Photo: Trevis wearing a cap with his dog sat on the sea shore with sea behind them

An American with MS in Ireland on St Patricks Day

I am soon to acknowledge 18 years of living with the diagnosis of secondary progressive multiple sclerosis (SPMS). That is over half of my adult life.

I used to say MS changed everything. When I look at it, however, I’m not so sure of that. It may have done, but everything was going to change anyway. I’ll never give MS credit for any good that has come with the disease. But there is plenty of good in life in spite of it. In fact, I am quite happy with the way that my life is turning out.

Through the closing window…

Surely, if MS hadn’t closed so many opportunity windows in rapid succession, and threatened to shutter even more, I wouldn’t have crawled through the one which lead me to the desk where I’m writing now.

That desk is in front of a westerly facing window which looks out onto my front garden, to the stone walls and hedgerows outside our gate, and to the misty, western hills of County Kerry, Ireland.

…to life in rural Ireland

Living with MS in rural Ireland is not easy. There are financial burdens many of us with MS will know too well. We live an hour away from the nearest neurologist’s practice. There are no MS specialising centers in the country. The list of burdensome aspects of living here with MS is long, but it’s the opposing side of life’s ledger upon which I have learned to focus.

My wife and I chose to move to this part of the world from America over six years ago in order to, as we say, ‘live the dream while I can’. Living with MS has a way of scraping away the glossy bits of our plans and dreams, leaving us to examine what remains – the real joys in life. That’s why we shifted nine time zones to settle here.

It’s all about the living part

Where we live doesn’t make my MS any better. My symptoms continue, my disability advances, and my abilities falter as my disease progresses. But life is still good – perhaps even better – because we focus on the living part of living with multiple sclerosis. And it just seems a bit easier to do that here and now than it was there and then.

I don’t define my life as multiple sclerosis, but I’d be lying to myself and to others if I didn’t acknowledge that it has become a significant part of my living that life.

Celebrating this weekend

At the weekend, landmarks across the globe will bathe themselves in shamrock green. People around the world will celebrate the Welch-born, Roman Britain made patron saint of the Emerald Isle.

I, however, will look out that writing window and see the birds I feed on one of those stone walls.

If my legs allow, I’ll make my way down to the local and watch a traditional GAA football match. I’ll likely have a pint or two as well. But most importantly, I’ll get up and get on with living my life – MS in tow – because that’s the only way I know how anymore.

Wishing you and your family the best of health.



Trevis’ Award-Winning books, Chef Interrupted, and Dingle Dinners are in the shops now. Follow him on the Life With MS Facebook page, on Twitter and don’t forget to check out his website

Make a donation

Help us be there for everyone with MS

  • Please enter an amount

    Our minimum donation is £2, please enter a different amount.

£10could help us support someone calling our MS Helpline

£20could pay for one hour of research to help us understand and manage MS fatigue

£30could help run the MS Forum, giving over 27,000 people a place to come together as a community

Every penny you give us really does help us stop MS.

  • Please enter an amount

    Our minimum donation is £2, please enter a different amount.

£10a month could help stock our research labs with essential supplies

£20a month for a year could help fund a short break for someone with MS

£30a month could help train an MS Helpline volunteer to support hundreds of people with MS

Your regular donation means we can keep funding world class MS research with confidence. Together we will stop MS.

Photo: woman with MS in wheelchair with young children