What Would Laurie Do?

         For several years, my younger sister Laurie ignored the unmistakable signs that her body had chosen to ignore her directives. She learned to never stray far from a toilet lest her 'pissitis' spring forth. She refused to relinquish her right to drink tea even though she suspected it bullied her bladder.

         "But I like tea,", she'd say.

         When her feet failed to support her and gravity tugged her to the ground, Laurie pointed out the family curse, clumsiness.

         "They're only bruises. No one can claim I look pale anymore."

         Stubborness and sheer will power could only carry Laurie so far. Fatigue never waned.

         "I never turned down a good nap."

With the diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis my sister finally had a name for her deteriorating condition.

"Just my luck to have something difficult to treat. Does this illness know me, or what?"

         No possibility of the recurring type of MS to test my sibling. Somehow she was allotted the creme de la creme of MS, Primary Progressive. This meant she'd never experience periods of symptom-free life, but instead a relentless, worsening progression. MS came to stay.

         It forced her into a nursing home where she endured first a wheelchair, the company of seniors, the loss of privacy and personal autonomy and then a final indignity, permanent bed rest. A month shy of her fiftieth birthday Laurie died. MS and its many complications had snuffed out her light.

         I still find myself wondering what Laurie would do when I'm out and about. How would she act or react to different situations?

         If I sense that someone is staring and paying too much attention to my presence or to what I'm doing I flash to Laurie.

"Take a picture it'll last longer," had been a favourite retort.

         She never missed a chance to shock people with an if-you're-planning-to-stare-anyway attitude then I'll give you something to stare at. Once in a loud, crowded restaurant Laurie decided to gain our waiter's undivided attention by dropping the plate that contained her two top teeth. With a dazzling mega watt smile and a noticeable gap in her front teeth Laurie, the attractive blonde lisped, "Oh garcon, can you help me?"

         The flick of hair over her shoulder completed the seduction.

         When I'm mumbling to myself as I fight to swim upstream against the heavy surge of fellow holiday sardines shoppers in a mall and balancing my must-have purchases, I can't stop myself from smiling with a Laurie memory. I follow her lead, find somewhere to sit and breathe. This is optimal for people-watching.

         Laurie would point out the struggling mother balancing a squiggling, squawking infant on one hip and pulling a screaming toddler digging his heels into the floor. Placing a hand over her heart and grinning, Laurie would announce, "Aren't children a blessing?"

         My sister understood that frustrations were often momentary , but still distressing. I now do not hesitate to release a tension-easing expletive when and if an event provokes one. I will still search the room even if I'm alone expecting to see an open-mouth reaction. Laurie would've been doubled over gasping for air.

         "I got into trouble today. My careworker told me off for saying the 'f' word and it wasn't fancy!"

         On days my quarrelling, griping knees have united to protest exercise of any kind, I tug on a pair of shoes and submit my reluctant limbs to an invigorating walk. Laurie led by example. Even if her legs collapsed from their quivering efforts and she'd tossed the footwear she'd been wearing and snow swirled 'round her shivering body, Laurie never gave up. She'd flag down a passing motorist and request a ride home.

         "Use it or lose it."

         I still will stop and shoot the breeze with friend and stranger alike. I've never taken up smoking as Laurie did, but I suspect she enjoyed the fellowship, the camaraderie of fellow smokers outside in their designated spots. They were a makeshift band of rebels, but they acknowledged each other. Like my sister I will strike up a conversation with fellow we're-in-this-together line holders to pass the time.

         The first significant snowfall is swirling outside my window. What would Laurie do? I drank a cup of tea as I dug out the mitts and hats from the front closet. Laurie would be nodding as I chose not to don one of the hats. She probably stifled a giggle when I stuck my tongue out at my reflection in the mirror.(747 words )