Why, oh why, did I go on this roller coaster ride?

I despise theme parks, and I feel zero guilt about depriving my kids of Disneyland, Six Flags, and the general horror of standing in long lines to be terrorized.

Why do I hate theme parks? It’s not the shameless commercialism, the overpriced food, or the fact that the tickets for our family of five cost more than my first car. It’s the rides. As someone living with multiple sclerosis (MS), my nervous system is already working overtime, and adding a manufactured near-death experience into the mix is not my idea of a good time.

I have a complicated relationship with adrenaline. I became an anesthesiologist because I love a good, meaningful adrenaline rush — like keeping critically ill patients alive. But strap me into a roller coaster designed to terrify me with unpredictable motion for “fun” and I’ll sprint in the opposite direction. I won’t even go on a merry-go-round.

Recommended Reading

February 14, 2022 News by Marisa Wexler, MS

Physical Activity, Coping Skills Can Help to Ease Anxiety With MS

So when I foolishly agreed to go to Universal Studios Hollywood last month, I thought I was in the clear. I mean, it’s not a real theme park, right?

Wrong.

The day started with Harry Potter’s Flight of the Hippogriff. I was assured — by the ride operator, by my husband, by literal children — that it was a baby coaster. No drops, not fast, nothing scary.

Lies.

The moment that harness locked down, my heart rate shot up and I started to sweat. As the ride ascended, I entered full fight-or-flight mode. Without even thinking, I defaulted to my deep, paced abdominal breathing — very audibly.

My husband turned around said, “Stop it!” but it was already too late: I was in full-blown survival mode.

For the next 60 seconds (which I later learned was the entire duration of the ride), I alternated between diaphragmatic breathing and screaming louder than I ever had before. When we finally rolled to a stop, parents turned to see who this insane person was. Kids gave me bewildered looks. I profusely apologized to my fellow passengers for ruining their ride.

I staggered off with my now wobbly legs, voice completely gone, mascara streaked down my face. My kids took one look at me and asked why I looked like Halloween.

The moral of the story? Life is unpredictable. Fear is inevitable. And if you arm yourself with the right mind-body skills — breathing, meditation, prayer, or whatever chills you out — you might just survive whatever comes your way — even if it’s a roller coaster designed for kindergartners.

Note: Multiple Sclerosis News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Multiple Sclerosis News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to multiple sclerosis.