In a mere moment, everything changed. I found myself in my doctor’s office, staring at two sheets of paper she handed me. What does this mean? How could this happen? I’ve always been healthy, rarely even catching a cold. I have two young boys who depend on me. This can’t be real.
Just two weeks prior, I returned from an exciting trip to Orlando with my boys, aged four and two. We always traveled as a family. I woke up the next morning to find my right eye was blurry. I rubbed it repeatedly, but it didn’t improve. “It’s alright, it’ll be fine,” I reassured myself as I started the day.
Three days later, the blurriness persisted. I finally confided in my husband that something felt off with my eye. He insisted I see a doctor immediately. “No, it’ll be fine,” I responded.
The following day, he inquired if there was any improvement, and I had to admit there wasn’t. He urged me to schedule an appointment with an optometrist. After conducting various tests, she found everything normal; I had 20/20 vision, but the bottom half of my right eye was missing vision for reasons she couldn’t determine. She mentioned that sometimes it could be due to a tumor or a stroke, but none were evident in my case. She referred me to an ophthalmologist.
The ophthalmologist dilated my pupils and conducted further tests, still unable to identify the issue but confirming I was missing vision in the bottom half of my right eye. She ordered an MRI.
My heart sank. An MRI? I suffer from severe claustrophobia. I knew I couldn’t handle it. Family and friends warned me it could be serious, urging me to get a CT scan immediately. So, I found myself in the emergency room the next day. While waiting for the CT scan results, I asked the doctor if he had encountered a similar case. He replied that a young woman with the same symptoms had come in a couple of months prior and was diagnosed with a tumor. I fought back tears.
Sitting in silence with my husband and cousin, a flood of questions raced through my mind. Nothing was more important than my children. They were too young to lose their mother.
Suddenly, the doctor burst into the room, excitement in his voice, “You’re free to go, no tumor!” Thank you, God! But what now? The doctor informed me I still needed an MRI to determine what was wrong.
I scheduled the MRI, shaking the entire car ride. Upon checking in, I was instructed to remove my jewelry and change into scrubs. As they prepared me for the MRI, my heart raced, and tears streamed down my face. They provided me with a panic button for emergencies. I held my breath as they placed me in the machine. I was trembling, and they pulled me back out. I was ready now.
They fitted me with a helmet for the brain MRI. As soon as it was secured, I broke down. I felt as if I was suffocating! There was no chance I could close the helmet, enter the machine, and endure two 45-minute sessions.
My doctor prescribed anti-anxiety medication that helped me cope during the MRI on my next attempt.
Then came the agonizing wait for results. I spoke with my doctor, and she reassured me that it was likely nothing serious; she would inform me as soon as she knew more.
Later, still with blurry vision, she handed me two sheets of paper. In large capital letters, it read: MULTIPLE SCLEROSIS. What does that even mean? How could this be? There must be some mistake.
“Could you please ask my father to come in?” I requested of my doctor. He was waiting outside.
When he walked in and saw me crying, he asked, “What’s wrong?” The doctor explained my diagnosis. I couldn’t stop weeping. None of us had any understanding of what this meant.
“Will I regain my eyesight?” I asked.
“Probably not,” my doctor replied. She had arranged for me to visit one of the top neurologists at Cedars-Sinai later that day.
As I drove home, all I could think about were my children. I wanted to be there for them, to actively participate in their lives, to see them grow. I knew little about Multiple Sclerosis (MS), but it felt like a death sentence.
When I met the neurologist, I was unable to hold back my tears. “I have two small children who need me,” was my first statement.
“You will be just fine,” she assured me in a soothing voice. She explained what MS is, the treatments available, and the next steps to take.
“Will I get my eyesight back?” I asked her.
“Yes, you will,” she responded.
That evening, I returned home to find my house filled with family. Everyone had gathered to support me. The warmth and love were overwhelming, but I needed some time alone to process what had just happened.
For the next few days, I stayed home, avoiding phone calls and focusing on my thoughts — and my children. The at-home steroids helped restore my vision, and subsequent MRIs and opinions from two other doctors confirmed my diagnosis.
I began a monthly infusion called Tysabri, an immunosuppressive medication. The first treatment was the most daunting. A side effect of Tysabri is that if I test positive for the common John Cunningham virus, I could develop a rare brain infection that might be fatal.
It was a lot to absorb quickly. I stopped searching online for information about MS, as it only frightened me further.
As time passed, my new normal began to take shape. I resumed traveling with my boys and learned that while I couldn’t control everything, I could choose how to respond.
A little under two years later, I welcomed a healthy baby girl into the world. Life is unpredictable, and I don’t know what the future holds with MS, but for now, seeing the joyful smiles on my children’s faces makes everything worthwhile.
This story was originally published on April 14, 2021.
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Summary:
In this heartfelt narrative, Sarah Collins recounts her shocking journey from waking up with blurry vision to being diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS). As a mother of two young boys, the diagnosis initially felt overwhelming and frightening. However, with the support of family, medical professionals, and effective treatment, she began to adapt to her new reality. Ultimately, Sarah emphasizes the importance of cherishing family moments while navigating the unpredictability of life with MS.