By mid-afternoon it has spread to my knees,
Best go to the Doctor, "An appointment, please",
"Let's just wait and see as I haven't a clue,
It'll probably get better, or it may be just flu."

Two days later and still feeling numb,
Back to the Doctor, (as advised by my mum);
"Altered sensations, that's what you've got,
It'll sort itself out"; Has he lost the plot?

The next week, I'm back and at last my GP
Says see a Neurologist (whatever that may be);
There's a 3 month wait?  Oh well what's money for?
The very next week I'm knocking at his door.

He prods me and pokes me with hammers & pins
He tests me for weakness and guess what, he wins;
You'll need a Lumbar puncture and an MRI scan
At last someone believes me, he's a very nice man!

The scan comes back normal, so I must be OK,
But first there's the spinal, oh please go away.
Inflammation shows up in my spinal cord,
"It may come back", I'm told, "of it's own accord".

"Now if it comes back, and it probably will,
Then you'll have MS, but not until.
So you've probably got it, but then maybe not,
Don't think about it", well at least not a lot.

A few months have gone by and the tingle's come back,
This time in my arms and a little round the back.
The bathroom it seems is my favourite place,
And suffice to say I'm not washing my face!

So back to the Neurologist, that very nice man,
Who says, "Well; this is it" (as nice as he can).
So here I am with "official" MS;
How will it progress? well that's anyone's guess.

Live day to day, you can't alter fate,
If you're tired, go to sleep, the washing can wait,
One thing I know, and I hope you can see;
I've got MS, but it's not having me!

© Gael Finch, 2001