The Fine Art of Disability Denial

I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS) at 29. I’m now in my forties. Yes, I’m surprised too.

I mark my 20’s as before and after an asteroid hit my health. Why an asteroid? Well, I like space. Oh, and it was completely unexpected, the same way the dinosaurs must have felt when that asteroid hit the earth and wiped some of them out. MS was unexpected to me as no one in my family had MS, not now or in the past. It’s just me and long may it remain so. It’s a tricky disease as it is degenerative, it’s still not known exactly what causes it and there is NO cure. None.

So what would you do? Keep going on with your life as usual? Even when you’ve got this horrible disease messing with your immune system, crashing your nerve connections and draining your energy so you’re always ridiculously tired?

My method for dealing with all this was simple. Despite all the strange physical symptoms, I still looked like a healthy young woman who worked full-time, walked without assistance, cycled and danced. Most of the time I didn’t feel ill and only my family and closest friends knew about my MS. Classic denial? Yes. I even protested to that small group who knew I had the illness that I wasn’t that ill. Not really. Just tired and yes, can I have a nap on your sofa while we chat?

It was my neurologist who called it a ‘disability’ and I must admit I felt slightly insulted. Disability? Hadn’t he seen my nice, striped tights and…