Life in my body... with multiple sclerosis

When Kimberley Roan McVeigh, 33, from Glasgow, first became unwell, she put her symptoms down to a trapped nerve

four years ago, I woke up and realised that I couldn’t feel my right leg. It was an otherwise unremarkable Thursday morning in April, and I put the numbness down to sleeping funny, or a trapped nerve.

I was working as a teacher and couldn’t contemplate the idea of falling ill. Before that day, I’d been feeling more tired than usual, but had put it down to ‘teacher’s flu’. In fact, I’d felt embarrassed that I was seemingly unable to ‘hack the pace’ of my new job. But when I swung my legs out of bed and couldn’t feel the ground beneath me, I knew it was time to see a doctor.

My GP referred me for tests and I was taken to hospital, where I fretted about occupying a bed that could have been more urgently needed by someone else. After scans and a lumbar puncture – where needles are put into your back to extract spinal fluid – I was allowed to leave, but returned for MRIs and further appointments.

Finally, six months later, I was diagnosed with relapsing multiple sclerosis (MS), an incurable neurological condition that affects your brain and spinal cord. In people who have MS, their immune system mistakenly attacks the coating that protects their nerves (myelin). It’s estimated that there are over 130,000 people living with MS in the UK.*

Part of the reason it can take so long to get a diagnosis is because the symptoms are so varied – for some people, MS impacts their vision, but others lose their balance or their ability to walk, talk and swallow. My MS is characterised by loss of sensation, muscle spasms and extreme fatigue (to the extent that even putting my hair in rollers can feel exhausting).

At first, I was in a daze. Hearing people say things like ‘Is MS the one where you end up in a wheelchair?’ didn’t help either, but doing a course with Revive MS, a support organisation, taught me that grieving isn’t something we only do when a loved one dies – you can grieve for your health, too. Once I’d accepted that, I educated myself about MS. I made a new life motto: it’s incurable, not terminal. My diagnosis forced me to consider what makes life valuable and what brings me joy. I’m still a teacher (and after a year of practice, can walk in heels again) but I have to pace myself. If I’m overtired, my leg will go again. Now, I use MS as a driving force to go after what makes me happy.

For more information about MS, visit Mssociety.org.uk