Continuously Reconstructed.

As I walked into the brilliant, almost distressing sunlight, with its intense golden yellows and effulgent oranges, I squinted my eyes so quickly I winced as they shut. I took a breath while the warmth dried away any residual tears on my cheeks from the movie. When I opened my eyes two identical maroon Toyota Corrolas passed the front of the theater. Both with worn, rusted hubcaps and the license plate number 3UF 579. I shook my head.

‘That’s not right?’ I thought as I noticed identical twins walking toward the crosswalk. They had mousy-brown hair pulled up in a messy bun, held by a turquoise cloth scrunchy. Both wearing the same salmon-summer sweater and low-cut blue jeans. I am a twin, but we stopped wearing the same clothes when we were 7 years old. These two had to have been in their 20s.

I closed my eyes again with deliberate force and felt the thin veil of the shadows of an illuminated world go darker. After a few seconds I opened them and the binary microcosm retreated into its natural aspect. I walked slowly to my car, taking in the panorama as it was meant to be seen, while a more sinister invader receded into the umbra.

I suppose in some ways I’m a scholar of science. Not formally educated, except a minor in Physics during undergrad, but still veraciously devouring books and articles on one form of science or another. I think I’m drawn to the root of scientific exploration, which is to find the truth. The truth is out there and scientists want to examine every aspect of the physical and sometimes meta-physical world to learn what that truth is. I like to examine what the truth of my life is. Where are there areas of my life that I don’t fully understand (a lot!) and can dig deeper to find a truth?

At the beginning of the summer I picked up a book called “The Science of Stories” by Janos Laszlo, giving an introduction to Narrative Psychology. An opportunity to learn more about the intersection where science meets story and the interchangeable effects each has on the other, sign me up!

What struck me most in the book was a theory around how the past should be continuously reconstructed in light of the present and the future. I had not considered that the past could be reconstructed at all. It was done and what happened happened, so how can a past, my past, be reconstructed? In pondering this I remembered the first symptom I had of MS when I was 19 years old. Double vision. I was leaving a movie theater and as soon as I walked out I started to see two of everything. It was a jarring experience and not the last of that symptom and eventually many more.

Over the course of my twenties I would think back on this moment and the subsequent bouts of double vision with confusion. I would ask people if my eyes were moving when it was happening, they weren’t. I talked with my then optometrist and primary care doctor, who both dismissed it. It couldn’t be that serious if these doctors weren’t concerned. I spent a long time accepting this as normal. What was the cause? Who cares, I’m 23 years old and starting my first job! Why does this keep happening? I lost feeling in my left leg, is that connected? Why worry, when I just bought my first house! More symptoms, mis-diagnosis, almost fatal allergic reactions to mis-prescribed medications. 16 years of wondering, being disregarded, not believed. Questioning myself.

After my diagnosis I began to reflect on the past. The seemingly independent manifestations of a very real, very serious disease. Finally knowing the truth has allowed me to see my past differently. With a clearer understanding of what was happening. I wasn’t lazy, I was depressed. A symptom of MS. I wasn’t having occasional vision issues, I had double vision due to lesions affecting my optic nerve. I didn’t have a pinched nerve in my back, I lost feeling in my leg because of lesions on my spine. I didn’t have insomnia and ADD, these were symptoms of MS.

Perspective. Learning new information. These can help us to reconstruct our biographies. Our understanding of self. Of our experiences. The past can most definitely be reconstructed in light of the present and future. I know more now, than I did, and I suspect I will continue to learn in the future, which will shine even more light on the past.

I am comforted by the idea that I can, not necessarily re-write the past, but organize it with a more complete awareness.

How have you been able to reconstruct your past after diagnosis?