July 8 was my two year MS anniversary. I put off writing this because I wasn't sure how I feel. I'm still not sure. And I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to write. But I do feel like I need to acknowledge it in some way. So here it goes. A free-flow, unedited entry about my anniversary.
The Diagnosis
Two years. It's been two years since my life changed overnight. I think back on those weeks. I don't think I ever denied the diagnosis. In fact, as soon as my lumbar MRI showed no tumors or slipped discs, I knew I had MS. I don't know how I knew--my symptoms were nothing like my mom's--I just did. So when the doctor called me in just days after my full MRI and over a week before my scheduled follow-up, I knew. No denial, but I was numb. I think it was two days before I finally cried.
Anger
There was anger. A lot of anger. I had worked hard to get where I was in life. I finally was in a position where I didn't have to carefully budget if I wanted to grab fast food instead of cooking. I didn't have to worry about paying the bills. I mean, I'd just bought my condo 7 months ago! I was planning a vacation to Bali! I was going to start a family! Why, when my life was finally coming together, was this happening to me???
Bargaining
I remember this very well. It started almost right away, even before the anger truly set in. I remember reading everything. All the ways to "cure" MS. The miracle diets that stopped MS in its tracks. The stem cell therapy that reversed the progression. The reality is, once the damage is done, it's done. When nerves die, they don't grow back. My lower body is never going to work the same again. No miracle cure is going to change that.
Once I realized that, the anger really set in even further. Especially when I realized what this meant for my future children. According to the MS Society, only about 1.5% of children who have a parent with MS will get also get MS. Only 1.5%!!!! And I, who never got a break in my life, ended up being one of the 1.5%. Which means I'm sure my children would have an even greater chance. Maybe. Haven't done the research or the math, but this is where my mind was. I was ready to have a child, and I find out my genes are screwed up! The anger built.
Depression
As my anger fizzled, it turned into depression. I'd already had depressive episodes, so this was no surprise. The angry "Why me?" turned into tears. My life was over. I'd worked for 9 years to build an independent life for myself, and now it was all over. One night while sitting on the couch, I began to draw on myself with sharpies. I can't remember now where I got them. Eventually, this triggered a memory of me sitting on a park bench 5 years ago, except it wasn't a marker I was using on my skin that day, it was a sharp twig.
I am proud of my reaction. When I realized what was happening, and remembered how I swore that no matter what I would never go down that path again, I did two things. I called my PCP, and I emailed my therapist. I knew that there was no shame in asking for help. And I needed help.
Acceptance
I don't know how long it took for acceptance to truly set in. For me to realize, this is my new life, and I have to learn how to live it. But eventually, it did. I made big life changes. I learned to listen to my body. I learned to advocate for myself. I learned that it's okay to ask for help. I learned that life goes on.
Now, I am living my life. I'm not where I planned to be, but when have I ever been? I have a job I can handle. I'm slowly trying to rebuild my finances. My credit scored dropped quite a bit because I forgot to pay the bill two months in a row, but it's slowly climbing again. I can still have a family, could even use my own genes if I wanted to, but I'm not gonna chance it. Adoption it is. One day at a time, I'm still going for my dreams.
Life didn't end. It just changed. And, after all, isn't that what life is all about?
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