Who makes these decisions? Who finger-points which people “survive,” which benefit?
My point is this: Facebook can blow up with stupid viral videos of old not-even-good movie clips with the words “Bye Felicia” and deep debates on the color of a dress, and people can bitch about our government as those running constantly say bigoted, racist remarks while still being handed a microphone . . . but practically nothing is being done to actually help anymore.
I had a flare-up which (to me) is basically a reminder that you have MS, a sign that your body is still trying to hurt itself.
Here’s the latest on my check up with Doctor Number Three. And the result (I’ll ruin the suspense): Not a success.
It has been three years since I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. In the beginning, people and articles said, “Things would make more sense soon.” This filled me with more anxiety. What “things”? When was “soon”? It seemed to be a riddled threat, one I could not figure out… until now. I realize I was looking at it all wrong. The articles and people meant things — the ticking time bomb — had already gone off and that I would get answers as to why soon, now.
It’s strange because sometimes when I talk about MS in person, I feel furthest from people. Yet, here — with the light of my computer screen — I feel like I have someone with me. I’m not judged. I’m not told I’m wrong or right… or how I should act or what to think. I’m not told anything. I’m just given a space. A space to think. And I believe when one can delve into their own thoughts — be allowed to fully think — that person is never alone.
I had my multiple sclerosis second opinion appointment a few days ago. And I finally got the answers I’ve been wanting.
I did it. I set up a second opinion appointment following my multiple sclerosis diagnosis about a month ago.
I took to the internet for the first time to research multiple sclerosis. So it is here, on my blog, I have a stress reliever, a different form of a scrapbook, a way to record major information (mainly MS details). I also truly want to share my research with someone newly diagnosed… or someone who knows a person newly diagnosed. Information can be overwhelming, but hopefully, it will be more brief and not as scary here.
Since we talked last, I’ve had my second MRI. I’ve seen my doctor for a follow-up/second MRI discussion. And I’ve gotten a diagnosis.
For me, this month simply meant two things: doctors… doctors… an all-important MRI exam… and yep, more doctors. Maybe by the end of November it would mean one more thing: a diagnosis. …Maybe.
Again, again, again, again… and again. Five times. That’s how many times James and I had problems with our health solely in the month of May. In fact, there were so many health fiascos, I started keeping a list in my head.
Soon, James and I will be married. And instead of relishing in our wedding plans, I’m concentrating on November. November means doctors, and tests, and possibly answers.
James told me recently he doesn’t necessarily believe people are given more than they can handle. Instead, he thinks people are given what they and their support group can handle. I’m beginning to believe this.
My MRI is scheduled, and I have no idea what the future holds.