14/11/2022
13th November : 6 years of Multiple Sclerosis
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Every year since my MS diagnosis in 2016, I never forget the moment in my Neurologist Office when I was told, in front of my MS Nurse, who had just been assigned to me that the tests confirmed that “I HAVE MS”.!!! What the hell? I have a 5 year old daughter and I just gave birth to my son just 2 months ago! How dare MS take that moment from me.
The sound left my ears and I could see myself slipping into the darkness, with no idea of how MS was going to mess up my life in the coming years. Looking back I really feel sorry for the Natalie in 2016 because she had a hell of a journey in front of her. However, all was not lost because she will soon learn how strong she really is.
Every year is the same, as soon as the 13th November starts, I go quiet and my mind time travels back to that moment when I’m told that I have this awful disease. My breathing goes shallow and I feel numb, playing the same video over and over again in my head, “You have MS! You have MS! You have MS!” I try so hard to stop feeling stressed about it because stress makes my MS worse! Natalie wake up and stop reliving it! You don’t live there anymore! Wake up!
But this year something amazing happened. The 13th November passed me by and I didn’t notice it. My daughter asked me what the date was yesterday and I said “it’s the Sunday 13th November darling” and yet it didn’t click or trigger a memory. Wow what a day to be alive.
When I woke up this morning I had a sudden urge to check my calendar and then it click the 13th November had passed me by so quietly without me noticing a thing. For once I didn’t go quiet or numb or even have shallow breathing I just put my head in my hands and started laughing for a couple of minutes and just remembered how far I had come.
So now I look forward as I am almost 1 year since I had my stem cell transplant. Finally an anniversary I can look forward to every year. An anniversary full of memories of a new life, new beginnings and a second birthday. Shining a light at the end of my dark diagnosis’ tunnel. No more going back.