USA TODAY International Edition
After initial fears, life with MS goes on
NASCAR driver Trevor Bayne, who became the youngest Daytona 500 winner in history in 2011, announced Tuesday that he has been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis but will continue to race for the Roush Fenway Racing team.
Without knowing Bayne personally, it’s impossible to speak to his experience with multiple sclerosis. But I can speak to my own.
After suffering an array of symptoms for more than a year, I was diagnosed with MS in October 2008.
Before treatment, I felt a chronic, knifing pain in my upper back and neck and found simple tasks from buttoning my pants to grabbing a G chord on the guitar grow increasingly difficult because of constant numbness in my left hand. A couple of times, I entirely lost control of my left arm. It became spasmodic and hostile, like someone else’s limb had been haphazardly attached to my body and wanted desperately to leave. It was terrifying.
But for as scary as the symptoms could be, none of the real pain or discomfort I felt tormented me more than the diagnosis itself in the months that followed. So I imagine it must be for Bayne. The effects of MS are so vague and potentially so comprehensive that every single little ache — every pain, every charley horse, every hiccup, every stuttered word — made me fear the disease was gaining ground.
Never mind that my doctor told me the same thing Bayne likely has heard: Patients diagnosed with MS these days don’t have to expect it to progress. Massive advancements in research and treatment over the last few decades can keep the disease in check, so people like me and Bayne aren’t necessarily doomed to complicated lives of perpetual pain.
That information came as little solace to me whenever I felt a twinge and suspected the worst. The uncertainty of it — the horrifying ambiguity surrounding anything that happened to my body — left me feeling anxious and scared on a daily basis.
But I found comfort in competition — not competition anywhere near the level of professional sports, but I was never built for that in the first place. When I played baseball or rode my bike or worked out at the gym, I could measure the ways my body was still performing in the same
But for as scary as the symptoms could be, none of the real pain or discomfort I felt tormented me more than the diagnosis itself in the months that followed. So I imagine it must be for Bayne.
way it did before I ever felt a symptom. And in time, thanks to that knowledge, I stopped worrying about the disease and mostly stopped thinking about it.
There are still bad days, of course. Sometimes my back hurts so much I can’t sleep at night, and I always feel pain when I turn my head fully to the left. But those things — and the disease itself — are just part of me now, something that I’m used to and I understand and I can manage along with all the other mundane headaches of normal life.
Because the symptoms and severity of the disease can vary greatly by patient, again, I can’t speak for Bayne or anyone else living with MS. But I know this: You can’t let what hurts you define you. Not if you have any other option, at least.
A driver pushing forward in the face of an MS diagnosis might mean a lot to his fans and teammates, but ultimately it will mean the most to Bayne. With time, treatment and good luck, he will know that multiple sclerosis is not nearly as big a deal as it sounds or feels after the initial news. It’s a challenge he faces, as it has been for me for the last six years. But we all face challenges.