Ian, diagnosed with primary progressive multiple sclerosis last August, tells us about his journey with MS and offers some advice for others in a similar situation.
I’m Ian, a self-employed Project Manager. I’m 53 years old, 6 foot 2, 17 stone, and shaven headed. I have a few tattoos and I probably drink too much. I walk with a stick and internal rage gets me through most days. You’ll have a picture in your mind now. Hopefully I didn’t come out of it too badly.
As I’m unlikely to ever meet you I just wanted you to know something about me.
Oh, and I was diagnosed with primary progressive MS (PPMS) in August 2017, which was disappointing…
I’d been having issues for a number of years. Severe chest pains, dizziness, exhaustion, and pins and needles in both hands, to name a few. Being a man, I had elected to ignore this.
Then things seemed to develop for the worst. Pins and needles in both hands (OK I’d had this for around a year and had been largely ignoring it), I began tripping a lot (I’d been walking upright for 50 years without issue), and I fell down the stairs at work on three occasions, much to people’s amusement.
So I went to the doctors.
A brief exam, a few questions, and a referral to a neurologist. With private healthcare I was seen within a week by a specialist in Parkinson’s disease. More questions, another exam, and an MRI of my brain and spine (during which I fell asleep).
Two days later (private healthcare is a wonderful thing) I’m sat with the neurologist again, looking at scans, with my attention being drawn to white blobs. “Do you know what you’re looking at?” “No” I replied, “But I’m hoping you do”. “You have MS. You’re very unlucky. It’s usually women. I’m very sorry”.
Having since done more reading on the subject of MS than I would deem healthy, it would seem I am indeed unlucky. Out of 60-odd million people in Britain, there are approximately 130,000* with MS. It does however get better than this. I have since been referred to a neurologist who specialises in MS. He advised me I have PPMS which only 15% of the 130,000* have. Having played with the numbers (I’m weird like that) I believe the odds are something like 1 in 4000. No lottery ticket that week…
I have since learned that my severe chest pain was undiagnosed MS hug. The cuddly sounding problem that feels like you have broken ribs and have combined it with a heart attack.
My exhaustion, that I’d put down to being 50 (much to the amusement of the neurologist), was MS fatigue and, regardless of how much sleep I got, would stick with me until I felt like screaming with frustration.
My regular tripping and stumbling was down to MS related drop foot and spasticity of my leg. At the end of a day, my muscle control of this foot is similar to flying a remote control plane that drifts out of range. You can see it, but nothing you do is going to move it.
So, from being a strong 6 foot 2, 17 stone man in the prime of his life, 10 months later I am walking short distances with a stick and currently shopping for a stair lift. My MS means I have a constant level of disability that is always progressing. My neurologist is surprised at the rate of deterioration but, as I said to him, I like to be different.
Having MS teaches you a lot about yourself, society, and the people around you. I am very lucky to have my partner Lynne who’s constant support and positivity is awe inspiring. My daughter and her three children are a constant reminder of what is important in life. NHS staff, including MS nurses and consultants, are frankly amazing. The support of certain friends has been invaluable. Knowing a builder who can fit handrails in your bathroom was a life saver, literally. The benefits system, speaking as a member of the self-employed community is, at best, a source of frustration and, at worst, not fit for purpose.
*Figures correct at the time of publication. New prevalence figures have since been published.