From practitioner to patient: My unexpected MS relapse
I started questioning myself when new symptoms took me by surprise
The night before I was supposed to teach an autoimmune nutrition class, I reentered a role I thought I’d finally outgrown. Instead of educating other practitioners in the functional medicine space, I found myself in the emergency room, listing symptoms I couldn’t fully untangle or explain.
I wasn’t there to analyze anyone else’s labs or support their journey. I was the one in the gown now, trying to stay coherent under fluorescent lights while describing pressure, electric nerve pain, and a feeling I couldn’t quite name.
I’m a registered dietitian with a master’s degree in functional medicine. I’ve spent years as an integrative practitioner, specializing in autoimmune disease and supporting clients through diagnoses, flares, recoveries, and the space in between. I know how this works. I know the physiology and what to look for. I know what a relapse feels like.
But I didn’t catch this one. I told myself it was mechanical. Maybe it was a structural issue or maybe nerve impingement. Something new, but not something familiar. But the MRI told a different story. There were two new lesions: one in my brain and one in my spinal cord. My multiple sclerosis (MS) had been reactivated.
Even then, I tried to talk myself into another explanation. It didn’t feel like my old disease. It felt like something else had opened the door. But at the time, I was too tired to theorize, too exhausted to argue, and too tired to admit what it all meant.
Treatment began quickly, consisting of five rounds of plasmapheresis followed by rituximab (known by the brand name Rituxan).
A heart monitor threw another diagnosis into the mix, and a second thread unraveled. I watched my heart rate jump all over the place, from the 80s to the 130s without movement. If I moved, it soared into the 150s and set off the alarms. I realized that for the past year, I hadn’t been dealing with anxiety simply from an overload of stress. I was dealing with tachycardia. Upon release, I was diagnosed with postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS).
And in that moment, things clicked into place. I had a bout of COVID-19 last year. I thought I’d recovered. But quietly, subtly, something had shifted, and I hadn’t fully realized it until my nervous system made it undeniable. The POTS diagnosis, as a symptom of long COVID, didn’t replace the MS relapse. It helped explain why it had happened. This issue wasn’t just a flare. It was a complete nervous system fallout.
Lessons from a new diagnosis
The biggest battle hasn’t been the stack of diagnoses but the emotional and professional tug-of-war they’ve illuminated. I’m not just a patient. I’m a practitioner who’s built my professional life around helping others walk through these moments. And yet here I was at that moment, myself. I’d somehow missed this.
For days, I asked myself, “Can I still be a practitioner? Can I still hold space for others when I’m not standing steady myself?”
It’s not that anyone questioned me. My patients were gracious, kind, and supportive. It was me. I was the one who believed I had to stay strong to be useful. I thought I had to be healed to be trustworthy or be “done” with something before I could talk about it.
But I’m not done. I’m in it. And I’ve realized that that doesn’t make me less capable.
I’m not modeling perfection. I’m modeling presence. And sometimes that means pressing pause instead of powering through. Sometimes it means choosing rest, not because you’re weak, but because you’ve finally stopped equating capacity with worth.
I still don’t have complete clarity on what comes next. I don’t know how long this recovery will take or how my body will navigate the tangled threads of relapse, dysautonomia, and repair. But I do know I’m not writing this column from the other side. I’m writing it from the middle. And maybe that’s what makes it matter.
When you live with chronic illness and work in healthcare, you’re constantly dancing between two identities: practitioner and patient. You lead, you teach, you reassure, and sometimes you’re quietly unraveling behind the scenes. I used to think that made me an impostor. Now I think it just makes me human. Holding both identities doesn’t make me less capable. It makes me honest.
This flare is not the end of my work. But it’s asking me to lead from presence, not polish, and to model real-time resilience, not resolution.
Healing isn’t linear. Sometimes it loops or breaks. And sometimes it brings you right back to where you started, but carrying everything you’ve learned along the way. Maybe what makes someone credible isn’t perfection, but the courage to keep showing up as your whole unfinished self. We’re all still becoming. I’m learning there’s more strength in walking with others than waiting until you’ve arrived to turn around and offer a helping hand.
Note: Multiple Sclerosis News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Multiple Sclerosis News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to multiple sclerosis.
About the Author
Karen
Ahna, thank you for taking the time to post as you say middle of recovery. As a practitioner myself, your perspective resonates with me. I struggle with having to pour into patients whilst leaving enough reserve for myself. I have stepped away from medical SLP because I found the increase stress associated with a hospital didn't support my wellness. I am still working through overcoming my symptoms as well. I chose to consider a different setting to facilitate my wellness goals and relearn how better to care for myself because I understand I'm a model for those seeking my clinical intervention. My hope is that you will continue to move forward and regain your health as well as prioritize the same attention to yourself as we do to our patients. Keep us updated on your recovery. Praying for your well-being. Sound like you're a determined lady but this MS sucks! Take care!
Tom A
My understanding is the ultimate cause of MS is not known. Of course, you must have the necessary genetics (among like 200+ identified genes influencing how the immune system works, reacts to things, etc.). Then follows the potential factors that set off the immune attack, depending on those genes. So in my case, I smoke a half pack now, much more before, and most would point and say, "there it is, your cause"! Only problem is, my same age female cousin also has MS and never smoked more than maybe a puff in her whole life. We have both had it 35 years, so I've seen a lot in The MS World. My brother, other cousins, have smoked, and no MS. The question overall, is how does functional medicine approach MS differently? To me, it just seems like someone else saying "I've got the answer others don't have". There are a few things about diet, exercise, perhaps infection that may have influences. But what are you going to tell me that's different than a Doctor, that is not confused with mumbo jumbo speculation and fueled by hope? People with this illness are desperate for a resolution, or cure, to their own situation. They spend enormous time and sometimes money searching and trying, as you have. I believe much more energy needs to be put into the existential aspects of chronic disease so, in the case of MS, relapse is not so feared, surprising and disappointing when it happens (for some). For most, getting back to normal in the beginning usually seems to involve some type of curative myth process which usually fails, and hurts. I say this is unnecessary. A lot more time needs to be spent looking at and talking with others in similar situations. Social media is too easy to fake to one's self and to others. Respectfully submitted, Tom. A. You have my sympathy regarding your recent relapse experience. It sucks.