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Yay Though, I Walk

Several weeks ago I returned to my neurologist's office for an adjusted diagnosis following my most recent MRI. I had begun to notice a searing pain in my upper thigh/groin area sometime before Christmas and thought perhaps it was connected somehow to knee repair surgery I'd had in early December. The knee surgeon found this highly unlikely, so I turned to my OB/Gyn doctor for my annual exam. It was perfect. Their office urged me to see the MS folks. Finally, thinking it an absurd waste of more time and appointment waiting, I did. I endured ultra sounds (two) and the ever-fun electrocution type thing they do to stimulate one's nerves. It sets mine on edge, the nerve conduction study. I passed all of these tests like I usually did my final exams in college, with flying colors. Then the MRI. I was so unconcerned about it (still wanting this to be somehow connected to the nerve block the knee surgeon had done once I was asleep and learned about only after it wore off) I forgot to order a Valium or two to fight the claustrophobia I always feel inside the coffin of the MRI clunker chamber.

I should have known when the PA would not look me in the eye, and when a trail of medical students followed her into the room (I said I didn't mind) all toting notepads, that the news was not going to be good. I simply was not prepared after surviving and sometimes even thriving during seven full out years of relapsing/remitting MS to hear that I had graduated to a new kind. I'm used to lesions in my brain and neck. I was unprepared, however, to hear her say that they have now taken up residence in every sector of my spine, including my sacrum, accounting for the knife-stabbing pain in my most private places.

"Gail, what are you really saying?" I probed. "This too shall pass, right? Like the blindness? Like the time I couldn't feel the bottoms of my feet? Like the time my left arm played dead for three months?"

Again, Gail stared at the floor. In the meekest voice I've ever heard the woman use, she said simply, "I'm so sorry Ms. Hillard, but your MS has progressed to rapidly progressive MS." Not knowing the latest lingo, I asked, "Secondary or Primary?" She said I should really wait and ask the doctor about that.

"So it's primary then," I lobbed.

Her head jerked up, her eyes meeting mine, "Why do you say that?"

"Simple. You just delivered the bad news. If there was good news/bad news, you would want to tell me, especially in front of these students. Therefore,

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