Andy Reynard’s relapsing remitting MS symptoms began 20 years ago. A diagnosis followed in 2006, then came two other major, unrelated health issues – one life-threatening. Humour and writing about his experiences keep him positive.
Minutes after my first MRI, the doctor told me I may have multiple sclerosis. My thoughts headed into a tailspin. But I felt a little more optimistic by the time the neurologist turned up two hours later. After all, the doc only said it was a possibility, right? That meant it could be something else, something more trivial.
That was pretty much the neurologist’s opening gambit, served up to me as if I had a verruca. No emotion, no doubt. In a way it was a relief. I’d experienced odd sensations in my legs and feet for several years, mainly pins and needles of a sort, like a heat rash. But a few weeks before, I'd walked into work and suddenly my feet were numb, and I felt like I was walking on gravel in my socks. And they felt so cold. How could they feel numb yet cold? Not knowing what was going on had driven me nuts, so it was good to finally have a diagnosis.
Did it have to be that though? Well, this was my new world; best get used to it.
Only there wasn’t that much to get used to at first, other than the weird sensations in my feet that showed no signs of disappearing. I still played five-a-side football and generally went about my business as normal.
But then the fatigue set in. At various times of day, I’d feel utterly drained and incapable of doing anything. Weirdly, I usually felt better after eating something. In fact, I was hungry all the time. I’d not seen anything about this in the MS literature I’d read.
It transpired that I had developed a ridiculously overactive thyroid. MS may well have been a factor in the fatigue I’d been suffering, but the thyrotoxicosis' symptoms were similar. Separating the two was impossible and ultimately pointless. All I could do was accept the treatment and see how I was once my thyroid returned to normal. Shame that the treatment made me radioactive (a tale for another time) but it worked, and the fatigue did more or less settle down too.
A little over a year later, however, my body decided I was having it too easy, so gave me something else to think about. This time my life was under threat. (I like to shroud this story in a little mystery to avoid spoilers for my book – more on that later). Yes, more bad health, more treatment, more worry. It was all happening so fast though, I just powered through it. Well, sleepwalked may be a better way of putting it. I was in a daze. How on earth had MS got kicked down the road, a problem to deal with in the future?
A future did materialise though, and I was now finally free to deal with MS and MS alone. No biggy, right? I have never considered myself an MS Warrior or MS Fighter – I always say I was conscripted very reluctantly – but I have taken my meds in the form of injections. First there were the Avonex years and now I’m on Brabio three times a week. Who can say what I would have been like if I hadn’t taken them. I am fortunate to report that I haven’t really had any bad relapses since I began medicating in this way.
That’s not to say that the decline in my mobility hasn’t continued, slowly but (ironically) steadily. First to go, predictably, was playing football. My walks become shorter and shorter by the year. Today, I can’t do anything physical for any significant length of time. But are things really that bad? I get out of all sorts of jobs I don’t want to do, having a blue badge is a bonus and let’s face it, there are so many people in a far worse position.
Best of all is the extra time MS has afforded me to write. In my able-bodied years, there always seemed to be something in the way – sport to play, jobs around the house and so on.
But now I can really devote myself to what should have been my focus previously. As well as a blog about living with MS, I managed to publish a book, Balls to MS: 20 Years of Discovering Your Body Hates You. As the title suggests, it’s not a misery memoir but an irreverent account of my health problems. A statement of defiance against the bad luck I’ve been dealt. Because that’s all it is – bad luck – and I’m doing my best to turn that bad luck to my advantage.
