2011 was a rather peculiar year. There were a number of accomplishments awaiting me. I had awesome grades, I was elected the leader of the council and my college plans were mapping out just as I had planned. Endless hours of SAT preparation (yes, I initially wanted to go to US college) and constantly planning events as part of the council at school, I was busy in a life which was giving me all that I wanted. This year, however, took an unexpected turn. On the last day of my internal A-Level exams, I felt a strange headache which then began to persist. Soon, I was shivering with high fever. I did not take it seriously for a few days thinking that it was probably the result of exertion, stress and even the bright scorching sun of Pakistan that I was constantly subjected to. When the fever began to persist, my parents got more worried. Vomiting and photophobia followed. Photophobia was perhaps one of the scariest things I have encountered in my life as of yet. Not being able to see the light is frustrating. Doctors tried a number of anti-biotics, anti-virals and even gave me Malaria Tablets. When everything they wanted to try had failed, they resorted to what they felt was the only option left- a lumber puncture. Whilst being hospitalised, this test was done which seemed completely horrific. (However, in all honesty, it actually was not that bad.) The LP did not show anything but some inflammation and so the doctors resorted to what the thought was the only means to deal with steroids and misdiagnose me with just viral meningitis.
I began to recover, but within a few days things got worse. My legs started getting stiff, my left eye went a little blur and then I stopped peeing. That is when I broke down for the first time. No one knew what was happening with me. All the doctors were confused but none of them referred me to a neurologist. Being catheterised was one of the most painful experiences. I remember how vulnerable it made me and how handicapped it made me feel. Anyhow, I was finally sent by a very 'mean' doctor (who i still appreciate despite his harshness) to a neurologist. This neurologist diagnosed me with Multiple Sclerosis (without an MRI) and then asked me to get an MRI done. My first MRI was scarier than the ones I have had later. I saw my father cry for the first time when I was lifted into the machine. He could not see me in all that pain. I could not feel anything in my feet by now and I was completely blind from one eye.
Once the MRI was done we opted for a second opinion and the neurologist claimed that it was not MS but just ADEM and that was something that only happened once in a lifetime. My parents sent reports to the UK and US where a similar diagnosis was made. I was happy. I felt ecstatic. The steroids started working. I was back on my feet. I was seeing again. I was going to school again. I got into my dream university in London. I met my conditions. I spent an awesome one and a half years there.
Then, another attack struck me in December 2013.