The mythical phoenix is a glorious, beautiful bird, one of its kind. It lives eternally, going through a never-ending cycle of death and rebirth. When the phoenix grows old it builds a special nest. The phoenix then stands in the nest and is consumed by fire. From the ashes the new phoenix is born, rising with the morning sun to spread its glorious new wings and to live another lifetime.
With every MS relapse my house is burned down. I have learned to be patient. Life has shown me that something new, beautiful, and unexpected is waiting there for me in the ashes each time the smoke clears. A dear friend once called me a Phoenix.
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