Michelle DeVos Cole Myshell's Journey

My story probably started 43 years ago,  when I was diagnosed with severe chronic depression at the age of twelve,  but I'll start with 2016. February 29, 2016 was the day that someone in a white vehicle side swiped my motorcycle and I landed 15-20 feet from the bike. Had on an only 2-week-old helmet which obtained scrapes on the right side. After the accident I drove home because I was in shock,  I think.  A guy from century tel helped me up with the bike and sent me on my way home (no mention of the police and they also drive white vehicles...mmmm!) 
I started having focal seizures (staring off into space with no responses when name is called.  I can hear,  see, and feel but can't respond.) It's like being paralyzed and mute at the same time. 
The focal seizures and passing out-syncope (also started after the accident) left me hitting the floor, the dishwasher,  door jams,  and several other below the waist items with my head causing a moderate TBI and several concussions. I also have some issues with stuttering ( has been with me since just after the accident) and convulsing as I found out in February 2019. The suttering is a precursor and post seizure phenomena.
Through the summer of 2016 I was diagnosed with MS, seizures and syncope. Nothing was done about any of these.  I started seeing a neuropsychologist who prescribes depression  and mood stabilizer medications. This helped considerably with mood, which when my world was turned upside down with a diagnosis that will eventually lead to death in about 15 years,  is necessary. The diagnosis-secondary progressive MS.
After the accident I couldn't read and comprehend anything.  I watched allot of television and couldn't comprehend what I was watching it was very frustrating,  very unforgiving. However I'm not one to give up,  so I fought hard to get my comprehension back. Read books that I had read already,  moved on to books of movies I saw before the accident. After that worked for a few months, I started reading books I hadn't read before. I don't always comprehend stuff but much more than I did in 2016-2017. I had to drop out of grad school because of the total lack of comprehension,  had to quit work and am now disabled and have been for 2 years this past march. 
In January of 2016 we went to the animal services center to buy tags for the dogs for the year,  we ended up on a behind the scenes tour which led us to  very cute brindle pup. She was so small (the runt of her litter.) She is 1/2 Catahoula and mixed with who knows what- alittle Staffordshire terrier, great Dane, greyhound, she is the ipitamy of a NM love dog. She started bumping the back of my knees just before I would pass or or have a seizure. I however didn't know what she was doing until about the 6th time of falling and hitting my head. Her nose hits the back of my knee or she licks me in face by my mouth or she licks my arms depending on where I am. These are calls to warn me that in the next 20-30 minutes I'll be hitting the floor. It gives me time to sit or lie down. 
February 13th, 2019 Seven, the wonder service dog, pushed into my leg 10-12 times,  I thought she wanted to play so I went back to doing what I was doing in the kitchen,  brushed her off. My legs started feeling wiggly- wobbly I barely walked to my chair in the LR where my phone was. I called my wife,  Lori.  All I could say was "Help me." Much after that is a blank; the hospital, the ambulance ride,  me being belligerent in the ambulance about my dog not being there. But I do remember Seven coming and doing Deep Pressure Therapy on me in the throws of seizing. I remember the EMT saying they were going to give me VerSed, to stop the seizures. ( I thought to myself I won't even remember tomorrow with that stuff. ) I barely remember Valentine's day or even the next day after that. Seven always does her job but it's my job to listen to her.  She has found creative ways to get me to listen to her; like leaving class and finding someone else to make me listen to her. 
Seven is now a fully trained service dog,  whom many trainers in town said she couldn't be one because she wasn't the right kind of dog,  well she's proved all of them wrong. 
Seven also breaks up the round and round and round we go with the depression and the anxiety that follows the depression and causes the suicidal tendencies I have.
In February 2019 I was diagnosed with early onset dementia,  waiting to get a 2nd opinion on that one. But it would explain the inability to find words, inability to speak at times and inability to comprehend and remember short term events.