Tomorrow

It's been almost 13 years since I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. Those of you who know me well probably already know my story. I was living in Los Angeles at the time. I was 24, single, childless and working as a customer service rep at an online maternity store when... The bottom fell out. One day at work I had what I would later learn was a tonic seizure, on the floor of the ladies bathroom. After conflicting diagnoses in California I came back home to Boston where I would eventually be diagnosed as having MS. At the time of my diagnosis I knew exactly what my life would be life would be like. I'd be good for a few years before eventually becoming sicker and sicker, weaker and weaker, more reliant on my friends to take care of me than I already was. And then, the worst thing I could possibly imagine would finally happen to me. I'd end up in a wheelchair. Like my mother. Thankfully (and not surprisingly) I was completely wrong. I very rarely had any problems or even inconveniences due to MS. And aside from my immune system now being more susceptible to things like sinus infections and bronchitis... I was completely fine. And once I became pregnant, my MS went even further into remission and I haven't been on any meds since. And so last month, when I started having more numbness and tingling in my toes than is usual for me, I did what I've always done and called my neurologist for a check up. I figured I'd have the usual neurological exam and then Dr Spencer would schedule an MRI for me before prescribing Neurontin for the tingles. So I was shocked, when, after examining me the attending physician brought in the chief of neurology to do the same. And I was even more shocked to hear her say: "I'm not calling this MS." "I'm sorry?" "I'm not calling this MS until I've done the MRI myself. Too many doctors diagnose an illness as MS when it isn't. Did your doctors in Boston test you for vitamin deficiencies?" "Um...I don't know. No?" "Did anyone look at your thyroid and copper levels? Your vitamin d and vitamin b levels?" "No, I don't think so." "Did you have an EEG?" "I don't know. I don't even know what that is." "Did they put electrodes on your head and flash lights into your eyes?" "No." "Okay, all of that has to be done before I'll call this MS. You'll come see me when all of the tests are done and we'll take it from there. By the way, do you know what your name means? Are you Muslim?" And at this I had to smile. I don't think I've ever met a Muslim who hasn't asked me one or both of these questions within minutes of meeting me. Even in the middle of a potentially life altering doctor's appointment. So...my first of 4, two-hour MRI's is scheduled for next Monday. And unlike that first appointment 13 years ago when it took Maggie's hand holding and two valium to get me to lie still in that machine...this time around I'm completely fine. The thing is, it doesn't matter to me whether I have MS or not. I'm okay either way. I'll take each day as it's given to me. I'll take each moment as it comes. I've already gone through the worst of it. 13 years ago...I had NO coping skills. I dealt with the diagnosis by NOT dealing with it. By trying to drink, smoke, EAT or sex it out of my consciousness. No more. I'm not afraid anymore.