I was diagnosed 3 months ago today. I find myself no longer shaking my head every day wondering if this is really happening to me. I haven't become complacent or accepting of this disease and the fact that I've got it...I just don't find myself waiting to wake up from this nightmare. Or rather, I wake up every morning to know that the nightmare is real and not just some bad dream that will go away the more I pinch myself. Ha, I just realized the irony of that last statement - as I pinch the right side of my face daily to see if any of the feeling has returned!

So, I wrote this last week some time...it is the start of a book that I know I have in me. I've always been told that I should (and would) write a book - but it was always thought that it would be about childhood abuses and whatnot. Just wanted to share it here.....

(the original working title of the book is "Life Sucks: And I Can Prove It" LOL)

It was a Friday afternoon when I hung up the phone. Or rather I hit the “off” button. Then I sat there. Did he just tell me that a UFO landed in my front yard and aliens were heading to my front door? I think he did. I need to call my friend and let her know. But what exactly am I letting her know? Would she believe that aliens were in my driveway? Would she even understand what that meant? I know that I didn’t understand – but more importantly, all I really knew was that I needed someone else to know.

Okay, so he didn’t exactly say that – but he might as well have said that – because what he said was even more distressing, made even less sense, and was more random than aliens.

“You have MS.”
Silence.
“What?”
“Multiple Sclerosis – do you know what that is?”
“Yes.”

The conversation lasted exactly 12 minutes and 37 seconds. I always wondered if the timer/counter on a phone was an important or useful feature – and now I knew that it was. Surely he said more than just those few words – after all, a lot can be said in 12 minutes and 37 seconds. But what did he say? I remember his voice and the matter-of-factness about it. I remember asking two distinct questions (I may have asked and said more, but it escapes me). “Can I still have children?” and “What’s the prognosis?” Of course, I asked these questions but barely heard the answers.

I was sitting on the sofa. At least my body was there as he spoke to me. The rest of me – my mind – was nowhere to be found. (Thinking about it now, this was a state that I was going to have to get used to.)

I had been sitting and waiting for a call from the neurologist. When I had seen him earlier that morning he told me that he believed I had a stroke and that it was affecting my brain stem. He had immediately sent me to have an MRI that instant.

While I laid in the machine for an hour, listening to the loud banging surrounding me, I tried really hard not to think about what was happening. Of course, this was easier said than done, as the facial numbness I was experiencing was rapidly becoming just the tip of the iceberg in terms of my symptoms. Who knew that vertigo and extreme dizziness would feel worse when in the laying down position? That hour seemed like a lifetime....though I was quickly transported back into the moment when the test was done. The imaging facility would not let me leave right away; they wanted to call my doctor first to discuss something. Now I knew I was in trouble.

In the hours I waited for him to review the MRI report I tried to remain calm. I was 31 years old...what did he mean that I had a stroke? Despite being able to access any and all information at my fingertips (sometimes our relationship with the internet and world of knowledge is not only a blessing but a curse), I chose not to spend my time researching strokes and brain stem injury. It was all too surreal. Naturally, as I was struggling with double vision at the time, playing with the computer seemed too difficult without making the other symptoms much worse. What happened to the facial numbness just being from a pinched nerve somewhere in my face? Though the doctor had dismissed that notion hours earlier, I had not let go of that thought. Stroke? What on earth was he talking about? And now he's talking about Multiple Sclerosis? Suddenly stroke didn't sound so scary.

He had never mentioned MS as an option. Stroke was the front-runner, migraines being second at bat. But MS? Surely this was a dream.

~Keri

I'll tell ya', RP, I'm still in denial after 26 years. It's always there, but I always try to pretend it's not... or at least that I can outsmart it.

I really can't imagine hearing the words "you have MS" from a Dr. out of the blue like that.

I feel for you. There are plenty of days I can pretend I'm just fine, because I feel fine, but they are few and far between. Right now, I think I'm into my second flair and its only been 4 months since my dx. Mayve I'll feel better tomorrow, maybe I won't. It's a tough adjustment to make, no matter what you've been through or how tough you are.

I wrote about my dx as well. Somehow it seemed like if I wrote it out it would become more real.

Here's hoping you go into remission (sorry if I'm mistaken and you don't have RRMS).

MS was not even in my radar when I was told that was my situation.

I had been tested for carpal tunnel several years earlier, been put on anxiety med, told to slow down and not be stressed. Then the doc finally thought maybe an MRI might be useful since my sx's just didn't improve.

He gets the results, I get a call to come in to his office, and he tells me, it looks like you have MS, but I need you to get a lumbar puncture just to confirm what the MRI is saying.

Honestly, it was a relief having a name for something everyone thought was just in my head! Well, I showed them! It was in my head - in the form of lesions! Six or seven of them.

It explained my lack of balance, fatigue, forgetfulness, tingly hand. It's okay. Having MS has not been a bad thing. An adjustment, for sure, but I've always had a good attitude about life, and MS will never change that!

Ah...I remember those words all too well, "You have MS." And as she continued talking the tears rolled down my cheeks. When she looked up from my chart and saw the tears she grabbed a tissue, and came across the room to me.

She hugged me and said, "We doctors just say those words so easily, we sometimes forget what a huge impact 3 little words can have." I have loved my neuro every since.

I hate the reason we have this doctor/friend/patient relationship but I really am glad she is my doc!

I'll never forget that my first symptom came on a normal day. I went home from work and noticed that my pupil in my right eye didn't seem to be dilating correctly. I figured it was because I was tired and when I woke up that afternoon I would be fine.

I woke up and I was blind in my right eye. There was nothing there but a gray haze like a test pattern on an old black and white TV. I called my opthalmologist that afternoon and I was in the next morning after work ( yes I went to work, I just closed my eye while I drove there)

He did a whole spectrum of tests and I asked about each one but I couldn't remember what he said because I was so tired from work and compensating for the loss of my vision. I had to go back the next day for more tests. All I could think was " Oh @#$%^&, I have a brain tumor"

After the next bunch of tests, he told me he scheduled an MRI for that afternoon. I had a lot of experience with medical testing, but when it came to me being the subject of the tests, it was a whole different ball game!

I went for the MRI, and then right back to his office. I sat there and waited for him to call me in, trying to figure out what I should do first if it WAS a brain tumor. He called me in and told me I had to go back to the hospital for a steroid infusion. I asked him about the MRI and what it showed and he flat out told me " I think you have Multiple Sclerosis. I've scheduled you with a neurologist on Monday morning, but you have to do these steroids IV for the next three days" I started laughing at him. End of conversation.

I walked back to the hospital across the street in total shock and handed the oncology staff the prescription, as directed, and they immediately started prepping me for the IV. The nurse cheerfully asked me " How long have you had MS?" I said "Oh, about 15 minutes now, thanks" and started laughing again. She flew out of the room and never came back. I laughed every time a nurse would come in to check on me because they were just so darned silent and tightlipped and fast for the door.

One of them finally asked me how I could laugh and I told her " I had a #$%^& brain tumor all day yesterday and today and I was looking at planning my #$%^&* funeral. Now I am planning on learning how to live. I think that's pretty $%^&* funny!"

Somehow, I don't think they got the humor of it at all.

Red, I forgot to tell you that I loved your writing and your idea.

I hope you don't mind that I posted my experience on your thread. I think what you are doing is very cathartic and may help you to put things in perspective. I also think it might help if you hear from others about their first "you have MS" moment. I am sorry if I participated in a hijacking!

(p.s. when i called you a knucklehead, it was a love thang, i hope you weren't offended ya knucklehead!!!!)

Hello Red I'm also in Southern CA in Carson to be exact. Where are you?
Sylvia

I think that is awesome that you are going to write about about your experiences with MS. It looks like you are off to a good start.