SGG Special: My MS Diagnosis Made Me A Knicks Fan

How my brain and body rebooted thanks to community, quality care, basketball and a little luck.

Hi friends and strangers,

Happy summer solstice - the longest day of the year - it’s quite fitting that I send out a newsletter today, as I’ve gone from writing regularly to more seasonally. As much as I’d like to dive into the sports and style stories that I’ve been bookmarking - like the F1 drivers swimming in suits on the red carpet, to all the glorious merch that the Mets trotted out for pride, the various WNBA ensembles and partnerships and of course, the NBA playoffs outfits; I have to address the reason why I hit pause and pivoted my energy.

I’m turning 40 this summer, and my 39th year has been one of the most consistently difficult, especially the past four months - professionally, personally, financially - you name it. I cannot fully divulge professional matters on the advice of counsel (it’s not as fun to write that as you think), but I can say that it made me question my own space within sports and my career as a whole. I did my best to stay positive, choosing to believe it was trial by fire - like preparation for a new decade. I vowed to make my 40s more balanced and to treat my life more holistically. I was not myself - burned out, exhausted and depressed, and I assumed it was due to my nervous system recovering. My energy level, verve and self-motivation have always been intrinsic, but it all seemed to short-circuit. I can best describe it as an overwhelming sense like you’re stuck in quicksand - the harder I fought, the deeper I would be pulled under - so I then I was stuck, which would also make me angry and despondent. I tried to write, design and pitch my way through it - but the intersections I usually astutely pick out fell flat and so did I.

Then, these inner feelings manifested physically as my body went numb on the left side of my body, from my face to my upper chest. After 48 hours of constant numbness and increased clumsiness (which is saying something for me), I went to the doctor #1. I was diagnosed with parasenthia, and followed up with doctor #2 on Tuesday, who ruled out that it wasn’t related to previous ailments like the neck hernia (which I gave myself from overwork, weights and stress) or the stress-induced endocrine disorder that landed me in the ER during the filming of the Lace Up reality show (and later on the operating table for a parathyroidectomy soon after wrrapping up). A neurology consult was ordered as my symptoms continued to worsen - was my brain failing me?

Now, you may wonder how the Knicks fit into my neurological narrative, but if you’ve ever lived in New York when the Knicks are in the postseason, you know it’s magic. The team’s efforts become a uniting force of hope and enthusiasm, and the feeling is unparalleled. I’ve long considered myself a Knicks sympathizer, as I usually cheer for a client’s team first, then the Toronto Raptors (out of millennial Canadian obligation) and the Knicks (for the city, energy, long-suffering fans and friends). There is nothing quite like a high-stakes game at Madison Square Garden, but there is also something special about watching the fourth quarter on the train home, talking trash with other riders - it’s one of the many reasons why New York will always be my first overall pick.

That Wednesday, it was pouring, and I was watching Game 1 of the Pacers vs. Knicks series, wondering if the rain and Haliburton draining a 3 in OT correlated to a quieter ER. I forced myself to sleep on it, and on Thursday evening, after a virtual visit with doctor #3, who urged me to go to an ER, my friend and neighbour drove me to the hospital. I spent 25 hours in the NYU Langone Sunset Park Emergency Department - over 50 blood tests, CT scan, two MRIs with contrast, a lumbar puncture - and left with a preliminary diagnosis of demyelinating disease and the likelihood of multiple sclerosis. My first reaction was shock and fear, coupled with exhaustion, but thankfully, one of my best friends came to sit with me for my lumbar puncture that afternoon and stayed until I was discharged at midnight. She was a great advocate for me and figured out how to tune our TV to Game 2 while I got my first IV steroid treatment and indulged me in regaling her playoff storylines. I explained my disdain for Haliburton (style, Reggie Miller homage, being good in the clutch), the importance of both the Roommates podcast and Monica McNutt reaction videos, the Villanova connection and more. The entire ED tuned into the game, and it gave us, patients and staff, a unifying connection that wasn’t life or death (at least physically). It helped that the whole staff at the hospital felt genuine to New York, direct yet emphatheticic, no bullshit but also not alarmist - and always kind and safe. I’d much rather talk about the grit of Jalen Brunson than sit in silence while getting my blood drawn. Unfortunately, the Knicks lost Game 2, but I went home soon after.

I woke up Saturday feeling more like myself, but by Sunday afternoon, my symptoms reappeared and escalated quickly. It was like a large weight was compressing my head, neck and spine, and my whole body became numb and weighty. My jaw felt heavy and like it was being forced to close, and it became hard to open my mouth and speak - it was terrifying. I have spent so much time overthinking my work, both on and off camera - what if I was actively losing my ability to speak? I yap, therefore I am! My friend drove me back to ED, and I was writing down every symptom, in between calling my Mom and cursing the disease. I was put through a stroke code, which quelled my fear, thanks to the quick, thorough medical care, and then admitted to neurology for two nights and three more rounds of steroids. My friend set up Game 3 in each room, and we watched the Knicks beat the Pacers, a great distraction from the incessant beeps of the neurology department during Memorial Day weekend.

I was discharged on Tuesday afternoon, picked up by another set of wonderful friends (side note: all of my hospital support friends I met through our dogs - my dog Tigris is my chief scout - maybe she should be my matchmaker next). My Mom arrived that evening, and she, too, became enraptured with the Knickerbockers’ playoff run, asking me frequently if cheering for blue and orange was always this stressful while pacing for most of the second half. She learned to point out players like KAT (good for yelling), and, when the Knicks were eliminated, we shared our disappointment in Indiana’s ability to capitalize fully on all those turnovers. For the Finals, we shifted our focus to the Canadian content - four players total - and cheering for OKC to win for SGA (and to defeat the Pacers). Watching the games together gave us something to share and look forward to after hours of research, appointments and Googling test results (along with binge-watching The Pitt together, which honestly made me less fearful during my lumbar puncture and stroke code).

As I’ve been recovering from my first episode and learning more about my new condition, I honestly feel overwhelmingly fortunate and grateful - and I know a lot of that is luck. I feel so lucky to have a community here in Brooklyn, in my neighbourhood, that showed up for me, even when I was scared to ask for help. I feel lucky that my Mom could accompany me to appointments and just be here and meet my friends. We don’t get the opportunity to spend time together just the two of us, and although it wasn’t the best circumstance to prompt the visit, I am so grateful for it. I feel so lucky that my whole family - my brothers and Dad, but also my extended family and friends, who are consistently checking in, making me feel less alone and broken.

I feel so lucky that my research into choosing a highly rated hospital in my insurance network (which still confuses my in this country) paid off, as they are the top rated neurology hospital in the country and has its own MS Institute (this is not sponosored but lord knows I’ll do it! I can wear all the purple NYU Langone!). I feel lucky that I was never gaslighted or made to feel hysterical by any medical professionals I saw through this process, and that it was quick. I went from symptomatic to initial diagnosis in 11 days and then had my first intake appointment with my neurologist, a multiple sclerosis specialist, just 26 days after my first symptom. Many people are living with MS who have waited months, even years, for a diagnosis, and I feel so lucky to be living in a city with access to some of the best doctors and care teams. While there is so much going on in this country that feels scary, I still feel safe here, and I know I am blessed to feel that way.

Finally, I feel lucky that I trust and know myself. The burnout, exhaustion and depression were likely the early signs of brain demyelination, and I feel vindicated because I knew something was wrong. My MS was caught early, developing in the last 3-4 months, lining up with a very stressful timeline. At first, I was so frustrated that the onset of this disease happened when otherwise, I’m healthy - I work out, I take supplements, I go to regular doctor’s appointments, I eat healthy, and I do therapy. Why does my brain fail me when I’ve been trying so hard to take care of myself? But now, I’m recognizing that I am lucky because it means that I don’t have to change my lifestyle that much to work with this autoimmune disease, outside of minimizing stress and maximizing sleep. Once the steroids started working and calming the inflammation in my brain, I began to recognize myself again. Not so much physically, but how I saw and processed things, and the connections and intersections I’ve been known for reappeared; it was like my whole brain rebooted, and I felt that as I watched the Knicks in the Eastern Conference Finals. Despite the new white, inflamed butterfly-like patches in my brain - I know I am in the right place, at the right time - and my next pivot will be my best one (maybe like the next trade will get the Knicks the ring?).

I don’t know how much I’ll share of my MS journey going forward, but I did promise myself to lean more into my storyteller, broadcaster and designer sides when I was forcing my jaw to open and talk en route to the ER. There is nothing quite like the fear of losing speech, sight and mobility (possibilities with MS) to get you to stop overthinking. There will be video content, more writing, and so many ideas for collaboration, but for now, I have to remember that my brain is still in the process of coming back fully online, and I don’t have to do everything at once. In the meantime, here’s to a great Game 7 and a less brutally hot than expected forecast in NYC.

Stay safe and stay true,

Megan