Finding Humor in the Hardest Moments

Michele in the hospital, still smiling and giving a peace sign, as she waits for surgery.

What does the future hold for me? It's what many of us with MS ask ourselves. It’s a terrifying question, and it’s the one that’s been clouding my vision.

I’m not going to lie and tell you everything is wonderful, that life is grand. I need to keep it real. This last surgery, followed so closely by my daughter’s wedding, hit me hard. It’s been a month since I’ve been on the court. A month since I’ve hiked in the woods. A month since I’ve laughed with my friends in person. I’m angry. I’m frustrated. I'm scared.

Every time I’m hit with another setback, I’m terrified. Is this the one that takes me out? Each time, it gets harder to dig for that silver lining, that joke, that little sliver of light that usually helps me steady myself. Just when I’m back on my feet, I get knocked flat again. And I want to scream to anyone who will listen: Why? Please. Not again.

I'm often asked how I'm able to keep a positive spirit through it all, and I guess I would say that humor has always been my life raft, the way I cope when things get too heavy. Take my most recent hospital visit, which conveniently landed smack in the middle of Halloween season. My leg was riddled with blood clots from my pelvis to my calf, and my first reaction wasn’t panic—it was, “Well… that tracks.”

Embracing strength and resilience, the "Queen I.V." emerges with her superhero costume, ready to tackle any challenge that comes her way.

With my arms bruised, IVs dangling, and a leg that looked like it had been borrowed from a zombie extra on The Walking Dead—swollen, purple, and pulsing like something evil was trying to claw its way out—I figured at least I looked festive. Any poor visitor would’ve gotten one hell of a Halloween scare.

I like to believe there’s humor—or at least a small ray of sunshine—in most situations. But let’s be honest… some situations require a lot of digging. Case in point: My daughter’s wedding was nearly week after my DVT surgery. Doctor’s orders: Use a walker. And no heels.

There goes my outfit. And how exactly was I supposed to do the Macarena with a walker?

Still, I begged myself: Find the silver lining. Find the humor.

It's wedding day! Here is the silver lining to it all - I'm here.

Silver lining: I could attend the wedding. Had this happened even a week later, I might’ve been in the hospital on her wedding day. Silver lining—check.

Humor: No heels? Fine. I hopped on Amazon and found sneakers that would literally light up the dance floor.

A walker? Fine. My daughters, my sisters, and I tore through craft supplies and bedazzled that walker within an inch of its life. That thing was blinding.

I was now as ready as my body would allow—because nothing was going to steal that moment from me. Nothing was going to stop me from celebrating every beautiful second with my daughter. Humor—check.

So today, as I sit here asking myself what the future holds, I force myself to reflect. How have I handled setbacks before? I’ve searched for silver linings, tiny moments of humor—just one small thing to pull me out of fear or anger, even if only for a second. And in that one second, I step out of the pity party and into the present.

If I think about all the struggles, the setbacks, the reasons I’ve been benched from the court—I get angry. If I think too far ahead, I get scared. But if I focus on right now, I smile.

Right now, I’m loved by my family and friends.

Right now, I’m doing something I enjoy—writing, podcasting, creating.

Right now, I’m staring out my window at the Blue Ridge Mountains, listening to my family and our dog tromp through the house.

Right now, I’m not in pain.

Right now, I’m alive.

So what does my future hold?

I have no idea.

And surprisingly… that’s okay.

Because right now, in this moment, I’m happy.

The bedazzled walker was a hit. Willy Walker's dance card was full!