At 25 years old, I couldn’t quite wrap my head around what the consultant was telling me. I nodded and thanked him, half listening to his advice and half wondering if I could just get out of there. The stricken look on my mum’s face didn’t help as she contemplated yet another family member succumbing to what can be a debilitating condition. Upon reaching the car, my body finally gave in to the news and tears flooded — I had MS.
Multiple sclerosis is an attack on your body. The over-production of white blood cells, usually so helpful, decide to ramp up their protection efforts like an overzealous army in peacetime. They run riot, rampaging through systems and causing tiny lesions and traumas in areas of the brain and spine. In my case, this came out as a really bad case of pins and needles. Only it lasted six weeks!
MS has many forms and no two diagnoses are the same. My dad, for instance, is bed-bound and steadily getting worse. I, on the other hand, have had the rare sensory disturbance of tingling legs or arms, or the time my mouth went numb and drinks dribbled down the side of my face providing a novel challenge on a night out.
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January 2021
 
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