The Day Everything Changed (And What Came After)

I never planned on writing about this.

To be honest, parts of this experience still feel unresolved – maybe even a little traumatic. But I think that’s exactly why I need to.

I’m hoping that by putting it into words, I can make sense of it… or at the very least, take a step forward.

Because in 2020, my entire world flipped upside down.

And ever since then, I’ve been trying to flip it back.

When people hear “2020,” they usually think about the pandemic.

This has nothing to do with that.

This is something different.

I had just turned 30, and physically, I was in one of the best stretches of my life.

I was working as an ER nurse, going to the gym regularly, and fully locked into getting bigger and stronger. Life felt… stable. Predictable. Good.

Then one day, after a heavy back workout, I noticed something strange – I was losing feeling in my feet.

I didn’t think much of it. I figured I had pinched a nerve or tweaked something lifting. It didn’t hurt. It was just … numb.

Over the next couple of days, that numbness started creeping up my legs.

I could still move normally, still go about my day, but something felt off. The sensation wasn’t right. It was dull, almost like my body wasn’t fully connected to itself anymore.

Still, I told myself it would pass.

Until one morning, I woke up and felt that same numbness wrapping around my abdomen.

That’s when something clicked.

Back in nursing school, we learned about Guillain-Barre syndrome – the classic “ascending” pattern of numbness and weakness. And for the first time, I felt a real sense of uneasiness.

Due to the fear of that numbness continuing to ascend up into my lungs and potentially inhibit my ability to breathe (the worst case scenario in Guillain-Barre), my wife and I decided to go to the emergency department.

At first, everything felt routine. Bloodwork. Imaging. Waiting. I honestly expected to be told it was something simple – a herniated disc maybe? – and be sent home.

But as the hours went on, I started to notice subtle changes in the vibe in the emergency department.

The tone of conversations shifted. The staff became more serious. Less casual.

I was admitted to the hospital and told that I’d be going to the neurology floor.

That’s when the anxiety really set in.

Test after test followed – scans, nerve studies, long stretches of waiting in between. I tried to stay calm. I even reassured my nervous wife.

But internally, I was starting to prepare for bad news.

Eventually, a young neurology resident came into my room.

I could tell he was nervous before he spoke.

He explained that the scans had shown lesions on my brain and spinal cord – findings consistent with Multiple Sclerosis.

Everything went quiet.

My ears rang. Time slowed down.

My wife and I broke down together right there in the room.

I wish I would’ve been stronger for her in that moment.

As a nurse, I understood what that diagnosis could mean.

As a person, I wasn’t ready to hear it.

I spent the next several days in the hospital – more tests, IV steroids, trying to wrap my head around what my future might look like.

And even then, I knew something had changed permanently.

Life wasn’t going to be the same.

That moment still stays with me.

But so does something else.

The realization that no matter how much your life changes – no matter how uncertain things feel – you still have to find a way to move forward.

One day at a time.

If you’re reading this, this blog is where I’m going to share that process. Not just the diagnosis – but everything that comes with it.

Being a dad.

Going through divorce.

Trying to rebuild physically and mentally.

Figuring out what life is supposed to look like now.

I don’t have everything figured out.

But I’m showing up, and I’m working on it.

One day at a time.