Before MS entered my life, I lived an average existence. I was privileged enough to enjoy university, trips abroad, and all the casual debauchery that comes with growing up as a middle-class, '80s kid.
The biggest trauma I’d experienced was my parents breaking up when I was six. I lived with my mum most of the time, seeing my dad during school holidays. Plenty of kids go through it, but at the tender age of six, it was a significant event for a basin-haircut-sporting, front-teeth-missing football superstar in the making.
I was an active child, mainly due to the lack of YouTube and computers that didn’t require the use of cassettes. Yes, I loved my Spectrum 48K (complete with rubber keys), but the loading process was infuriating. Five minutes of shrieking modem noises, only to be told: 'R Tape Loading Error.' After no more than three attempts, I'd quit and find something else to do. Having an older brother helped; there were always fights and arguments to be had!
I played football constantly. My home stadium was the back garden where I took on the role of either Ian Rush or my hero, Bruce Grobbelaar. Fortunately, my brother was an Everton fan, so I tasted success from an early age.
As soon as I could play for my school, I was placed in goal—a decision made solely on genetics because my older brother had played the position. Nothing about skill or talent. Either way, it was the best position for me since my teams weren't the best. I was always busy, regularly received praise, and earned very little blame for the result, which was saved for the ten others playing in front of me! I played through secondary school and kept up with full-team and five-a-side matches whenever possible. I just loved to play.
Up until the age of sixteen, there was nothing significant that pointed toward the awakening of my lifelong companion... not until I started needing dental surgery.
As a kid, I consumed more fizzy drinks than I would ever allow my own son to have. Back then, we weren't as aware of kids being sugared off their tits by drinking Coke on demand. My own high school used to have fizzy drink vending machines, and the 'out of stock' light was regularly illuminated on the full-fat versions, never on the Tab Clear.
I started experiencing a sudden, shooting pain on the right side of my mouth, followed by an ache like chewing gum for too long. My dentist took X-rays, saw the effects of too many sugary drinks, but nothing that explained the level of discomfort. He diagnosed a deep-lying problem and recommended a root canal. I agreed. The dull ache remained, but I put it down to standard recovery.
Over the next two years, the pain returned several times with the same result. I think I had five root canal procedures done before I was eighteen.
Knowing what I do now about MS and the prevalence of Trigeminal Neuralgia (TN), I can only guess that not all those procedures were necessary. The problem never seemed fixed, despite the aforementioned face drilling.
Science Bit: Trigeminal Neuralgia
Recent research suggests that between four and six in every 100 people with MS experience trigeminal neuralgia, which is about 400 times more often than the general population. The key part is this: "It is rare for people under 40 who do not have MS to experience trigeminal neuralgia."
I don’t think for a moment a dentist should have been able to point toward MS as the issue—childhood MS was virtually unheard of in 1996. But this does point me toward my first date with my lifelong partner. It was painful and awkward.
When people ask when my symptoms first started, for me, this was it. I can't be 100% certain due to my youth's fizzy-pop intake, but having had TN that has now been linked to my MS, the evidence is at least anecdotal.
Science Bit: MS Explained Simply
A substance called myelin protects the nerve fibres in the central nervous system. This high-speed network (significantly cheaper than HS2) allows messages to travel quickly and smoothly between your brain and the rest of your body—like telling your preferred scratching finger to scratch your nose.
Unfortunately, my immune system is rather dazed and confused. It raises arms (pun intended) against this protective layer, commences a full-on assault, and damages or completely strips the myelin. What remains are scars, commonly referred to as lesions or plaques. The result? Messages are disrupted; they become slower, distorted, or never reach their destination. Perhaps the nose goes unscratched, or the eye takes a poking instead.
My neurologists liken this to an electrical lead that has had its helpful plastic coating stripped away. The wires are unguarded and won't work as intended. (By the way, if your kettle goes on the fritz, don't complain to the manufacturer that they've sold you a product with MS.)
But the lost myelin is only one part of the problem. Over time, these attacks also lead to damage of the actual nerve fibres (the wires), and it is this nerve damage that causes the increase in disabling symptoms and, in some cases, pain.
I started in the category that 85% of people are diagnosed with: Relapsing-Remitting MS (RRMS). I would have an attack, which could happen anywhere there are nerves, before remitting, allowing me to recover. Some effects remained, but I was usually able to return to nearly full fitness.
To speed up recovery, I'd be prescribed a course of high-dose corticosteroids. Now, this isn't the type of steroid that makes you run fast or lift more; it's the kind that feels like it picks you up while smacking you down at the same time. A quick tip: they taste awful. I found that coffee, mint, or chocolate worked quite well to mask it, but it's not an exact science.
There is a plethora of information online about the stages of MS. I'm not going to drone on about the ins and outs of every aspect. This is an exercise in my own narcissism, and therefore I'll only detail my personal experience.
Disclaimer: Some of the above may or may not be revisited. In my defence, I do suffer from cognitive impairment, or 'cog fog,' and can therefore not be held responsible for repeating myself, repeating myself.
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