I PREPARED FOR THE WORST, THE WORST NEVER CAME

Living with MS will have you preparing for things that haven’t even happened yet.

As we continue our conversation about navigating summer with MS, I couldn't help but wonder if this was the worst possible time to skip my scheduled infusion. Heat is one of my biggest triggers, and after a week of triple-digit temperatures, my upcoming surgery meant I had to postpone the treatment that had protected me for nearly two years.

My mind immediately went back to life before my diagnosis was under control. Before treatment, I experienced two MS episodes every single day. The infusion gave me my life back. So when I learned I had to go without it, I didn't think about surgery.

I thought about the “what ifs”

What if the episodes came back? What if one happened while I was driving? At work? In front of a room full of people? My mind did what it thought it was supposed to do. It started writing stories where everything I'd worked so hard to rebuild disappeared overnight.

So I prepared for the worst. Then … the worst never came.

Instead, there was fatigue. A little soreness. Some aching. But not one MS episode. Not one.

That moment taught me something I didn’t know I needed to learn.

When you live with a chronic illness, preparation can slowly become anxiety wearing a responsible outfit. We prepare because we have to. We pack medications before outfits. We know where the nearest hospital is before the nearest brunch spot. We carry backup plans because our bodies don't always follow the itinerary.

Preparation is part of surviving. But somewhere along the way, I forgot that preparation and panic are not the same thing.

Over the last two years, I haven’t just relied on medication. I’ve changed the way I eat, committed to a movement that honors my body, reduced stress, and become more intentional about protecting my peace. None of those things replaced my treatment, but together they’ve become part of the foundation that’s helping me live well with MS.

This experience also gave me something I wasn’t expecting: confidence. Confidence to have a different conversation with my neurologist about what treatment might look like in the future. Maybe my infusion schedule will remain exactly the same. Maybe it won’t. Either way, I’ve learned that preparing for the future isn’t just about expecting the worst. It’s also about recognizing how far I’ve come.

I prepared for the worst. The worst never came.

Maybe healing isn’t just about trusting the medicine. Maybe it’s also about learning to trust the woman I’ve become.