A Long Road Home.

It's been 12 years since I first experienced weakness in my legs. In the intervening years, I've seen 9 neurologists and undergone an unimaginable number of tests. My symptoms still persist, and there's still no official name for what I have. However, all these years and experiences have ultimately brought me to a very peaceful place. I've decided that "MS is the right place for me."

Something blindsided me in January of 1988. A mysterious illness ripped through my body and left, in its wake, a profound overall weakness and legs that buckled and collapsed with every step. Looking for an answer, I wobbled through a gauntlet of universities, clinics, and doctors. Several neurologists suspected MS but could find no evidence. I was told how difficult it could be to diagnose, that it might take 10 years or more, and one doctor even said that the only way to confirm the diagnosis was an autopsy.

Not quite ready for one, I continued searching, and was referred to a prominent Chicago neurologist. He, too, suspected MS, and he, too--after years of exhaustive tests and ritual annual visits--found no evidence of the disease. But he also didn't know what I did have. So, after 7 years of living in this limbo, I quit looking for answers.

The illness had forced me to leave my home in Texas and return to family in Michigan. Once there, I gradually withdrew from others as I tried to adjust to my weakness and fatigue. Eventually, however, I returned to full-time work and distracted myself with other activities. Though noticeably weak in the legs, I could still walk, and I did--often, and for long distances. Then I discovered that I could run even better! With forward momentum, the leg weakness wasn't nearly as pronounced, so I began running seriously. In fact, I have completed three 26-mile marathons. But I could never totally run away from thoughts of MS.

Early on in my illness I had worked as an MS fundraiser and attended MS support groups in Texas. But as time went by and I still had no MS label, I began to feel awkward and out of place at the meetings. Eventually I stopped going.

Suddenly, and surprisingly, I felt ready to approach MS again. After all the years spent wondering and worrying, I better understood my own doubts and fears and felt equipped to give something back. People I knew cautioned me about getting involved with MS. They feared I'd come away unduly frightened.

"Nobody has diagnosed you with MS!" I was firmly reminded.

So I tried other volunteer organizations instead, but they didn't feel right. I kept remembering my dad telling me about having eye problems as a young child and how he became a lifelong Lions Club member because of their crusade against eye disease.

Then, I noticed a tiny ad in the local paper placed by the Michigan Chapter's Friendly Visitor Program. Its mission was to find volunteers to visit people with MS residing in long-term care facilities, and to build an ongoing relationship with one of them.

Well, whatever I had surely seemed neurological. That ad did it. I decided I needed to go back to MS--and maybe in the process I'd find closure for a case never quite closed--my own.

On my first visit as a volunteer, I was taken to a nursing home and introduced to a man with severe MS. After just a few minutes, John and I discovered many common interests, and we agreed to continue meeting. Then, every week, we discussed a wide range of topics and got to know each other--and MS--much, much better. In time, I realized that MS is the right place for me, official diagnosis or not. After 12 long years, I had finally come home.

Richard Martinovich works for a wireless communications company in Kalamazoo, Michigan.