Stiff muscles, tingling in my extremities from time to time, and cognitive issues like dropping things—I’ve been experiencing those too. I just don’t want to admit it.

“I hear what you’re saying, Cole. But I’m confident in the diagnosis. I think we caught it extremely early because you function at such a high level. The symptoms you were noticing—not being able to read the ball coming into home plate, for example—are things that might not have been noticed by the layperson.”

I force a swallow and try to focus. What the fuck does this mean?

Just as I feared, my life feels like it’s been ripped in half. This label, this diagnosis, is the delineator, and I want to scream and go back to before I answered this call.

Fuck, I want to hit something.

“What does this mean?” I ask him. “What does the rest of my life look like? What the hell do I do now?”

I haven’t read much about MS, mostly as a way of ignoring it. If I didn’t invite it into my world, maybe it would stay away. That was stupid, in retrospect, but it allowed me to survive not knowing, and I won’t fault myself for that.

“We treat the symptoms as they arise—and there are a lot of treatments available. There are medicines you can take orally; there are injectables. We also have infusion treatments, and we’ll work with you on selecting the right therapies as we battle this. Okay?”

I nod, nearly numb to the moment.

“Right now, it’s important for you to keep exercising and eating right. Monitor changes, which, as you know, could be few at this point in time. It could be that way for a long time. Try to keep your stress level down.”

That’s ironic.

“You’re in great physical shape,” he says. “Let’s work on keeping you fit and strong. When symptoms pop up, we’ll figure out the best course of action. This will be a long-term game, Cole. We’ll work together. I’m here to help you every step of the way.”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re going to have to call me back a bit faster.”

“I’ll try.”

He babbles on about making an appointment to see him again and insisting that I do a better job at keeping in touch. But all I can think about is Palmer.

My chest clenches as I imagine her pretty face awash in concern over this. Do I have any right to do this to her?

She’s so strong, so nurturing. She’s been through so much. What kind of a man would I be if I asked her to take this on too?