If I were to write my memoir, I would use my relationship to language as a persistent narrative thread. It's through language that I remember my experiences: The tantrum I threw when learning how to read was not instantaneous. The hilarious pencil scribblings in my first grade diary. My first words in German (I went to elementary school in Germany). More recently, my M.A. degree in poetry, my poetry manuscript, Cargo, and now earning my Ph.D.

The first inkling, though, that something might be wrong started a few years ago when I began to note that repeatedly I was having problems with language, little tiny cognitive difficulties. So mild and small and yet I noticed. It's like going into storage retrieval for a word and not being able to retrieve it or coming up with the wrong one. I keep calling an acquaintance Saul, not Sal. Recently, I meant to type vitamin C and typed Vitamin See. Small, innocuous and yet I noticed. When this first began, I remember asking myself, "Is this an early sign of dementia or alzheimers?"

In my research, I have read that cognitive problems are the first signs of MS, they often show up before anything else.

I am keeping a journal of my symptoms. Right now, they are so small, so slight it seems silly to write them down. The tingling in my feet, a very slight feeling of them being asleep. Last week when I couldn't move three of my toes? At first, I thought I was exaggerating or misunderstanding my toes, but no, the next day when they were back to normal, I knew I had not imagined this brief impairment.

I notice these small glitches and track them, so I have them on record, but then I get back to the many blessings I feel because I feel good right now and terms of organizing treatment, being able to travel for a second opinion, and all that goes with it, that is so welcome.