Dear Liza, Dear Liza...

We searched and we searched. We put our ears on it and listened. We sprayed every inch with soapy water. We submerged it, longingly looking for bubbles. It seemed hopeless. There was a hole in the pool.

My family calls me a "Swimmy." Ever since I could walk, I wanted to be in the water. Our last name is Beach because...we're beach people. We vacation, my entire family, in Michigan every year. Since 1975, we have spent weeks in the waves. When I was young, I would get up at dawn, sit on the top step of the endlessly long stairway that led to the beach, and wait until I was parentally released to plunge into that frigid lake (waiting thirty minutes after eating is seriously the hugest falsehood ever.) At home, I would ride my baby blue ten speed almost every summer day a mile to Alpine Pool. By the time I was 16, I was a certified lifeguard, and saved lives at Camp Hickory for many years... proudly sporting my whistle and red t shirt with the white cross. Swimming = happiness.

When I was first diagnosed with M.S. in 2007, I did not really believe it. I felt fine, just once in a while was a bit tippy and tingly. I walked, danced, and performed... on stage and off... just like everyone else. But, as the years progressed, so did I. My neurologist suggested swimming to build my strength and range of motion, but after teaching a billion hours a day during the school year, I was too exhausted to even think about going anywhere other than my bed. Summer could not come soon enough, for many reasons.

Last summer, my Jimmy put up a pool in our backyard. I could not have been more thankful. It was a simple set-up, with a large inflatable ring that kept the sides steady. As long as that ring stayed inflated, the pool stood strong. I literally swam in that pool, kicking my legs and pumping my arms, several hours a day. Gravity sucks, but under the water I can freely move. My pain is temporarily nonexistent. It really is a miracle.

My progression has been more than noticeable this past year, and I needed that pool now more than ever. This year when Jimmy set up my summer BFF, the inflated ring would not hold air. Determined to swim, I continually blew that thing up. We were losing water every day. My hope was deflating as fast as that ring.  After days of futile, frustrating investigation, Jimmy found it! I don't know how, but he did. It was minuscule. That microscopic hole caused such huge problems. He patched it with duct tape, and it quickly returned to being the pool that I love.

The hole was not gone, but patched, the pool was again whole.

So...why can't my M.S. "holes" be patched that easily? I mean... open me up, get the duct tape, and cover those babies.I know that is a ridiculous statement, but seriously....

Is it?

They put a man on the moon, you know.