The most wonderful teacher. Emily.

My daughter, Emily, was eleven months old when I was diagnosed with MS. I'd been for a hike with her in a backpack carrier. We'd hiked to the top of Mt. Tam on a glorious Californian summer's day. It was perfect. The sky was crystal blue, the earth ached with the heat. I worked up a great sweat and remember feeling so happy to be alive, living here in the most beautiful place in the world, mama to a perfect, beautiful little girl.

That evening I couldn't cool down. However much cold water I drank, even after a cool shower, my body seemed to be hot from the inside out. I noticed that when I turned my head and put my chin to chest that I sent a tingling sensation shooting down my spine from my head all the way to my toes. Then, my right arm went numb and heavy. Gradually the numbness moved down to my right hand. By morning I couldn't move my fingers. My whole right arm/hand/fingers were numb.

I didn't panic at first. I went to see a friend who is a chiropractor. Told her what had happened and we concluded that I'd tweaked a nerve from carrying Emily in my backpack on the big hike on a hot day. She adjusted me and I went home feeling happier.

But, the numbness didn't go and then my fingers wouldn't move either. Even when I concentrated so hard on moving them, it was like they weren't part of my body anymore.

I went back to my friend's office the next day, "Hey," I joked, "didn't work, let's try again...". She didn't tell me why, but she said I needed to go and see a doctor immediately. Turns out she knew right then what was going on, but legally cos she's not an MD, by law, she wasn't allowed to diagnose.

The next bit is a blur....Neurologists appointments, blood tests, spinal tap, brain MRIs, spine MRIs, phone calls, trips to Stanford neurology department, more phone calls. Then, 'the' phone call.

I was all alone. It was 4pm in the afternoon, Em was napping. The phone rang and it was the neurologist. "I've got bad news," he said. "You either have an incurable disease, Multiple Sclerosis, which means you'll probably be in a wheel chair in twenty years, or you have a large brain tumor, which, because of where it is positioned in your brain, is incurable."

I was devastated. I still remember exactly where I was standing in my old house. I remember what I was looking out the window at. Life went into slow motion. It was like being in a movie. Time stopped. My life flashed in front of my eyes. "But....but....but...." All I remember was this image fixed in my head of not being able to run and dance with Em. That was so important to me. To be able to run and chase her, play with her and dance with her.

I didn't understand how this had happened or why it had happened to me. At that moment, with that five minute phone call, life as I knew, had changed forever. Forever.

Of course, we figured it out...How, is another story or lots of stories that I'm sure I'll share another time. I can't write anymore of that today because I am crying too hard.

What I want to share today is something Emily, now nine years old, told me recently:

"I want to teach other kids that everyone is different in their own way, and it doesn't matter who you are, you're special. There's nothing different between someone who has a disease and someone who doesn't. The only difference is that sometimes the person who has the disease sometimes feels different and has to take care of themselves.

It's not scary at all, the disease isn't going to hurt you or do anything bad to you.

When the person is sick you just have to be really nice to them, they can't help it, or do anything about it. It's just what's happening to their body. If they're in a wheelchair, you shouldn't be scared, the just have a problem with their legs or feet, they're not like a monster from outta space or something, they can't help it."

Wow.

What an incredible little teacher.

I am so blessed.

xoxoxoxox