I’d received devastating news, but in the midst of my despair, a little bundle of hope appeared. By Phoebe Day, 35
My face felt numb and I could only see a hazy outline as a hand touched mine.
‘What’s wrong with me?’ I asked my mum. ‘It can’t just be an infection.’
A month earlier, I’d moved into my own flat and started a new job. Now, I was back living at my parents’ house and unable to get out of bed.
I’d first noticed that something was wrong when my legs started to feel like jelly.
But things had got worse. My legs could no longer support me any more, and I could barely see through my blurred vision.
We’d been back and forth with doctors for months. But when my symptoms became severe, my parents drove me to A&E.
In hospital, I was taken for brain scans, blood tests and a lumbar puncture.
It was a relief that doctors were taking it seriously.
But the test results were a shock.
‘You have multiple sclerosis,’ the neurologist told me.
He explained the condition affected the brain and nervous system and couldn’t be cured.
It was like a punch to the gut.
Mum was crying next to me, and it felt like everything in life had frozen.
‘Am I going to be in a wheelchair forever?’ I asked. ‘Can I still have kids? Am I going to die?’
I had so many questions.
"This is the feisty one!"
I was 32 and I’d never had any symptoms before. The specialist couldn’t say why they had appeared now.
When I did more research, I felt terrified.
I had a history of depression and anxiety, and I thought: My life is over.
But in time, I came to a different conclusion.
While I couldn’t control my MS, I realised I could control how I responded to it.
And I had an idea…
Although I was barely able to take care of myself, I knew I needed someone to look after.
My dad worked as a vet, and with his help and Mum’s, we found a dachshund breeder.
‘I’m stumpy too,’ I told them. ‘A sausage dog makes sense.’
When we went to see a litter, I spotted one little pup who was jumping around on all the bigger dogs.
‘This is the feisty one!’ the breeder said.
I laughed. The pup was clearly the bravest of the bunch and I thought: I’m going to join your team!
I called him Noodle because of his long body, and as Mum drove us home, he was looking out of the window from my shoulder.
Nothing fazed him and that gave me inspiration.
‘I’m going to fake it till I make it,’ I said, giving him a kiss on the head.
Overnight, my life changed.
I had to pull my shoes on and take Noodle for a walk, no matter what.
We started off doing short walks, and every time we went out, people would stop us in the street to coo over him.
Noodle took me out to new places. We’d go to cafés and shops and he was always a conversation starter.
As time passed, I became more confident and managed to move back into my flat. I was even able to do other forms of low-impact exercise, like yoga.
I’d always been a water baby as a child, and had been worried that I’d never be able to swim again. But I was able to build up to swimming in the sea, near my home Winchester, Hampshire.
My parents had a beach hut and we’d take Noodle with us.
He loved to be right next to me, but I didn’t think that going into the sea was something he’d want to do.
‘You’re swimming when you walk through a puddle!’ I laughed.
So my parents kept hold of him while I had a dip.
But one day, as I was swimming, I heard a commotion.
I turned my head and speeding towards me was a tiny figure.
It was Noodle!
He ran into the water and started swimming over to me.
‘Oh, so you do want to swim!’ I said.
I got him a little shark life jacket with a fin and, from then on, he’d join me in the sea. Although he preferred to sit on my shoulder like a parrot, rather than paddle.
In time, I became involved with We Are Undefeatable, a campaign supporting people with long-term health conditions.
The campaign is something positive that’s come out of this, and I even got to meet comedian Bill Bailey as part of it.
I want to empower others to find what works for them to get moving. You don’t have to go to the gym to exercise — you can have a dance in the kitchen or do whatever you can.
Noodle is now three. I’ve got a tattoo of him on my arm so he’s always with me, even when I’m getting my monthly blood tests.
I wish I could go back to that terrified Phoebe on the hospital ward and tell her everything will be OK.
I’d reassure her that, while the future is uncertain, it’s uncertain for every single one of us. No one can predict what it holds in store.
Luckily, I have Noodle.
He’s given me a brand-new life and we’re both making the most of it.
He’s not just a sausage dog, he’s my guardian angel.