Cory Martin's LOVE SICK: A Memoir about a young woman's journey dating with M.S. and her path to finding balance

EXCERPT FROM LOVE SICK by Cory MartinrnReprinted with Permission from Write Out! Publishing rnCopywright: Cory Martin, 2016 OMG. FML. I am too old for initial speak, or internet jargon, but this is the kind of shit that’s floating around my brain these days. rnMy life has always been simple, clear cut and easy to understand. rnI was born outside of Chicago. Moved to Indiana at the age of ten. Played sports, practiced the piano, made my bed, brushed my teeth, got good grades, went to a fine college, graduated, got a job, paid my bills, lived on my own. rnEverything was clearly defined.rnBut now? Now, in the days after seeing my neurologist? My world is thrown upside down by just two letters and the only definition I have for it all is from the National Multiple Sclerosis Society:rnMultiple sclerosis is an immune-mediated process in which an abnormal response of the body’s immune system is directed against the central nervous system, i.e., the brain, spinal cord, and optic nerves. When any part of the myelin or nerve is damaged, or destroyed, nerve impulses traveling to and from the brain and spinal cord are distorted or interrupted, producing a wide variety of symptoms. rnAnd all I can think is, WTF does this all mean for me?rnMultiple sclerosis isn’t like cancer or diabetes or HIV. I didn’t grow up knowing about it. It wasn’t taught in health class and there certainly weren’t ads, shows, or movies depicting its effects on someone’s life. rnIt’s an enigma. A mysterious force occurring within my body. Only it’s not like when I was approaching puberty, and wondering about my growing chest, or that hair down there; it’s a whole other beast. No one I know has been through what I’m experiencing. I can’t look to older friends, my mom, or aunts, and ask, “What was it like when your arms went numb?” rnInstead, it’s me at my computer staying up ’til four in the morning researching my future, looking for solace. But comfort is hard to find. There are blogs and websites built around providing information about the disease. Chat rooms filled with horror stories and how to overcome certain factors. The National MS Society has monthly newsletters and quarterly magazines with updates on research and drug trials. And there are plenty of informational sessions at the hospital. But there’s nothing to tell me exactly what is going to happen to my body, my life. It’s like I’ve been dealt the broken Magic 8 Ball of diseases. All the answers are clouded and the more I shake things up, the more the bubbles take over.rnI’m supposed to be at an age where I feel at home in my own skin, enjoying the prowess of a figure shaped by down dog and the gym, but I can’t get behind my own strength. Outwardly I appear strong, inwardly I feel completely disconnected, as if the figure I inhabit is no longer mine. I feel like I’m having some sort of out-of-body experience, only I know this will not lead to any type of spiritual enlightenment no matter how many “oms” I chant. This is a scientific problem, not a metaphysical one. And while I’m no physicist, I know enough to know the equation of my future will not be an easy one to solve.rnMS plus X, factor in the variables, divide by Y, take it to the tenth degree and ugh, I’m tired just thinking about it.rnBut this is my reality, so I keep researching and I discover that I now have to fit into a category. It’s like the way my friends and I categorize the men we’ve dated, only instead of rating things like marriage potential and fuckability, this is a sliding scale of how bad the MS could end up being.rnThere’s the relapsing-remitting category of multiple sclerosis, where people have temporary periods called relapses, flare-ups, or exacerbations when symptoms appear. rnThen there’s the secondary-progressive category, where symptoms worsen more steadily over time, with or without relapses.rnAnd then there’s primary-progressive, where symptoms slowly worsen from the beginning with no relapses or remissions.rnAnd the last category is progressive-relapsing, where the disease steadily worsens from the beginning with acute relapses but no remissions, with or without recovery.rnCurrently I am in the relapsing-remitting category, where my symptoms appear and then disappear, but there’s no guarantee that I will stay there. rnIf more symptoms occur, there’s a chance I could recover and then go into remission, but there’s also a chance of relapse—and everyone knows when you relapse it just gets harder and harder to break free from the pattern of destruction. rnAnd now I’m wondering, is this what happens with MS? Does it just become a sequence of demolition to the body? Like a pattern of dating the wrong guys, slowly breaking you down until you’re a shell of your old existence? rnI feel like Oz’s Tin Man and Scarecrow and Lion all at once, looking for those one things I think I need. The courage. A heart. A brain.