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Two years ago I could not have foreseen what MS would bring to my life. And no, I am not deluding myself with mindless positivity. I despise MS, although I have grown used to it. My surprise stems from the fact that I am a much happier person now than I was before my diagnosis.

I have received such support. And I know who loves me. That is not a childish comment—I mean that I have learned a hard life lesson, and I now value it as such. Some people stick around, some don’t. And some people…well, I don’t want them to stick around. I realised who I love when I think about who I want to visit me at my worst in hospital. Old friends have returned, and new ones have walked in the metaphorical door .

I am a better person (that sounds trite, but it also happens to be true). More compassionate, more empathetic, and with a far greater tolerance for people who are struggling. I have turned into an advocate.

But I also have stricter boundaries. I have no patience with incompetence, shallowness, lateness, or half-truths. Those who know me in person know I was never great in this regard…but now I just don’t care. I may be in hospital tomorrow (or tonight, it has happened that way), and I no longer choose to spend my time with people who waste it.

I have developed something of a prejudice against lifestyle diseases…if you have your health, for God’s sake make the choice to look after it.

And I know for a fact that it is possible to know more about MS than the doctor or nurse you happen to be speaking to—even in a country with a decent health system like Australia. I have corrected doctors and negotiated with them. And I admit, I have shouted at them. I have no doubt I will do all three again.

I settled into some hardcore medication, albeit with the occasional hiccup (note to self: forgetting to take the medication for twenty-four hours is a bad idea).

I experience MS pain in my hands and major joints. There is no rhyme or reason to it, no cause and no cure. It is horrendous. I lose hours when it happens, which tends to be in the early to late morning. I can’t predict it, I can’t stop it, and I sure as hell can’t just take a handful of Ibuprofen and work through it (trust me, I’ve tried). When it happens, it is debilitating.

I changed my diet. I am largely processed food free. It sucks. But it also rocks: I am quite a bit lighter and my skin has never looked so good. I hope it helps the MS, too.

I failed to exercise…and I don’t have an excuse. My neurologist laughed at my “I do incidental exercise” approach.

But I do have an extremely high tolerance for risk. MS gives me complete uncertainty…so I find myself willing to take my chances on things I probably shouldn’t.

I am persona non grata with the financial powers that be. Insurance agencies won’t touch me, even with a risk premium. Aside, of course, to provide me with Death Cover (which I now have). Technically, I am eligible for the National Disability Insurance Scheme (a new national approach to healthcare for those under sixty-five in Australia) when it rolls out in 2016, meaning the Australian Government classifies me as disabled. But I am not eligible for any disability benefits from the state governments…go figure. I have a decade of professional public policy experience, and I can’t figure the rules out.

But consider my experience a lesson learned: go get your income protection and life insurance now, don’t wait for whatever magical date you have in your head (I was waiting to draw down my mortgage and roll it all up together).

I now have a will and three different types of Power of Attorney. Yes, there are three types—medical, financial, and guardianship. Go get them. Seriously. Once you take the time to think though the ramifications of not having one (and yes, people like you sometimes need them), it isn’t so hard.

I quit my career. They say most people with MS stop working within ten years. I skewed the average: I walked out in less than a year. But I am building a new one. Writing, advocacy, storytelling. And damn, it feels good.

I have a partner, whom I met me after my diagnosis. Two months after, when I was still recovering from my first episode and the methyl prednisolone that knocked me around for weeks. I shudder to think at how I looked and acted when he first met me. Looking back, I realise how sick I was. I used to grow fatigued just lying on the couch at that point. But he saw through the sickness, and I am forever grateful.

And finally, while it has nothing to do with MS, a quirk of fate has made me a de facto grandmother in an ever-expanding American family at the age of thirty-four. Who knew.

Anything can—and does—happen.

[Photo credits to Astrid Edwards]

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