"C'mon, hurry up in there!"
That's my MS.
"Get a move on, we're gonna be late!"
Not my Mrs. My MS. Multiple Sclerosis. My bosom buddy since my diagnosis back in 1996.
It was a routine physical until I mentioned the numbness in my left hand and how my right leg would stop working a half-mile into a run. (Who needs to run more than a half-mile anyway, right?)
My doctor ran his fingers lightly around my bare waist.
Either he was onto something or this was my opportunity...
