Hi. My name is Caroline Kerpen, and this is the story of me and my mom.

Many things have changed for my mother and me over the past several years. There has been illness, marriage, divorce, births, pregnancies, new jobs…several life changes. However, no matter what has happened in our lives, one thing has been a constant…something that holds us together through thick and thin. Something that, even in the most troubled of times, my mother and I can agree on. And that is,

A true,

A pure,

An unconditional

Love.

Of.

Britney Spears.

That’s right. From the carefree days of Hit Me Baby One More Time, to the questionable K-Fed period, right up until the (whisper) unfortunate head-shaving incident….we love her. What can we say, she’s adorable, she’s vulnerable, and, if you ask either of us, she is DEFINITELY headed for the comeback of a century. But I digress…

You need this background, you see, to understand WHY on earth I would take my mom to the Britney Spears concert back in 2000. I was working for Polaroid in Massachusetts, and the company had decided that Britney was the perfect choice to represent our I-Zone brand— and so we partnered with her tour. In hearing that she was going to be at Jones Beach, well, I knew I had to take my mom so that we could relish in our obsession with Brit, and dance the night away to Oops I Did It Again.

My mom met me at the Marriott. I remember watching her walk towards me. It was the first time I had seen her in a while. I was living in Boston, and I didn’t get home all that much at the time. And I was right at that age where you are starting to see your parents as people, not JUST as dictators that ruled your life for 18 years. And as I watched my mother, the person, walk down the hall to me at the Marriot in Uniondale, I KNEW something was wrong.

Now, of course, I always knew that my mom had some undiagnosed issues. I could list them off the top of my head. Let’s see, she had numbness in her hands (probably from too much typing), some urinary thing that was very mysterious to me, and then there was her occasional balance issue. But when you are a child looking at your parent, that’s all minor detail. She was just my mom.

However, when I was standing with my mother, watching her walk towards me at the most infantile of silly concerts, I knew that now I was an adult, and that something was wrong with my mother that was more serious than just some numbness of the hands, and the occasional spill on the street. I didn’t know if her walk had changed, or I was just seeing it differently, I just knew that it was real, and it was here, and our worlds would be forever affected.

The scariest part, of course, was not knowing what this was. I suppose my mother had gone through this for years now—with her misdiagnosed mysterious ailments. But my sudden interest in this really made me understand. WHY didn’t we know what this was? WHY did my mother need a cane? WHAT WAS THIS? That was, by far, the most frustrating part of this process.

We went on not knowing for about year past the infamous Britney concert. I got married, my mother wore comfy shoes and looked FABULOUS. (We all did—it was a fabulous wedding, and a not so fabulous marriage…but that’s a story for another time) We still didn’t know what was wrong. And then, just after the wedding, my mother found a great doctor who told her the words that no one had said before: Multiple Sclerosis.

Of course, my first reaction was relief. Knowledge is power. We can fight MS. We can DO THIS! As I learned more about the disease, my reaction then turned to rage. WHY didn’t we know about this sooner. We could have slowed the progression—even stopped it! This is not a 30 year old woman, she has had issues for YEARS, and NO ONE KNEW WHAT IT WAS!!!!  And, as it goes with grief, my rage turned to fear, and then to sadness, and then….well, then, it just turned to tomorrow. Looking towards tomorrow, and enjoying my time with my amazing, incredible, strong, Britney-lovin’ mama.

Years passed. My mother responded very well to medication. She handled her injections like a pro. She was fatigued, she hated the heat, she walked with a cane. I watched her struggle, but I watched her have joy too—as she became a grandmother, as she watched her children grow and make good choices.

One of those good choices was deciding to remarry, with an even more fabulous wedding, but this time, to a truly fabulous man. My mother wore comfy shoes to this wedding too, and she STILL danced the night away. That’s one of the images that I will hold close to me always. My mother, dancing, with me, my daughter and with HER mother… four generations of women together.

Shortly after wedding #2, we got some really surprising news. My brother, just 26 years old, experienced some numbness in his feet and legs. He went to a neurologist, and was also diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. This was clearly shocking news, he was so young! Except for one thing…TO ME, this was an amazing achievement. Can you imagine if my brother had to go through what my mother went through? THIRTY YEARS of not knowing what was wrong, mysterious symptoms with no diagnosis, a lifetime of worrying and wondering? Instead, his disease is caught earlier, he is on medication and feeling symptom free.

To me, this represents what we are fighting for. Better, more accurate diagnosis, and treatment that stops this disease DEAD in its tracks.

I’m not sure of the genetic connection with MS. I know there is some evidence to suggest that you have a higher likelihood of MS if a family member has it. Here is my hope for my children. If my daughter Charlotte, or this baby here with me today has the potential of having MS, it will be eradicated before either of my girls ever has a chance to worry about it. And, in 25 years when one of them takes me to the “Britney Spears of the Future” concert, we will scream at the top of our lungs, and declare her “our superstar”. And, in 30 years, when one of them gets married, she, my mom and I will all dance the night away.

It is for this future that I would like to thank all of you for contributing today. Thank you for being here.