by Debbie Ross

Created on: November 04, 2008   Last Updated: November 22, 2008

I have multiple sclerosis, commonly referred to as MS. I was diagnosed six years ago at the age of 49. My initial reaction to the diagnosis was one of jubilation I didn't have a brain tumor and I wasn't going to die. I had relapsing-remitting multiple sclerosis.

I've learned many things over these past six years, the most important being patience. I can no longer put on my running shoes and walk around the block but, I can put on my running shoes, take my cane, and walk around the house. I can no longer spend long hours in the sun but, I can sit under my neigbour's umbrella and enjoy watching their kids in the pool. I can no longer drive a standard transmission car because my left leg can't be relied upon but, I can drive the automatic we purchased. I can no longer marathon shop but, I can take my wheelie to the mall and sit when I get tired. I can no longer take a bath but, I can stand for a shower.

You see, I've discovered that MS hasn't stopped me from "living". I've just had to find alternative ways to keep "living". Because I won't know how I feel until I wake up, I have to plan my day after I get out of bedsomething I didn't have to do before the diagnosis. Mornings seem to be my best time, so, when possible, I take an aqua fitness class at our local pool. I can't do land exercises anymore because once I start to sweat my symptoms exacerbate. When I'm up to it, I take a slow five minute walk on our treadmill and pretend I'm walking our dog in the park.

I refuse to look upon my MS as a life sentence. It is, however, something that I must learn to cope with-in the same way people with impaired vision listen to audio books or the way people with hearing loss wear hearing aids or learn to read lips. Sure I get frustrated at timesI'm humanwhen I lose my balance and end up on the floor. And I admit to the odd "why me?" But many times, the tears turn to laughter when I realize how I must look like the poor little turtle on his back trying to right itself.

I've had to modify my life and downgrade my goals to hope. I always wanted to travel when I retired and I still will do it but now it will done with assistance and a structured itinerarynot the carefree, British rail pass I had once envisioned.

But I refuse to wallow in self pity I can always find someone worse off than I and I've accepted my new reality. My Dad used to say, "you play the cards you're dealt" and that's what I plan on doing until I take my final breath.

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