by Meadow Lark

Created on: July 07, 2008   Last Updated: September 24, 2008

When I first received word from a neurologist that I had multiple sclerosis, it was over 20 years ago. I went through several stages.

The first stage was denial. I just couldn't get my mind around the diagnosis. Frankly, I had to make myself say the words slowly, "multiple sclerosis". It was foreign to me. Friends reminded me that it could be worse.

In the past, I had symptoms that would come and go, so it was difficult for the doctors to diagnose. The first doctor I saw asked if I had family in town. I thought that was an odd question, but when he told me I would need a MRI, I began to realize why he asked.

My MRI came back with normal results. The doctor concluded that I must have an anxiety disorder, and that I should check back with him every 6 months. Since my mother was mentally ill, I'm not sure which diagnosis I took harder. It may have been the incorrect diagnosis of "anxiety disorder". Years passed. I was able to run and exercise but always noticed I was a bit slower than everyone else. I just assumed I was out of shape since I did not have a regular exercise routine.

In my early 30s, people began to ask why I was limping. I suppose I had put my body's unusual symptoms out of my mind since I had already been told by a doctor that I did not have m.s. As the limp began to worsen, I thought perhaps it was time to visit a new doctor. He was immediately interested in my unusual gait and the fact that my sister, a nurse, was concerned about my right foot dragging. I was referred to a neurologist who made the diagnosis of m.s. after three separate MRIs.

I received the phone call from the doctor while I was at work. "It's confirmed. You have multiple sclerosis." My husband picked me up from work immediately after the phone call. We drove straight to the nearest bookstore and purchased two excellent books about living with this difficult illness. I was hungry for knowledge. Good, bad or indifferent, I felt I needed to learn everything I could. I wanted to know what caused it. Was there any link to my mother's devastating illness of schizophrenia? If I had children would they get it? Was there a gene that caused it? Where was the nearest seminar? Would this mean I would forever be kicking my husband in the middle of the night due to uncontrollable leg spasms? Would I ever be able to run again? I had so many questions. Over time, many of them were answered.

After my stages of denial and constant questioning, I went through a long stage of anger. I was mostly mad

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