A year later…

I feel humbled and grateful for every single person who has and will read my story. I am completely blown away by the response of going live with my blog last week, and I’m compelled to write more and inform you all of everything I feel and think. Haha. Get ready. This blogging thing could be really addictive.

Thank you for reading and for inspiring me to keep writing. I truly believe that as we share our vulnerable sides of life, many people can be changed and impacted for the better.

Since all of the turmoil of last year, and changing everything I do to focus on healing… I refer to that old life as just that. It was my old life. This is my new life. My family’s new life too. It’s all changed, but change is good if we have enough time to reflect back on it and see the journey we’ve come through.

Four days ago, the day after my blog went live, I had a year check-up with the ophthalmologist who had a pivotal role in all that happened last year with my health, and with jump-starting the healing process.

He had diagnosed me at that time, with Internuclear Ophthalmoplegia (INO) in my left eye, and Optic Neuritis in my right. Yep. Two eyes, both of them affected. If you’ve never experienced INO, let me tell you, you definitely don’t want to. It’s crazy, scary, and insane. If you think about it, your world is just your perception, and perception comes from how you see. Literally. Your eyes are the way you see your life. Your eyes are your memories. Your eyes are SO unbelievably important to life. So much so, that when you start to notice any change in them, your world is completely turned upside down and backwards.

Literally, at that time, it felt like I was walking sideways. With INO, the nerve fibers that coordinate eye movement in a horizontal  direction are damaged. That results in the eyes not moving together. When I would look to the left, things were ok and pretty much, my perception was normal. I could even look exactly straight ahead without an issue. However, with any glance or look to the right, the world bounced.

For days once this started, I had no idea what was happening or how to pinpoint it. I tried recording myself while moving my eyes back and forth, but I couldn’t tell what was wrong. Once I saw the eye doc and he recorded it and showed it back to me – with my heart pounding and me completely wanting to run out of the room – I could see the issue. My left eye would not carry over to the right, but it would stay in the center while my right eye moved  over, bouncing to try to get the left eye to catch up. This graphic kinda helps explain what I’m talking about.

Optic Neuritis is an inflammation that damages the optic nerve – which is the key component to transferring visual info from your eye to your brain. It can often cause pain in the back of the eye, color distortion and visual loss. Most notably, I had a brightness in my right eye that would come and go without a rhyme or reason. This persisted for months and months after the flare, and eventually became the only thing that would remind me on a frequent basis about all of it. This was most notably seen from the MRI, but the doc could see some inflammation through a scope he used to exam my eyes.

Four days ago, I set foot into his office again, for this check-up. The smell of the office made me want to run out of there faster than my feet could take me. It brought back every bit of anxiety and fear that I had experienced a year ago. The smell, the look of the people working there, the hallway where I broke down, hyperventilating. It was all too close to my vivid memories.

When I set foot into the patient room with all the special doctor tools to look and examine, I started second-guessing eating breakfast before this appointment… I was about to be sick. I busted out my most favorite essential oil in all the land, Valor, to help me put my warrior face on and be confident, even though I was scared to death. I sent a text to my husband, telling him how freaking scared I was and he said “You got this, a warriors fear nothing” back to me. It was then that I changed my mindset and was able to control my fear… and the Valor had a chance to kick in too.

After him asking me all the standard questions, “How do you feel? Are you seeing a neurologist?” To which I answered, no, but told him that my whole life has changed since the last time I was here. He looked at me, puzzled, and asked what I was doing. I told him I changed everything I eat, everything I do, and everything I think in order to heal my body. That I owe it to my kids and my husband and my family to fight and never stop. Those meds that the neurologist wants to prescribe do nothing except “modify the disease” and slow down the progression… but if you actually get to the root cause of disease and stop it, you can create healing. He gave me another look, and this time it was of approval and interest. And he said “good for you”.

He gave me an eye exam. Had me read letters back to him, one eye at a time, getting smaller and smaller each slide. I was able to read them. All of them. My eyesight is 20/20.

He looked at the lens of my eyes and checked the pressure. He said they looked completely normal and the pressure was within normal range.

He had me move my eyes and follow his finger – the test that I failed just one year ago. Up and down, side to side. All the way to the left. All the way to the right. Mobility was perfect. He said I had gotten back all mobility – which I already knew… but it’s nice to have it validated.

The last thing he examined were the nerves at the back of my eyes. Using a special tool, of which I have no idea what it is called – it shines a bright line into my eye and he directed me where to glance – and my heart was pounding heavily.

Then the words “the nerves look good. No notable inflammation that I can see. They look normal.” came out of his mouth.

Normal.

After a year of trying, striving, working, praying, dedicating and putting together all that had broken, I cried happy tears. I could hardly contain myself. He walked out of the room and tears just started streaming out. Normal is all I wanted and it’s what we’ve got. Tears of joy kept streaming out that day, all day. When I called my husband, my parents, and my sister, each time I got to tell them and I could hear the amazement and joy in their voices, and each time I cried more from happiness.

Tears from happiness and joy don’t come often, but man do they feel good.

The fight still continues. My body is still healing every single second. But this all shows that every bit of that healing is working. If I can do it, anyone can do it. There is hope for healing an “incurable” disease. I am not saying that I am healed after one year, but I am saying that living a healthy life and striving to heal works. It is all worth it.

 

Becoming a Warrior

You are a warrior.

Those are the words my husband whispered to me as I was coming to, after the fog lifted a little.

You are strong and capable of overcoming hard things. Life isn’t guaranteed to be easy, and sometimes it will throw some massive curve balls your way, and those curveballs can be insane and throw you for a loop and that is when life stops right before you. It is in the mess where you see what you are made of. It is in the mess where you find out who you really are. This is where you become a warrior.

When I first found out that my life was changing and I had no control over these changes, I felt like I would hide it and keep it a secret forever. I wanted to bury the information that I had just found out and keep it hidden deep within my soul so no one would ever know.

I wanted life to continue as it always had… but that was not possible anymore. My life was pretty much perfect before this, or essentially awesome, anyway.  I couldn’t come to terms with the impending and immediate changes that were happening. I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe there was something I could have done to keep this from happening. To make my body healthier, by actually paying attention to myself… was this my fault? With three kids and a husband and a house and a home business, I was always on the back burner, and that was my choice. I never stopped. And if I did, it wasn’t to eat or make sure that I was finding a moment to breathe… it was to pass out from exhaustion.

After a lot of thinking, healing, contemplating, considering, and heart-to-hearts with God, I now feel led to share my story. I don’t want to remain silent when my story could help someone. Anyone. This is part of my reason for starting this blog. I want to have a place to help people. A place to help myself. And here it is. From the beginning to the now, and all that is in between. I’ve always been one that was more private and shy and to myself… so this is going way out of my comfort zone. But with discomfort comes growth and healing and I’m ready for whatever walking through this door will do.

So let’s do this.

A year and three days ago, June 17, 2016, I was told that I have Multiple Sclerosis. It was a tumultuous week leading up to the “diagnosis” when I couldn’t see, my eyes were a complete wreck, and worsening daily. Ultimately, I found out through an MRI and a physical exam that everything was going to be different and I was no longer in control… or so I was told.

I went through some very dark times, when the future felt so unknown and scary… and the worst of those days just happened to be the day that I saw the neurologist who was supposedly there to help me by shoving disease modifying drugs down my throat. “Here, read this info and tell me which one you want to start on. Oh, and once you start, you’ll be on this forever.” He told me that. Really. And I could hardly see his face, let alone read. That just happened to be the last time I stepped foot into his office.

I’m married to the best man in he world, hands down, and you’ll read a lot more about him in my posts. Because of him, I never ever felt alone, despite wanting to hide and crawl under a rock on most of those early days. He was the one to first tell me that I am a warrior and worthy of a good fight. He helped me see that I owed it to myself to fight. He was my filter, telling me what he’d read on the internet and things he’d found to start trying. I was too afraid to research, for fear that I would find the worst, most depressing story and it would destroy me. He is my rock. He helped me realize that I’m strong and capable and I soon began to believe it too. I became the warrior that I have to be to fight this.

Then we found Dr. Wahls and the Wahls Protocol. Check her out at http://terrywahls.com She is an author and an MD. She reversed her Secondary Progressive MS through diet and exercise. She went from a tilt-recline wheelchair to biking in 9 months after she changed her diet. So, that’s what I did. It’s a strict diet, and was so damn hard in the beginning… but now, a year later, it is my normal and I am so thankful that the human body is adaptable and capable of massive amounts of healing.

Today, a year later, we’re celebrating and rejoicing. From that second meeting with the neurologist, 2 weeks after the “flare”, my husband and I decided we were in this thing for the long haul and we were fighting and never giving up. We weren’t going to lie down and let this “diagnosis” rule our lives and take over our thoughts any longer. We decided, together, and with a ton of research and reading, that MS isn’t a death sentence. We decided to fight. To give it everything and anything it takes to win. And winning is what we’re doing.

I say we because this definitely isn’t all me. He’s my partner in everything, and in this too. He fights when I struggle, he wipes my tears. He holds me when I need to be held. I told you he is that good.

What a difference a year makes. Right now, I feel better than I ever have in my life. I’m stronger, healthier, and happier. I am more patient, and I have zero brain fog – which I didn’t even realize I had until I knew what it was… and to think of the years I could’t remember what happened last weekend and thought it was normal. That is not normal, friends!

A few tears have streamed down my face as I remember those fear-filled moments just one year ago, but I then think of how far we’ve come, and how much more we have to do. I know I am on the path to wellness, and I trust this process. I’m healing my body with every step and every bite of food I eat.

If you had asked me a year ago, what I thought life might be like in a year… I would have been too afraid to answer.

MS is a diagnosis. It doesn’t run my life. It won’t ever rule me. This is my life, and I choose to live it and love it as much as possible. I am a warrior and I am worth the fight.