After crying like a bitch for half an hour, I never cried about it again. It wasn't the fear of the disease or what it would do to me that made me cry. It wasn't the fact that "it couldn't happen to me". It wasn't because the shooting pains and nerve pains were unbearable. It wasn't because I couldn't sleep at night when it actually felt like 5 inch nails were being hammered into my skull. Not because different body parts were numb each day or because I couldn't walk on my own. It wasn't even the fact that a lot of people with MS end up in fukking wheelchairs. It was because I was helpless. Throughout my life, like many others, I've faced one hardship after another. And honestly, as tough as times have been as a child and a teenager, I could always fight for myself. When we were broke, I hustled to eat. When my drunk father beat the shit out of me for fun, I hit him back. When no one understood me, I went out on my own. When I got locked up, I stayed strong, read books, and found a way (with the help of "The Autobiography of Malcolm X" and some very special Teachers) to change my life for the better. When my biological parents couldn't take my shit anymore, I found the greatest family on earth and became a part of it. With MS, there was nothing I could do. I just had to take it. I'm a strong person. But what can I say, some things make you crack. MS didn't just crack me, it cut me into pieces and I didn't know how to pick them up. The night of the diagnosis, Goodfella, his two brothers and Mrs Goodfella took me out to dinner. I had steak (New York - I hate NY cuts, if it's not ribeye or tenderloin..it aint steak). We also had that crab/artichoke/cheese flat bread and dip thing we used to smash at that spot. Anyway, we sat there and ate. We didn't really talk about the MS a lot at all. I think they just wanted to get my mind off of it. Bless them for it, but its all I thought about.

That night in bed, a million things went through my head. My family, friends, teaching, school, poker, girls, golf, partying, career, kids, a wife, traveling, and on and on. I thought about which things could be affected. I thought about how all of them could be affected. What if it got worse and worse? What if I couldn't teach one day or play poker or golf or pick up chicks or get married and have kids? What if I had to spend my 30's and 40's in a wheelchair? I fell asleep worrying about my life, uncertain about the future, and sad that this was happening to me. When I woke up, it was all gone...

The following day, "nothingness" started for me. Its the best way I can explain how I felt about any and everything. The way I felt about my life, my body, my present, and my future. All the worries were magically gone over one night's sleep. I didn't think about any of the things I mentioned before. When I tried to just think about something, I couldn't come up with anything to think about. Maybe this sounds bizarre to you but honestly, it was just "nothingness". So much of my body was numb, finally my brain and heart had become numb too. My vision was still fukked. My body was weak. I was tired 24 hours a day. I woke up, brushed my teeth and in a matter of minutes, it felt like I had been awake for 20 hours. My entire body was in pain. The shooting pains were bad enough to make me want to scream, cry, and jump off the balcony. I slept so much. I would sleep, wake up for a few minutes and go right back to sleep. I didn't think about anything. Really, I didn't care about shit either.

Looking back, it was the feeling of defeat that caused me to stop caring. Like I said before, I had overcome obstacle after obstacle. Some of them had been put in front of me by others and some were self inflicted. But no matter how battered and bruised I was both mentally and physically, I always found my way around them, over them, under them or sometimes, right fukking through them. This time around it was different. For years in Toronto, I felt like I finally turned things around from my teenage days and I wasn't just on the way up, I was there! I was proud of owning a business and making money and being around people I loved. When we had to shut down the club, a lot of that went missing in my life. I was angry that it wasn't my choice to do so. I was also sad I guess. Then, when I was sitting in hospitals and doctor's offices being told about my neurological disease, naturally, it just made everything worse.

I never said this to anyone before. Not one person. At that point, although it is something I'm ashamed of, I wished I was dead. It wasn't the disease on its own that made me feel this way. It was an entire life of always having to struggle. The MS didn't just bring physical and mental pain, it reached deep within me and pulled out every hurt feeling and horrible experience I had suffered. Finally, I didn't want to fight anymore. I was done. "You win" I thought. Don't know to who or what, but I was throwing in the towel. Enough is enough, fukk it.. "you win". There are so many people suffering so much pain in the world that would trade their lives for mine in a heartbeat. But at the time, I didn't give a shit about feeling this way. I felt like I was entitled to that feeling. Can you imagine? Feeling entitled to giving up. WTF. I didn't want to learn about the disease or figure out a healthy lifestyle to give me the best chance at a normal life. I didn't care about how I would tell my family and friends. I didn't care that people felt sad for me. Honestly, I didn't even care about them. For the first in my life, I felt and believed I was a victim. There was nothing I could do about it. Everything was nothing. I just didn't give a fukk...