist said the words "MS."
My family also holds its own.
PHOTO: My son Mariano, my brother Oscar and I, visiting the fire station of Cabo San Lucas (March 2008) Obviously in my childhood and adolescence not even draw the shadow of MS, there was not a sign that after 40 years I would be quadriplegic. And so I grew up, like any boy, sharing my life with my immediate family.
I am the youngest of five children. I have two brothers and two older sisters, but one of them is the most I've shared in my life, and with whom I have a very special empathy and connection. Obviously I feel love special for each of my brothers and I have memories of these moments, but only one was present at all stages of my life.
PHOTO: Oscar in Cabo San Lucas
Oscar was born just 18 months before me. When we were kids, my mother bought the same clothes, we went to the same schools, had the same friends, we were together all the antics and craziness that you can do when you live on the fifth floor of a building in downtown largest city the world.
My brother Oscar and I took by assault the stairs, roof, light cubes and sidewalks of the building where we spent the first years of life in Mexico City. He was always far more daring: swung like Tarzan on the outside of the window using the rod as lianas and luckily our apartment resistant curtains, water pipes used to play the handrail, but also five stories above the mainland, it was he who came home from school with dirty or torn uniform because he grabbed a fight with another child.
I've always been more "prudent" to put it in some way. I ventured to walk the ledge but not as a trapeze artist flying city dwellers and the only shock I noticed was my own brother, but never stuck to a stranger.
PHOTO: My brother Oscar and I (October 2008)
has been almost 40 years of those days. Then there are looming in my life, multiple sclerosis, and my brother seemed that a day would be forming guide construction professionals.
I do encourage you to tell me "macuarros" the pupils of the school of architecture, but this is how he labels in photos on Facebook. And the "professional" that the "macuarros" send messages of thanks, cabuleo and banter, nothing more and nothing less than my brother, the architect, now celebrates its day-that of Santa Cruz, as a good builder university degrees.
Oscar, with whom we once were two figures riding down the escalator Liverpool Store, "which certainly seemed that time no human children but slide-balls was the best rival Games that I have, was my teacher for the learning of children, was the-when we were teenagers, accompanied our father at the time of death, was my accomplice in youth binge drinking and my roommate until the day she married Rocío.
Today my brother lives thousands of miles from where I live, but most often talked on the phone, my confidant and still is a great moral and financial support for my board.
I have no words to thank you for your support, your eternal company, love and solidarity. When we're together, Oscar does everything possible for me to be comfortable, to fulfill my cravings and help without hesitation.
PHOTO: Oscar and I (March 2007) Since childhood, my brother was very protective of me, but now that we're almost older adults, and paralysis has invaded my arms and legs, Now that MS prevents me fend for myself, I can not even sit without support, now Oscar when I hug my side, massaging my back, take my hand and pressed hers, kissing my forehead and cheek, hug me as if I were to break, and in those displays of affection gives me the soul, me back to life.
is my brother, and the distance and the years, have parted away our ties become more intense, much too strong. His love gives me strength, although I regret that on occasion he has cried to see my body shut down over the years, it hurts me it hurts my illness, I worry that suffer for my disability, but the heart fills me reiterate I love every moment.
PHOTO: My mother, my brother, my wife and I (October 2008)
There is something very special in this sibling relationship, obviously, but that very special cast roots as if we planted a tree together, and flowers of this plant are all one: the daughter of my brother is living flame of brotherly love.
Cristina, my niece, now young adults, has grown up seeing how his father does for me. No wonder my brother will stop any activity to respond to my calls, it seems normal to me that his father share the money he earns with his work, especially Cristy finds it natural to love me as his father has done.
When Cristy was born I already had multiple sclerosis, but still walking, sometimes with a cane and more slowly than others, "working in the clinic and was independent in my actions. She was a unique baby girl, fluent in her surroundings, with a special power over the will of their parents and a very keen sense of their ability to communicate with others.
PHOTO: The Arc of San Lucas
I call it the terrorist, because after two years, when even she did not even speak clearly, gave me a sample of your ability to learn and challenging his soul and surely inherited from my brother: I left my coffee on the coffee table. Cristina came and grabbed the cup with his hands pampered doll. Slowly slowly leaned that my coffee cup inside. While threatening to leak, I was staring at, but never stopped threatening to move his hands. I stood up and just when I was about to remove the cup from his hands, a moment before falling coffee, the girl laid her back on the table and laughed heartily at my gesture of fear content. The Terrorist.
Cristy was a few years and moved away from Mexico City when he was still very small. Her parents took her to live in Cabo San Lucas, in Baja California Sur. In those years, Cape was still an island with few inhabitants and many distances. And why did my niece.
time was devoted to rescuing dogs and ended up having a dozen pets, all lovingly cared for herself. Then he worried about releasing turtles into the sea. Began to assert that his character so strong and individual. Strengthened its generosity and exercised their communication skills both personally and publicly.
PHOTO: Cristy girl playing with me.
Cristina soon became a teenager temperamental. I saw her, or she saw me in any case, once every year.
late winter, for several years my brother had arranged for a month I traveled to Cabo San Lucas, and those were for me the best weeks of the year for many reasons, but especially for the niece witty and affectionate longing for his family who came from afar.
PHOTO: Strolling on the beaches of Cabo, on a seat "spell", invented by my brother so I could stay balanced. went together to see the whales in Puerto Lopez Mateos, Cristina and I with the rest of the family. Fun days spent on the beach of El Medano, and laughed at those holidays where we reencontrábamos annually.
And then one day, after serving 15 years, Cristy asked his father to take her to meet family came to Mexico for my niece was living with his cousins \u200b\u200b(the belief that it could be a bit like having a brother) and then went to Puebla and Tlaxcala, to meet second cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents, seeking the roots of the Garcias.
FOTO: Cristina García Cristina es muy especial. Al igual que pasa con mis hermanos, quiero a todos mis sobrinos, pero el estilo y la personalidad de Cristy me facilitan decir que con ella hice vínculos, que ella aprendió a verme y que entendió el modo de conocerme.
Quizá porque sólo me veía una vez por año. Quizá porque al principio me veía andar lentamente pero después me vio llegar sentado en una silla de ruedas, o quizá porque en años más recientes incluso tuvo que ayudarme a comer y acercarme la Coca-Cola para que yo bebiera, pero siento, sin temor a equivocarme, she has very sharp
a picture of what MS has taken away and what that disability has given me.
We have grown both my niece and me.
PHOTO: Christina, my mother, Oscar and me.
into a determined young woman who will soon go to college, and I to become a gentle and patient late father, one who married at age 45 and is just living the experience of parenting but it has many memories and anecdotes of the month saw Cristina The terrorist was learning and maturing.
View Cristy grow, share their joys, their tantrums, their dreams, made me want to have a family.
I feared in my youth being a parent. I did not know what my illness would have prepared. The uncertainty weighed on me. But today it was about to tell me 50 years, I decided to live and live, but that definitely I have a lot to thank my brother and his wonderful family, especially his daughter who gave me a month every year that feel light your emotions aside the paternity d splashing with his brilliant sparks.
PHOTO: Oscar and Cris (2007)
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