lobbying for ms-related causes on capitol hill

It’s been hectic here in my neck of the woods. Between promoting my new novel Louie on the Rocks, prepping the May 6 release of Uncomfortably Numb 2: An Anthology for Newly-Diagnosed MS Patients, and teaching two journalism courses, I’ve also been doing volunteer work for the National MS Society.

In March 2025, I attended the Society’s three-day Public Policy Conference in Washington, D.C. which culminated with visits to Capitol Hill to discuss with our members of Congress two issues: the restoration of funds for Congressionally-Directed Medical Research for Multiple Sclerosis (MSMR) and requesting that our elected officials reject deep cuts to Medicaid on which over 15 percent of MS patients rely.

It was a fraught and contentious atmosphere in which to be visiting the Hill. A few of our volunteer MS Activists — many of whom have MS themselves — reported being met with disrespectful staffers, including one who complained that he was “tired of all the lies” when it came to their Medicaid pitch.

During the training portion of our conference, MS Society volunteers heard from Evan Conant, a full-time employed husband whose wife has severe MS to the point where she needs round-the-clock care in their home. They have private health insurance through his work, but were shelling out over $70,000 annually for her care, which he said was financially unsustainable. They learned of a Medicaid waiver program which enables people who demonstrate tremendous need to be able to pay monthly premiums (if your state allows it) in order to get assistance with medical costs. In Conant’s case, after three years of rigorous vetting, he said his family was allowed to buy into the program to provide four hours of health aide coverage so he could continue working and his wife was safe in their home. This is the kind of story that was met with disregard for some folks (as examples of “waste, fraud, and abuse in the system”), whereas, historically, MS Activists have said, they’ve been warmly welcomed by lawmakers because multiple sclerosis issues, and the MS Society as a whole, are nonpartisan.

However my Massachusetts crew (pictured in the photos above), was fortunate in that all of our meetings — with US Senator Elizabeth Warren and Ed Markey’s staffers, as well as with congressional staffers from our various districts — went well. Staffers were uniformly understanding and kind, even if some were palpably stressed by what’s currently transpiring in Washington, D.C.

Will volunteer MS patients speaking up for MS research help? I know that without prior medical research into possible MS treatments, the medicines upon which I rely to cope with my MS symptoms and to prevent more spinal and brain lesions from forming would likely have NOT been developed. My life could look much different. Who knows if I’d be working, or writing, or volunteering. And for working folks whose MS is severe and requires services they can’t afford, sharing their stories with people who control the funding mechanisms of government, could, perhaps move a person or two. Sometimes, that’s all you need.

Advocating for policies and laws needed by those with chronic illnesses, like MS, is a subject I cover in my forthcoming book, Uncomfortably Numb 2 (available for pre-order). This is a relatively recent (since 2022) endeavor for me, this advocating business, but it’s left me feeling as though, even though I can’t control my what ultimately happens with my MS, I can use my voice to try to make the world a bit better for people with chronic illnesses. It also makes me feel less alone in the fight. We’re stronger, the saying goes, when we fight together.

adventures in british football: liverpool at chelsea

As I prepared to watch the first Liverpool game of the new Premier League season this past Sunday, I hoped to do so while donning the brand new Liverpool jersey I ordered in honor of the start of my British football experience. Instead, when I plopped myself down next to my spouse I was wearing my black “Democracy Dies in Darkness” tee because the football shirt didn’t arrive on time. I tried not to read anything into this, into the fact that the shirt didn’t arrive before the game. It’s not an omen or anything, I told myself.

Other than being inappropriately attired when I watched the Liverpool-Chelsea game on Sunday, what was the big news? The match ended in a 1-1 tie between Chelsea (my 22-year-old son Casey’s favorite) and Liverpool (my nearly-25-year-old twins Abbey and Jonah’s favorite), during which two goals were “disallowed” by officials because players were declared offside after VAR (video assistant referee). Luckily, football’s confusing offside rule had already been thoroughly explained to me by Casey who used popcorn kernels inside a semi-darkened movie theater a few weeks ago before the movie Oppenheimer began to illustrate what offside is. Without this explanation, along with important clarifying details from his girlfriend Jess, I would’ve likely been mystified by watching a Liverpool, then a Chelsea goal nullified on Sunday.

It’s been strange for me, this whole learning process, the fact that everyone in my house knows more about football than me. It’s been quite humbling to have my twentysomething kids — okay, mostly football superfan Casey, who’s been the family contrarian ever since he started speaking (for a short time, the kid rooted for the Yankees simply because the rest of the family rooted for the Red Sox) — teach me not only about the rules of the game, but about the Premier League and the history of some of its best clubs. While Casey hasn’t seemed exactly thrilled that I’ve decided to co-op his football passion and blog about it, he has humored me and been a pretty good teacher, as long as I don’t ask questions while a game is in progress.

During the same weekend when Casey and Jess explained offside to me (I really want to add an “s” to the end of that word, but I’ve been told that’s not how it’s done in the Premier League), they also gave me a general British football 101 primer. Using my cartoon dog notepad, the two sketched out information about the 20-team Premier League which they said represents the best of English football. Its rules and traditions, at first blush, seem odd to me, someone whose preferred sport has been major league baseball ever since I was a little kid. For example, the Premier League doesn’t have playoffs. No playoffs! Its champion is determined by who has the most points.

“Three points are awarded for a win,” the Premier League website says, “one point for a draw and none for a defeat, with the team with the most points at the end of the season winning the Premier League title.” If there are ties, there are myriad ways to further break down the stats to determine a playoff-less winner, like comparing number of goals scored in the season or who scored the most goals when clubs played one another, according to the Sporting News. Thanks to my Ted Lasso viewership, I came to this football project with a very basic understanding of the utterly bizarre concept of “relegation” — where the last three teams in a British league are demoted each year and, conversely, the three with the most points in lower leagues are “promoted” to the next-highest league.

During my first week of watching Premier League games as a Liverpool fan, I learned the difference between shots versus shots on goal quite by accident after I made a throwaway comment to Casey while we were watching the Arsenal and Nottingham Forest match.

“They’ve had a lot of shots on goal,” I said of one team, I don’t remember which. 

“No there haven’t,” replied six-foot-four Casey, his eyes darting back and forth between the screen and his phone, on which he was monitoring Premier League info.

“What do you mean? I just saw them kick the ball at the goal.” I felt like I was being gaslit. Isn’t that what they called it in hockey when teams shoot the puck at the goal? It’s different in football?

“That wasn’t a shot on goal. What is your definition of a shot on goal?”

I didn’t answer him in the moment because I despise being quizzed by the kid who once told me I was an animal abuser for not allowing our dog to eat his dinner at the kitchen table along with the rest of the family. But Casey’s subsequent explanation echoed what I later found online. “A shot on target is either any shot that goes into the goal, a shot that is saved by the goalkeeper or one where the last man blocks the ball,” said the Football Handbook. “In the last two scenarios, the ball must have a clear chance of going into the net.”

I made a mental note not to call a kick in the direction of the net that, say, hits the post, a “shot on target,” just like I made a mental note to refrain from commenting on a goal on the off chance it’s ruled offside. It’s hard enough to be the dumbest person in the room when it came to football, I don’t want to put myself out there to be potentiallly mocked for my ignorance, particularly if Casey, who consumes Premier League information like oxygen, is feeling chippy and wants to give his old mom a hard time.

On the day of the Liverpool-Chelsea match, there’d been ample pregame chatter about the tug-of-war between the two clubs over signing star footballers Moises Caicedo and Romeo Lavia, so I read up on it, scanned sports sites and checked social media so I could participate in any potential discussion. (Spoiler alert: Caicedo and Lavia both went to Chelsea, much to the embarrassment of Liverpool fans.) However, I didn’t find much opportunity to contribute an informed comment during the game. In fact, I found exactly zero opportunities to do so. Instead, opted to keep mostly quiet – sooo unusual for me – and simply took everything in. The fact that the game ended in a tie and neither of my sons who were watching the game with my husband and me were disappointed seemed like a win, at least for peace in my living room.

As I look ahead to week two of my adventure with British football, I’m still waiting for the Liverpool jersey to arrive, am monitoring all the rumors about Liverpool goalkeeper Alisson Becker toying with jumping to the Saudi Pro League, and am trying to get a handle on the fluctuating roster.

Image credit: ESPN/Getty Images.

‘another game day’ essay in narrative medicine lit mag

I was honored to have my essay, “Another Game Day,” published by Intima: A Journal of Narrative Medicine.

The essay — structured around my disappointment about having to miss yet another Boston Red Sox game due to multiple sclerosis — is an exploration of how, since being diagnosed with MS in 2014, I’ve been on a long learning curve adjusting to my new normal, adjusting to an unpredictable life with chronic illness.

The essay begins this way:

It was game day.

I had tickets to see my beloved Red Sox play at historic Fenway Park. They were in the hunt for a Wild Card playoff spot.

But I couldn’t attend the game.

Again.

Why? Because it was going to be hot and humid. Because the weather conditions – not the spate of uneven Red Sox performances – would make me ill. Because multiple sclerosis has caused damage to the area of my brain that controls my temperature and, when I’m in hot and humid conditions, that damage causes me to, essentially, short-circuit.

Marleen Pasch

Over on Intima’s blog, Crossroads, writer Marleen Pasch, compared themes in “Another Game Day” with a newly-published essay of her own, “Rocks and River.”

Pasch (on right) said, “O’Brien understands the need to assess risk then listen to and heed the more protective voice of wisdom.”

Read Pasch’s Intima essay here.