On Pins and Needles

I've always feared heights—always have and probably always will. But three years ago I found myself pressed against a cliff, more than 100 feet in the air, hanging on with my bare hands. The only sound I could hear was my own breathing. It was my first time rock climbing, and I was scared.

That's probably the reaction of most people when they first try the sport, as I was that spring day. But in my case there's a twist: I have multiple sclerosis. MS is a chronic, progressive disease of the central nervous system common among young adults and affecting nearly 2.5 million people worldwide. It can affect everything from vision to muscle control. If the disease progresses, an MS patient can find it difficult to walk.

My journey into the world of MS started when I was 20, a junior in college. It came out of nowhere; I woke up one day and felt a tingling in my left foot. I expected it to fade away, but two hours later it was still there. The next day the same pins-and-needles sensation had spread along my left leg, and within a week the entire left side of my body had turned numb. So had half my face. At one point I held an ice cube in my hand until it melted completely. I felt no sensation whatsoever. I knew something was seriously wrong.

Our family physician ran some tests but ultimately detected nothing. My mother sought a second opinion from a neurologist, who subjected me to further tests, including an MRI and a spinal tap. Thanks to my mom, then, I learned I had MS. It was she who gave me the news. She came into my bedroom and took a deep breath. "That was the doctor," she said, having just gotten off the phone. "You have multiple sclerosis." She broke down crying, and so did I.

Those words left me dumbstruck. I had MS. Even though I'd heard of the condition I was naive about it. I had no idea how it progressed or what would happen to me, except that it was obviously nothing good. Would half my body go numb again? If so, how soon? I had an image in my head of people in wheelchairs. And for about 30 minutes I went into a flat-out panic.

Then I realized something. I could stare at the ceiling and feel like a victim, all "woe is me." Or I could educate myself about my MS and try to take charge, face my fears head on and combat it. I had a choice. And I resolved to try to control the disease rather than let it control me.