I saw the lesions on the MRI before the doctor could start pointing them out, and I knew exactly what it meant. MS. Multiple Sclerosis.
Life is surreal sometimes. For just a moment - just that one moment - you are allowed to leave your body, try and take it all in - take a deep breath - and then return.
When you see your brain, amplified by light and imaged into sections, you turn sort of numb. "It's not really my brain," you think. But alas, it is. And there they are - those little bean-shaped lesions. Waiting to kick into full-MS-mode.
So now, the journey begins. And I have no choice but to fight it.
Sitting there that day, alone in the doctor's office, I never could have imagined what MS would teach me. But my, has it taught me so much. I can listen to my body, understand what it needs me to do. I understand that I can be strong, that I am a fighter. That this will not define me. I have learned to care more about humanity and understand humility. I better accept mortality and the fragility of life.
I understand the importance of surrounding yourself with those who make you happy, who lift you up, who support you and care for you.
Four years in, and yes, it still terrifies me. There are still days when I wonder how the universe decided to throw this at me. But I am also so proud of the outreach and volunteer work I have done, my efforts into fundraising and awareness. I am so happy I became part of the amazing MS community that is out there.
I mark this day, my MS-iversary, every year, not for pity or sorrow. But as a pat-on-the-back to myself. A reminder, especially when life gets hard, that I can do this. I can live life. I can overcome obstacles. And I will be okay.
