Rebuilding My Strength: What Surgery Taught Me About Living and Caregiving with MS

I assumed recovery was going to create the greatest challenge when I had hernia surgery earlier this year.

I was wrong.

My six-week weight-lifting restriction ended. The incision eventually healed. Life slowly returned to something resembling normal. But as I recently began physical therapy, I realized I wasn't simply recovering from surgery. I was trying to rebuild strength that had quietly slipped away during those weeks of inactivity.

Living with Relapsing-Remitting Multiple Sclerosis has taught me that abilities can change. Still, I wasn't prepared for how quickly six weeks of inactivity would affect me.

The hidden strength in caregiving

Before surgery, I had helped my wife, Jennifer—who has Secondary-Progressive MS—with transfers, mobility, and countless caregiving tasks that had simply become part of our everyday routine since we got married nearly 21 years ago. I never thought of them as exercise until they stopped.

Because of my surgery, others stepped in to help care for Jennifer while I recovered. We were incredibly grateful for that support. At the same time, I began to realize just how much those daily acts of caregiving had also been helping me maintain my own strength.

It was a realization I never expected.

From running 5Ks to hanging up my shoes

Years ago, shortly after Jennifer and I met, I made a decision that changed my life. I looked at this incredible woman living with MS and thought, there's someone I want to stay healthy for.

So I started walking.

Eventually, walking became running. Two miles became 3.1 miles (a 5K). Before long, I was running nearly five miles at least four nights each week and entering local races. I actually enjoyed running. Plus, in addition to wanting to stay healthy for Jennifer, I wanted to stay healthy for myself.

But after one too many falls on the trails because I was tripping over my MS-weakened left leg, I knew it was time to hang up my running shoes. I wasn't overly discouraged when I stopped running because I believed being a caregiver for Jennifer would help me stay strong.

Facing the reality of deconditioning

Life looks a lot different today - not only because I haven’t run in nearly 10 years, but also because surgery has kept me from helping Jennifer stand and transfer since January 22, 2026. I am so deconditioned that I feel anxious about walking the short loop around our neighborhood. It's less than half a mile, but instead of wondering how fast I can finish, I find myself wondering whether I'll trip on the uneven pavement.

This is a humbling place to be. It's also an honest one.

One of the greatest challenges of physical therapy and living with MS is figuring out how much to push myself without pushing too far. I worry about losing more strength if I don't stay active. But if I overdo it, I risk exhaustion or an injury that could set me back even further. Some days it feels like I'm trying to find the delicate balance between protecting the abilities I still have and challenging myself to preserve them.

A commitment not to surrender

Jennifer understands that fear better than anyone. She has lived with MS longer than I have and has experienced firsthand how quickly abilities can change. More than once, she's shared how concerned she is about how much strength I've lost while recovering from surgery.

Her concern doesn't discourage me. It motivates me.

That's why I filled my prescription for physical therapy and committed to the exercises designed to strengthen my legs, especially my weaker left leg. It's why I met with my doctor, completed follow-up blood work, restarted medication to address another health issue affecting my energy, and decided to revisit a medication intended to improve walking.

Will any one of those things make all the difference? I don't know. But together, they represent something important. They represent choosing not to surrender.

Don't get me wrong. I haven't figured everything out yet. I'm still rebuilding and still learning how to balance pacing myself with challenging myself after surgery. Perhaps that's the lesson this experience has given me.

Rebuilding for the life we built together

Recovery isn't always about returning to who we were before. Sometimes it's about intentionally investing in the person we still want to become.

Years ago, I laced up my shoes because there was a woman I wanted to stay healthy for. That hasn't changed.

But today, every physical therapy appointment, every home exercise, every follow-up visit, and every cautious walk around the neighborhood is another step toward preserving the life Jennifer and I have built together.

I may not be training for another 5K, but I'm still moving forward. For me, that's a finish line worth chasing.