It was the bleakest of times in Alastair Hignell's life. A

consultant had just confirmed the diagnosis he had been

dreading. He did, indeed, have multiple sclerosis.

The date was January 8, 1999.

"You don't forget a date like that," he says.

Many might have wallowed in despair. Alastair, though, had a

rugby game to cover for BBC Radio Five Live that weekend. Then

he went home. Alone.

"My wife Jeannie was away working at the time so I had this

news all to myself for a weekend," he recalls.

"So, when I got back after covering the game, I read up as

much as I could about MS, and sort of plodded on until Jeannie

returned.

"I met her at the front door with a bunch of flowers and

said 'I've got some news for you...'

"I remember her saying 'It's not your MS, it's OURS'."

More than nine years on Alastair has finally had to retire

from radio.

"I just knew I couldn't do the demanding job the way I had

done it and the way it should be done," he said.

"I knew that when you get to a big event, like the World

Cup, say, you have to be on the road for seven weeks, 24 hours

a day, and you can get called on at any time. I just found I

didn't have enough reserves of energy to do that."

He called it a day on May 31 this year, covering the

Guinness Premiership final between Wasps and Leicester.

"I had made the decision after the World Cup and wanted to

come to a nice climactic finish."

As any English rugby fan will know, his final game was very

special. Laurence Dallaglio, triumphant as captain of the

winning Wasps side, paid tribute to Alastair's indomitable

spirit by dedicating the game to him.

Reflecting on that moment, Alastair said: "The occasion was

emotional enough without that. I was joking with Laurence

before the game and he knew it was my last game. I am still

amazed he should say the things he did.

"When I realised I had got the progressive form of MS I

spoke to my boss at the BBC and asked what was the best thing

to do. The best way was deemed to be to take medical

retirement.

"I want to do some work, though, and I am overjoyed that I

have got this new column. It will give me something to get my

teeth into.

"I would like to move into the field of motivational

speaking, examining life-changing experiences, seeing how my

own experience can be relevant in other spheres. I am also

looking at the idea of an autobiography."

Alastair is 52. He and Jeannie have two sons, Adam, 26, and

Dan, 25.

Sitting in the garden of their home, overlooking a panoramic

sweep of the Stroud valleys, we go over old ground. He talks

with a passion about the illness.

"I underwent a hip operation in 1997 and was attempting to

get back in trim but was concerned about my right leg, I had

something called 'foot drop'. It didn't lift up and didn't

quite work. There were problems with my finger and thumb, too,

no feeling.

"Then I had a problem with the arm wobbling. I couldn't keep

the microphone still. I spilled wine on the carpet."

A succession of tests took place, ending with an MRI scan.

It was after that one Alastair heard the first mention of

multiple sclerosis.

"A specialist said to me that I'd 'probably' got it. I had

sort of heard about it and thought it didn't strike at people

so much who were over 40 and sort of contented myself with

that. I had a cousin who had MS but who had then remained clear

of attacks. However, the wife of a very good friend had MS and

died."

At this point in our conversation Alastair emphasises that

"you don't die from MS, you die with MS!"

How has it progressed?

"For the vast majority of people it's a case of relapse and

remitting with the disease. You have an attack when something

goes wrong, a fairly severe bunch of symptoms which knocks you

flat and you take to your bed. Then you recover about 95 per

cent.

"The worst kind is the primary progressive when you are on a

steep slope of decline. I am on secondary progressive which

means I'm on a slope of decline but I try to make it as gentle

a slope as possible and not go down at any great rate.

"But I am gradually getting worse. For example, with the

energy levels which forced me to give up my job. I don't have

as much energy resilience, reserves of stamina, to do the job

as I wanted to do it.

"My initial reaction back in 1999 was 'I am going to get

fitter, stronger and beat this thing' but it was a bit more

implacable than that.

"I can't now do a lot of things I could back then. I am

finding it very difficult to walk any distance, climb stairs,

write with my right hand (I am right handed). I'm on a slope

that's gone downhill.

"I've got used to using a stick (I didn't use one before

2001), then the mobility scooter. I have three different sorts

of those, including the off-road Ferrari," he laughs.

"I have got used to using different things to help me

physically because I am worse than I was. My right arm and

right leg don't work very well but I am having lots of phsyio

and using things like the 'Power Plate,' a vibration exercise

machine which does me a lot of good.

Initially Alastair was told there was a drug, Beta

Interferon, which modifies the disease – nothing cures it. But

health officials were reluctant, because of the postcode

lottery, to give it him. Eventually he had to pay privately to

obtain it.

He said: "I took it for about two years, a quite painful

injection three times a week. The side effects were awful. It

felt as if I had flu three times a week and felt terrible, I

plugged away thinking it may do me some good but it was making

my life a misery, so I stopped and took more of a self-help

route, upping the physio."

That's when he availed himself of the treatments available

at the MS Centre in Nailsea. At the time he lived in

Bristol.

"I went to Nailsea every Monday for five years and gradually

got to manage my symptoms, used their oxygen chamber, the

physio, aromatherapy. The combination of all those treatments

made a bit of a difference and enabled me to do the job as long

as I did.

"Since moving to Stroud there's not quite the same

facilities so what I am doing now is go to Phsyability, a

treatment centre here for nerve damaged patients and we do

exercising and massaging. But the Power Plate is also terrific

for me, two or three sessions a week help me feel much better,

and help with balance and coordination."

A decade on, Alastair has a view about his illness which

many might find surprising.

"I owe an awful lot to MS," he says.

"Yes, people might find that surprising, but I've met some

fantastic people and been exposed to some extraordinary amounts

of generosity, goodness and kindness. A great love, if you

like, amongst people. That's something that, maybe, if I'd been

plugging along in the rat race, being a journalist and trying

to get to the top of my job, I might not have been exposed to.

It has made me learn a lot of things about myself as well.

"Initially you find yourself being incredibly competitive in

fighting the disease.

"You are in denial, feel guilty and you expend a lot of

energy on negative stuff.

"It has been an interesting personal journey to get beyond

that and it's been accepting I have got something I am going to

have for the rest of my life, then working out ways of living

with it and making it work for me."

Is Alastair Hignell saying he's a better bloke for having

MS?

"Yes, definitely. It has opened me up a lot more. My

upbringing was very public school and I was not a very openly

emotional person.

"I am now more in touch with my feelings."

Watch out for Alastair Hignell's column later this week.