Once upon a time, you never would have met a girl with bigger goals. I wanted to sky dive, to backpack through Europe, and to climb a mountain. I wanted to go para-sailing, and to learn to surf. I had decided that, eventually, when I went to college, I would study to become an archaeologist – and yeah, they still have those. I was going to get married, and honeymoon in Italy. I wanted to run a marathon, set a world record, and probably had a bigger bucket list than anyone else I knew.
And then, just before I turned seventeen, I found out I have Relapsing-Remitting Multiple Sclerosis. As a teenager, a blow like that is hard to take; just months before, the world was laying itself at my feet. I think, though, that the doors that closed for me then, I shut myself. I locked them, and threw away the key. I was determined to get by, sure, and I’m so blessed in the fact that my disease isn’t as quickly progressing as so many others, but all I could see was a smart, strong, healthy girl who suddenly wasn’t strong or healthy anymore.
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