Kim Hogarth

My story

Friday 20th Mar

Over the past few years, my life has changed in ways I never saw coming.

What started as a normal day quickly turned into something that would reshape everything I thought I knew about my body, my future, and myself.

It began when I lost vision in my right eye.

At first, it didn’t seem real. It gradually got worse, and I found myself sitting in the emergency department of the Victorian Eye and Ear Hospital, trying to explain what was happening. I still remember the nurse shining a light into my eye, pausing, and saying, “Your pupil isn’t reacting at all.”

That moment didn’t feel big at the time, but it was the beginning of a completely new life.

My mind was racing.

Am I going blind?

Will I ever see out of that eye again?

What’s wrong with me?

Within days, everything escalated. What I thought would be a simple hospital visit turned into 12 days across three different hospitals. Endless blood tests, scans, and procedures. Five plasma exchanges. Surgeries. A spinal tap that turned into seven attempts. More needles than I could count.

At one point, during a plasma treatment, my blood pressure dropped dangerously fast. A code red was called. My room filled with doctors and nurses in seconds. I remember the chaos, the noise, and then nothing. Just blankness, confusion, and fear.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, I sat across from a doctor I had only just met, trying to hold myself together as he said, “You’re showing early signs of MS… I’m so sorry.”

Multiple Sclerosis

At that point, all I thought MS meant was losing the ability to walk, talk, or live independently. I didn’t understand it fully yet, but I was terrified.

Later, I was told things that broke me even more. That I might never drive again, never work full time, never get back to the gym, and never live a normal life.

After everything I had already been through, losing over 50 kilos, rebuilding my health, and trying to give my body the best chance, it felt like everything was being taken away again.

But life didn’t stop there.

Not even close.

In the months that followed, I pushed back harder than I ever had before. I went back to work, doing long hours. I got back behind the wheel. I returned to the gym and became stronger than I was before.

And then another setback.

More scans. More appointments. More waiting.

“I’m sorry… there’s a new lesion.”

That’s when my diagnosis was confirmed.

I had no choice but to face it head on. I started treatment, infusions every six months, fighting to slow the progression and hold onto my future. Hearing words like life expectancy, treatments, and long term impact at such a young age was overwhelming. It forced me to reevaluate everything.

The last few years haven’t been easy.

There are days where I feel completely drained by chronic fatigue. Days filled with migraines, dizziness, nausea, back pain, and blurred vision. Days where getting out of bed feels impossible.

And then there are the good days.

The days where I feel like myself again. The days where I can move, laugh, train, work, and just live. And on those days, I make the absolute most of it.

Because this journey has taught me something important. You cannot take your health for granted. It can change overnight.

Now, three years on, I’m still here.

Still fighting. Still learning. Still adapting.

Some things have improved. Some things have gotten harder. But I’m still standing.

This life isn’t the one I planned.

But it’s mine.

And no matter how hard it gets, I won’t let this take over my life the way it was designed to.

Here’s to more appointments, more strength, more fight, and finding light even on the hardest days.

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