Golfing with MS: What the Game Teaches Me About Resilience
Golf is a funny game. One day the swing feels smooth and natural, and the next day it feels like you’ve never picked up a club before. You can stripe one drive straight down the fairway, only to top the next ball ten yards. For me, that unpredictability hits even harder because I’m also living with multiple sclerosis. Some days I wake up with enough energy to walk 18 holes, and others I’m grateful to chip a few balls in the backyard. What I’ve learned, though, is that golf and MS share a common lesson: resilience. Both require patience, persistence, and the ability to keep showing up, no matter what’s thrown your way. I like to think it’s a bit like being a quarterback who is having a rough game. You’ve thrown back to back picks, but you have to put it out of your mind and go back out.
Living with MS feels a lot like that. My symptoms can shift daily, and I never quite know what I’ll get when I wake up. My MS journey started in 2011. The day after my son’s first birthday party, I woke up just feeling WEIRD. My face and body just felt off. After a few moments of wondering what was going on, I stumbled to the bathroom to look in the mirror. On the left side of my face, I had severe Bell’s palsy, completely paralyzed. Then, the right side of my body from the shoulders down was completely numb. Alarm bells start ringing instantly. My first thought was “Did I have a stroke?”
My wife and I quickly found someone to look after our son and off to the emergency room we went. One thing to note is that I had switched jobs, from one where I had health insurance to one where it wasn’t offered. We were in the process of getting me added to my wife’s insurance, but it wasn’t really a high priority. We were a young couple with a 1 year old, and money was tight. The extra to add me on her insurance was a significant amount to us then. Hell, it would still be a significant amount today to be honest. I was young, what’s the worst that could happen? Well, this was pretty high up there.
At the hospital, we went through some steroid infusions and simple testing. The doctors wanted to do an MRI, but without insurance, they didn’t want to saddle us with that kind of debt, which would have been significant. After spending 10ish hours in the ER, the symptoms were still there, but they said that they should subside within a few days with the steroids, and if they didn’t, they told us to come back. Well… they didn’t.
The second ER trip included me getting more steroids and meeting with the head of the Neurology Department, Dr. G. He was fantastic and walked me through what they were thinking. They were zeroing in on an MS diagnosis, but would need a spinal tap to confirm. I’m sure we’ve all heard horror stories about spinal taps, and I can confirm, they’re not fun. At one point as the needle was going in, they hit a nerve which caused my leg to spasm and it felt like electricity was shooting through it. I remember laying on the bed and just trying to focus on the TV, where the Packers were putting a beating on the Rams.
This led to me seeing Dr. G. regularly, and once we had our insurance situation settled, an MRI along with the results from the spinal tap confirmed my MS diagnosis on Valentines Day 2012. Over the years, I’ve tried several treatments and medicines, from a daily injection (terrible) to a daily pill (not as terrible, but the side effects were a lot for me). Since then, we’ve moved from Upstate New York to Northwest Florida, and I have an amazing neurologist. He advocates for me when he needs to, and listens to what I say I want and need. I’ve been doing an infusion every 6 months for a few years now, and it’s worked great for me. Everyone reacts differently to treatments, and what’s right for one person may not be right for everyone else.
The heat does a number on me. It can cause me to have numbness, dizziness, or just zap all my energy, leaving me in bed for a day or two. So, why would I go out in the Florida heat and play golf? Instead of fighting the unpredictable, I’ve had to embrace it and learn to pace myself. Golf has shown me that there’s no shame in slowing down. Some days that means playing 9 holes instead of 18, or choosing a cart over walking. Other days, it’s simply being grateful I can swing a club at all. Both the game and MS remind me that progress isn’t measured by speed or perfection. It’s about adjusting to the moment, finding a rhythm that works for you, and making sure you have enough left to keep coming back.
Golf is one of those things where you can easily track and celebrate the small wins. I still get a thrill from hitting a fairway or draining putt that’s more than 3 feet. But what I celebrate most these days are the little things. Playing through fatigue. Finishing a round without pushing myself past my limits. Even just stepping onto the first tee when I wasn’t sure I could. MS has taught me to see these little wins for what they are: proof that progress isn’t always measured in big leaps. Sometimes it’s in the small steps that keep you moving.
Even though golf can feel like a solo battle between you and the ball, the people around you make a difference. A quick “nice shot” from someone in your group or a laugh after a bad swing makes the game lighter. I’ve found the same thing with MS; the support of family, friends, and even folks who get what I’m going through makes the tough days easier to handle.
And then there’s the head game. Golf will mess with you if you let it. One bad hole can snowball fast if you don’t reset. MS works the same way. It throws curveballs, and I’ve had to figure out how to adjust instead of getting stuck on what went wrong. Some days it all feels easy, other days it’s a grind. But whether it’s golf or MS, both remind me that it’s about battling through, showing up, and taking the next swing without dwelling on the last one.