I’m 50 % / 85 %

Almost 16 years ago I heard terrible news, I had MS. It came as quite a shock. I had never had any major health issues, I took care of myself, I exercised, and I lead a fairly healthy lifestyle. So I fully expected to be given a prescription for my symptoms and be on my way that day I went to the hospital for a sore wrist and a numb arm. Instead I was told I had to stay at the hospital for a few days in order to run more test because they suspected I had “MS”‘. What the hell is that I thought to myself, they are out of their minds.

The diagnosis was confirmed a few days later.

Since then my feelings on the subject have been a roller coaster. I’ve been through the stages of grief on many occasions. When I was first diagnosed, when confronted by my limitations as a mother, when feeling the loss of who I wanted to be, and then realizing the deterioration of my body years later. I seriously thought I would be one of those people who had one attack and never have any again. I wasn’t. I am not, I don’t want to be, a sick person. It’s a personal struggle everyday from needing to accept my condition and not wanting to be sick. I don’t know how to not be angry when the anger is what fuels me to fight. And I don’t know how to keep fighting, how to keep digging myself out of this hole when all I’m doing is building a bigger wall around myself, which makes it impossible for me to see what is going on around me.

It took years for me to realize the damage MS was doing to my body. Seconds were taken off my tolerance on a daily basis. A few seconds a day didn’t seem like much, but 15 years later and you’re down to being able to walk for maybe 10 minutes and BOOM it hits you in the face and you break down crying on the sidewalk. Why me, what am I doing wrong, this is not who I am. I am not a sick person. I am an active, optimistic, healthy person. Get me out of this fucking body!

My name is Caroline and I have MS.

I use to window shop with friends for hours in downtown Montréal, I’ve ridden a camel in the Sahara, I’ve watched wild animals in the plains of the Serengeti, I’ve danced till the sun rose, I swam from one island to another, I’ve walked the beaches of Cuba, the Turks and Caicos, Santa Cruz, Tunisia, and Bathurst, I’ve hiked, slept and felt the rain on my skin in the Amazon, I’ve ridden on TOP of a train through the Andes, I’ve trekked around the Grand Canyon, I’ve swam in the ocean, driven to California and back from Montreal, I’ve gone white water rafting, mountain climbing, rock climbing, running, horse back riding, hiking, I took the stairs rather then the elevators, I would park in the furthest spot at the mall, I drove to Quebec City at 3am so I could watch the sunrise over the Plaines d’Abraham, I walked to far away gaz stations when I’ve been stranded by my reliably unreliable beat up car, I travelled (less then I would of liked), I felt ambitious and driven, I partied, I stayed up too late and woke up too early, I sought new adventures, I tried new things, I felt alive, I had a fire in me, and most off all I never wondered “can I do this?”, I lived

And now, on a good day, I might go grocery shopping by myself.

I should start referring to myself in fractions, as in two numbers because I feel torn in two.
Torn between the person I would of been, and the person I am because of MS.
I hope I will get better but fear I will get worse.
Knowing that my worst day, might also be my best day going forward.
I have scattered thoughts running through my head, they are lingering yet unfocused.
My feet are firmly planted to the ground, yet my head is in the clouds.
I feel the need to control my emotions yet I desperately want to let them go.
I am healthy and sick. I am happy and sad. I am broken yet whole.
Everything is so clear, but I feel such confusion. I know I am here but I am lost.
I am strong yet oh so fragile. I am alive but I am mortal.
Part of me wants to talk about it, the other half doesn’t at all.

This blog is my middle ground.