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One man's struggles with MS and Weight Loss - and how he is overcoming them. |
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Hello. I am J.T., and this is my account of the struggles I have had with MS and obesity, and more importantly, how I am overcoming them. |
| JANUARY, 2005 I did not have any doctor’s appointments during the month of January, but I had an acute attack of shortness of breath, and called to make an emergency appointment. My doctor did not give me any bad news, but I could tell from her actions and the way she spoke to me that she felt I was going to get much worse very quickly. She increased the dosage of my medications and added a pain medication to try and alleviate the pain and discomfort. That helped some, but not nearly enough. FEBRUARY, 2005 The month of February arrived, and I was still feeling terrible, but I had sort of grown accustomed to it, and my wife and I had an opportunity to take a trip to Lake Tahoe. It was a deal too good to pass up, as the entire trip (including round trip airfare from Tennessee) was less than $400. I had always wanted to visit that area. Having been a big fan of the television show “Bonanza” as a child, I loved the scenery I saw and had made the comment years ago that I wanted to visit that area just once “before I died.” I admit, I am a fan of the Twilight Zone, and it seemed no small coincidence that I received such an offer to visit Nevada at this time. Translated – I saw this as my chance to visit the area before my death – which might be soon. Although I had that in the back of my mind, I didn’t dwell on it. I was excited about the trip and the break from work and worry, and I was actually looking forward to something for the first time in months. My wife, Debbie, and I left for Lake Tahoe on Wednesday, February 9, 2004. When we arrived, it was every bit as gorgeous as I imagined it would be. I was very happy. That first night we stayed out kind of late and did a bit of sightseeing, but we didn’t overdo it at all – or so I thought. Thursday came and we did more sightseeing, but it was non-exertive. Sure - I felt bad, but I was having a good time. I booked a bus tour that would take me through Carson City, Virginia City, Genoa, Reno and Lake Tahoe for Friday, and was excited about that. Debbie and I made plans to go to a local Steak and Seafood restaurant for dinner that evening, and all was well. But something happened that afternoon that would alter those plans. In the space of an hour, I became more fatigued and short of breath than I had ever been, and I was barely able to make it back to our motel room before collapsing. I couldn’t even talk! I fell into the bed and stayed there until the next morning – no dinner, no sightseeing, nothing. At that point in my life, if I missed a meal it could be assumed that I was deathly ill, and I was that night. I remember thinking that I would die, that death would come for me soon, blah blah blah – having a real pity party for myself as I lay there on the bed. Lucky for me, I recuperated enough during the night that I was able to go on the tour I had booked the next morning. To make a long story somewhat shorter, I enjoyed the tour, but I was so worn out that I don’t remember too much of what I saw. The next day we returned to Tennessee, and I was ready to try to relax. On the trip home, I started telling myself that I had to do something. I told myself that while I could help that I had MS, I could help what I did about it. I could fight it instead of allowing it to control me. I made up in my mind to talk to my doctor at my next appointment (the following Monday) about things I could try to do that might make my life better. TO BE CONTINUED |
| THE ONSET AUGUST – DECEMBER, 2004 In early November, 2004, I was 35 years old, but I felt much older. I was experiencing shortness of breath, muscle pain and numbness, pains in my head and legs, and the most debilitating fatigue I had ever experienced. It was hard for me to work, even though I have a desk job, and any extracurricular activity was absolutely out of the question. Games with my daughter were too strenuous, so I stopped spending that time with her. Honestly, I usually hit the couch as soon as I got home from work and stayed there until bedtime, then get up and repeat the same cycle all over again. I visited three different doctors in the three month span between August and October of that year, and finally received a diagnosis of Multiple Sclerosis from my neurologist in early November. She was very open and honest with me about the prognosis, and she gave me medications to help combat the fatigue and muscle spasms. After I began the medications, I felt really good for about a week or so, but after that I started feeling bad again. There was the issue of how people responded after I told them I had MS. Usually, no matter how they treated me, I resented them. If they pitied me, I was all too quick to tell them that most people with MS live mostly normal and long lives. If they told me that MS wasn’t so bad, I would get angry at their lack of sympathy. My family reacted to my diagnosis in different ways, from tears and worry to fears of how bills would be paid if I became disabled. Later, my father told me that he had known something bad was wrong with me for quite some time, because I had not been “myself” for over a year. He was 71 at the time and not in good health himself, and it caused me to worry that he was worried about me, so I began to make light of MS around friends and family. I would make jokes about what I would do when I had to use a wheelchair and referred to MS as “The Mult” – a term I invented to make the disease sound less like a disease and more like a ride at Disney or something. To complicate things, my weight had ballooned to 265 pounds. The hope I had for my future would not have filled a thimble at that point. I began taking self-injections, along with the other prescription medications I mentioned earlier. I began having constant trouble breathing, and the doctor told me that sometimes MS affected the lungs, and that was probably what was happening to me; then she cautioned me to seek emergency help if the shortness of breath ever caused my skin to turn blue. I checked the internet and learned that when breathing was hampered by MS, it could be a sign of the most serious and dangerous form of MS. There were a lot of references to death in the pages I viewed. Perhaps I gave in or gave up at that point, but I had come to the conclusion that MS was quickly ravaging my body and I would either be incapacitated or dead within a few years. **NOTE: Doctors say it is extremely rare for the disease of MS to cause death in and of itself. In fact, new therapies and drugs are helping in the fight against MS every day. Please do not read this and be discouraged if you have MS, because I am telling you what I was thinking at that point in my life – not what I was told by any physician. It seemed as though everything I did required more effort than I had to give, even things as simple as helping my wife with the housework or picking up after myself. I knew I needed to lose weight and get in shape, but I kept telling myself that if I couldn’t even help with the laundry, there was no way I could get on a treadmill! Also, instead of trying to eat better, I ate more and more junk food and anything else I wanted. (I will give examples of my daily food intake later in the story. It will probably shock most of you.) My job performance suffered greatly during this time, but I didn’t care. I had MS! Poor, poor me…Besides, my doctor had said there was a possibility I would eventually have to go on disability, or cut my work hours in half. So, what did it matter? It didn’t matter to me at all. Nothing mattered to me. The only thing I wanted out of life was to rest, and to be able to stop feeling bad. As you see, I was indeed on a downhill path, but I was the one who was leading the way, through my own insecurity and fear. Christmas Eve, 2004, my family came to my home to open gifts and celebrate as usual. I was actually excited about it, but after only an hour or so, I got so weak and tired that I wasn’t even part of anything. To this day, I can’t remember much of what happened that night. In the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day, I weighed myself and was disappointed to learn my weight had increased to 284 pounds. But, then again, I had an excuse to overeat. I was sick, and I should be able to enjoy something in life! |
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