I awoke with a start the following day. Actually, I’m not sure it can be classified as an awakening – I’m sure I never slept more than 10 minutes straight.
“Well, that really sucked,” I thought.
It was a combination of the sleep that sucked and the previous day. My legs are numb, and my disposition a bit surly. I drop down out of bed with me feet landing solidly on the floor. “Oh, yeah, numb feet.” I rub my legs and chest in effort to understand the sensation I’m feeling. This numbness is unusual. There’s the numbness experienced when an arm falls asleep in the middle of the night. That’s not it. I relate it to more on the level of numbness felt several hours after dental work, and the freezing is subsiding. Still numb, yet there’s feeling. The brilliant thing with my legs is that everything works as designed. With that there shouldn’t be anything holding me back.
It’s a work day. Great. The job of a police officer requires attention, mental focus, and being surly is frowned upon. I learned early in the job that 95 percent of the job is repetitive, and a bit dull, with the remaining five percent being sheer terror. One never knows what challenge the day will bring.
I got ready and went off to work as usual, except for this niggling in the back of my mind. I struggle with the idea that I have a need to inform my employer of my possible diagnosis. As is my habit, I arrive early for my seven-a.m. shift. The building is quiet. I change into my crime-fighting outfit, check the cell block for any prisoners, sign on to shift over the radio, then make my way to a desk. I pretend to be busy as I await the day shift to slowly trickle in. I open my emails, but don’t really look at them. My mind is too distracted. I’m quickly alerted by the crackling of the radio. It’s a call for service. It’s the type of call that will keep me busy for a couple of hours. I climb into my police car and make my way, a distant drive from the city, to speak with the complainant. It’s a way to quiet the noise in my head.
After a couple hours on the road I arrive back at the office and seek out the Staff Sergeant. He’s a tall, lean, tough, no-nonsense guy. He’s that guy you either like or you don’t — with him there’s a hazy grey area. I find him approachable. I walk into his office in the back corner of the building. I see he can sense there’s something on my mind. He knew from our front desk co-worker that I was faced with a serious health issue, and had spent the previous day in the regional hospital. I think he sensed something in me when I began to speak and he looked at my face.
Then he did something I never expected. Rather than close his office door, he grabbed the keys to his police truck, and we walked out of the office. We drove out of the city. It was my sense that he wanted to save me from the inevitable embarrassment I would feel in the office. I’ve always been thankful for that kind touch of his humanity.
I was quiet until we got out amongst the fresh green fields of Nicola Ranch. He told me of a previous conversation he had and could tell something was wrong immediately when he saw me. It took me a bit. I stared out the window and watched those familiar ranch fields pass by.
“I spent the day in the hospital yesterday,” I said, “they put me in an MRI….”
I wanted to tell him, but I felt sadness taking over. A lump was building in my throat. My eyes are tearing up. I continued staring out the window. The truck slowed.
“You okay, Colin?”
I was quiet for a bit. I could tell he was concerned. It was comforting coming from a this six-foot-six guy who could easily stare down vicious attack police dogs.
I told him the events of the previous day, and the strange words from the neurologist.
“The doc said, have you considered MS,” I told him with crackled voice.
Toughen up Colin.
“From what I’ve read, and from what he said, I think I have MS,” I told him, my voice finding traction. But, I explained that the neurologist’s hesitation is because the initial diagnosis has a few steps before it’s confirmed.
“So what do you need,” he asked.
I told him that it would be best if I had a second opinion from a doctor who is very familiar with MS.
“Leave it with me.” He then told me I should take the rest of the day off.
I was back to work the following day. Several days later I received a call from a Dr. Hashimoto’s office for an appointment arranged for me by our health services doctor. I learned that Dr. Hashimito is one of the province’s top MS doctor. The appointment was a month away in Vancouver.
Things are getting serious. My legs are still numb.
On The Road With MS 