When I was 6 years old my father was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, also known as M.S. At first the disease seemed to only slightly hinder his capabilities, but as his he got older the toll Multiple Sclerosis took on his body grew tremendously. My father would soon be forced to stop playing basketball at the local gym, and also stop running in five kilometer races. My family had to adapt to my fathers growing list of needs and requirements for even the simplest forms of tasks. As my fathers condition worsened it seemed that all of his responsibilities around the house seemed to be passed down to me, but this never bothered me, at least not nearly as much as watching my father struggle with loosing feeling and control of his left foot and
