I have arrived home having left the house as someone who is in perfect health, barring a numb foot or two, now an MS -what? Patient? Sufferer? Survivor (the urge to sing becomes overwhelming!)?
I have MS. It does not have me, but I have it. I can choose what to do with it, although I know that sometimes what I choose will simply have to be to allow “it” to choose, rather than me. I can – and must – choose to let go to at least some extent. I am not yet ready for that.